The morning after the celebration, the village waved them off with baskets of bread, dried meat, and fresh water. Kofi bowed awkwardly as children ran after him, shouting farewells.
"They like you," Darius said, adjusting the strap on his sword.
Kofi scratched the back of his neck. "I don't feel like I deserve it yet."
"Heroes never do," the knight muttered.
The road back to the capital was quiet at first. Sunlight filtered through the forest canopy, and the breeze carried the scent of pine. But after hours of walking, Lyra's pointed ears twitched.
"…We're being followed."
Kofi froze. "By what?"
She raised a finger to her lips. "Quiet. Listen."
At first, he heard nothing but birdsong. Then
—
The faint crunch of leaves. Too heavy for a deer. Too deliberate for chance.
Darius's hand went to his sword. "Show yourself!" he barked, spinning toward the trees.
The forest fell silent.
Then the shadows shifted.
Figures stepped into view, cloaked in ragged black. Their faces were hidden, but their eyes glowed faintly red. Each carried jagged blades that dripped with a faint, unnatural mist.
"Cultists," Darius growled. "Fanatics of the Demon King."
One of the cloaked figures hissed. "The hero… must not return alive."
Before Kofi could react, they rushed forward.
Steel clashed as Darius intercepted the first strike, sparks flying. Lyra raised her staff, green light surging as she pushed the attackers back with a burst of force.
Kofi's heart pounded. His hands shook on his sword hilt. These weren't beasts—these were people.
The nearest cultist lunged at him, blade aimed for his chest. Instinct screamed at Kofi to duck, and he barely avoided the slash. His counterattack was clumsy, but the blade caught the cultist's arm, drawing blood.
The man screamed, staggering back. Kofi stared at the red staining his blade. His stomach lurched.
"Focus!" Darius shouted, parrying another strike. "They won't hesitate to kill you!"
Another cultist darted toward Lyra, dagger raised. Kofi's body moved before his mind caught up—he tackled the attacker to the ground, his sword point pressing against the man's throat.
The cultist only laughed, even with death an inch away. His eyes gleamed with fanatic fire. "The bird… watches… You cannot escape…"
Then he drove his own blade into his chest.
Kofi stumbled back in horror as the man convulsed, his body twisting, warping, feathers sprouting where flesh should be. His mouth stretched into an inhuman beak before his body disintegrated into black ash.
The forest fell silent again.
Kofi's hands trembled around his sword. He turned to Lyra, his voice hoarse. "What… what was that?"
Her face was pale, her eyes wide. "Something far worse than I feared."
High above, unseen by them, the same black-feathered bird perched on a branch, its head tilted as though amused.