Day 8

Wizdumb, you're not going to believe this.

Woke up this morning under that spooky talking crow tree, which, by the way, needs a seriously creepy name. The Crone Oak? The Whisperwood? Anyway, no sign of the crow. Maybe it was all a weird fever dream brought on by those iffy mushrooms. Or maybe not.

Turns out, finding a talking bird that knows your name is just the start of things getting seriously out of control around here. Remember my newfound skill of summoning a force-field thingy? Well, I've been trying to expand on that. Last night, I was just sitting there, staring at the glowing embers of the campfire (side note: fire trick still awesome), willing that energy to reshape itself.

And wouldn't you know, it did! Instead of the usual bubble, I managed to create a sort of glowing sword straight out of my hand. It flickered a bit and felt unstable, but hey, it's a start. Maybe I can finally upgrade from my trusty walking stick to something with a bit more…oomph. Gandalf would be proud.

Right, so with a make-believe energy sword in hand and a pocketful of Squeaks-approved berries, I set off. The spooky path from yesterday continued deeper into the woods, and it definitely wasn't getting any more cheerful. The trees loomed closer, their branches twisting into shapes that looked a lot like grasping claws. Half expected one to snatch me up and use me as a toothpick.

The weirdness didn't stop there. I started hearing whispers, not the crystal kind, but faint and distant, like voices carried on the wind. Couldn't make out the words, but it sent shivers down my spine. Were they warnings? Threats? Or maybe it was just the wind messing with me.

Hours of creepy forest trekking later, I reached a clearing ringed by massive stone pillars. It had this ancient, abandoned feel – like some sort of forgotten temple. In the center of the clearing, resting on a moss-covered plinth, was a sword. A real sword, Wizdumb, not a shimmery energy one. Its hilt gleamed with intricate carvings, and the blade seemed to catch the sunlight, even though the clouds were heavy overhead.

As I got closer, the whispering voices in the trees grew louder, almost frantic. And then I saw them. Creatures lurking in the shadows between the pillars. They were vaguely humanoid but twisted, their eyes burning with a hungry light. My energy sword flickered into existence, but my hands were shaking. This wasn't just some critter encounter; this was the real deal.

Just when I thought I was a goner, a flash of iridescent feathers cut through the air. The talking crow swooped down, its voice screeching over the whispers of the creatures. They seemed to recoil, drawing back into the shadows, hissing in frustration.

The crow landed on a pillar, its gaze pinning me down. "You have found it," it croaked. "The Blade of Echoes. It can sever the shadows, but only if you are worthy."

Worthy? Me? This is officially too much, Wizdumb. Yet, something about that sword calls to me. I can feel its power humming in the air. Is this destiny or disaster?

Tomorrow, I'll decide whether to take it or to run far, far away.

Until then, (and maybe forever)

Mark