Part - 1
The tavern was quiet in the daylight no rowdy laughter, no clatter of mugs, just the low creak of wood settling in the heat and the rhythmic swish of Mira's broom against the stone floor. Dust spiraled in the sunbeams streaming through the narrow windows, lazy and golden, as if the world had sighed and decided to rest.
The door groaned open.
Boots scraped across the threshold, caked with dried mud and worn thin at the heels. A girl stepped inside, pushing back the hood of her travel-stained cloak. Her hair was a tangled mess of wind and road dust, her shoulders slumped like a bridge bearing too much weight. She didn't speak, just trudged to her usual corner and collapsed into the chair with a thud that echoed in the empty room.
Mira glanced up from behind the bar, one eyebrow arching.
"Well, well," she drawled, wiping her hands on her apron. "Look what the wind finally dragged back in."
Velra exhaled through her nose. "Hey, Aunt Mira."
She didn't wait for pleasantries, just jerked her chin toward the bottles lining the shelf. Mira snorted but obliged, pouring two fingers of something amber and sharp into a glass so chipped it was a miracle it held anything at all. She slid it down the counter with practiced ease. Velra caught it one-handed, drained half in a single swallow, then dropped her forehead onto the table with a thunk.
Mira leaned her elbows on the bar. "So?"
"One more job," Velra muttered into the wood grain. "One more, and the Guild marks me a Slayer."
A long sigh. "This again? Two years, Velra. Two years since that night, and you're still chasing ghosts.
Still looking for him?"
Velra lifted her head just enough to glare. "Of course. I went after him that day... and he was gone. No trail. No name. Just fucking air."
"And I told you," Mira said, pouring herself a drink now, "nothing good comes from digging into shadows. You could have a decent life by now. With your skills, any noble house would trip over themselves to hire you. And after this job?" She shook her head. "You could settle. Live peacefully."
Velra's laugh was a dry, brittle thing. "What's the point of being an adventurer if I wanted to live peacefully?"
"You'd be one of the youngest Slayer in a generation," Mira pressed. "Eighteen and already clawed your way up from nothing. The Guild would shove contracts at you. Bodyguard some rich bastard, swim in gold..."
"I'd rather choke on my own blood."
Mira's mouth twisted. "Stubborn as a mule." She took a slow sip. "So? Why him? Why that man?"
Velra spun the glass between her fingers, watching the liquid swirl. "I want to be strong. You said it yourself he might be a Paragon. Even if he's just a Champion or Master, he's still be in the top hundred on the continent. I want to learn. I want to improve."
"Plenty of masters would take you now."
"Learn from a Wanderer, become one. Learn from a Fighter, die a Fighter." Velra's eyes flicked up, sharp as flint. "I'm not aiming for decent, Mira. I'm aiming for the top. And he might be one of the few who's there."
Mira opened her mouth probably to argue about nobles and their resources but Velra cut her off with a sneer.
"If I ever take help from those silk-wrapped leeches, I hope someone puts a knife in my back first."
Mira threw up her hands. "Fine. Go get yourself killed. Just settle your tab before you do."
Velra smirked and reached for her coin purse. "Any new leads on the Sunbrand?"
Mira leaned in. "Nothing solid. Most people haven't even heard of it. Those who have say different things. It's like everyone's telling there own story. Nothing but lies."
Before Velra could reply, the tavern door banged open.
"Velra!" A voice barked. "Move your ass! The client's waiting!"
Velra stood, rolling her shoulders until they cracked. She tossed a handful of coins onto the bar enough for the drink and a little extra.
"I'll come back a Slayer," she said.
Mira raised her glass in a sardonic toast. "Luck to you, girl. Try to keep your head attached."
Velra stepped back into the sunlight, her boots kicking up little clouds of dust that hung in the air behind her like fading footsteps.
Part - 2
Outside the bar, six figures stood beneath the grey sky. The sun was slipping behind the crooked trees of the Hollowpine Thicket, painting everything in washed-out gold.
Velra pulled her gloves tight and adjusted the rapier at her hip. Her breath misted faintly in the air strange for a summer evening.
"About time," said Garran, the team's tank and captain. A broad-shouldered man with a weather-beaten face, a thick brown beard, and arms like tree trunks. His warhammer hung at his side, paired with a dented iron shield that looked like it had seen a dozen campaigns.
Velra gave a small wave as she joined them. She'd been with this party for two years now, ever since the day she first walked into that bar with nothing but a name and a blade. They weren't family, but they were close enough.
Garran raised his voice. "Alright, listen up! Everyone clear on the plan? We're taking out those Hollow Gnashers. Stick to the strategy. Keep your Emberglass vials handy in case it gets hairy but don't use them unless absolutely necessary. Those things are damn expensive. We coat our weapons with wyrmroot oil before engaging. That should soften them up."
He grinned, shield tapping the ground. "And after that? A feast. Courtesy of Velra, our soon-to-be Slayer."
The group let out a cheer.
"Wait, what?" Velra blinked. "When was this decided?"
Joren, the team's support and pack-carrier, laughed. He was the smallest of the group, wiry and clever-eyed, his pack almost as big as he was. "We voted. You weren't there."
"Fine, fine," Velra grumbled, trying to hide a smirk. "Just don't ask me to cook."
The others fell in behind Garran as they marched into the forest.
Party Roster:
Garran: Captain and tank. Warhammer and shield.
Velra: Warrior. Rapier user. Newest member, two years in.
Kale: A lean, silent man. Combatant. Fought with gloved fists that cracked like stone on impact.
Joren: Support and potter. Carried supplies, fixed gear, brewed quick salves.
Thena: Archer. Pale-haired and always quiet before fights.
Mirael: Healer. Light staff on her back, calm and precise.
They walked for hours, crunching dry leaves and ducking low branches. As evening descended, they found a small clearing bordered by blackbark trees.
Garran pointed. "We rest here. Joren, tents and fire."
Joren sighed but nodded. "Yeah, yeah. I'll have stew ready too."
"Good. The rest of you, with me. We hunt before nightfall."
The hunting party moved swiftly. They reached the den just past a ring of fungus-covered stones. The stench of decay filled the air. The Hollow Gnashers were there hideous, lanky things with long jaws and rows of pale teeth. They slouched and sniffed at the earth like starving dogs.
Velra crouched low. The others followed suit. Mirael passed tiny glass flasks down the line. Everyone coated their weapons in slick, gleaming wyrmroot oil.
Garran raised a fist. The signal.
Kalr hurled a sunthread bomb into the middle of the pack. It burst into a flare of blinding golden light. The Gnashers shrieked, stumbling back.
"Charge!" Garran roared.
The fight was fast and brutal.
Velra dashed forward, rapier slicing tendons and joints. Garran smashed one beast into a tree. Kale spun like a storm, fists cracking bones and jaws. Thena loosed arrow after arrow with unerring aim, each one singing through the air. Mirael stayed behind, staff raised to patch wounds or push enemies back with light pulses.
One of the Gnashers leapt at Kael, claws slashing his side. Another nicked Garran's arm. Mirael threw a vial of Emberglass the burning liquid ignited the air, reducing two beasts to ash.
They panted but stood, victorious.
"Still breathing," Kale grunted, holding his side.
Velra wiped her blade. "Told you it'd be easy."
They collected the monster remains in linen sacks for guild proof. Night was falling fast. Fog crept in low and quiet.
Then, without warning, Kale turned.
His fist slammed into Garran's back, sending the big man sprawling with a grunt.
"Kale?!" Mirael shouted.
They all froze. Kale's eyes glowed a dull, unnatural red.
Garran groaned from the dirt. "He's being controlled! Subdue him!"
They lunged, but the fog thickened, curling around their legs like a living thing.
"What's happening?!"
Velra's breath caught. Shadows twisted in the trees.
Then Garran screamed. His warhammer arm dropped to the dirt, blood spraying.
They turned in horror. Standing behind him, bow raised, was Thena. Her eyes glowed crimson, and her lips moved in silence.
"No," Mirael whispered. "Not her too..."
Velra drew her blade again. The fight wasn't over.
Not even close.
Part - 3
Garran clutched the stump of his arm, blood seeping through the straps of his armor like wine through a cracked barrel. His face was a mask of pain, but his voice still cut through the chaos like a war horn.
"That arrow gods damn it that wasn't just steel. That was charm-forged! Take cover now!"
The party scattered. Velra dove behind a shattered boulder, her breath ragged. The fog coiled around them, thick and suffocating, like the breath of some ancient beast.
From where he knelt, Garran barked through clenched teeth, "There's something else. The Gnashers... their eyes were red too. I didn't think much of it before, but now I'm sure. It's a... a Gnarl Seer."
The name slithered through the air, cold and venomous. A Gnarl Seer. A thing of twisted roots and stolen minds. A nightmare made flesh. The fog churned, alive now, thick as oil and twice as heavy.
Then, from the belly of that cursed mist, something rose:
Then the mist moved.
A towering silhouette cloaked in robes of bark and bone. Its garment was stitched with the skins of its enthralled victims. From its head, a tangle of deadwood antlers sprouted like lightning-struck trees, gnarled and bleeding thick, sticky black sap. The Gnarl Seer.
A presence that warped the soul and fractured the mind.
Mirael's voice sliced through the dread. "I brought a Starflint Rod, one shot! It'll burn the illusion away!"Hope sparked in their eye but dimly. One shot. One chance.
Thena, eyes glowing red with magic, loosed another arrow toward Garran, giving away her position.
Kale prowled low through the fog, silent and deadly.
No words were exchanged, but the plan was clear as firelight.
Garran roared and charged towards Mirael, blood trailing behind him. Kale lunged after him, fists like hammers. Thena nocked another arrow.
Velra crashed into Thena, steel flashing. The archer snarled, but Velra's rapier smashed the bow from her grip. A knee to the gut, a pommel to the temple, Thena crumpled.
Behind her, Garran reached Mirael. Kale's fist snapped forward. Garran barely raised his shield in time. The impact sent him stumbling, but Mirael's hands were already glowing, sealing Garran's wound with desperate magic.
"NOW!" Garran roared.
Velra turned just as Mirael raised the Starflint Rod...
A whip of thorned tendrils lashed from the fog. It struck Mirael's wrist. The rod clattered to the ground.
Kael struck again.
This time, Garran wasn't fast enough.
His fist landed with a sickening crack,Stonecrack, his signature technique. It tore into Garran's stomach. Blood bubbled from his mouth.
"Garran!" Velra cried.
Even mortally wounded, Garran grabbed Kael in a bear hug, using the last of his strength to hold him.
"Do it!" he gasped.
Mirael scrambled for the fallen rod. Another tentacle struck out.
Garran, with Kael still in his grip, stepped between it and her.
The thorned spike punched through both their chests.
They collapsed together, a tangle of limbs and blood.
Mirael screamed not a battle cry, not a spell, just a raw, broken sound. She snatched the rod, aimed...
The world erupted in white fire.
The Gnarl Seer was laid bare.
The mist burned away. The Gnarl Seer's true form stood revealed a hunched, skeletal horror, its skin stretched thin over writhing roots, its hollow eyes pulsing with sickly light.
Velra didn't hesitate.
She threw a vial of Emberglass and charged, her blade a flash in the dark. The Seer raised a clawed limb, but she was already moving, rapier flashing. The Seer lashed out, but the potion burned its insides, weakening its flesh. Her blade carved through rot and sinew, each strike trailing embers.
One final thrust up through its jaw, into its skull.
The Seer shuddered. Then it collapsed, unraveling into a heap of ash and withered vines.
Silence.
Velra fell to her knees.
Mirael was already at Garran's side, her hands pressing uselessly against the ruin of his chest. "No, no, no..." Her voice was a whisper, cracking. "You stubborn bastard, you don't get to die like this."
Garran's lips twitched. Blood bubbled between his teeth. "Told you... Slayer suits you."
His breath left him in a slow, rattling sigh.
Mirael sobbed. Velra didn't. She just sat there, staring at the bodies, Garran, Kale, the Seer's remains.
Thena groaned, stirring. Her eyes were clear now, but hollow. "...What happened?"
No one answered.
The fog was gone. Dawn crept over the trees, pale and indifferent.
Velra looked at her sword. At the graves she'd have to dig.
She didn't feel like a Slayer.
End of Chapter.