Flatner forest is considered one of the most dangerous and inhospitable places in Acoria, bordering four of the Federation's central members and a breeding ground of the corrupted, it is also the home of the Pathfinders.

Ancient trees up to six meters thick, towering hundreds of meters high block out all light from hitting the forest floor. Dark, twisted branches and mangled roots hang between these giants as if trying to claw their way upwards making it almost impassable by conventional means.

Bar dirt roads and the sporadic, unnatural clearings it is a place that oozes danger and malice causing most to avoid it. Only industrial towns, utilising the forests diverse resources and a few bandit groups are brave enough to share this place with the Pathfinders.

In one of the many clearings, five figures are standing in a close circle facing each other. To the untrained eye, they are haphazardly placed, lazily slouching around basking in the sunlight.

However the more skilled would notice the group had a 360-degree field of vision and the lazy looking posture was actually so they would not block the line of sight of the others. The sounds of the forest were eerily silent, fearing to disturb the group.

They were covered in brown camouflage cloaks with streaks of dark green, black and the occasional murky yellow crisscrossing in an almost random fashion. Where the cloaks parted heavy leather armour could be seen covered in black metallic studs giving the impression that if hit, they would cause more damage than they took.

A gentle breeze blows through the clearing causing the figures to sway with it, almost like they were thin branches themselves. If it wasn't for the fact they were standing in scorching sunlight and a field full of short, green grass, it would be almost impossible to identify them as living beings.

A sharp, feminine voice breaks the long silence “They are late!”

“Well we did pick up the pace to give your little project a hard time” chuckled a much softer voice, so quiet that, if it wasn't for their training they would not have been able to hear it.

“Pfff, I will deal with that soon enough” [Sharp Voiced Woman]

Sensing the first woman didn't want to ruin the ‘surprise’ the soft-voiced woman went silent.

A couple of hundred meters away, five more figures shot through the undergrowth as if they were ghosts, the only proof of their passing being the dead leaves being slightly being thrown into the air by the and the swaying of small branches.

At the edge of the clearing, the group briefly stopped, eyeing those in the clearing and without sound, moving into formation. Once ready they launch forward like hawks diving on their prey.

“My grandmother in the afterlife could hear them coming” [Deep manly voice]

Bursting forth into the clearing they briefly pause as the dazzling light temporarily blinds them. They are in a formation that almost looks like an arrow, the three in front are in a triangle with the leader being much larger. Behind him, two much smaller figures stand.

If you were watching them head on or slightly to the side, you would only be able to see three people making it a very nasty ambush technique. Not only do you get the surprise of the ambush, once it becomes clear there are 5 instead of 3 you have to re-analyse everything once again.

Five spears thud into the ground in front of the approaching group, three in front of the leader and one each for the wing, causing them to slide to a halt.

“Your lucky you make so much sound, if you barge into a zone of control like that without announcing yourself, allies or not you're going to be attacked.” [Sharp voiced woman]

“Yes Captain” [Intruding group]

They suddenly relax and fall to the ground panting heavily, removing the cloak hoods and reaching for water canteens. They had been running flat out for 3 hours trying to catch up to their mentor's group.

The group consisted of 2 girls and three boys. The girls sitting at the back were twins and almost identical. Their snake-like eyes and thin lips proudly displaying the lambia heritage flowing through their veins.

They had trained hard the in the last two years to keep their humanoid form as slithering through the forest was too slow and cumbersome but still, they were nearly at their limits.

“Captain, you're too fast! We haven't been able to even have a drink let alone rest [Twin 1]

“Yes! How are we meant to pass the trial if we are near dead with exhaustion?” [Twin 2]

The three males slightly tensed hearing the girl's words, If they were to utter such complaint they would be lucky if they could eat solid food again. They looked at a hulking figure still gazing around the clearing.

Rock, the elemental noticed the gaze and gave a deep chuckle. The twins were his mentees and although he knew he had been a little soft on them he couldn't help it. It had been a long time since he interacted with other elementals, even if they were lambia hybrids and he was well known for having a soft spot for younglings having lost his own in a corrupt raid.

The captain strode forward until she was standing in front of the group and bellowed at them causing everyone in the clearing to flinch “Do you think real life lets you be at 100%, no it waits until you're at your lowest, least suspecting before striking you where it hurts” [Verz]

As the pathfinder adapts quickly regained their composure and started to stand, not wanting to anger their captain any further, they watched as she stomped towards the long shadow of the a tree.

None of them had noticed it until now but the shadow was weird. It was much longer than it should be at this time of day. They all immediately knew what was causing it and a look of pity flashed across their faces.

“At least you work together as a team as Pathfinders should, unlike a certain someone!” [Verz]

Moving her arm so fast it left an after image, she backhanded the air above the shadow.

As her hand passed through the shadow a loud, snapping noise was heard as the black shape of a young man was thrown out into the clearing.

Unlike the rest of the group, his cloak and leather armour was completely black and irregularly shaped breaking up his outline.

The man slammed into the floor before bouncing back into the air, flipping so he landed on his feet in a prone position. Sliding to a stop in an almost perfect aggressive stance, he looked like a coiled snake ready to strike. His black, void-like eyes stared at Verz as a trickle of blood could be seen running down his chin before dripping onto the floor.

“How long?” [Man]

“Little demon, I knew you had abandoned your group and tailed us from the moment we left camp. The only reason I allowed you to recover, pathetic that it took you two hours, by the way, was because I am slightly impressed you could keep up”. [Verz]

“Tsk” [Mors]

Swaying slightly as he stood up, Mors started walking back towards the shadow of the tree.

“No more hiding in the shadows when around comrades, I don't mind you being anti-social to others but pathfinders are family and if you pass the test you're going to behave like it”. [Verz]

“Oh and no healing magic until we get to town” [Verz]

Mors hesitated for a moment before giving a shrug and sitting down to create a makeshift splint for his newly broken arm.

-”I thought I managed to hide the damage and distract her with the blood so she wouldn't stop me healing it. Who’s the real demon here?” [Mors]

The softly spoken woman who had been approaching him stopped and gave a questioning frown to her captain.

“Jade stop mothering him! He so thick he only learns when it hurts” [Verz]

“Captain, you broke his arm in three places!” [Jade]

“Flesh wound, he can handle it” [Verz]

Jade gave a slight frown before returning to her original position. Although no one would be crazy enough to attack Pathfinders in this forest, beasts and monsters weren't exactly known for their logic.

The adepts who had been purposefully looking anywhere but at Mors gave a slight shiver and offered a silent collective prayer.

-”Thanks to all the gods who let Mors take the position of captains punching bag”

Captain Verz had never taken a student before so when she announced it, lots of people were envious of Mors thinking he would get special treatment or exempt from the arduous training.

It wasn't long before the feeling of envy was replaced with pity. Not only did Mors not get any special treatment, he was basically punished on what seemed like an hourly basis. His training was twice as hard as the other recruits and after he finished, he had to study so many subjects a royal university student would blanche.

To finish up his day he would ‘spar’ with the Captain, who on a good day would only break a couple of bones. She had only broken his spine once forcing him to spend the entire week in the medical tent and that was because he tried to grab her tail. Wolf beastkin were extremely aggressive when others entered their personal space, the one known as the Blood Wolf was no exception.

Without a word the group started moving towards the edge of the clearing, quickly disappearing from sight.

Only Mors was left, as he stood and slowly walked in their direction. Taking a deep breath he launched into the forest behind them leaving the clearing completely desolate.

When he evolved he regained some of his previous life's memories. They had all been terrifying, dark and full of misery and loss. Now knowing why he would call the god of death Grim and seeing a tiny glimpse of his past failures, he had a new-found respect for the words of warning given at the end of their meeting.

Bonds to the living only cause pain, suffering and have destroyed any chance his soul has of moving on. The pain had scarred his soul, his memories just helped him identify the cause and he quickly became a recluse wanting to avoid more heartache.

So far he had been lucky with his limited life and only had one person he truly cared about, but their personality made him feel like it would be possible to break the bond. It would hurt, but as long as the last thing he knew was they were OK, it would be manageable.

He soon caught up with the now slowly moving group and moved wide to the right-hand side. He didn't feel comfortable in formation with people he didn't trust. If he was to die, it was to be my his own stupidity and not because someone stabbed him in the back… again.

-”I guess I won't be able to remain a Pathfinder, but best not to tell anyone yet. Let's make sure I don't return to being a slave then I can go AWOL or fake my death” [Mors]

After an hour the group came across a dirt road and started following it deeper into the forest from the safety of the trees passing only a few merchants and caravans.

They stopped at the edge of a huge clearing. Located In the centre was a sprawling town made of wooden buildings. The population was only a few hundred people but due to soul weapons as well as having high mineral deposits located nearby, there were also a few hundred soldiers, merchants and researchers flooding the town on a daily basis.

Dark palladised walls encircled the town, glowing in all manners of brightly coloured runes and defensive spells causing the air to almost hum when one approached. It might not be as magnificent as Alzor but for a town, the defences were unparalleled.

From the group's position, they could only hear the bustling sounds of everyday life and see the thin streaks of smoke blemishing the beautiful, clear blue sky.

“Flatner, the birthplace of soul weapons,” said Rock as they stepped out of the tree line and onto the road leading to the solitary entrance.

Soul weapons were quite rare and only forged for the Federations forces. They were made from a unique metal called Astorneth that’s only known vein was deep below Flatner.

To get a soul weapon, you needed have a ritual where an image of your ideal weapon and fighting trait was discovered. From that, a master blacksmith would create and enchant the weapon before a binding ceremony took place.

Once bound, the weapon would damage anyone or anything it came into contact with, the exception being its owner and other soul weapons/Astorneth. This caused a little bit of trouble when transporting or storing them, so they often came with Asorneth bindings or sheaths to wrap them in when out of combat.

When the owner of a soul weapon die’s the weapon will disintegrate into nothingness. No one is really sure why this happens but it is considered a positive as it removes the possibility of the enemy gaining powerful weapons or soldiers being burdened by ones that do not suit them.

Flatner was the only place in the world that could create soul weapons. The reason for this was quite simple. If you did not forge Asorneth within a couple of hours of it being mined then it would harden and become impossible to mould.

The group of eleven walked up to the towering gatehouse. Although made of wood it was clear to see that the enhancements made it stronger than Iron and would cause any wood-bee attacker a headache.

One of the guards separated from his group and stepped towards them.

“Name and purpose of Visit” [Guard]

“Captain Verz of the Pathfinders, here to request soul weapons for our latest recruits” [Verz]

The guard tried to gauge the strength of the smaller members of the group but due to the heavy cloaks covering them and their faces, he could make out little. After analysing a document handed to him he held out his hand in an expecting manner.

“Eleven people, that will be 11 silver” [Guard]

Verz hands over 12 silver coins to the guard and the group continues inside the gate.

The two twins giggled excitedly at the prospect of gaining a soul weapon, however, Mors was completely focused on something else.

-”I swear I know that guard from somewhere" [Mors]