'These gooddamn cowards,' Nyell thought as his smile faded from his face. It was hilarious how quickly they took the bait once they felt they had the upper hand. Miell seemed to have a good understanding of how corrupt and vile living beings' hearts could get, and his little scheme worked wonders. It barely took a few minutes for a few men to leave the shadows and abduct Miell after he was left alone. It was ridiculous, really.
A few minutes earlier
After they reached an abandoned settlement on the east cliff, Nyell used the perfunctory excuse that exploring each on their own would be faster and thus separated from Miell. The beastman had dragged him to a specific area where an order of evacuation had been given and no soul remained. The buildings and roads had been ravaged by one of the first disasters, and rubbles littered the ground. Rare were the houses left standing, and even rarer were those left unscathed. It was a desolate and eerie scene that stirred up a feeling of discomfort in Nyell's guts, even more so when his eyes fell upon forgotten toys entangled with fish remains. The catastrophe had been swift and devastating.
But most disturbing of all was the fact that the disaster had been mortal-engineered, and most likely, by those who were supposed to protect the tribe from harm.
Utterly disgusting.
The ghost settlement was silent, and only the sound of rhythmic waves crashing against the rifts echoed. Miell was now too far away for Nyell to hear his footsteps. To start with, he had light steps and made barely any noise when he moved around. It seemed to be something he did unsciously, but because of that, the footsteps of their Peeping Toms were overly loud in Nyell's ears. And the moment they decided to take action, he distinctly heard their rushed movements and the rustle of their clothing amid the whistling of the wind, almost as if they had been standing right next to him.
Nyell pretended to be oblivious. Even as they grew closer and closer to him, he continued to walk around and observe his surroundings without looking over his shoulder. It was hard not to scoff at their incompetence. Even kids knew how to move around stealthily in the Black Moon tribe, as it was a matter of life or death in the jungle. Couldn't Allen's foes at least have assigned discreet tails to them, or was it too much to ask? The thing, however, was that these men were relatively good at tracking their targets; it was just Nyell's ears that were too keen.
"Isn't this area off-limits?" a raspy voice resounded, and Nyell pretended to be startled by it, turning on his heels to face the newcomers. "You shouldn't wander in forbidden zones. That might not end well for you."
Mocking laughter resounded at these words, making Nyell raise an eyebrow. Did they think this was funny? How odd. Still, he resisted the urge to provoke the unwelcome intruders as he glanced at Miell, who was 'held' hostage. His arms had been tied behind his back, and one of the men pointed a knife toward his exposed throat. The message was clear, and Nyell raised his hands, tilting his head in a sign of submission. Although he was prideful, he didn't mind stepping on his ego and acting meek to get what he wanted. Brute force didn't always resolve everything, sadly.
"What do you want?" Nyell asked, squinting his eyes.
Something felt off. Miell was pale, too pale for someone who was supposedly in control of the situation and playing along. It sent alarm bells ringing in his head, but Nyell decided to ignore them. He couldn't afford to bring these guys to their knees now, not after how much effort it took to drag them out of the shadows. He refused to lose their lead. Moreover, he knew he had insurance if things went wrong. As Miell had mentioned, Allen was a bit over the top about his safety, and one of the ghosts had been assigned to follow him. He wasn't sure who it was, however. It could be Wua'en, Wue'en, or Dangu. Whatever the case, whoever it was could always report the situation to Allen if things went south. Myrven and Layla could then come to the rescue, if needed.
"Well," the man grinned, displaying his sharp canines. So, a werewolf it was. Not like Nyell had expected them to be foreigners to begin with. "Our leader would very much like to meet you, if you get what I mean."
"I don't believe I have the right to say 'no' right now, though," Nyell scoffed, although he was secretly rejoicing. He wasn't sure if the leader he spoke of was the leader of the backstabbing faction or merely the leader of their little group, but at any rate, it'd get things moving, and it might lead to the mastermind. As long as they managed to gather enough proof, Allen would then have the right to handle them however he saw fit.
"You understand things fast," the man snorted as he gestured for his comrade to come closer, which she did. In her hands lay familiar shackles that made Nyell frown slightly. Did they use these to bind Miell's arms behind his back? Was that why he had turned pale? Perhaps. They looked sturdier than the ones Nyell had broken on the children's and women's wrists and ankles. He might not be able to get rid of them as easily. "Turn around and put your hands behind you."
"Is that really necessary?"
"We like to err on the cautious side," the man smiled coldly. "We're not foolish enough to let a warrior such as yourself freely move around. We might be overnumbering you, but it doesn't mean you can't escape us if you put your mind to it. Though… I wonder if you'd escape on your own and leave your friend to us. You two seem quite close."
The comment made others snicker. It seemed like the feather-light kiss Miell planted on his cheek on the trial day had lit a spark of misunderstanding in some people. Not like Nyell minded. That had been the point. Anyway, Nyell was indeed close to Miell, to some degree. Even though they hadn't known each other for long, he felt like a long-time friend, and there was no way in hell he'd abandon him, even when he was staring at him with pleading eyes that told him to run. Right. Miell didn't know about the ghost, and Nyell must have looked crazy in his eyes for complying with the man's orders. That was basically putting a leash on himself.
"You're disgusting assholes," Nyell growled as he did as told, turning around and presenting his arms behind his back. "You do know that Allen won't let this slide, right?"
Again, snickers and laughter echoed as the cold feeling of metal was wrapped around his wrists. This time, Nyell was startled for real. The shackles seemed to sap away at his strength, and his limbs grew heavier. These things were enchanted. No wonder Miell looked so pale. The beastman might be in a relatively good physical shape, but it meant nothing if he could not draw out any strength to fight back. These shackles were a miscalculation neither of them had seen coming. Well, as long as Allen's servant ghost did its duty, everything should still turn out fine. Hopefully.
If not, Nyell would need to improvise.
.
.
The man, who had been speaking since earlier, was the one to guide Nyell to their leader's hideout. Despite the shackles, he didn't seem reassured and kept a grip around his upper arm, just in case. He roughly pulled him along the uneven path, regardless of whether or not Nyell could follow. He had almost lost his balance quite a few times by now. His legs were like jelly and not exactly cooperative. But he nevertheless forced them to move. He didn't want to finish like Miell, thrown over a shoulder like a potato sack.
After almost half an hour of hiking, they reached an abandoned house on the outskirts of the forsaken settlement. Unlike the other houses, it didn't appear to have been too devastated by the tidal wave. Only a few cracks ran along the walls, and the hinges of the door were slightly crooked. It only appeared old. Its relatively well-preserved state looked out of place amid the rubbles.
"Come on," the man yanked Nyell inside, almost making him tumble down headfirst. "On your knees!"
It didn't matter whether or not Nyell managed to steady himself, for the man had decided that he would bow down to their leader. He grabbed his shoulders and forced him to kneel, whereas Miell was thrown on the hard floor beside him. He wriggled a little to crane his neck up and look at the leader, but made no effort to move more than necessary, much less kneel. Nyell could tell he wanted to preserve his strength.
'Darn, this jerk is definitely not an elder and certainly not the ringleader,' Nyell silently clicked his tongue, disappointed. He had met everyone on the council, and this one hadn't been part of it. He'd remember such a distinctive man, as his appearance was hard to forget.
By the look of it, he must have been in his early forties. He was tall with a well-defined body, an oddity in a tribe composed mainly of shamans. His white hair was short, and braids stretched on the right side of his head toward the back. His blue eyes, which bordered on pale greyish blue, were striking and sharp, just like the rest of his facial features. One jarring thing made him stand out: the scar that ran from the corner of his mouth up to his ear. He wasn't wearing robes, but clothing similar to Nyell's, exposing his arms and the scars littering them. Most looked like bite and claw marks. They weren't the type of scars that Nyell would have expected to see on everyday people's bodies in the White Moon tribe, which led him to believe the man must have been a hunter. He had no memory of him, meaning that he might have been active years prior, when Nyell had yet to be sent on the field.
Still, Nyell couldn't shake off the strange, familiar feeling he felt at his sight. It was like he knew him, but he couldn't pinpoint where exactly he had met him. All he knew was that his stomach twisted in discomfort, and he felt like reeling.