The forest stayed quiet after the perimeter stabilized, but the word corruption finally entered the reports.

  Scouts began flagging markers along the outer sweep—faint, localized, consistent with low-level exposure rather than spread. The notes were logged, cross-checked, and cleared. No active movement. No inward pressure. Nothing that warranted a change in rotation.

  Camp absorbed the information without altering its rhythm.

  Rotations held. Supply lines stayed clean. Lifewards continued moving fast and efficiently through minor injuries, keeping teams mobile and numbers steady.

  By midmorning, another unit returned with a capture.

  A corrupted cindercrest vulture, wings bound and contained before it could gain altitude. The bird had been circling the same stretch of land repeatedly, its pattern easy enough to spot once scouts knew what to look for. A weighted net dropped cleanly. Wards held. The creature fought briefly, then stilled.

  Contained. Logged. No spread.

  The cage was transferred to the lab perimeter without incident. Initial readings confirmed what the field teams had already reported—localized corruption, stable under isolation, no secondary contamination along the capture route.

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  Lab teams rotated in and out with practiced ease. Samples were taken. Instruments calibrated. Data recorded.

  Nothing deviated from expectation.

  Vern and Professor Hale reviewed the reports together, scanning margins and annotations, comparing results against earlier field data. Every line matched. Every threshold held.

  By evening, the first signs of wear showed across the teams. Twisted ankles. Shallow cuts. A cracked rib from a misjudged fall. Lifewards moved through the ranks with fast hands and minimal disruption, returning most soldiers to duty within minutes. A few were sent on to the healers. A minimal number were rotated out as a precaution, team counts thinning by one or two before stabilizing again.

  Camp adjusted without comment.

  In the quieter hours between rotations, Lysara took to the forest edge.

  Off duty, she collected carefully—bark shaved thin from fallen branches, leaves taken sparingly, roots exposed just enough to identify before being covered again. She checked each specimen against the notes in her personal ledger, cross-referencing growth patterns, sap color, scent.

  By the third evening, her tent had shifted outward by a few paces, closer to the tree line than the central fires. No one questioned it. The move didn’t disrupt patrol paths or supply lines, and it placed her nearer to the plants she kept returning to.

  Beyond the lights, the forest remained still.

  The perimeter held.

  The containment held.

  The data held.

  And with corruption identified, categorized, and accounted for, the operation continued exactly as planned.