Path of darkness

Ezra felt a strange restlessness in his heart as he stared at the wooden totem erected in the middle of the settlement. Even though he had killed the Shaman, he could feel an evil presence lingering in the dark.

With the Shaman dead, the dark fog gradually dispersed, and the moon cast its pale glow upon the forest, illuminating the dense undergrowth and pushing back the shadows.

Ezra gulped the last healing potion in his inventory to slow the spread of the necrotic rot, but it did little to reverse the damage which had already taken place. His flesh had turned squishy, and his skin dry and flaky.

“God, that stinks!” He scrunched his nose as the smell of rotten flesh wafted up his nostrils.

Bruised and battered, Ezra looked like he had crawled right out of a nightmare. Even his hair was starting to fall off, and the veins on his arms had turned sickly black.

Any sensible person would have hurried out of the forest, but Ezra felt drawn toward the wooden totem before him. It was a stran