The King's Dark Decree

The air in the glade grew heavy, not with the scent of pine and damp earth, but with a cloying, unnatural stillness. Branden, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword, felt a prickle of unease crawl up his spine. The Sun Deer, her dappled coat shimmering with an inner light, had spoken of a king, a ruler of this ancient wood, but her words had been laced with a sorrow Branden hadn't fully grasped until this moment. Now, standing before a clearing bathed in an eerie twilight, the truth began to unfurl like a dark banner.

A majestic stag, larger than any Branden had ever seen, stood at the center of the glade. His antlers, usually a magnificent crown of bone, were now entwined with thorny vines that pulsed with a sickly, violet light. His eyes, once pools of warm amber, burned with a cold, malevolent fire. This was the king, the heart of the forest, and he was not well.

Beside the stag stood a creature Branden recognized from the Sun Deer’s hushed warnings: the King's Guardian. It was a hulking brute of a thing, a lumbering beast whose form seemed to shift and coalesce from shadow and gnarled wood. Its eyes, two pinpricks of malice, fixed on Branden with an unnerving intensity.