Preview of Coming Events

The forest’s strange luminescence had cycled through several shifts of intensity since they’d started walking. Estaria’s feet ached, and his torn shirt provided little protection against the occasional cool breeze that whispered through the trees. The wooden creature maintained its steady pace, leading them along paths that seemed to form just ahead of their steps.

“So,” Estaria said, breaking the rhythmic sound of footfalls and creaking wood, “we’ve been traveling together for a while now, and I feel like I should call you something.” He stepped over a root that pulsed with soft blue light. “How about… Guardian?”

The creature’s steady gait didn’t falter.

“No? Alright. Protector?” Estaria suggested, receiving only the continued sounds of wooden joints in response. “Forest Friend? Tree Walker? Bark Knight?”

Each suggestion was met with the same indifference. The massive creature’s amber eyes remained fixed ahead, navigating them through the ever-shifting landscape.

“Let’s see…” Estaria rubbed his chin, warming to the challenge. “Timber Terror? No, too threatening. Branch Beast? Leaf Leviathan?” He chuckled at his own increasingly ridiculous suggestions. “Twig Titan? Sap Sergeant?”

Still nothing. The creature’s tail swayed in its usual pattern, neither acknowledging nor rejecting the barrage of names.

“How about…” Estaria grinned, “Sir Splinterbutt?”

The creature stopped dead in its tracks. Its massive head swiveled around, fixing Estaria with a stare that could have withered an oak. The amber eyes narrowed, and a low, creaking groan emanated from its wooden frame that sounded distinctly unimpressed.

“Okay, okay,” Estaria raised his hands in surrender, fighting back laughter. “That was too far. Let me think of something more… appropriate.” He studied the creature’s bark-like hide and dignified bearing. “What about Woody?”

The creature’s head dropped, and its whole body seemed to sag in exasperation. A sound somewhere between a creak and a sigh escaped it, and after a moment, it turned and resumed walking.

“Was that a yes?” Estaria hurried to catch up. “I’m taking that as a yes. Woody it is!”

The newly-dubbed Woody’s tail swished in what might have been resignation or annoyance – possibly both. They continued their journey through the living forest, but now Estaria felt more at ease with his companion.

“You know, Woody,” he said, ducking under a low-hanging branch that glowed with purple bioluminescence, “it would help if you gave me some hint about where we’re going. I mean, I appreciate the company and the protection, but a little context would be nice.”

Woody’s only response was to maintain their steady pace, though Estaria noticed the creature occasionally glanced at him with what seemed like bemused tolerance. The forest around them continued its constant transformation – trees shifting positions, paths appearing and disappearing, all while maintaining that strange, vital energy that seemed to pulse through everything.

As they walked, Estaria found himself talking more, sharing observations about their surroundings or commenting on particularly interesting forest formations. Woody didn’t respond verbally, but its body language became more expressive – tail flicks acknowledging comments, head tilts indicating direction changes, even the occasional grunt that might have been agreement or disagreement.

Lost in his meandering thoughts about the strange forest and his recent experiences, Estaria collided with Woody’s suddenly motionless form. His nose smacked against the creature’s bark-like hide, and he stumbled back a step, rubbing the sore spot.

“A little warning next time?” he muttered, stepping around his silent companion.

The forest opened before them into a circular clearing. Pale, phosphorescent moss carpeted the ground in patches, casting a gentle glow that complemented the general ethereal ambiance of Streacresh. Unlike the constant shifting of the surrounding forest, this space held a sense of permanence.

Estaria’s boots crunched on packed earth as he moved further into the clearing. His eyes traced the obvious signs of previous visitors – a carefully constructed stone fire ring sat at the center, its rocks weathered but deliberately placed. A fallen log, worn smooth in places, curved along one edge of the clearing like a welcoming bench. The ground beneath his feet had been trampled firm by countless footsteps.

“People have been here before,” he said, more to himself than to Woody. The realization brought both comfort and unease. While it was reassuring to find evidence of other human presence in this otherworldly forest, it also raised questions about who they were and what had brought them here.

He turned to ask Woody about the clearing’s significance, but his attention caught on something else – another obsidian obelisk, similar to the one he’d encountered earlier. It rose from the ground at the clearing’s edge, its surface gleaming with the same mysterious allure as its counterpart.

Drawn by an inexplicable pull, Estaria took a step toward it. The obelisk seemed to pulse with an inner light, beckoning him closer. But before he could take another step, Woody moved with surprising speed for something so large, positioning its bulk directly between Estaria and the stone.

The creature’s amber eyes fixed on him with unmistakable intent. Its wooden frame creaked as it widened its stance, making it clear that this was no casual interruption. Each of Estaria’s attempts to side-step was met with a corresponding shift of Woody’s position, maintaining the barrier between him and the obelisk.

“What’s wrong?” Estaria asked, dropping his earlier playful tone. “The last one showed me important things. Why can’t I approach this one?”

Woody remained immobile, tail swishing in what Estaria had come to recognize as a negative gesture. The creature’s usual tolerant demeanor had been replaced by an air of protective authority that bordered on stern.

“Is it dangerous?” Estaria tried again, studying his companion’s rigid posture.

The forest’s ambient sounds seemed to dim around them, as if the very air held its breath. Woody’s only response was to dig its claws slightly into the earth, emphasizing its position as guardian rather than guide in this moment.

Estaria took a step back, respecting the clear boundary being set. He’d learned enough about this strange place to know that its mysteries unveiled themselves in their own time, and Woody had already proven itself a trustworthy protector. If the creature thought he shouldn’t approach the obelisk, he would heed that warning – for now, at least.

Instead, he turned his attention back to the clearing itself. The fire ring drew his eye again, and he approached it slowly, noting the careful arrangement of the stones. Someone had taken time to build this properly, suggesting they’d planned to stay a while. The thought of others finding refuge in this clearing, perhaps gathering around a fire while the strange forest loomed around them, sparked his curiosity even further.

He settled onto the smooth section of the log, feeling the worn grooves beneath his fingers where others had sat before him. The wood felt almost warm to the touch, despite the cool air. Behind him, he could hear Woody shifting position, maintaining its vigilant guard between him and the obelisk while allowing him to explore the rest of the clearing.

The space felt different from the rest of the forest – more grounded, more real somehow. While the trees beyond the clearing continued their subtle dance of perpetual movement, this pocket of stability offered a welcome respite from the constant flux. Even the air seemed clearer here, carrying hints of wood smoke from long-dead fires and the earthier scents of trampled soil.

After another failed attempt to move around Woody, Estaria exhaled deeply and turned his attention to making camp. The clearing’s worn earth and established fire pit practically invited him to settle in for the night. His gaze caught on several massive leaves drooping from nearby trees, each one larger than his torso.

“Well, if you won’t let me near that obelisk, I might as well get comfortable,” he said, gathering the broad leaves. Their waxy surface felt smooth against his calloused hands as he layered them together, weaving smaller branches through the stems to create a crude lean-to shelter.

The fire pit’s weathered stones felt solid and familiar as he arranged kindling and larger branches within their circle. A brief search yielded flint among the scattered rocks, and soon sparks caught in the dry tinder. The flames cast dancing shadows across the clearing while spreading welcome warmth through the cooling air.

Woody’s wooden joints creaked as it moved away from its post, disappearing into the shifting forest. The creature’s absence left Estaria with an unobstructed view of the obelisk, but he stayed put, respecting the earlier warning. Before long, Woody returned, carrying several strange creatures that resembled rabbits, if rabbits had iridescent fur and slightly too-long legs.

“Thank you,” Estaria said as Woody dropped the catch near the fire before resuming its vigilant position before the obelisk. “Though I notice you’re still not budging from that spot.”

He cleaned and prepared the meat with practiced motions, skewering the portions on green branches to roast over the flames. The meat’s aroma filled the clearing, reminding him how long it had been since he’d eaten properly. When done, the meat proved tender and surprisingly sweet, with an unusual but pleasant flavor that reminded him of honey and herbs.

As he finished the meal, thirst nagged at him. The memory of the watery sap from earlier made his mouth water. He approached a nearby tree, its bark smooth and pale in the firelight. Just as he prepared to score the surface, Woody let out a thunderous sound – half bark, half creak – that echoed through the clearing and made Estaria jump.

Before he could recover, Woody, careful to keep one eye on the obelisk, extended a massive claw toward a different tree. With precise movement, it scored the bark, and clear sap immediately welled from the cut.

Estaria glanced between the two trees, noting subtle differences he’d missed before. The leaves of his chosen tree had slightly serrated edges and a bluish tinge, while Woody’s pick bore smoother, greener foliage. He approached Woody’s tree, trusting the creature’s judgment. The sap tasted just as refreshing as before, cool and clean on his tongue.

“I suppose I should thank you for that too,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Though you could have been a bit quieter about it.”

Woody’s only response was to return to its post, amber eyes gleaming in the firelight as it resumed its watch. The creature’s tail swished once in what might have been acknowledgment, or perhaps amusement at Estaria’s comment.

Estaria settled back by the fire, his makeshift shelter at his back and his strange companion’s solid presence nearby. The flames painted patterns across Woody’s bark-like hide while casting the forbidden obelisk in shadows. Despite his curiosity about what secrets that dark stone might hold, exhaustion began to weigh on him. The day’s events, from healing Woody to their long walk through the ever-changing forest, had taken their toll.

He removed what remained of his torn shirt, balled it into something resembling a pillow and stretched out on the packed earth, which proved surprisingly comfortable. The fire’s warmth reached him even as the night air cooled, and the forest’s ambient sounds created an otherworldly lullaby. From his position, he could see Woody’s silhouette, still maintaining its steadfast guard between him and the obelisk.

Sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting shifting patterns across Estaria’s face. He blinked awake, muscles stiff from sleeping on the ground but feeling more rested than he had in days. The fire had burned down to embers, wisps of smoke curling lazily into the morning air.

Beside the dying flames lay another strange creature – similar to the ones from last night, but with a shorter tail and slightly broader head. Its iridescent fur caught the early light, shimmering with blues and greens.

“Thank you for breakfast,” Estaria called out to Woody as he sat up, stretching the kinks from his back.

A soft whoosh of air escaped Woody’s wooden frame – something between a sigh and an acknowledgment. Estaria reached for his knife and began cleaning the creature with practiced movements, but something about Woody’s demeanor made him pause.

The wooden guardian sat unnaturally straight, amber eyes fixed intently on Estaria’s every movement. Gone was the relaxed posture from the previous evening. Instead, Woody’s tail remained still, and its joints creaked with tension.

“Everything alright?” Estaria asked, returning to his task. The meat separated easily from the bones, and soon he had it skewered over the rekindled fire.

Woody’s only response was to shift slightly, maintaining that same rigid vigilance. The morning light played across its bark-like surface, highlighting scratches and scars from countless battles – including the fresh marks from yesterday’s encounter that were still knitting themselves together.

“You’re being unusually serious this morning,” Estaria said, turning the meat to cook evenly. “Not even a groan at my presence? I’m hurt.” He tried for levity, but Woody remained stoic, those gleaming eyes never wavering.

When the meat had cooked through, Estaria made his way to the tree Woody had indicated the night before. The sap flowed freely from the previous score mark, cool and refreshing as it had been before. He wiped his mouth, glancing at his silent companion.

“Still nothing to say?” he asked, settling back onto the log. “And here I thought we were becoming friends.”

The clearing fell silent save for the soft crackle of the fire and the strange, distant calls of forest creatures. Then, without warning, Woody rose and moved away from its post at the obelisk. The wooden guardian didn’t disappear into the trees as it had for hunting – instead, it circled the fire and sat directly across from Estaria.

Estaria’s gaze flicked between Woody and the now-unguarded obelisk. The black stone seemed to pulse with that same inner light he’d noticed yesterday, but now there was nothing between him and its mysteries.

“Wait,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “Did I have to eat some magical number of forest rabbits before I was allowed to look? Was this some kind of test?” He gestured at the remains of his breakfast. “How many more do I need to eat? Should I have saved the bones for a ritual?”

Woody remained motionless, those amber eyes reflecting the firelight as it stared at Estaria with an intensity that made his jokes die in his throat. The wooden guardian’s usual subtle expressions were gone, replaced by an almost ceremonial stillness that transformed the clearing’s comfortable atmosphere into something more solemn.

Estaria rose from the log, brushing off his pants and giving Woody one last questioning look. The wooden guardian remained by the fire, its stillness carrying an air of expectation. Taking a deep breath, Estaria approached the obelisk, noting how the morning light seemed to bend around its obsidian surface.

Unlike the previous obelisk, this one bore only a handful of markings – simple, angular lines that barely disrupted its smooth face. He circled it once, trailing his fingers along its cool surface. The stone hummed beneath his touch, but with less intensity than its counterpart.

Settling cross-legged before the obelisk, Estaria closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. He reached for that same awareness he’d found before, that subtle alignment between his consciousness and Streacresh’s energy. The forest’s ambient sounds faded away.

The world shifted.

Estaria found himself walking through different trees, their branches swaying in a nonexistent breeze. Ahead, a clearing opened up – similar to the one he’d camped in, but larger. Four obelisks stood in its center, arranged in a perfect square. Their surfaces gleamed like polished midnight, each with one marking on them. A 1, 2, 3, and 4 respectively.

Above each stone, ghosts of people from Estaria’s past, hovered, looking down at him. The first obelisk, Leona. The second had Orin smiling down at him. The third made his blood freeze and boil at the same time, as Klindon looked down. And the last made his heart rend. Angel looked down at him longingly. Estaria approached the nearest obelisk, studying the ethereal dance above it. He reached out, but his hand passed through the spectral form without resistance.

He tried focusing his resonance as he had before, attempting to align himself with the obelisk’s energy. Nothing happened. The stone remained cold and unresponsive beneath his touch. Moving to the next one, he tried again, pressing his palms against its surface and willing something – anything – to happen.

Still nothing.

He circled all four obelisks, trying different approaches. He spoke to them, touched them in different places, even tried pushing his resonance outward like he had during the fight with the shadow creature. The stones remained stubbornly inert, their ghosts looking down at him.

“What do you want from me?” Estaria shouted at the sky, frustration breaking through his usual composure. His voice echoed across the clearing, startling birds from distant trees. As his gaze lowered from the canopy, he noticed something different about the treeline.

A faint luminescence filtered through the branches on the clearing’s eastern edge. But it wasn’t just the light that caught his attention – the trees themselves seemed different. Their leaves shone with vibrant greens, their bark rich with health and vitality. Flowers bloomed along their branches, and vines spiraled up their trunks with supernatural vigor.

Intrigued, Estaria walked toward this section of forest. Each step brought him closer to trees that seemed to pulse with life itself. The air grew thick with the scent of growth and renewal, like spring concentrated into a single breath. The light between the trees beckoned, drawing him deeper into this unusually vital section of forest.

Estaria stepped between the vibrant trees, drawn by the ethereal light filtering through their leaves. Each step brought new wonders - flowers that opened and closed in response to his presence, vines that seemed to dance with consciousness, leaves that shimmered with impossible colors. The very air hummed with vitality, thick enough to taste on his tongue.

Before he could reach the light’s source, the trees parted to reveal another clearing, so small it was barely more than a gap between trunks. At its center stood another obelisk, its surface as unmarked as the four he’d left behind. But where those had been crowned with formless smoke, this one projected a crisp, clear image that hung in the air like a window into another world.

He moved closer, intending to study the image, but the obelisk had other plans. An invisible force seized him, dragging his feet across the dirt. He tried to resist, to plant his heels, but the pull was inexorable. The image expanded, enveloped him, consumed him.

And then he was living.

He was a farmer, tending crops in peaceful obscurity, never knowing the power that lay dormant within him. He died old, surrounded by grandchildren.

He was a soldier, discovering his resonance in the heat of battle, using it to save his companions. He fell the next day to an archer’s arrow.

He was a scholar, studying the mysteries of Streacresh, unlocking secrets of resonance through careful experimentation. His research died with him, forgotten.

He was a wanderer, a healer, a teacher, a thief. Each life unfolded in its entirety - every joy, every sorrow, every triumph and failure. He loved and lost a thousand times, made different choices, walked different paths. Some lives were long, others tragically brief. Some were filled with purpose, others with regret.

The experiences crashed through him like waves, each one complete and real and devastating in its intensity. He aged countless years, died countless deaths, only to be born again into another possibility. The weight of accumulated memories pressed against his consciousness, threatening to shatter his sense of self.

Finally, the torrent of lives slowed. Above the obelisk, one final image remained - Terrindral engulfed in flames. He watched himself turn away, abandon the burning world to its fate. The choice sat heavy in his chest, the culmination of a million possible paths leading to this single moment of failure.

Reality snapped back like a released bowstring. Estaria found himself on his hands and knees in the tiny clearing, every muscle trembling with exhaustion. The light still beckoned from beyond the trees, but he couldn’t summon the strength to lift his head, let alone walk. The weight of countless lives pressed him toward the earth.

His consciousness wavered, dark spots dancing at the edges of his vision. He felt himself toppling sideways, too drained to even break his fall. But before he hit the ground, something solid pressed against his side. Woody’s familiar wooden surface supported him, then carefully dragged him back through the forest.

The journey passed in a blur. Estaria caught fragments of sensation - the scrape of bark against his skin, the shifting patterns of sunlight through leaves, the crackle of the campfire growing louder. When Woody finally lowered him onto the packed earth of their camping spot, Estaria’s eyes were already closing.

Sleep claimed him before his head touched the ground, pulling him into darkness deeper than any he’d known before. His last conscious thought was gratitude for his guardian’s steady presence as the exhaustion of a million lifetimes dragged him under.

Awareness returned slowly, like morning fog burning away under the sun. Estaria’s muscles ached as though he’d spent days walking, and his mind felt stretched thin, filled with echoes of lives he’d never truly lived. The familiar scents of the forest clearing filtered through his senses - woodsmoke, damp earth, and the peculiar sweet-spice fragrance that seemed to permeate everything in Streacresh’s domain.

He opened his eyes to find his wooden guardian standing over him, amber eyes reflecting concern. The creature’s bark-like hide bore fresh scratches - evidence of the journey back through the dense forest while carrying Estaria’s unconscious form.

Pushing himself to a sitting position required more effort than it should have. His head swam with the movement, and he pressed his palms against his temples, waiting for the world to steady itself. The fire had been carefully maintained, its warmth reaching him even through his exhaustion. A pile of fresh meat lay nearby, ready to be cooked, and the water-bearing tree showed fresh score marks where his guardian had prepared for his eventual awakening.

“Thank you,” Estaria said, his voice rough from sleep. “For everything. The rescue, the food, the protection.” He gestured at their surroundings, encompassing all the creature had done for him.

The wooden guardian’s tail swished once, acknowledging his gratitude. It settled into a watchful crouch beside him, those intelligent eyes never leaving his face.

Estaria studied his companion more closely now, noting details he’d overlooked before. The precise way it moved, the calculated positioning that kept both Estaria and the surrounding forest within its field of vision, the careful maintenance of their camp - all of it spoke of training and purpose rather than mere instinct.

“You’re not just some forest creature, are you?” Estaria asked, though it wasn’t really a question. “The way you found me, how you’ve guided me, protected me…” He remembered the strange dance of their first meeting, the test of character disguised as a plea for help. “You’re no Woody.”

The guardian’s posture straightened, its amber eyes gleaming with something that might have been approval.

“You’re a Sentinel.”

The creature’s tail thumped once against the ground with definitive emphasis, the sound reverberating through the clearing like the ring of truth. Yes.

The simple confirmation shifted something in Estaria’s understanding, casting their shared experiences in a new light. Every interaction, from the moment the Sentinel had appeared in his path, had been deliberate. Even now, its positioning between him and the obelisk had changed - no longer guarding against his approach, but rather protecting his rest while he recovered from its revelations.

Estaria looked up at Sentinel, understanding dawning in his weary eyes. “Thank you for making me wait. For building up my strength first.” He rubbed his temples, the phantom echoes of countless lives still reverberating through his mind. “I might not have survived diving straight into that vision.”

Sentinel’s tail swished in acknowledgment, and the creature moved with purposeful strides toward a covered heap near the fire. With surprising delicacy, it pulled back a layer of broad leaves to reveal an entire wild boar.

A startled laugh escaped Estaria. “You can’t possibly expect me to eat all that! I may have lived a million lives in there, but I still only have one stomach.”

The wooden guardian’s face remained impassive, but something about its posture suggested amusement as it nudged the meat closer to the fire. Estaria shook his head but began preparing portions of the boar to cook, the familiar motions helping to ground him in the present moment.

As he worked, the memory of his vision swirled through his thoughts - the countless lives, the different paths, the weight of possibility. Something tugged at his consciousness, a half-remembered conversation from weeks ago. Brenda’s voice echoed in his mind, her scholarly tone tinged with skepticism as she discussed old legends.

“The five tests of Streacresh,” she had said, dismissing them as mere stories. But now, with the taste of a thousand lifetimes still fresh in his memory, those words carried new meaning. The obelisks, the visions, the careful way Sentinel had prepared him - it all pointed to something more structured than random encounters in an enchanted forest.

Lost in contemplation, Estaria’s hands moved automatically, cutting meat, adding seasonings from his pack, tending the fire. The rhythm of cooking merged with the flow of his thoughts as he pieced together the pattern emerging from his experiences.

“Those weren’t the tests. They were inert.” Estaria looked over at Sentinel, “I think I’m about to have a hard few days.”

A sharp click from Sentinel broke through his reverie. Estaria blinked, looking down at his plate - only to find it empty. Not just empty, but cleaned of every morsel. He stared at the remains of the boar, now little more than bones.

“I…” he began, then stopped, amazed. The entire boar was gone, consumed while he’d been lost in thought. His stomach felt pleasantly full, but not uncomfortably so. He turned to Sentinel with a rueful smile. “I guess living a million lives is hungry work.”

The wooden guardian’s tail thumped against the ground, its amber eyes gleaming with what might have been satisfaction. Estaria patted his stomach, still somewhat bewildered by the amount he’d eaten without even noticing.