The sun dipped below the horizon.
A brilliant tangerine glow spilled over the mountain ranges, casting a warm hue across the forest and painting the land with dappled shadows. Wisps of smoke drifted lazily in the distance, and a gentle breeze whispered through the trees, wrapping the world in an aura of tranquility and peace. A freight cart trundled along a smooth, well-maintained road. The driver hummed a tune lazily, flicking his whip now and then to urge the horses forward. He squinted his eyes contentedly, savoring this fleeting moment of serenity and happiness. When he'd first taken this job, he'd felt a twinge of regret at leaving the bustling city behind—but now, he found himself growing fond of this quiet life away from the chaos of civilization. The city had its glitz and excitement, but it lacked this sense of calm. Wasn't this the life he'd always wanted? If he could, he'd stay here forever… Still, the rumors swirling beyond the forest weighed heavily on his mind. With the Sith Empire looming on the horizon, how long could this peaceful existence last?
Just then, the driver spotted several figures approaching up ahead. He immediately tensed, slowing the cart to a crawl as he eyed the strangers warily. The group came to a halt beside the road, waiting for the cart to draw near.
Bandits?
A flicker of anxiety fluttered in the driver's chest, but he forced himself to keep going. He hadn't been in the Twilight Forest long, but he knew the region had an excellent reputation for safety—bandits and outlaws had vanished from these parts years ago. Still, it never hurt to be cautious.
The leader of the group stepped forward, gesturing to halt the cart.
Trouble, then?
The driver's unease grew. But the sun hadn't set completely, and this was a well-traveled thoroughfare. Surely even bandits wouldn't dare to strike in broad daylight.
"Can I help you folks with something?" he called out, keeping his voice steady as he kept a firm grip on the reins, ready to turn the cart around and flee at the first sign of danger—if he could outrun them, that was.
"We were hoping you could point us in the right direction," the man at the head of the group replied, lifting his head to reveal a weathered, weary face that looked honest enough. Their clothes were cheap and threadbare; the air was growing colder with each passing day, and most people had already added warmer layers to their wardrobes, but these men seemed ill-prepared for the chill.
"You're from the Twilight Forest, aren't you? Then you must know the City of Heroes. My companions and I are looking to make our way there—we're hoping to find some work, earn an honest living. But we're strangers in these parts… Could you tell us how much farther it is to the city?"
Just lost travelers asking for directions.
The driver let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, then studied the men closely, his brow furrowing with concern.
"You're trying to get to the City of Heroes *now*? It's a long ways off—if you're on foot, you won't reach it until midnight at the earliest. By then, the gates will have been shut tight, and you won't be able to get in. Take my advice—you'd be better off not going at all. The lord of that city issued an order long ago: no outsiders are allowed to settle there."
It was one of the first decrees Blake had issued after founding the City of Heroes—strictly prohibiting any outsiders from taking up permanent residence within its walls. Aside from the original inhabitants of Twilight Town and the slaves he'd purchased, the young lord had shown no interest in welcoming new settlers. In fact, shortly after the city's construction, countless people from the surrounding areas—craftsmen, merchants, farmers, and even displaced bandits—had flocked here, hoping to find work and a better life. But regardless of who they were, all their applications to settle had been flatly rejected by Blake. Any outsiders who entered the City of Heroes were permitted to stay only in inns; no resident of the city was allowed to provide them with housing or lodgings of any kind, under pain of severe punishment.
Of course, there had been those who'd dared to defy the order. After all, the city was no small village—surely hiding a few extra people wouldn't be that difficult, they'd thought, and if they stayed long enough, they could eventually make the city their home. And then there were the bandits, who cared nothing for rules or lodgings—all they needed was to slip inside the gates, and they'd find a place to hide on their own.
But to everyone's astonishment, no matter how well they'd concealed themselves, these trespassers had always been found out and driven out of the Twilight Forest. After several such incidents, the locals had grown increasingly puzzled, wondering how their young lord managed to root out every last intruder. Gradually, however, as the threat of war loomed ever closer, fewer and fewer people were eager to become residents of the City of Heroes. Most folks were now focused on fleeing farther south to escape the coming conflict, and the idea of settling here had faded from their minds.
Still, there were always the destitute and desperate—those who couldn't afford to flee far, who couldn't find work in their hometowns, and who had no choice but to gamble on finding a livelihood here. To the driver, these men looked like exactly that kind of people.
His tone softened, laced with genuine sympathy.
"I'd turn back if I were you. The City of Heroes doesn't take in outsiders these days, and besides… there's a curfew in place now. The gates close at nightfall, and even the city's own residents are locked out if they don't return by midnight—they have to find somewhere to camp outside the forest until dawn. Let me tell you, this place gets dangerous after dark. If you're looking for work, you'd be better off trying your luck elsewhere."
"Thank you for the warning," the man replied, offering a grateful smile and nodding at the driver.
"My companions and I will take your advice into consideration. But these are hard times… finding work anywhere else won't be easy, either."
"I know it won't…" The driver sighed, shaking his head helplessly. He gave the men a sympathetic smile, then cracked his whip against the air with a sharp *crack*. The cart rumbled forward once more, gradually disappearing into the distance. The men watched it go, waving politely until it was out of sight.
The moment the cart vanished from view, the warm, friendly smiles vanished from the men's faces, replaced by cold, steely resolve. They quickly huddled together.
"The intelligence was accurate, Captain," a burly man with a swarthy complexion muttered in a low, calm voice.
"The City of Heroes is indeed under strict lockdown, keeping a close watch on all outsiders. I can't help but wonder what secrets they're hiding that require such heavy-handed security."
"That is precisely why we're here," the man who'd spoken to the driver said, his expression grim and serious.
"The Lord sent us to uncover the truth about this place—what it is, what's happening within its walls. We must conduct a thorough investigation and deliver a full report to him. No details are to be overlooked."
These men were no ordinary refugees. They were elite operatives from the *Black Fangs*, one of the three elite legions of the kingdom—specialists in intelligence gathering, assassination, and covert operations. The Black Fangs boasted six such elite units, each composed of top-tier fighters. While they might not match the raw power of high-ranking warriors on the open battlefield, they were unrivaled in stealth, sabotage, and combat in the shadows. And the unit dispatched to infiltrate the Twilight Forest was the cream of the crop—the best of the best.
"But Captain, nightfall is fast approaching. According to our intel, ever since the young lord left for the front lines, the City of Heroes and the entire Twilight Forest have been placed under lockdown, with a strict curfew enforced around the clock. Security will be at its tightest now. I suggest we proceed with extreme caution. Shouldn't we wait until dawn and try to blend in with the crowds to sneak into the city?" one of the operatives ventured hesitantly. But the captain shook his head firmly.
"No. If what that driver said is true, then there's something deeply amiss in the Twilight Forest. The Lord himself said it—nearly all of the young lord's elite forces have accompanied him to the front. There should be no way he has enough manpower left to enforce such a strict curfew. Yet here we are. That can only mean one thing: there's more to this than meets the eye. If we shrink from danger, we'll never uncover the truth. We move tonight. Our mission is twofold: to investigate the secrets of the castle, and to get to the bottom of this curfew. Remember why we're here—we're to assess the true strength of the Twilight Forest. If we're afraid to take risks, then we might as well turn back right now."
His words left no room for argument. The operatives nodded in unison, their expressions resolute. For men like them, danger was part of the job—they'd faced far worse odds countless times before. This was nothing new.
"Good." Satisfied that there were no more objections, the captain issued his orders crisply.
"From this point on, we split up and proceed individually. As the driver said, no one travels to the City of Heroes at this hour—we'd stick out like sore thumbs if we stay together. Ditch these rags—we're hunters now. We'll stay off the main roads and cut through the woods. If we're spotted, our cover story is that we're tracking game. I trust you all know how to improvise—no need for me to spell it out. Meet me at the rendezvous point outside the City of Heroes exactly at midnight. Then we'll move to the next phase of the plan. Anyone who fails to show up by then will be considered missing in action. You know what that means."
"Yes, Captain!" the operatives replied in unison, their voices ringing with unwavering loyalty. The captain's face hardened, and he waved a hand sharply.
"Move out!"
In the blink of an eye, the men scattered, vanishing into the shadows of the forest like ghosts, leaving no trace of their presence behind. The road fell silent once more, as if nothing had ever happened.
Night fell.
The last sliver of sunlight faded completely below the horizon, and the inky blackness of night descended upon the land. A blanket of stars twinkled overhead, and a bright, silvery moon hung high in the sky, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the world. The moonlight was faint and hazy, painting the landscape in a dreamlike, almost otherworldly beauty. But at the same time, deep within the forest—where shadows should have reigned supreme—a faint, diffused light began to spread. It was barely visible at first, a mere glimmer in the darkness, but it grew stronger and stronger with each passing moment.
The mist was rising.
The captain frowned. He'd studied the climate of the Twilight Forest extensively—mists were common here, often reducing visibility to near zero. It was one of the factors he'd worried about most for this mission. Mist was unpredictable, uncontrollable—and the Twilight Forest was a foreign, unfamiliar land to them. This sudden change in weather could spell disaster if they weren't careful.
But he did not falter. As the commander of the Black Fangs' most elite unit—as a veteran warrior who'd never failed a mission, no matter how impossible the odds—he would not let a little mist stop him. He'd overcome far greater obstacles in his time. This would be no different.
Soon, the mist thickened, and the forest was filled with the chirping of insects, their calls rising and falling in a rhythmic chorus. At the sound, the captain's tense expression relaxed slightly. He cupped his hands around his mouth and let out a series of identical chirps. Moments later, several figures emerged from the mist, stepping into view one by one.
His men. They'd made it through.
"Everyone accounted for?" the captain asked, his voice low.
"All present and correct, Captain," came the reply.
The captain scanned the faces of his operatives, nodding in satisfaction. He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time.
"Then let's move out."
He gave the order, and the group set off once more, following their leader into the dense, fog-shrouded depths of the forest.
The mist grew thicker and thicker.
The farther they ventured, the more oppressive it became. The Twilight Forest was not pitch-black—on the contrary, it was almost blindingly white, the moonlight refracting off the countless tiny water droplets in the air, turning the mist into a glowing, impenetrable wall. At first, the operatives could still see the figures of their comrades ahead and behind them. But soon, they could barely make out the vague shapes of the people beside them. And a few steps further in, even those shadows vanished completely. The world narrowed down to nothing but themselves and the endless, swirling white mist—nothing else existed.
To an ordinary person, this scene would have been enough to shatter their nerves, to send them fleeing in terror. But these were no ordinary men. They were elite operatives, forged in the fires of countless battles. Fear gnawed at their hearts—fear of the unknown, fear of being lost, fear of what lurked in the mist—but years of rigorous training and iron discipline allowed them to suppress those emotions, to lock them away deep inside. They pressed forward, their faces calm and impassive, focused solely on the mission at hand.
Yet even so, the mist weighed on their minds like a physical burden, far more oppressive than any ordinary fog. For some reason, they couldn't shake the feeling that something was *wrong* with this mist—that it wasn't natural. Their movements felt sluggish, as if invisible hands were pulling at their arms and legs, holding them back. And every now and then, they thought they heard something—a faint, almost inaudible whisper, calling out to them. But whenever they strained their ears to listen, the sound vanished without a trace, as if it had never been there at all.
It's just an illusion. It has to be an illusion.
Every man repeated the words silently to himself, over and over. They couldn't see their companions; they could barely even see their own hands in front of their faces, swallowed as they were by the mist. But they refused to be cowed. These strange phenomena were nothing more than tricks of the mind, they told themselves. They drew on their training, forcing themselves to focus their thoughts, to fix their minds on a single point. They slowed their pace, ignoring the strange sensations in their bodies, pushing forward one step at a time.
And surprisingly, it worked. The whispers faded away, and the sense of being held back lifted. Their movements returned to normal, as if the earlier unease had never happened at all.
And then, to their astonishment, the mist began to thin out.
"We're almost there," the captain muttered to himself, calculating the distance in his head. According to the intel, the City of Heroes was just ahead. The walls weren't particularly tall—scaling them should be a simple matter for men of their skill. Once they were inside, they could vanish into the city's labyrinthine streets, and the mission would be as good as done.
A hundred meters left…
Fifty meters…
The mist grew thinner still, and their visibility improved with every step.
Ten meters…
The captain came to an abrupt halt.
And at that exact moment, his men stopped beside him—all of them, appearing out of the mist as if by magic, unharmed and accounted for. Clearly, they'd all made it through the mist unscathed, passing this unexpected test with flying colors. But… the captain couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. He pushed the thought aside, focusing his attention ahead.
And for the first time since arriving in the Twilight Forest, the captain's eyes widened in genuine shock. He wasn't alone—every single one of his operatives wore the same expression of disbelief and confusion.
Instead of the imposing city walls he'd expected, instead of the grand gates of the City of Heroes, what greeted them after emerging from the mist was a small, orderly, *eerily quiet* town.
What in the world? The intel said this was supposed to be a *city*, not a town!
The captain felt a flicker of panic stir in his chest—a feeling he hadn't experienced in years. Intel errors were common, yes, but never one this drastic. There was a world of difference between a city and a town—surely the scouts couldn't have made a mistake that big! The city was supposed to have high, imposing walls. But this town had nothing but a rickety wooden palisade for defense, not a single proper fortification in sight. And the only watchtower at the town entrance stood empty, not a soul to be seen.
It was *too* quiet.
The captain frowned, finally realizing what was bothering him. There were no lights in the town—not a single candle, not a single torch burning. Even the watch fires that should have been kept lit throughout the night were cold and dark. Most small towns kept dogs to patrol the streets at night, to bark at strangers and intruders—but here, there was not a single bark to be heard. In fact, there was no sign of *life* at all. No rustling of curtains, no snoring from open windows, no sound of wind chimes or creaking doors—nothing. It was as if the town had been abandoned long ago.
The captain looked up, his gaze drifting toward Twilight Castle, which loomed in the distance behind the town. But the castle was still shrouded in mist, a faint, indistinct silhouette against the night sky. No lights glowed from its windows, either. It was just as dead and silent as the town below.
"Captain, what do we do now?" one of the operatives asked, his voice tight with tension.
"Split up and search the area," the captain ordered sharply, cutting him off with a decisive gesture.
"Report any findings immediately. And stay sharp—something isn't right here."