Years after the close brush with the Bumpkles, I would make three more ventures into the Blackrock Forest. However, on the fourth journey, I was in search of one creature in particular, the fabled beings known as Sun Stealers. Said to be tall as the trees themselves, and black and cold as a starless night, heavens know why I would actually want to intentionally go looking for them. The Dragons once again sent help with me, this time with a young sapphire dragonling named Tyr'ia, and a wise Steelback named Jaar'nadi. Before leaving, Gaaren ran up to us with a last-minute gift as well: a potion that would turn us dark as the Blackrock Forest, so that the creatures hiding within could not spy us as we invaded their home. Gaaren himself would not dare accompany us again; I do not think any less of him for doing so.

The trip to the Blackrock Forest felt different this time, colder, like the creatures expected our return, and were gleefully waiting to strike as soon as we stepped foot into their lair. I suspected it was just nerves, though as we passed through the Rugged Line, I could not help but begin to have second thoughts about coming back. As the first Blackrock shrubs came into view, and the new moon cast darkness onto the ground, Tyr'ia, Jaar'nadi, and I took out Gaaren's gift and each took a drink from the bottle.

It was like having a barrel of water from the glaciers of the Ridge forced down your throat. But when the chills passed, we could tell Gaaren's work had been done. We were all still able to see one another, but each of us looked like a reflection in slowly rippling water, a camouflage to shield us from whatever lurked in the trees. We steadied our minds and once again went into the Ashen Trail.

Sun Stealers were said to live deep within the Blackrock Trees, where the air itself feels like floating pitch, and slightest sound echoes like the cracking of a thousand bones. We journeyed for what I think was two days. All the while, the Ashen Trail grew less and less pronounced, and the darkness became overwhelming. More than once Jaar'nadi suggested we concede and turn back, but I was stubborn, and Tyr'ia was eager for adventure. We pushed on.

On the fifth day, Jaar'nadi spotted something. A patch of darkness even more ominous than the surrounding black, a darkness that rippled and seemed to ripple and churn. I knew at once we had found a Sun Stealer grove. It was well off the Ashen Trail, though we knew that we must step off the path. Tyr'ia was the first to go forward. I am slightly ashamed to say I was the third.

The chill grew frigid as we came closer, the silence all-consuming, but still we pressed on. After moving a mere twenty paces we were soaked with sweat, near collapse. But we made it, and we waited to gaze upon a Sun Stealer with a mix of terror and excitement.

None came. We waited for hours, and the creatures never appeared. It was maddening. Time slipped away. On the third day, Jaar'nadi finally told us to go back, and with hearts heavy, provisions low, and minds fogging, we relented.

And as we neared the clearing back into the Rugged Paths, the Sun Stealers appeared.

The old scriptures were true. Tall as the trees, like a shroud woven from a black sky. A smooth white depression for a face, two black, expressionless eyes that looked on us like a child about to curiously crush an insect. An ebony crown that floated above their heads, with long, slender points. And above the crown, an orb that looked like a star, an orb that made me realize why the Sun Stealers were so aptly named.

The crown seemed to suck the light from the circle, the glow changing from white to grey to black as it reached the crown's base. But it didn't end with the stars within their crowns. What little light that snuck through the trees was dragged to them as well, the black leaves withering as they lost what little sun they could live from, the creatures living within them fleeing or falling dead at the creature's feet.

Tyr'ia died. The Sun Stealers enveloped her in their cloaks and when they moved away, she was nothing more than a weathered skin. They parted, as if telling Jaar'nadi and I to leave, as if we had paid the price for their mercy with one life. We stumbled away, and when I looked back they were gone. The Ashen Trail was overrun with new Blackrock Plants, as if it had never existed. That was my fourth and final visit to the Forest; without the Ashen Trail, the dragons themselves have refused to go back.