Under An Oak

We eventually settled down underneath the shade of a sprawling oak tree. It stood alone by the dirt road, far from the scattered woodlands and the deep, snaking cliffs. 

Zeal had fully woken up by this point, hungry and a tad bit grumpy. She pouted as Barleyon arrived through a portal I summoned. 

The little helper made a few trips through the portal, bringing with him some cut beef, broth, some vegetables, firewood, a small pot, a long wooden spoon, two small spoons, and two bowls. 

Before long, the little helper had set up a bristling fire underneath the pot, stirring what would soon become beef stew. The little beastkin waited impatiently, eyeing the stew and its cook with anticipation and hunger.

The fact she was eyeing Barleyon as if she was gonna eat him too out of desperation concerned me a bit. 

She wasn't that hungry, right? I mean, I had been feeding her properly, not to mention the full course meals Mr. Bobby served her back at the tavern during our brief stay there. 

Her appetite both intrigued me and frightened me, depending on whether or not I could satisfy it. I could not help but think that it was a prelude to something far more sinister, or rather, troubling. 

I shook my head. There was no way the little girl would have that condition. No. If she did, they she would have already displayed symptoms. But there was the ever-present possibility that her grief had hidden it for now, holding off the worst.

But could it really?

After a somewhat long wait, half an hour to precise, the beef stew was ready. Zeal was all but giddy as Barleyon handed her a hot bowl, much to my horror as she grabbed the hot surface with her bare hands. The little beastkin almost spilled the stew and burned herself if I hadn't caught the bowl when she panicked and let go.

"Easy now," I said as I placed the bowl on the ground in front of her, "Wait here."

Understanding immediately what I wanted, Barleyon quickly entered the still open portal from whence he first arrived and came back with a pair of small mittens. 

I had forgotten about this ability after a thousand years of neglect, but I could in fact communicate with my golems anywhere and anytime through our inherent telepathic connection. 

Hence why the death of Wheatley felt the way it did. It also explained how the helpers and the sentinels were able to coordinate and understand everything I wanted done, either consciously or subconsciously.

So that meant that their current projects, such as the building of the new wall, was my idea and order in the first place.

And here I was thinking that my golems had actually developed more independence, a step in the direction to gaining souls. They were still little more than… 

No. My children were not animals. When I first created them? Maybe. But not now. Barleyon, Frank, and all the other golems could think for themselves to some extent, that I was sure of. If they couldn't, then they wouldn't be able to do most of the things they've been doing for the past thousands of years. 

The increased alertness, coordination, and 'newfound initiative' that my golens were displaying were just the effects of me subconsciously assuming a bit more direct control over how they functioned in general.

This connection we shared… It was something I forgot over the years, mostly because I never found a use for it. We lived in a corner of the world far from any dangers or threats. There was no need for me to directly coordinate the thousands of sentinels and helpers I had created.

Besides, they were able to act somewhat independently and effectively without my direct guidance for a long time. 

However, the moment something complicated came knocking at our door, we all failed to handle it the way we could have.

We lost Wheatley that way. If I had just been more careful, more hands-on, maybe I would've seen the magicstone reaction coming. Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't have lost.

I sighed.

With her hands protected, the little girl was free to partake in her beef stew without worrying about burning herself. Not unless she still managed to spill it over herself. 

I was planning on closing my eyes for a bit and using my enhanced senses to paint myself a picture of the surrounding lands. However, I decided that I would keep a good eye on Zeal as she ate, just in case.

Healing her burns would be easy, but making her forget the pain and fear she would feel after? Nothing short of a mind-altering spell could make her forget. 

Hence why I could not heal her of her sadness or despair. And why I struggled as well, even after thousands of years in solitude.

As midday passed and the stew ran dry, Zeal was once again falling asleep. With his work done, Barleyon quickly cleaned up and went back home through the portal.

We were once again alone in the middle of… somewhere. 

Who was I kidding? I could just as easily summon a portal and go home with Zeal if I wanted. 

But that would render the journey useless, void of meaning. We were walking with a purpose, a dream. A hope that the world would remind us that life was worth living, that the other beings who called it home deserved to be saved from what was coming. 

The destination was inevitable, and thus the journey should be memorable. 

I chuckled, when did I become so philosophical? Thankfully nobody could hear my thoughts.

Feeling the wind brush against my skin, I decided to stay under the oak tree for a little while longer. It was peaceful here. There was only the beauty and realities of nature to accompany us.

The magic permeating around here was normal, to say the least. There was nothing exciting about it. Any mage could use it to cast spells or replenish their mana, but there was no advantage to be gained or disadvantage to be wary of. 

Seeing that there was nothing amiss, I decided to finally use my enhanced senses and forge myself a crude map. 

Putting Zeal on my lap, I closed my eyes and retreated into my mind. Soon enough, I was flying away, my vision taking me to corners unseen by the naked eye.

I flew past vast plains, forests, and woodlands, gazed upon tall mountains that stretched from north to south. There were cities and towns and villages down south, the first among many that we would soon visit. 

However, as I gazed to the east, past the mountains that stood tall, there was a blight. A cold, dark land full of death and corruption. Dead forests sprawled over gray plains. Whatever rivers flowed there carried bones and disease. 

Most worrying of all, the dead walked within its borders in great numbers. Skeletons. Wraiths. Walkers. Any and all foul creature of dark magic roamed there.

I found it odd that I did not sense the blight despite how far and wide it seemed to stretch. As I went back and forth between the mountains, I realized that the mountain range itself served as the barrier keeping the corruption from leaking any further. 

Dark magic choked the blighted lands, while the mountains were brimming with holy spells, helping to keep the blight at bay. There were fortresses between the mountain passes I could see, guarding from the hordes that would otherwise overwhelm the eastern coast of the continent. 

There was an atmosphere of tension all across the border. A fragile status quo that needed only one weak nudge to break. 

How and why did such corruption spread in the first place? At first I thought it could be where the vampire king resided, but I doubt they would be able to choke a chunk of a continent. 

As I was about to go and investigate further, my enhanced senses blared. A wave of dark magic swept me as I returned to the oak tree. It came suddenly, appearing from the west without build-up or warning.

I immediately laid Zeal down on her cushion and tucked her away inside the protection of a shield ward. Thankfully, she was fast asleep, so I didn't need to cast an extra spell. 

Summoning a portal, I called upon Frank to watch over her as I set out and dealt with what was coming.

The sentinel walked out of the portal bearing his deadly spear and proud shield. He was ready for battle, as I had expected of him. He stood beside the shielded Zeal, his armored head reaching even the low branches of the oak tree.

I knew he glared underneath his gleaming helm, yearning for the blood of my enemies. 

There was no time to waste. I walked forward and readied my fists and spells. Blood would soon spoil these peaceful lands, but they would not stain me.

Using my enhanced senses again, I focused on the approaching danger to the west. Dark clouds followed above a trail of rising dust. An army of darkness was rushing towards us.

An army of undead.