The Domini saga

The road bends under black branches. Ahead, the courier keeps that hurried, wrong-footed pace, and the spider-marked residue glints in the air behind them.

Bren slips forward on the left edge of the path, blade low. Slaan rolls the scroll once, eyes locked on the trail, reading where the mark leads instead of where it stands.

The trail forks through roots and bramble, then pulls straight again toward the north road. The dark magic is heading for Leilon, and the courier is the thread keeping it moving.

The courier stumbles once, then recovers, still moving toward the distant road with the same stiff urgency. The path ahead is no longer a rumor, it is a line of intent.

Slaan tips the backpack open and shows the tucked bundle of notes and charms. The courier keeps moving ahead, but the party’s pace checks for a breath.

The answer costs them time and one open glimpse into their gear, but it settles the question cleanly. Beyond the roots, the road still draws north, with the courier now visibly within reach.

Slaan shuts the backpack again, and the road ahead answers with a faint northward pull. Whatever Nhal is doing, it is not here, and the courier is still ahead of them.

Kynes steps out from the tight line of travel and the pull ahead answers him, not with force, but with a gentled tug north. Bren slows beside the road edge. Slaan keeps the pack close and watches the path.

The courier notices the change. Their pace shortens, shoulders easing a fraction as Kynes approaches alone.

The road holds its breath between them, the spider-marked trail bright beneath the roots, waiting for what Kynes says next.

Kynes lifts his staff and releases a tight burst of force. Violet light snaps across the road, catching the courier full in the chest.

The courier jerks still, one hand frozen mid-reach, boots skidding in dead leaves. Their hood dips as the stun takes hold.

Bren’s head turns sharply from the verge, and Slaan tightens her grip on the sealed pack. The spider-marked trail flickers brighter under the roots.

The spell bites back at Kynes too, a sharp backlash that stings through his casting hand and sends a faint crackle down the staff.

The courier’s knees hold, but they cannot advance another step. The road ahead is now blocked by Kynes’s magic, and the approach to Leilon turns uncertain.

The stun loosens enough for Havel to breathe, but they do not step forward. Their gaze cuts past Kynes toward the roots, where the spider-marked trail glows like a warning seam.

Behind Havel, the north road lies empty for a heartbeat, then the branches seem to hold their breath around a darker gap in the trees.

Slaan lowers the sealed pack to one arm and glances toward the dark trees, then back to Kynes. Bren eases her stance a little, letting the question settle instead of hurrying past it.

The spider-lit roots keep glowing under the verge, but the dark gap in the trees no longer feels like the only thing ahead. For a moment, the road is just road, with Slaan waiting for Kynes to answer or move.

The spell catches. Havel’s stare goes glass-clear for a breath, and the resistance in his posture drops away like a cut cord.

Slaan tightens her grip on the sealed pack and steps half a pace in, eyes on Havel’s face. The road ahead seems shorter now, and the dark bend north of Phandelver has a name again.

The compulsion still grips Havel, and the answer comes without struggle.

Bren’s eyes narrow. Slaan shifts the sealed pack higher on her shoulder, watching the road beyond Havel instead of his face.

The spider-mark under the roots gives one faint pulse, as if the warning has reached the place it was meant for.

Kynes lifts the dark pressure in him, and the woods answer. Shadow gathers around his shoulders in a slow flood, thickening into a full, watchful shape.

Eyes open in the darkness first, then teeth, then more teeth, all of them hanging in the trees like hungry things waiting for a cue.

The spider-mark under the roots flares once, and Kynes's shadow-form spills farther into the lane than the trees should allow. The effort burns cold through his casting hand, leaving a thin sting behind the display.

The words land under the dark shape, and the shadow teeth freeze a breath from Kynes’s face. Havel swallows hard, his fear sharpening into something more wary than before.

The answer comes clean, but the cost follows at once. Kynes’s shadow spills too far, scraping the roadside roots and making the hidden mark flare bright for anyone watching.

Slaan tightens her grip on the sealed pack and glances north, where the road narrows toward the gate. The three trapped shapes beneath the house, faint and distant in memory, give one small pulse with Kynes’s heartbeat, as if answering the strain.

Kynes breathes out and snaps the stun apart with a clean surge of will. Havel jerks free, the rigid hitch in his shoulders gone at once.

The command hits hard enough to make Havel flinch. The shadow pressure loosens around him, and he stumbles backward from the bend.

Bren shifts to open the road edge, giving him space without breaking her line. Slaan’s gaze drops to the root dip, where the glow spreads thin across the soil.

Havel turns and breaks into a run north, away from the exposed mark. The roadside line holds its shape for a heartbeat, then the bend itself answers, a shallow sag opening in the dirt where he was meant to step.

The trap shows its mouth plainly now, a low root pocket with the road skin pulled loose over it. The spider-mark beneath the bend burns bright and visible for all three to see.

Above them, the three trapped shapes give one faint pulse in time with Kynes’s heartbeat, then settle. The road ahead is no longer innocent.