Page 66 of Quest

Horror engulfed me and I hastily dropped the plant, but it was too late. “This isn’t the shadowroot., but rather a mimic—a guardian plant to protect the real shadowroot by deterring those who seek it.” My voice shook as the clearing seemed to close in around us.

“Isn’t that something you should have known?”

I withered beneath the force of Sir Jiang’s justified anger, the weight of my mistake crushing me. Blinded by my own assumptions and an eagerness to succeed, pride had compelled me to ignore my initial doubts and jeopardize our mission.

Amid my whirl of self-condemnation Darcel reached for me, his touch a small comfort midst the discouragement threatening to swallow me whole, his devotion unwavering despite my weakness. “We need to get out of here.” His voice barely carried over the rising wind that now howled through the clearing.

He urgently pulled me back towards the path we had come from as the shadows thickened, threatening to erase the way back. We hurried through passages now drenched in inky black shadows, slowly making our way back to the forest entrance.

I scarcely noticed our retreat, my mind consumed with the implications of my failure, the price of which seemed far more dire in such a dangerous realm. The trust Darcel had placed in me, the safety of our group, my own pride—all felt diminished beneath the shadows’ looming threat that now seemed intent on claiming the bamboo forest as their own.

Even after we’d made our escape and regrouped outside the cavern’s entrance, the defeat haunted me. While the others discussed our next potential course beneath a sky shrouded in the shadow realm’s inky embrace, my mind was ensnared by the vivid replay of my error. I sat staring blankly into the fire we had lit to dispel shrouding gloom, my earlier confidence reduced to smoldering ash. The echo of my misstep pressed upon me, the grave magnitude of my mistake stifling my thoughts.

Darcel sat beside me, his presence a silent pillar of strength. He allowed me my moment to process what had happened, but didn’t allow me to remain trapped in my distress for long before he lifted my chin so our eyes met. “Everyone makes mistakes, Mei. What defines us is how we rise after falling.” His voice was soft but firm, his belief in me unshaken even in the face of our setback.

“Mistakes that risk an entire kingdom?” I asked hollowly.

“Considering I’m a prince, I do in fact have a list of such blunders.” I knew the words were meant to beckon a smile, but my discouragement was too all-encompassing to humor him.

I sat with my head cradled in my hands, lost in a storm of self-doubt and regret. Darcel’s arm wrapped around me, gently guiding my head to instead rest against his shoulder. His fingers soothingly brushed through my hair, offering much-needed comfort. With each gentle stroke, a measure of my despair ebbed away, yet the shadow of my mistake lingered, haunting me with daunting uncertainty.

Sir Jiang and Kael joined us by the fire. I braced myself for their frustration at our drastic setback, but in the face of our collective adversity, they seemed to set aside the disapproval I fully deserved. “Mistakes aren’t exclusive to you,” Sir Jiang admitted, his voice soft with a rare vulnerability in his usual confidence. “The path of a warrior is strewn with obstacles. It’s our courage to continue, despite our setbacks, that truly defines us.”

Kael nodded in agreement, his earlier antagonism replaced by the camaraderie forged through our shared trial. “You’re one of the bravest among us, Mei. Don’t let this shadow land cause you to forget that.”

Their consoling words stirred something within me—a flicker of determination that had defined my journey from the beginning. I was an herbalist, trained not just to utilize the healing properties of plants but to understand the deeper connections they held with their environment. My mistake had been a failure to listen to the very essence of nature that I so cherished, but it wasn’t too late to learn from my oversight and try again.

With renewed focus I revisited the riddle from the ancient scroll, tracing the words with my finger as I whispered them aloud. “Amidst whispers of despair and a land bereft of light, roots entwine with secrets rare, hidden from mortal sight.” The answer seemed more elusive shrouded in the shadows of my recent failure, but I refused to give up.

As I mulled over the words, a soft glow caught my eye from the direction of my pack, gradually growing stronger, more insistent. Lumis, my enchanted lantern, was signaling me, its radiance undimmed despite the encroaching darkness of doubt.

As I stared at its reassuring light, realization gradually dawned, bright and clear against the backdrop of my uncertainties. Lumis’s light was not of this shadowed land; it was otherworldly, capable of piercing through darkness that no ordinary lantern could dispel. Perhaps it wasn’t just a source of light but a beacon of hope, a key to the path we hadn’t taken—the narrow, ascending route where our man-made lights had failed.

The solution felt almost deceptively simple, hinging entirely on whether I had decided to take Lumis with me when I had discovered him in the forgotten temple. Yet reflecting deeper, it wasn’t just about the physical act of retrieving Lumis—it was about the faith I had placed in the legends of my ancestors, my willingness to depend on a source of light and guidance beyond my own expertise.

Perhaps this had been the real trial all along—a test of trust and acceptance that my solitary knowledge wasn’t enough to heal the land; true light and healing could only come from a higher source beyond my own skills. This realization suggested that the true path to restoration involved both faith to believe and the courage to follow wherever my light led, even when I couldn’t see the outcome.

Filled with new resolve, I rose to my feet. “Our true path is the one enveloped in shadow that we bypassed before, a way that requires us to depend solely in this lantern’s light to guide us through the darkness rather than our own.”

“We need to rely upon the lantern that emits no light?” But rather than his usual skepticism, Sir Jiang’s demeanor had shifted to curiosity, a change brought about by the trust he now placed in me and my capabilities despite my earlier failings.

I held Lumis aloft, its soft glow a reassuring halo that dispelled the last of my doubt. “Its light isn’t bound by the same rules that govern this land; it is available to all who truly seek it.”

They squinted, but by the shadows lingering in their eyes it was clear they still couldn’t see the magical light my lantern emanated. Even so, they seemed willing to believe in my words enough to follow.

Once more we ventured into the depths of the shadow realm, the warmth of the entourage’s renewed faith in me and Lumis’s otherworldly glow intertwining to guide my steps. This time I wasn’t just armed with my herbalist knowledge but a renewed sense of purpose, ready to face whatever lay hidden in the heart of shadows.

CHAPTER 26

An unnerving silence hung over us as we once more stood at the crossroads. The broader path we’d taken before lay temptingly to our left, its verdancy and deceptive ease a stark contrast to the narrow, overgrown ascent shrouded in impenetrable darkness that we currently faced. Towering bamboo stalks loomed on either side, their tall, swaying forms casting eerie, shifting shadows across the mist-laden ground.

“Extinguish the torches,” I instructed in a steady voice. The others exchanged nonplussed glances but offered no objection. One by one, the flickering flames died out, swallowed by the omnipresent blackness.

Kael was the first to speak his misgivings, his voice tinged with apprehension. “It’s pitch dark. Are you sure?—”

“I’ll guide us through—or rather, this light will.” The oppressive darkness seemed to swallow the very sound of my reassurances. Everyone shifted nervously, but despite their lingering unease my companions made no move to retreat.

The wind drifting through the narrow passageway picked up with cold and unyielding strength, howling through the bamboo with a mournful cry that seemed to echo the desolation of the land, as if to challenge our resolve. The rustling leaves whispered secrets, and with every creak of the bending stalks, it felt as though unseen forces were shifting in the shadows.

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