Submission (#5707) Approved

Sariel led the party of the two adventurer rank elnin, Tau and Styx, through the dense, verdant jungle near his home.  The group moved cautiously, pushing aside foliage and vines that threatened to reclaim this one well-trodden path, Sariel in the lead.

If he was honest with himself, Sariel wanted nothing more than to never come back again.  He recognized his duty, however.  If he did not lead the adult elnin to where he had spotted the spreading miasma, it would simply spread unchecked.  Tau and Styx only needed to mark its location and construct a report so the zone could be noted and, hopefully, purified before it spread further.  The thought was the only reason he kept placing one paw in front of the other.  This was his duty, this was something he could do to carry forth his family’s legacy.

As the party pressed forward, the air grew heavy and suffocating, and the usual background noise of the chittering wildlife was silenced by an eerie stillness.  The atmosphere clung to their fur like a shroud, and the elnin exchanged nervous glances, cast towards the canopy, the branches, and even the ground.  The very light that filtered to the jungle floor seemed to dim.  The thought that this was likely caused by a cloud passing overheard did little to comfort the kittom, and Sariel turned away from the canopies with something that tasted close to fear on his tongue.

Sariel walked slower as they neared the clearing where he had spotted the broken island, eyes wide and darting.  His breathing was tremulous, and his steps almost hesitant.  He pushed undergrowth aside, flattening a large leaf against the trunk of a nearby tree to provide a view of what lay beyond, but as he turned his head his heart stopped, his breath caught in his throat.

A barrier shimmered where before there had been a clearing of wide trees.  It was ethereal, undulating with colors like an oil slick, dark and greasy, changing its hues as the light filtered through the wall.  Its surface rippled like a disturbed pond when a nearby branch rustled, distorting the view of the jungle behind it.  It extended from the soil itself and upwards until he lost sight of it, and seemed to circle a wide area around the clearing.  So wide, Sariel couldn’t even see the clearing from where he stood, because the miasma had spread, clearly and efficiently, over the course of a single night.

And beyond the barrier, Sariel caught glimpses of a battered realm.  Dead and decaying vegetation stretched as far as he could see.  Trees stood skeletal, their leaves reduced to withering husks.  The previous vibrant emerald greens of the leaves were replaced with sickly shades of brown and grey.  The air itself was heavy, pungent with the odor of damp and decay.  The land beneath the barrier was littered with desiccated leaves, following the same pattern of muted, dead colors.  Where the earth had been moist, even muddy in places, it was now drained, cracked and parched.

This was devastation.  Where once before was a circle of contamination, now it was a dying ever-expanding ecosystem of its own.  Whatever balance had held the miasma in check had been stripped away, and the jungle’s tapestry had been shattered.  The land here, barely contained by this ever-encroaching barrier, was frozen in a perpetual state of demise.

Sariel approached, eyes wide, mouth falling open.  The sight was enchanting in its horror, capturing the kittom in its grip of dread and sorrow.  A mere accident had destroyed the beauty that lay here and likely irreparably damaged it.  How could they overcome such a cataclysm?  How was the land meant to thrive under the ever-present threat of the decaying miasma?

A force sent him sprawling to his side.  The kittom yelped, landing on the nearby reaching leaves in a tangle on the floor.  He looked up to see the glaring eyes one of the elnin that had followed him here, teeth clenched, pale eyes blazing.

“Do not approach the miasma,” Styx hissed, lowering his head.

Sariel ducked his head, looking down at his paws, feeling something welling in his chest.  He barely managed to mutter a “Sorry.”

The older elnin grunted, turning to look away and examine the shimmering barrier. 

“This is worse than what you told us before,” Tau sounded almost accusing, his eyes scowling at the barrier.

“It wasn’t like this yesterday,” Sariel said.  He turned to look at the barrier as well, eyes following the shimmer upwards, where it disappeared into the rotting canopies of the surrounding trees.

“We will be swift,” Styx said.  He turned away from Sariel to inspect the barrier.  With slow measured steps, the elnin walked along the length of it, giving the barrier a wide berth but still clearly following its path.  “We will need to run the perimeter.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tau agreed, tail drooping as he looked at Styx.  “This is going to ruin some days.”

Styx grunted.

Tau turned to Sariel with a tired smile, “Run along now, we can deal with this.  Just be careful.”

Sariel nodded, muttering words of ascent and thanks before he turned away, head hanging low.  The still living jungle welcomed him back, its familiar embrace now tinged with a reverberating melancholy.  He brushed through the foliage, the image of the barrier and the decaying land it guarded heavy in his heart.  He hoped this would be the end of it, that the two adults would swiftly address the issue and that the miasma would be gone by the week’s end.  But Sariel knew it wouldn’t be that easy.  The ever encroaching miasma was and would be an ever-present threat, even this close to his home.