Sontra knelt on one knee, looking at the masked man with calm eyes. In a final act of desperation, the masked man had managed to turn onto his side, but he was incapable of doing more than that.
"Was it truly the Elder? Did he threaten you with your son?"
Sontra kept asking questions, even though none had been answered. Grasping the masked man's shoulder, he flipped him onto his back. Sontra reached for the wooden mask, causing the man on the ground to thrash in retaliation. He twisted his head away, frantically trying to avoid the approaching hand.
But it was no use.
Holding the thin, wooden mask in his hand, Sontra gazed down at the man he had met earlier that day. His face was as pale as Sontra remembered. The worrisome single father lay before him, drooling and grunting like a stray dog fighting for scraps.
However, what immediately caught Sontra's attention were the man's eyes. They were completely black, reminding Sontra of a bottomless pit, unreachable and untouched by even the brightest light.
Questions flooded his mind. His eyebrows furrowed, and his calm eyes turned sharp. What he had thought was a small problem had turned out to be much more concerning. With his other hand, Sontra reached for the mindless man's forehead.
"ARGH! ARGH!"
As Sontra pressed his thumb against the man's forehead, the body that had lain weak began to convulse violently. The man thrashed his head, gnashed his teeth, and his frail hands clawed at Sontra's thumb. Concerned that continuing would cause irreversible harm, Sontra retracted it.
"Tsk."
He was out of options. Sontra gripped the mask so tightly that the thick wood fractured in his grasp. Under the emotionless gaze of the man, Sontra raised the mask
.
PAK.
He struck the man's jaw. The man's body jolted, and his flailing legs snapped straight. The grunting ceased immediately. As his eyes began to close, the whites gradually returned from behind the drooping eyelids.
"..."
Sontra stared at the unconscious man, a faint trace of guilt on his face. With a weary sigh, he discarded the mask. From what he could tell, aside from its skillful craftsmanship, it was perfectly ordinary.
Sontra sat quietly for a few seconds, observing the man carefully. Confirming there was no movement, he patted him down, conducting a thorough search.
"I see," he muttered softly.
Other than the fine paralyzing powder in the man's pocket, Sontra found only two other items.
"...Ayfie and Sarah."
One was a heart-shaped locket. Inside, two names were inscribed, neither of which he recognized. He guessed that Ayfie was the masked man's name. Tragically, the name 'Sarah' was written in red ink.
In Fasikh, only those who had died or were sentenced to execution had their names written in red.
Finishing his search, Sontra turned his head toward the wall beside him. It was cracked from the impact but, fortunately, had no holes. He stayed silent, his deep gaze seeming to peer straight through the solid surface.
Sontra stood up. He looked down at Ayfie's unconscious form and raised a hand over the man's bleeding head. It remained suspended there for a few breaths; whether out of hesitation or contemplation was unclear. With a deep exhale, he flicked his wrist.
Swish.
Suddenly, black mist burst from his robe. It circled Ayfie like a predator before violently engulfing him.
Sontra then walked away, carefully stepping through the holes in the wall. The pungent odor had spread and intensified, becoming noticeable even in the hallway.
Returning to his room, he was immediately struck by the sharp, acrid smell. The odor outside had been bad enough, but the one inside was simply overpowering.
Stepping inside, he scanned every corner closely. Earlier, he had only seen Ayfie pouring the liquid around the room, but he wanted to make sure he had missed nothing. He walked across the sticky floor, retracing the exact path Ayfie had taken.
After several turns, he ended up back outside the room, where he had struck Ayfie. Finding nothing of note except the discarded gourd, he walked back in. He crouched down and ran a finger across the floor.
The liquid was sticky, just a little less thick than honey.
'Oil. But what kind...?'
He had known from the start that it was oil, but he couldn't identify the specific type.
Shifting his attention, he examined the second item Ayfie had carried. It was a silver, rectangular object, smaller than Sontra's hand. It was not an unfamiliar item; in fact, it was something he used to carry with him everywhere.
Plup.
He opened it, revealing two layers of thin sticks with colored tips. Matches.
Plup.
He closed it again after only a short glance.
"... Sinar, it's a pleasure to meet you."
Closing the matchbox, he turned to look at the door behind him. There was no one there, only the dark hallway. Still, he remained silent, patiently waiting for his second guest of the night to reveal themselves.
Step.
Sure enough, a figure emerged from the shadows after a long moment. It was the short, bulky hunter named Sinar. He was not only the first hunter Sontra had met but also someone he saw nearly every day. As Sinar usually guarded the southern gate, Sontra had to pass by him to enter town.
Sinar was also close to Loik, making him someone Sontra was already familiar with. He held a bow firmly, the string already half-drawn.
"..."
Sinar was silent. His eyes darted between the broken walls and the dark, oil-soaked room. The lingering, pungent smell clearly bothered him.
"...What are you trying to do?" he finally asked, his voice low and tense.
Though the room was completely dark, his years as a hunter helped him make out a figure in front of him. His eyes remained fixed on the matchbox in Sontra's hand.
"No, no, that's not it, Mr. Hunter. I should be the one asking the questions."
Sontra stepped deeper into the room, vanishing further into the darkness. It became harder for the hunter to see him.
"What are you doing here, in the middle of the night?" Sontra asked.
"I s-"
"No, it is fine. I am also a little lonely. You see, usually there are some... people wandering around this house. But today, just today, they are gone. Strange, is it not?"
Sinar could not hear a single footstep within the room, yet the Arcanist's voice kept drifting farther away.
"...What we do is not your concern."
"Then what about what I do? Is that a concern of yours?"
Creak.
The window of the room suddenly swung open.
The moonlight, though still faint, managed to illuminate most of the room's corners. Sinar gazed at Sontra's back and steeled his resolve. Taking a deep breath, he stepped fully inside, his hand still holding the bowstring taut.
"Sir, I am not here to fight. Where is the other person? There should be someone who did this, am I right?"
"Hm? Was there someone like that?"
"Where is he? I saw someone entering the house moments ago... That is why I came," Sinar said, his voice wavering.
Sontra turned to face the approaching hunter. A slight smile crossed his lips as he stepped toward him.
"Is that the case? Not because you saw Marvin leave?"
Hearing that question, Sinar froze mid-step.
Step.
Sontra now stood only two paces from Sinar. He stared down at the hunter before him, who barely reached his chest. His slight smile never faded.
In contrast, Sinar's limbs trembled subtly. Nevertheless, his gaze remained unfazed, befitting a hunter.
"Were you waiting for me?" Sontra asked, his tone calm.
"I... I don't understand. I came here... out of curiosity," Sinar said after a moment's struggle.
"..."
Sontra took another step forward.
"Sir, I... I need to report to the Elder."
"I killed the other one. Turned him to fine dust."
Now, only a finger's width separated them. Sinar was visibly restless. His face had lost all color, and if someone were to pass by, they might even hear the frantic pounding of his heart.
"...It was a tall man. Black hair. Holding a flute," Sontra said, tapping the hunter on his shoulder. With a deceptively pleading voice, he continued, "Can you tell the Elder that for me?"
With those final words, Sontra stepped aside and walked past Sinar. He appeared to have no more intention of continuing the conversation. He left the room, leaving Sinar alone.
"..."
Sinar stayed frozen like a statue for a long while. It was not until he heard a door open and close in another part of the house that he finally snapped back to his senses. Not wanting to spend another second there, he hurried out. His fingers, faintly dripping with blood, were still clenched tightly around the bowstring.
"I am sorry for the ruckus..."
In the other room, Sontra was seated beside his son's bed. Leaning against the bedframe, he gently turned the matchbox over and over in his hand.
"But there is nothing to worry about. It was just a curious lamb."
From his short conversation with Sinar, he could tell the hunter hadn't been lying. Sinar had come because he saw Marvin entering town in the dead of night and was curious if something had happened. That was all.
'He was not involved.'
Remembering the hunter's terrified expression, Sontra's worries subsided a little. That was not the look of someone caught in a lie, but of someone genuinely fearing for his life. Sontra was grateful that, at least, not too many people were involved.
'But why?'
There was one question he could not answer, or rather, refused to.
He had done nothing to warrant being targeted. The most reasonable explanation was that someone had tried to get rid of the textiles in the house using fire. As for why they needed to start it in his room, he believed they needed a scapegoat.
'But he waited.'
Ayfie could have set the room ablaze straight away, but he chose not to. Right after dumping the oil, he had headed elsewhere. He hadn't even pulled the matchbox from his pocket.
Sontra almost wished Ayfie had tried to start the fire immediately. The fact that he did not meant there was another reason. Sontra was certain they had a greater goal.
Unfortunately, all he could do was deduce their intentions, and among the possibilities, most did not sit well with him.
Sontra felt a pang of regret. Perhaps he should have watched longer, patiently waiting to uncover their full intention. However, he acknowledged that was not an easy thing to do, not when someone he needed to protect was sleeping just a few rooms away.
"Just a bit longer. Please, wait just a bit longer."
It was unclear whether he was speaking to his son or to himself.
He held his right rib with a complicated expression while gazing down at his son. His mouth opened again as if to speak, but he stopped. Instead, he quietly slipped out of the room.
Slipping back through the holes he had made, he returned to where Ayfie had been. But the room was empty. Ayfie was nowhere to be seen.
Standing in the same spot as before, Sontra flicked his wrist.
Woosh.
Suddenly, the black fog reappeared, slithering across the floor like a snake. He extended his hand, and the fog leaped into the hem of his robe.
There, nestled within the fabric, lay the unconscious man.