The four made their way down the hill amid the swaying blue tipped grass, each blade losing its luster the closer they came to settlement. The soil underneath coating the fervent breeze in a damp earthy mist as the grass seemed to smack together amidst the wind, the vibrant claps like banging steel around the wooden village wall, as a foul stench radiating from inside.
"Why does it smell so bad?" Tengune said, covering his nose. "It's coming from the north of the village."
"You can tell exactly where it's coming from?" Jessie gasped.
"He's a caniform; they have an incredible sense of smell," Hayzel explained. "It was like this when I first arrived in the village."
"The village didn't look too lively from a distance either," Omaar observed as they approached the eastern entrance. A young woman with long black hair, clad neck to toe in ornate armor, stood there—an elf with long ears and curled, ram-like horns, carrying a large ornate shield and a dual bladed halberd with a flag wrapped around it. She held her head high and proud, ignoring the party as she walked east. Tengune glanced back at her briefly but turned to the group as they stopped before two village guards.
"Well met, dwarf," one guard greeted. "You've returned."
"And you've brought guests," the other pointed out, his eyes fixing on Tengune, "and some manner of beast unwelcome here." Tengune balled his fist but took a deep breath, looking at Hayzel, who smiled and winked.
"He's under my supervision, I assure you," Hayzel said, "unless you'd want to explain to your chief that his esteemed guest couldn't enter his village with her thrall because of his two eastern guards." The guards exchanged concerned glances and stepped aside, making way for them to pass.
"Fine, but if it causes trouble, it'll be put down," the guard growled.
"Very well," Hayzel smirked as they entered, the guards staring at Tengune as he passed. Jessie watched them clench their spears tightly, sweat forming on their brows.
"Why're they so scared of you?" Jessie asked, turning to Tengune.
"Look at me," Tengune smiled. "I'm a beastman; they're not gonna like me much."
"Beastmen have quite the history on this continent, back in the days of old," Hayzel explained. "A history many elves still hold a grudge for to this day."
The village was tightly packed with wooden buildings on high foundations. The paths were rocky stone, lined with grass at the sides, but the grass was brown and drab. A stone cathedral loomed in the distance, towering over the village. Ladders and platforms covered most buildings as villagers hammered away, repairing them. Carts piled with goblin corpses—short, green-skinned monsters in fur and leather clothes—were being stripped and discarded. Elves steered clear as the party passed, mothers urging children inside while fathers grabbed pitchforks, holding them steady. Tengune watched them scurry like scared mice, his eyes growing somber as Jessie observed. They stopped at the plaza, and Hayzel stretched. The four stayed wary, feeling glares from all around. Omaar's gaze lingered on Jessie's faltering step, his fingers twitching briefly.
"They're on edge," Omaar smirked. "Desperate elves always make perfect targets."
"Just try to lay low," Hayzel sighed. "They're already looking for a reason to kick you out."
"What're we doin' now?" Jessie asked, looking around, taking in the village's broken state, its acrid stench heavy in the air.
"Let's just settle in," Tengune smiled. "Hayzel, was this village in repair when you came here?"
"No, that's what's confusing," she pondered. "Something happened here."
"Well, we can ask 'round," Jessie proposed.
"And risk them stirring up over Tengune?" Omaar snickered. "Think for a second, burden."
"Then I'm sure you can use your silver tongue to worm our way out," Tengune hissed. Omaar sighed as Hayzel walked up to him.
"I'm heading to the house I'm staying in," Hayzel stated. "Can you give me that Valkyrie?"
"Why?" Omaar asked, raising a brow.
"I want to research it, figure out its capabilities," Hayzel explained. "You'll want to know as much about it, no?"
Omaar pondered briefly, then reached into his sack and handed it over. Jessie eyed the Valkyrie, puzzled, as Hayzel pocketed it.
"I'm staying west of the village," Hayzel said, pointing along the path. "Take some time to settle in, and we'll meet back up tomorrow."
"And my coin?" Omaar inquired.
"I'll make sure to give you the gold," Hayzel sighed.
"You're not comin' with us?" Jessie asked.
"I've got business with the chief," Hayzel smiled. "I'll put in a good word for you; you should be able to go about your business fine."
She waved, and Tengune and Jessie waved back as she left. The three left the plaza and began looking around. They headed to the market first, finding village guards serving equal portioned meals to the villagers. Elves clambered and argued over the food.
"They're rationing food," Tengune frowned. "Did the harvest fail?"
"Looks like it," Omaar smiled, fiddling with a coin. "Look at the stalls—not a single bit of produce in sight."
"Those folks over there," Jessie said, eyeing the crowd growing more aggressive, "they're so desperate. Must've been like this for a while."
"Well, let's keep looking," Tengune urged as they circled past the courtyard and reached the cathedral, masses of people coming in and out of its stone complex, larger than anything else in the village. The cathedral stood grand and sturdy against the village's blight, its nine glass windows at the front each depicting a divine figure. They watched beggars outside asking for coins as mothers covered children's eyes, passing through.
"Can we head in?" Jessie asked. "I'd like to pray a bit."
"You believe in this crap?" Omaar snickered. "Nothing more than deluded fools looking for control in a world where they have none."
"I never cared much for it," Jessie smiled sheepishly, "but reckon now's a good time to try."
"As much as I'd like to catch a glimpse," Tengune hesitated, "I don't think we're wanted in that place," nudging toward the guards outside glaring at them.
"Let's keep moving," Omaar ordered as the two followed. They followed the path to the northern part of the village, finding a farm and a cottage. The farm was empty, with dead crops and a broken fence on its outskirts. The cottage was broken down, held together by shabby barricades. An old man emerged, tending to his crops. Tengune stared at the cottage, its large wooden frame familiar.
"Maybe we can talk to him," Tengune suggested.
"Fine," Omaar agreed, walking over. "Just make sure your girlfriend doesn't say anything stupid."
Jessie opened her mouth but closed it softly, looking down. "Don't worry," Tengune comforted. "If you hadn't noticed, he's actually the stupid one." Jessie giggled, and they approached the old man, who noticed them, his eyes fixing on Tengune. He attempted to flee but tripped over his cane, falling.
"Please don't hurt me," he cried, scrambling for his cane. "I've no coin to spare, and I have a family."
Tengune knelt to inspect the soil, grabbing a clump that crumbled to dust in his hands. "The soil's dry and coarse," he frowned. "You can't grow anything in this." The old man paused as Jessie offered a hand. He took it, stumbling to his feet.
"The soil's grown infertile as of late," he explained. "I don't know why; we've had plenty of rain."
"When'd this happen?" Jessie asked.
"About 20 moons ago," he confirmed. "We were due for a big harvest, and all the crops just started dying."
"Your cottage is a bit worse for wear," Omaar smirked. "Was there a riot?"
"Yes, the elves were furious when the harvest failed," he affirmed, "and the attack didn't help either."
"The village was attacked?" Tengune gasped.
"Yes," he confirmed, "a band of goblins ran through this place only yesterday."
"That's why the village is in such disarray," Tengune pointed out.
"It's all because of the chief," the old man growled. "Ever since his father died, that fool's done nothing. So concerned about his wife."
"Is that really such a problem?" Jessie inquired.
"He keeps allocating warriors to war with goblins," the old man barked. "I've no one to defend my crops from monsters, so I can't grow anything."
"I've got just the thing," Omaar smirked, reaching into his pouch and pulling out a single warding pick. "This keeps monsters away. Just stab it in the ground, and it'll take effect."
"This little thing?" the old man gasped.
"Sure, they're small, but they're made for traveling," Omaar explained. "The runes keep monsters at bay; the more you have, the more effective they are."
"How much?" he asked.
"150 psyche each," Omaar smiled as Tengune glared. "If it's too steep, I'll throw one in for free."
The man pondered, then nodded. He went inside the cottage and returned with a large sack of coin.
"This should cover it," the old man smiled as Omaar traded him five warding picks for the coin.
"Pleasure doing business," Omaar smirked. "We're done here; let's go."
"Remember to place them evenly around the farm," Tengune urged as the old man nodded and waved them off. They circled back round as they walked through and explored the rest of the village. Elves bickering with one another over food and water, children training to defend the village from further attacks, others gathering in bunches to mourn their dead.
"So, is that a lot of money?" Jessie asked as they returned to the plaza, the sun beginning to set.
"Warding picks go for about 25 psyche," Tengune explained. "There was no need to sell them at such a high price."
Jessie stared at Omaar ahead for a moment as he looked around for an inn. "I don't like him," she hissed.
"No one does," Tengune smiled before they stopped at the inn. It was still under repair, but elves sat in the tavern, drinking and talking at wooden tables. They walked in, and the elf at the counter picked up his axe at the sight of Tengune as the room fell silent. Omaar swaggered forward.
"A room, preferably a big one," Omaar smirked.
"Not if your beast is with you," the innkeeper growled, clutching his weapon. "I don't want your business; leave."
"Oh, don't worry, he's not with me," Omaar snickered. "They can find their own place to sleep."
The innkeeper pondered, his eyes never leaving Tengune. "30 psyche a night," he stated.
Omaar reached into his pouch, laid down 30 coin, and took the key, heading to his room smirking.
Tengune approached the counter, but the innkeeper halted him. "Stay back, furling; I can see you just fine," he barked. "Out; we don't allow your kind here."
"Fine," Tengune growled. "Just let me pay for her stay."
"Why can't he stay here?" Jessie blurted. "Did he do somethin' wrong? Y'all been treatin' him like a threat since we got here."
"That's because he is one," the innkeeper said, others in the tavern slowly rising, eyes wide, hands twitching. "You should understand the cancer their kind is."
"But—" Tengune halted Jessie and smiled.
"Don't worry," he assured. "I've gotten pretty good at sleeping outside."
"But it ain't fair," Jessie argued.
"It never is," he smiled, handing the innkeeper 30 psyche.
"It's 100 for a beastman," the innkeeper hissed.
"Fine, you scoundrel," Tengune growled, laying down 70 more as the innkeeper threw the key on the floor. Tengune picked it up and handed it to Jessie.
"Get some rest; we'll need it for tomorrow," Tengune grinned as Jessie nodded. Tengune walked out of the inn as Jessie hurried upstairs. She came to a corridor filled with doors on either side. She looked at the key, finding a symbol she didn't understand. She sighed and searched for the door with a matching sign, found it, and attempted to turn the key in the keyhole, but it didn't work. She tried a second, third, and fourth time, then pounded on the door, cursing, ripped the key out, and threw it on the floor. She crouched into a ball, holding back tears. She pulled out a small, sleek object from her pocket, fiddled with it hopelessly, then slotted it back, wrapping her arm around her mouth and screaming to muffle the noise.
"What's happenin'?" she questioned, panting as she paced back and forth in the corridor. "It stinks here, all the folks're weird, I can't shower, I'm hungry, and… Omaar, he just hates me. I don't reckon why. No, he's just like the rest of 'em. I can't… damn it!" She pounded the door again and stood there still, looking down as her shoulders hung low. "I reckon I'll ask Tengune for help. No, I'll just bother him. He's already helped me so much, he's prob'ly annoyed by now. I bet he hates me too."
She turned to see another flight of stairs heading up and peeked her head around to find a door at the end. "That must be his room," she mumbled. She walked over and stood at the door. She raised her hand, then lowered it. She thought, attempting to speak, but bit her tongue. "This was stupid," she muttered as she turned around. "I'll just ask Tengune." Suddenly, she felt the edge of a blade lightly pressed against her neck.
"Omaar," she called, her voice cracking as she slowly turned to face him. "See, it's just me." She tried to crack a smile but found no hint of care in Omaar's cold stare, like she was a piece of meat.
"Where did you crawl out from?" Omaar growled, pushing the dagger against her neck. "Enough games. Answer."
"I don't know! I'm just as confused as you!" Jessie stuttered. "I don't know what I'm doin' here, or what's goin' on, or how I got here, and I'm scared. I can't—"
"Spare me your plight," Omaar smirked. "I don't care. All I know is you're annoying, a disease to be cut out."
"I don't reckon Tengune'd like that much," Jessie hissed, trying to smirk.
"He'll get over it," Omaar grinned. "No one remembers a parasite. You'll never amount to much anyway."
"Why d'you hate me so much?" Jessie argued. "I ain't done nothin' to you!"
"You haven't done anything but be lugged around like dead weight," Omaar laughed, his eyes scanning her up and down. "And now Tengune's stuck babysitting."
Jessie quickly covered her chest and covered her legs with her skirt, glaring at Omaar. "I don't want your vile body," he grimaced. "You betray how weak you are."
"Then just kill me!" she cried, tears welling up. "We'd all be better off!"
"We would," Omaar affirmed. "But I think I can make value in your death."
"I'd never let you!" Jessie growled. "I'd never trust someone like you!"
"You don't trust me?" Omaar smiled. "Good. It means you won't ask anything of me." He lowered his dagger and walked back to his room.
"Wait!" Jessie yelped as Omaar closed the door. "I can't open this dang door with my key!" Omaar stopped, reopened the door, and looked at her with a confused expression before looking down and pondering for a moment. He sighed, walked past her, snatched her key, and marched to the door. "Key in the hole, then push twice," he explained as the door opened. Jessie walked past Omaar and entered the room. She turned, a thank you on her tongue, but found an empty space where Omaar had been. She pulled the key out and closed the door. The room was small and dusty, with nothing but a bed and a drawer. She lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and sobbed for a time. But her stomach began to grumble, and she got up, went downstairs, and out of the inn. She stared at the night sky as the elves shut themselves inside their homes. Even there, she could hear them bickering, the muffled sounds of objects breaking and yelling from various houses piercing the nightly silence. But everyone just walked by, continuing their business. She wandered, watching beggars curling up into balls, trying to stave off hunger. She stared at one man for a while, and he noticed her, slowly raising his hand and trying to mutter something, but he couldn't muster the words as Jessie looked for someone to help.
"Hey, anybody got spare food?" she shouted, but the elves simply stared as they passed. "I don't reckon this man—" The man's hand fell to the ground lifelessly as he stopped moving. Jessie gasped, covering her mouth, a scream clawing at her throat, but her eyes darted around, finding only judgmental gazes. Her breath quickened, that sea of faces all with the same cold stare. Even here, they look at me that way. She stumbled around, asking anyone who passed by to help the man or do something, but then she looked back to find his breath had long faded. Her eyes flickered to a shadowed memory, another body slumped in that same lifeless pose. "Why wouldn't anybody help him?" she gulped. "Did I not help? Why couldn't I help him? I tried, surely I just… need more time."
"What's going on over here?" a village guard shouted, running over.
"I'm sorry, I just…" Jessie stuttered, grasping for words to explain herself. "It's just this man; I reckon he's dead."
The guard sighed wearily. "Another one then," he said as the other began to drag the body away. "They're everywhere now. If you see any bodies, report it to a village guard."
Jessie nodded, and the guards left. She stood there, then walked off, holding her wrist as her hands trembled. She walked over to the West of the village and came to a small humble home. She went to the door and stood at the front of it hesitating to knock for a moment but eventually knocked 3 times. She looked at her trembling hand and began moving back to retreat but the door opened. Hayzel appeared as it widened, her surprise turning into a smile.
"Jessie" she gasped rubbing her eyes "what are you doing here at this hour?"
"I was umm…" Jessie staggered hands fiddling with each other "Nevermind, I'm really sorry for bothering you." She turned to leave.
"Hey," Hayzel shouts as Jessie posture, shooting up as straight as a tree. "Get in here."
Jessie smiles sheepishly and walks back entering Hayzel's home as she shuts the door. The House is dimly lit by a single lantern on the table. Stairs to the right lead up and a fireplace at the center next to a work desk with filled tools. To the left was a small kitchen with dirty pots and pans scattered about.
"I'm sorry" she apologised, looking around the dimly lit home "I didn't think you'd be awake, I don't know why I came"
"Please don't say that," Hayzel smiles. "I was staying up researching this device we found in a keep."
Jessie walks up to the work desk and inspects the Valkyrie, its sleek metallic form familiar. "oh it's just a gun," she says.
"You're familiar with this," Hayzel gasps.
"Yeah we have plenty of firearms like this in the states," she explains "I was never as good as my father but he taught me how to use one."
"Who was your father?" Hayzel asks
"He was in the military" Jessie smiled as she softly started to disassemble the Valkyrie "he was a massive gun nut. The last time we spoke we… had a real heart to heart though we never really saw eye to eye. He wanted me to enlist. I wanted to race with motorbikes. But he loved me the same anyway, before he… well-." Her hands begin to tremble as she looks down at each individual peace of the Valkyrie then rapidly begins to reassemble it. "My grandpa was already gone, my father died crashing his fucking van," she growled as her voice began to crack, "my brother only thinks of me as a loser, then he tried to…" She softly pulled on her skirt, her breath beginning to quicken, "I mean I had to do it or… he would have… and…" She pulls the gun to her head pausing as Hayzel holds her arms out.
"Hey," she cautions, slowly moving her hand towards the Valkyrie. "Calm down, just pass me the Valkyrie, okay?"
But Jessie doesn't hear her as head is filled with white noise as she closes her eyes and Hayzel instantly grabs her arm as she fires. The bullet pierces Hayzel's shoulder as she grunts and takes a knee. Jessie stares at Hayzel writhing in pain, her heart pumping faster as her eyes darted around staring at the door. Then she runs around the room opening drawers and cabinets until she finds some bandages. She grabs a knife from the kitchen and holds it in her mouth as she kneels in front of Hayzel unwrapping the bandages. "Try to hold still" Jessie sweats as she takes the knife and in one move picks out the bullet as Hayzel yells in pain, it bounces on the floor as she wraps the wound with the bandage. "I'm sorry" she cries, tears streaming down her face, "all I ever do is make things worse, I've just come here and… I'm so sorry"
"Jessie, it's okay" she smiles wiping the tears of her face "I'll forgive you, if you promise me you won't ever do that again"
Jessie looks down, dodging Hayzel's gaze but nods softly. "Good," she nods, "don't worry, I've taken far worse." Jessie gets up and Hayzel picks up the Valkyrie. "Now I was going to spend all night researching this Valkyrie," Hayzel grins, "but with your help this should be a breeze, what say you?"
Jessie cracks a smile and nods and the two talk away into the night. Wellinggrid village lay empty, its silence heavy under a star-strewn sky. Tengune lay on a pile of hay at the inn's rear, squirming to find comfort. The cold night's breeze sent a shiver through his golden fur, the scent of damp straw stirring a memory of softer days. He closed his eyes, the rustle of hay beneath him fading into a warmer night long past.
"Tengune!" Remina's voice called, bright and urgent, as she rushed toward him, her blonde hair catching moonlight. He lay on a hay pile outside his caretakers' cottage, the air thick with summer's warmth. "Oh, Remina, you can't be here this late," Tengune warned, his ears twitching as she climbed onto the hay and sat beside him. "If your father finds out, he'll be livid."
"Not at all," Remina smiled. "I told him exactly where I was going, and he likes you."
"Still, I don't want to betray his trust," Tengune frowned, lowering his head. Remina lifted his face by the cheeks, her green eyes sparkling.
"My father said, 'I trust Tengune would lay down his life to save my daughter,'" she roared, mimicking the chief's bellowing voice.
"Hey, quiet!" Tengune shushed. "We'll be in big trouble."
"Well, would you?" she asked, her tone softening.
"Of course," Tengune answered, resolute. Remina smiled, taking his hand as they lay on the hay, facing each other.
"Why don't you come stay with my family?" Remina frowned. "It's not fair how they treat you here."
"You know the uproar my caretakers would make," Tengune sighed, staring at her soft hands. "Besides, I've survived this long, haven't I?" Her gaze met his, her pupils dilating, her enchanting scent freezing him in place.
"Tengune," she said, unblinking.
"Yes," he gulped.
"Do you like me?" she asked, her face turning bright red.
"Of course," Tengune replied instantly. She guided his hand to her chest. His fur stood straight, eyes fixed downward.
"Do you love me?" Remina asked slowly, drawing closer. Tengune froze as she leaned in—
"What are you doing?" Omaar's voice snapped in. Tengune turned, sitting up, fur bristling to hide his blush. "You're talking to yourself now."
"Shut it," Tengune growled. "Can't a man get some privacy?"
"Not in public," Omaar snickered.
"What do you want?" Tengune hissed as Omaar leaned against the inn's wall.
"At first light, we ditch the girl," Omaar smirked.
"No," Tengune refused. "Why are you so adamant on this?"
"Tell me, Tengune, who would you rather have watching your back?" Omaar said, his voice sharp. "Me, who's saved your hide from rabbiddos and gnolls, or that bumbling girl who'd trip over her own feet?"
Tengune's eyes narrowed, but his voice stayed steady. "Both. There's no reason we can't all watch each other."
Omaar scoffed. "The fool couldn't open a door, yet you expect her to stay a blade?"
"Then we'll teach her," Tengune argued. "There's too much danger to leave her alone here."
"It'll take centuries," Omaar laughed.
"Then let it take centuries," Tengune said, his frown deepening. "But I won't abandon her."
"Fine," Omaar smirked. "When you get yourself killed, I'll be the first to say I told you so."
"I'm sure you will," Tengune smiled faintly.
"But we leave here as soon as we can," Omaar said, poking his head around the inn's corner. "There's trouble afoot."
"Maybe we can help them in their plight," Tengune pondered. "Figure out the cause of this mess."
"Trying to solve everyone's problems will only bury you in a mountain of your own," Omaar cautioned. "These rats won't turn to save you."
"But maybe they'll turn for the next one," Tengune smiled.
"Tsk, naive fool," Omaar scoffed, leaving Tengune alone with the night and the wind.
Meanwhile, in Hayzel's cozy home, the scholar had fallen asleep at her table, her notes scattered from their shared hearty meal. Jessie, her eyes heavy, draped a blanket over Hayzel's shoulders, a small smile softening her face. She stepped out of the house, the village's chill urging her back to the inn, where she slipped into sleep.
Trapped in darkness, Omaar sprinted through a narrow cave, taking a left turn, then a right, then turning back. His eyes darted, heart pounding, as voices called his name from every direction. A cloaked figure emerged, shadowy and familiar, crows gathering around them both. A melody filled his head, soft and soothing, yet Omaar knew its cruel truth—not a lullaby but a mocking choir heralding his death. With a deafening bang, time froze, and he stared at the hollow void torn through his chest—
Omaar awoke in a cold sweat, panting, and wiped his face. "How many more?" he sighed, voice trembling. "How many times must I see my end?" He rose, muscles tense, as a crow landed on his windowsill, cawing sharply. Its white feathers gleamed under the dawn, its red eyes bearing a rune-shaped glint, sharp as a blade, shaped like a skull. Omaar stared, and the crow stared back. He snickered, striding to the mirror, his reflection stark: an elf with hair like clouds, eyes like daggers, body lean and primed. Over his heart, runes formed a skull's shape, mirroring the crow's eerie gaze. He brushed his fingers over the mark, wincing as a fleeting pain stabbed his chest. "Every night you haunt me," Omaar hissed. "Every day you mock me, but I'm still alive."
He dressed swiftly, securing his pouch and belt, then pulled out his sack of psyche, counting with practiced precision: 3223 psyche. He tucked the sack away, the crow's caw echoing as he paused at the door, running his hands through his hair. "Everyone's a threat," he muttered, his morning mantra sharp and steady. "I must be stronger, quicker, smarter, better. I am better." He smirked, stepping out.
Outside the inn, Wellinggrid's empty streets filled with villagers as they all stumbled out of their homes, the air heavy with decay. Omaar spotted Tengune and Jessie by the inn's door, Tengune's golden fur catching the dawn, his stance calm yet firm. Jessie shifted nervously, clutching her bag, nearly tripping over a loose cobble.
"You're late," Tengune smiled. "That's unlike you."
Omaar scoffed, his eyes gazing upward to the roof of a house where white crows had perched, cawing. More of them now. Tengune followed Omaar's stare to the rooftop. "You're always looking up," Tengune pointed out. "What are you looking at, anyway?"
"You wouldn't get it," Omaar mused, walking off.
"Please, enlighten us, o wise one," Tengune taunted, following.
Jessie's eyes narrowed on the rooftop, eyes narrowing, but followed at Tengune's call. They reached the plaza, where a crowd had formed, their loud chatter like a round of applause, the village lively as its subjects grinned with excitement. The trio stopped, peering through the commotion. Jessie approached a guard.
"Um, sorry, sir, do you know what's going on?" she asked. The guard turned with a relieved smile.
"A priest has come to visit our village," he sighed. "Fate smiles on us this day."
"Fate is a curse," Omaar muttered. Tengune tried to see through the crowd, but a group of guards announced the priest would hold a service at the cathedral later, urging the villagers to give her space. The crowd dispersed, whispering and gossiping, and the trio laid eyes on her: a tall woman in a white silk split skirt dress, a golden sash around her waist, a short black hooded poncho over her shoulders. Black tights and boots clad her legs, her short sleeves revealing an assortment of golden bracelets. Her long golden hair flowed smooth as silk, her golden eyes soft as cotton, her face and body a beauty unmatched. She sat on a bench, a young man kneeling before her, his head in her lap as she embraced him.
"I've heard you, child. I know your suffering," she said, her voice calming. "I will pray for you, that you may find divinity in our Lord's infinite grace. May the nine bless your soul. Aloom." The villagers and guards chanted "Aloom" in unison.
"She's so pretty," Jessie gasped, looking down, adjusting her clothes and touching her face.
"Yeah," Tengune agreed, smiling. "With a priest's blessing, maybe this village can get back on track." He glanced at Omaar, who stared at the woman, a frown forming. "Oh, you got a crush?" Tengune taunted, but his smile faded as Omaar ignored him, glaring. That mocking melody, the one tied to death, hummed in Omaar's mind when he looked at her.
"We need to leave," Omaar warned, turning to exit.
"Why? What's the hurry?" Tengune questioned, raising a brow.
"Stop arguing and just—" Her stare silenced the melody, crows cawing in its place. Omaar looked back. The priest stared at the trio, wide-eyed, a soft smile brewing. The boy in her grasp struggled but couldn't move. She released him, rising, waving to the villagers. Her eyes locked on the trio, approaching like a beast circling prey. Omaar's eyes darted—a path through the guards? Too risky. Strike first? No, the villagers' fury would follow. She stopped at a distance, scanning them up and down, her gaze fixing on Tengune.
"I see you," she said, her calm voice making Tengune's fur stand. "I see sorrow in your eyes. You want to be accepted. You will be loved." Tengune stared back, silent. Omaar glanced at the east exit—their best shot. "Let me help you," she pleaded, advancing, arms outstretched. "Let me take you into my arms to feel our God's warmth, to find a place to belong." Closer she came, the crows' cackling growing frantic. Her hands an inch from Tengune's face, Omaar saw a faint golden glow in her palms. "Damn it," he hissed, reaching for his dagger, but Jessie yanked Tengune back, snapping him out of his trance. The priest turned to Jessie, her eyes narrowing.
"I'm sorry, I just—" Jessie stuttered, fumbling her words sheepishly. The priest giggled, barely containing her laughter.
"What are you?" she asked.
"I doubt that's your business," Omaar cut in, hand on his dagger. "We'd best be going." A white crow cawed in the distance. Omaar glanced at it, then back, finding the priest staring in the same direction. Her eyes met his, a knowing smirk curling her lips. Omaar's eyes widened.
"You three," a guard called. "Your presence has been requested by the chief. This way." Guards waited behind to escort them. The trio exchanged puzzled looks.
"I told you we should've left, you idiot," Omaar hissed.
"I doubt we're in trouble," Tengune assured. "We haven't done anything."
"I guess we can't refuse," Jessie said nervously.
"My lady, your presence is requested as well, if you're able?" the guard asked the priest.
"Of course," she confirmed. "Please, after you, mine blessing."
They walked west toward the chief's quarters. The priest sidled up to Omaar, her lips near his ear. "You see them, don't you?" she whispered, then moved to the guards before he could reply. Omaar glared, then looked at Tengune, who smiled and gave a thumbs-up. He palmed his face, glancing at Jessie. "Maybe the first useful thing you've done, Jessie," he smirked, following the escorts.
"He said your name," Tengune grinned. "The closest thing you'll get to a compliment."
Jessie walked with her head high, following the escorts to the chief's quarters. The group marched silently through the village, the guards' armor clanking softly. Omaar glanced at the priest, her gaze fixed ahead, serene yet unyielding. Tengune and Jessie trailed behind, eyeing the villagers who muttered behind cupped hands, their glares sharp. They reached the chief's quarters, a grand building perched on the hill's edge, overlooking Wellinggrid's faded sprawl. The guards opened the heavy doors, ushering them into a vast hall adorned with fur carpets and wooden statues of ancient figures etched into the walls.
"The chief awaits in the garden," a guard growled, opening a large back door and waving them through.
They stepped into a garden of wilted flowers and rotting plants, the grass a drab brown like the village fields. Stone flooring and a low fence framed the desolate space. The chief, a young elf with short black hair and tired eyes, sat cross-legged in robes patterned with intricate designs. He waved for the priest to sit, bowing his head. She knelt on the dry grass as the trio moved to follow. "Not you," he snapped, halting them. "The dwarf scholar spoke of your skill in dealing with gnolls, claiming you aided her without loss. That's why I summoned you."
"Oh, well, you know," Tengune said, blushing awkwardly.
"I wasn't speaking to you, furling," the chief hissed. "Elf, mind your ill-trained pet doesn't speak again."
"I, for one, would love to hear what the beastman has to say," the priest said, smiling at Tengune, eyeing each of his heads. "I find him fascinating."
The chief grimaced, then turned to the priest. "Strange to see a Malevian priest without Inquisitors," he said, glaring.
"I travel alone," she explained. "Inquisitors make others… tense. As a servant of God, His divinity is my shield."
"Unnecessarily risky for your station," Omaar smirked.
"If you have faith, it's no risk at all," the priest replied, her grin fixed on him.
"I heard through prayer you can do miracles," Tengune said, awed. "Is that true?"
"Absolutely, through the divine, anything is possible," she affirmed. "Though I've never seen a beastman with three heads. How did that happen?"
Tengune cracked a nervous smile. "Well, I don't exactly—"
"A rudimentary detail, I assure you," Omaar cut in. "I've heard it's the prayer itself that gives Malevians power, not your god." A smirk crept onto her face, her eyes narrowing.
"Our God's gifts, rewards for our fealty, are evidence enough," she said.
"Gifts like what?" Jessie asked.
"What a strange dialect," the priest gasped. "From what land do you hail?"
Omaar's eyes darted, locking on the chief, who chewed a long, thin vine aggressively, glaring at the priest with a displeased frown. Jessie blushed, rubbing her head. "Oh, well, I'm from—"
"I'm sure the chief didn't summon us for pleasantries," Omaar interrupted again. The priest grinned ear to ear. "Let's get on with it."
"Agreed," the chief smirked. "Seven months ago, goblins claimed the eastern mountain caves. Their arrival coincided with my land's decay—fields rotting, crops failing. I suspect their presence poisons my soil. They've stolen resources, fought my hunters, and escalated to skirmishes. Then those bastards attacked, taking my wife and several villagers." He spat the vine from his mouth, glaring at the trio. "You will retrieve my captured subjects and my wife. Slaughter any goblins you find."
"If I had to guess, that wasn't a request," Omaar mused.
"It wasn't," the chief hissed, his guards poising their spears.
"You need leverage to make a threat," Omaar smirked. "If you're too incompetent to clear a goblin camp, what threat are you to me?"
Veins bulged on the chief's forehead, his skin burning red. "I am the chief of this village," he howled. "You will obey!"
"If one must declare their station to wield authority," the priest giggled, covering her mouth, "it's safe to say you hold none."
The chief gritted his teeth. Tengune sighed, Jessie giving him a nervous smile.
"I understand your plight, and I'd be happy to help," Tengune said, smiling. "Though you could try being nicer."
"Kill the beast!" the chief snapped. "Show them what happens when they defy me!" Guards edged closer, spears raised. Jessie clutched Tengune as Omaar gripped his dagger. No melody hummed—weaklings. Suddenly, a clap echoed, a pulse of divine mana rippling through the garden. The priest sat, staring wide-eyed at the chief.
"Shedding blood before a priest is a grave offense," she smirked, her tone calm and gentle. "God sees all, for mine eyes are his as well."
The chief sweated, waving his guards down. "Count yourself lucky—"
"Chief!" a guard burst in, panting. "Goblins at the wall!"
"By the nine, another attack?" the chief gasped, edging back.
"No, sir, they claim to be peace envoys," the guard explained. "They say your wife and villagers are safe, seeking only to talk."
The chief pondered, sweating, hands trembling. "I'll pause this meeting," he sighed.
"Actually," the priest interjected, "I'd love to attend, wouldn't you?" She smiled at Jessie, who gasped, pointing at herself. Tengune nodded, smiling. "Well, I suppose I'm curious," Jessie said.
Omaar sighed, palming his face. "Since we're stuck here," he moaned, sitting on the grass.
"I didn't permit you to sit, fool," the chief barked. Omaar's eyes, cold as frozen bone, locked with his. The chief looked down, waving his guards to fetch the goblins. Tengune and Jessie sat hesitantly. The priest stared at Omaar, eyes narrowed. As the back door opened, a flock of white crows swarmed into the garden, cawing fiercely, perching on the fence. Omaar's hand twitched toward his dagger, wariness sharpening his gaze.
Three hobgoblins entered, no ordinary goblins. Tall, with long ears and noses, their muscular bodies clad in leather armor, geared and ready for battle. The first, a female, skipped with aloof joy, short hair bouncing, a thin blade at her side. The second, a female, walked with pride, her stern face framed by a long ponytail, two daggers linked by a chain at her hips. The two with almost identical faces. The third, a male, lagged behind, cautious, eyes darting, short hair above a tome and wand at his side. They paused, gasping at Tengune, sharing puzzled looks before the male nudged them to refocus on the chief. The priest stared, wide-eyed. "Hobgoblins," she gasped. "They've evolved that far."
"You're the chief, I presume?" the male inquired.
"I am," the chief replied, waving his guards into position. "What are vermin doing in my domain?"
"We've come to negotiate peace," the joyful goblin said, smiling.
"Oh, really?" the chief laughed.
"Yes," the stern goblin affirmed, eyeing the guards. "Our chief has tried contacting you, but you've proven to be a hard elf to reach."
"Excuse me for not parleying with beasts," the chief growled, "especially after you ransacked my village and kidnapped my wife!"
"Our apologies," the male said. "A rogue band acted alone, deciding to take matters into their own hands."
"You'd better leash those vermin," the chief hissed.
"You killed our first peace envoys," the stern goblin said. "Their attack was simply a retaliation."
The trio and priest stared, stunned. Omaar sighed. "Why would you do that?" Jessie asked, then covered her mouth. The joyful goblin gazed at her, smiling curiously.
"Why is a good question, mine blessing," the priest said. "He kills envoys, then acts surprised when the adversary takes it as a declaration of war."
The chief ground his teeth, chewing the vine with growing intensity, nearly spent. "I won't explain myself to rabble," he shouted. "Give me one reason not to slay you where you stand!"
"As you said, Chieftain," the joyful goblin replied, "we have your wife." The chief's eyes widened, blazing at his guards. "She's unharmed, and if you listen, she'll stay that way."
"Tsk, like I'd trust greenskins," the chief hissed.
"Our chief seeks peace," the male continued. "He envisions integrating our cultures together."
"I'd rather die!" The chief howled. "I won't work with monsters!"
"Do as you like," the stern goblin smirked. "But if we don't return in three days, our kin will kill your wife and start a war."
The chief froze, trembling. "War," he gulped.
"Yes," the male confirmed, "unless you're willing to find common ground."
The chief pondered, a devilish grin creeping across his face. "You want peace? Fine. I'll send these three as my envoys."
Omaar glared at Tengune, equally puzzled. "They'll speak to your 'chief,'" the chief continued. "If my wife and villagers return unharmed, I'll consider peace."
The goblins whispered, then nodded in agreement. "Very well," the chief smirked. "Wait outside the village. My envoys will meet you."
"I'd like to join this quest," the priest said.
"My lady," the chief pleaded, "this dull work is beneath your station."
"I decide what befits my station, Chieftain," she smiled. "I could return with Inquisitors better suited, if you prefer. I do hope you know your tenants."
Sweating, the chief agreed. The goblins nodded and exited. Omaar glared at the priest.
"Your task is simple," the chief commanded. "Retrieve my villagers and wife. The goblins' fate is not my concern."
"No," Omaar said. "We're leaving."
"Wait," Tengune said. "If we mediate, we can save this village."
"For what?" Omaar smirked, eyeing a crow on the fence. "I've nothing to gain."
"The chief will compensate you I'm sure," Tengune said, glancing at the chief with a smile. The chief jumped.
"Yes, of course," he sighed.
"Don't worry," the priest said, locking eyes with Omaar. "It'll be a simple negotiation."
Omaar scoffed, leaning toward the chief, eyes cold. "Five thousand psyche."
"Five thousand?" the chief gasped. "The village isn't worth that!"
"Then find a way," Omaar smirked. "When I return her, know her neck is in my hands."
The chief nodded reluctantly. The trio rose. "Well, we'd better get ready," Jessie said, smiling. Tengune nodded. Omaar glared at the priest as they left. Behind them, the priest crawled to the chief on her knees, her gaze pinning him. She touched his cheek, whispering, "Is there anything you forgot, mine blessing?" The chief gulped, answering softly.
The trio walked down Wellinggrid's dusty street, villagers gossiping as they stared. Tengune glanced at Omaar, who frowned and turned to the group. "I'm heading to the market for supplies for this nonsense," Omaar sighed. "We'll reconvene at the dwarf's home."
Tengune frowned, concerned. "What's with you? You're acting strange."
Omaar smirked, striding toward the market's weathered stalls. "That priest is dangerous. Don't you find it odd she has no issue with a beastman?"
"Maybe she sees others for their character," Tengune said, smiling. "Not everyone's ill-natured."
"A Malevian zealot?" Omaar snickered. "What are the chances?"
"I think Omaar's right," Jessie cautioned. "She's hiding something, and I doubt the chief was honest either."
"We tell her as little as possible," Omaar growled. "The less she knows, the better."
A voice called out. They turned to see the priest jogging toward them, steps heavy and uneven, huffing, out of breath. She stopped, hunched over, panting. "A thousand apologies for startling you," she said. "Since we'll travel together, I thought we'd reconvene."
"Are you alright?" Tengune asked, as he and Jessie moved to help. Omaar stared at her sweatless brow, noting her quick recovery as she sprang upright, taking a deep breath.
"Well," Miograce smiled, "we might as well introduce ourselves. I am Miograce."
"I'm Tengune," he replied, smiling. "The greedy one's Omaar, and this is Jessie."
"An interesting name," Miograce said, staring at Jessie. "Where's it from?"
Jessie glanced at Omaar, catching his glare, then laughed sheepishly. "Oh, nowhere special. Just… around."
Miograce's eyes narrowed, shifting to Omaar. "And an even more interesting motive. Coin drives you."
"Riches are the universal law," Omaar smirked, turning to leave. "And I'll decide them." A sharp caw pierced the air from a crow perched on a nearby roof. Miograce paused, her gaze flickering to it.
"I suppose you're gathering supplies for the quest?" she asked.
"Yes," Jessie said, smiling. "We'll meet at the village entrance." She glanced at Omaar, who cracked a smirk.
"Is that so?" Miograce said, eyes widening as she looked at Jessie, who glanced down sheepishly. "I'd best do the same. Mind if I join you, Omaar?"
"Do as you like," Omaar hissed, heading off. Miograce waved to Tengune and Jessie, following him.
"Sly misdirection," Tengune winked, nudging Jessie.
"Oh, well, you know me," she chuckled nervously.
"I'm no fan of lying," Tengune said softly, "but we'd best keep our wits about us. Come, let's see Hayzel." Jessie nodded firmly, and they headed to the dwarf's home.
Omaar and Miograce scoured the market, grabbing water, whetstones, and other essentials. Villagers, shocked and wary, kept their distance, avoiding the pair. Miograce paused, waving Omaar to a bench in the bustling plaza. He sighed, sitting as a boy and girl played with a ball nearby, their laughter mingling with the villagers' chatter and a faint breeze. Miograce studied Omaar's sharp features.
"Do you dislike me?" she asked.
"I'm indifferent," Omaar replied.
"Yet you're tense," Miograce noted.
"I never said I trusted you," Omaar smirked.
"May I ask a question?" Miograce smiled. Omaar scoffed but stayed silent. "Are you scared of death?"
The girl shoved the boy to grab the ball; he pushed back, and they argued. Omaar tucked his hands in his pockets, brow twitching. "I fear nothing," he snickered. "Death's tried, but it can't claim me."
"Is that so?" Miograce raised a brow. "I find death one of the world's greatest kindnesses." A crow landed before them, cawing.
"Like the Inquisitors who follow you?" Omaar accused.
"Oh, do explain," Miograce said, eyes widening.
"Curious, a Malevian priest with no protection," Omaar said, sitting up. "Some might think you're fleeing the Inquisition." Miograce watched the children calmly as two villagers passed, staring.
"They can be harsh, but we serve God," she replied, inching closer to Omaar. "We all act in his divine light."
"Do you really believe that nonsense?" Omaar asked, raising a brow.
"Of course," Miograce affirmed. "I've given my life to God."
"Yet your words ring hollow when you speak of him," Omaar smirked.
A flock of crows gathered around, cawing. Her brow twitched, eyes narrowing. "Like yours when you speak of coin," she countered, smiling.
"Pardon?" Omaar glared.
"You see beyond coin," she said, eyeing the crows. "You seek something else."
"Of course," Omaar smiled. "Coin is true divinity."
"May I pose another question?" Miograce asked.
"Do as you like," Omaar scoffed.
"What do you think of fate?" she questioned.
"Fate's a lie for those who can't face failure," Omaar replied.
"Then why run from yours?" Miograce asked, eyes widening as she faced him. The children began fighting; more crows flocked, cawing loudly. Omaar paused, face calm, sweat beading on his brow.
"Running's for losers," he retorted, smirking. "I sidestep its march."
"So you think you're above it?" Miograce chuckled.
Omaar rolled his eyes, smiling. "Same as you, but for different reasons."
"Oh, really?" Miograce gasped.
"Isn't that why you're so interested in those goblins?" Omaar accused. "Why you joined this quest?" Her lips curled faintly, a subtle glint in her eyes as she glanced toward the village edge, where goblin envoys lay in wait.
"The faith helps all in need, regardless of who they are," Miograce said.
"Yet Malevians are no strangers to needless slaughter," Omaar snickered.
"A mistake I wish my brothers and sisters will rectify," Miograce said, her eyes veering off.
"Maybe your 'wish' outweighs your 'God,'" Omaar smirked. "Or it was never about God."
Crows cawed, their calls like cackling laughter. Miograce readjusted, smiling. "Nothing's above the infinite," she retorted. "Even in death, His grace plucks us from her clutches."
"Even for one marked by death, its moving target?" Omaar asked.
"All who see the crows live in death," Miograce grinned, staring at him, "because death waits for no one."
She rose, approaching the children, kneeling. "Please, mine blessings," she smiled, "no need to fight. Let's hurry to the cathedral to pray." The children froze at her graceful presence. She took their hands, humming a soothing melody, and glanced back. Omaar was gone, only crows remaining. A cold smirk crossed her face as the boy hummed along, unaware. She led them toward the cathedral. Meanwhile, Tengune and Jessie approached Hayzel's home, a cluttered wooden cottage nestled among Wellinggrid's sagging roofs, its walls weathered by the village's decay. They knocked, and Hayzel opened the door, greeting them warmly as they stepped into her study, shelves brimming with tomes and arcane artifacts. "Where's Omaar?" Hayzel asked, shutting the door with a soft creak.
"He's in the market, grabbing essentials," Tengune explained, eyeing bandages around Hayzel's shoulder. "What happened there? Are you alright?"
Hayzel glanced at Jessie's nervous expression and smiled. "It's nothing serious," she said, wincing slightly. "I shot myself fiddling with the Valkyrie."
"You should be more careful," Tengune sighed. "Anyway, we have news." He recounted their goblin quest, the chief's summons, and Miograce's involvement. Hayzel pondered, then nodded firmly.
"Interesting," Hayzel said, her eyes narrowing. "A Malevian priest traveling alone is unusual, but her divine mana proves her authenticity."
"You need to be a priest for that clap?" Jessie asked, tilting her head.
"It's said that only those wholly devoted to the Nine can wield divinity," Hayzel replied. "Without true faith, the divine mana won't answer."
"Well, I'll ensure you're prepared," Hayzel continued, smiling. She rummaged through drawers, outfitting them with potions and handing Tengune a mana potion, its vial glowing faintly. "How's your research going?" he asked.
Hayzel moved to her work desk, cluttered with tools and scrolls, and presented the Valkyrie. "This weapon is a marvel of craftsmanship," she said, awestruck. "Each material—metal, rune—has a specific function." She disassembled it on the table as Tengune and Jessie gathered around, pointing to blue beads at the top. "This is azurium, a volatile mana-enhanced metal etched with explosive runes to propel these." She donned gloves, extracting a bullet from a box-like component. "Jessie helped with my research, calling this a magazine. It houses these bullets." She held up a green bullet. "This is valorium, from the western continent, with the miraculous ability to disrupt magic."
"It can halt magic?" Tengune gasped, clenching his fist as he stared at his hand.
"Yes, though I don't fully understand how," Hayzel admitted, reassembling the Valkyrie with practiced precision. "The rest is chromium, a hard black metal unique to the Aetherion homeland."
Jessie looked puzzled. Hayzel urged her to speak. "So, there's magic here. Are you sure it's not just science?" Jessie asked, smiling sheepishly.
"Magic exists everywhere," Hayzel replied. "This weapon, crafted by Aetherions, targets mages specifically."
"How does it work?" Jessie asked, glancing at Tengune, her cheeks flushing.
"Interesting," Hayzel mused. "Your homeland may lack magic. Tengune, you're a mage. Care to explain?"
"Sure," Tengune said, pulling out his tome. "Magic comes from mana. It's an energy present everywhere, absorbed by plants and objects." He flipped to the second page. "For magic to work, it needs a command." He slowly drew a glowing rune in the air. "Runes are their own language, following principles. Once understood, magic's simple." His tome floated beside him as he took his staff, Jessie's jaw dropping. "To create flame, I weave a rune of opening to gather mana, then concentration to stabilize it, heat to transfer the mana to heat, amplification to strengthen it, stream for continuous flow, and closing to complete it." Flame erupted in his hand. Jessie gasped as Tengune puffed out his chest. "I'm using my body's mana to direct it, but a trigger—words, for me—activates it." He inhaled, muttering, "Anzünden, verbrennen, zerstören." The flame exploded, hurling him into the wall. Smoke filled the room as Jessie and Hayzel rushed to help him up.
"Magic's volatile and dangerous," Hayzel said, smiling as Tengune stumbled, dazed. "A precarious artform. Be wary."
"So, it's like coding a computer," Jessie muttered, flipping through Tengune's tome, finding empty pages. "Tengune, it's mostly blank," she noted.
"I'm still a novice," he admitted sheepishly, closing it. "Haven't gathered many runes."
The door opened, and Omaar strolled in, coughing through the smoke. "What happened here?" he asked, raising a brow.
"A small mishap," Tengune laughed awkwardly.
"Showing off again?" Omaar smirked.
"Quiet," Tengune hissed.
"Omaar, here," Hayzel called, tossing him a sack of psyche. "A thousand psyche."
Omaar caught it, counting each coin with practiced speed as Tengune sighed. "Also, I have a request," Hayzel continued. "I want Jessie to have the Valkyrie."
Jessie gasped as Omaar glared. She looked down. He finished counting, pocketed the coins, and took the Valkyrie from the table. "Why?" he asked.
"She needs a weapon to defend herself," Hayzel explained. "I taught her how to use it. It's more useful in her hands."
Omaar stared at the Valkyrie, sighed, and handed it to Jessie, locking eyes. "Don't waste it," he said sternly. Jessie gulped, nodding.
"And, Jessie," Hayzel added, pulling an amulet from her pocket. "My sister crafted this, the first of its kind." She clasped it, smiling softly. "It links to an object, duplicating it in the same place. I've tied it to the valorium bullets. Swipe it with two fingers to reload the Valkyrie, though the bullet copies fade over time." She passed it to Jessie.
"I can't accept this," Jessie said, sweating. "What if I break or lose it?"
"It'd just gather dust here," Hayzel said. "Let it do some good."
Jessie nodded, speechless, and wore the amulet, its faint glow catching the lantern light.
"Speaking of magic," Omaar said, eyeing the Valkyrie, "how does Malevian magic work? That priest's miracles seem… potent."
Hayzel frowned, thoughtful. "I know little about Malevian practices, but their miracles likely use prayer to gather mana swiftly, channeling it into divine effects. It's different from rune-based casting, more ritualistic, but I can't say more without study."
Omaar's eyes narrowed. "And her appearance? Golden hair, golden eyes—doesn't fit a Malevian. What's with that?"
Hayzel paused, adjusting a scroll on her desk. "Malevians are known for silver hair and blue eyes, a trait tied to their divine rituals, though I'm unsure of the cause. Her appearance is… strange, to say the least. It could mean something, or it might just be an anomaly."
Omaar nodded, his gaze sharp. "We're done, then," he smirked. "Let's move."
"Are you not joining us?" Tengune asked Hayzel.
"No," she replied. "I must turn in this quest and explore other ancient civilizations. I'm heading to the southern continent to report my findings."
"Farewell for now," Tengune smiled. He and Jessie waved goodbye, but Hayzel called Tengune back.
"Jessie's appearance here is special," Hayzel whispered as Jessie glanced back, curious. "Last night, she shared details suggesting a link to ancient civilizations."
"Isn't that good?" Tengune smiled. "She could help us understand them."
"If others knew, she'd become a target," Hayzel warned. "Keep her importance secret, even from her."
"Why tell only me about her link to the civilizations?" Tengune asked.
"It's best Omaar doesn't know," Hayzel whispered, stepping closer. "No telling what he'd do with that information."
Tengune paused, nodded, and smiled, waving as he left. Outside, he turned to Jessie with a nervous smile. Jessie stared for a moment, bit her lip, and refocused on the path ahead.
The trio reached the east exit, where Miograce and the three hobgoblins waited, their silhouettes stark against the fading light. A crow cawed from a nearby roof, its rune-eyes glinting, as if watching. "About time," the stern goblin growled. "I thought we'd be here all day."
"Sorry for the delay," Tengune apologized. "We're ready."
"Then let us not delay further," Miograce said, smiling as Omaar brushed past her. "Let's see whose wits are sharper." Omaar glared, his hand twitching near his dagger, as the seven ventured east through the grasslands toward the goblin camp.
The quest had begun.