Vierna looked behind her in haste. Moony’s voice had come sharp and sudden, as if she were in immediate danger. Instinctively, she placed her left hand on the weapon at her belt. The only one behind her was Fenric—and after what had happened earlier, she couldn’t help but tense.
His ears twitched in surprise.
“Something wrong, Vierna?”
Vierna studied his face while keeping her hand on the gun. His black eyes gleamed like obsidian in the moonlight, his fur washed in silver hues. There was no trace of that feral, bloodshot look anymore—he seemed back to normal.
Moony, are you messing with me?
‘Hehe, sorry, Vierna. I got a bit bored—but there really is something behind us. Try to focus.’
She narrowed her eyes. A faint violet trail shimmered in the distance, leading back the way they had come.
What do you think this is?
‘I don’t know… but it feels familiar. Like we’ve seen this kind of guide before.’
“Vierna?” Fenric tilted his head, watching her as she seemed to drift off into thought.
“Ah, nothing, Fenric. Do you see that purple smoke pointing that way?” She gestured toward the forest behind them.
“Hmmm… no, I don’t see anything.”
Vierna had been fighting her curiosity all day—from Fenric’s strange behavior to his stories about the missing villagers—but this felt different. She saw something she couldn’t ignore.
“Fenric, come with me. I think I found something.”
Fenric blinked, puzzled. “Uhh… okay, if you say so.”
They both retraced their steps toward the clearing where they’d seen the group of deer earlier. Yet the faint trail didn’t stop there—it stretched deeper into the forest. Vierna and Fenric moved quietly, careful with each step as they pushed through the brush and tall grass. They followed the violet glow for what felt like a long while, and by then, the moon was shining even brighter overhead.
“Vierna, where are we going?” Fenric whispered.
“Trust me on this, okay?”
“We are deeper then we were before.”
“It’s fine. I can feel it—this is something important.”
“Bu—okay, Vierna. I’ll trust you.”
The ease of his acceptance surprised her. She didn’t even know where the trail was leading, and yet Fenric believed her without hesitation. Maybe it was because she’d promised to keep his secret—the trembling moment he’d shown his dark side back in the clearing. Trust born from guilt, or gratitude, or something in between. Whatever it was, it made him follow without question.
The deeper they went inside the forest, the trail was getting thicker and thicker.
‘I think we are close’ Moony called from inside her head.
“Vierna, stop” Fenric whispered immediately.
“What is it?”
“Humans… two of them and a smoke… it seems like a campfire or something.”
They moved more cautiously now, every step placed with care, until the faint orange flicker of fire came into view.
Through the brush, a small clearing emerged—freshly disturbed soil, the smell of cut grass, and a camp that looked too clean to have been here long. A ring of stones framed a modest fire, its smoke rising in a thin, careful line. Around it, tents of rough canvas were still half-pitched, their ropes taut and new. Hooks dangled from a wooden rack, but none held any game—no meat, no skins, not even tools yet stained by work.
And yet, for a camp so empty, the supplies were abundant. Wooden crates were stacked beside the fire in neat rows. It looks like provision but more than any poacher could carry without notice.
Two figures stood near the fire. One was tall and broad-shouldered, the other smaller, moving with quick, nervous gestures. Both wore all-black clothing, thick fabric fitted tight to their forms and black hood covering their head. Strips of cloth covered their mouths and lower faces, leaving only their eyes visible—flat, reflective, unblinking in the firelight.
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The larger figure crouched to stoke the fire, and that was when Vierna noticed it—the faint violet shimmer of the trail she had been following slipped straight into his coat pocket, vanishing beneath the fabric like smoke drawn home.
Her breath caught. Whatever this was, it wasn’t chance. The trail had led her here for a reason.
Vierna signaled Fenric to back off a bit. They crawled to a safe distance. Vierna put a finger to her lips, signaling Fenric to stay quiet.
Moony, can you cast Eidrecht 5 for me?
‘I will try Vierna.’
Vierna then draw four runes around at their location, each at cardinal direction.
Silent befall—engulf and hide all. Vierna exhaled a bit, quietely calling the spell’s name “Eidrecht 5: Hohlraum”
‘hmmph!’ Moony whimpered as Vierna cast the spell.
The runes flared. Pale lines of light stitched the air into a dome. A thin, semi-transparent membrane rose, oil-slick and skin-tight, bending and blurring the world beyond as dark glyphs crawled like veins across its face.
“We can talk now. Our voices won’t leave this place,” Vierna said.
Fenric exhaled, as if he had been holding his breath this whole time. “Are they poachers?”
“Honestly—I don’t know. They don’t look like it.”
“Vierna, we should go.”
“Fenric, they’re worse than a poacher.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well judging their clothing maybe…Cult of Paradise.”
Vierna had never seen a cult member in person. Yet if she had to imagine what one looked like, these two figures fit the image perfectly. The black hoods and covered faces screamed cultist.
The Imperium was on the other side of the forest, so she doubted it could be them.
Fenric blinked, startled. “What?” His voice rose a little before he caught himself. Then, shaking his head. “That really is a stretch, Vierna. Cult of Paradise? Maybe they really are poachers.”
He denied, as if saying something wasn’t something would really change what they actually were.
“Look at their clothes, Fenric. What kind of poacher wears a black hood and a mouth covering like that? And lights a fire—basically telling everyone their location? No, Fenric. They’re not poachers. I’m sure of it. They’re most likely cult members, scouting for something.”
Fenric observe the figures once again, then his face went pale and then hard. “No… no, no. What are they doing here?”
“I don’t know, Fenric. But if it’s really them, we should act first.” Vierna’s voice was low and careful.
“What do you mean?” Fenric’s whisper trembled.
Vierna didn’t answer right away.
The forest pressed in around them, thick and lightless safe from the camp fire where the two figures sat.
For a moment, she considered turning back anyway. Running. Warning Rolbart, even if it meant chaos.
But the idea collapsed as soon as it surfaced.
She had seen what the village could field. Courage, yes. Numbers, barely. Training, worse.
Right now, it was only the two of them. But what if, when she returned to Rolbart, these people suddenly made a move? Albrecht had always said that in battle, a second could feel like a month, and being one second late could determine a person’s fate: death or life.
Here, at least, they were unaware.
Here, a single, decisive strike could end it before it spread—before it could bring any kind of trouble or complication.
Her chest beat faster.
Even now, even after everything she’d done, her hand wanted to hesitate. The instinct to pull back was still there, sharp and stubborn, whispering that there had to be another way.
Yet she knew that if those people were left unchecked, nothing good could come of it.
Vierna lifted her eyes to Fenric. In the dark, there was no warmth left in them—only a steady, deliberate resolve.
“We have to kill them.”
As the words left her lips, the wind seemed to thread through the onyx leaves of Schattwald with a sudden, keening rush; the canopy rattled like a slow warning bell. Shadows pooled deeper between the trunks, and the small fire’s light stuttered as if some unseen breath touched the flame. Night sounds—crickets, the distant drip of water—fell unnaturally quiet, as if the woods themselves were straining to listen.
“What if we just went back to Rolbart and told Loran’del about this?”
“Then what? Wait him to act? What if they move away, or if they regroup with their fellow cult?”
Fenric didn’t answer. He knows that it would be the case. “Look, Vierna, I don’t know about you, but I’ve never been in real combat before.”
“I’ve been in one but I just hide.” Vierna lied. “The whole reason I’m here is because I’m weak and the Arkmarschall can’t use me as active combat personnel.”
“Then we shoul—”
“However, Fenric, we have the element of surprise now, and if we don’t act now we are losing a good opportunity.”
She knew that Fenric was talking sense. And yet, she couldn’t shake her previous concern.
“What if, when we fight, some of the cult members come here?”
“That’s why we need to kill them fast. We have two guns.” Vierna took her pistol from her belt. “If we shoot them at the same time, they won’t have time to react.”
Fenric panted. “Vierna… you don’t understand… I can’t kill anything… something bad would happen when I do.”
“Then stay,” Vierna said, voice flat. “I’m not risking Rolbart by leaving them alone.”
“How do you know killing them is the best way?”
“I don’t. But I know leaving them be now is not wise at all.”
Fenric looked at the musket. His hands shook like a leaf, desperately clinging to a branch during autumn. He panted heavily, trying to find conviction in his heart, which was nowhere to be found. And yet he couldn’t let Vierna dirty her hands alone.
“I will try to help, Vierna.”
“Good. Now let’s go.”
Vierna canceled her runes. The barrier was gone.
Then they quietly moved toward the camp again. The two figures were still sitting near the campfire. It appeared they had finished setting up the camp. Vierna signaled Fenric to aim for the big one with his musket.
The musket packed more punch—its penetration rune drove rounds deep. Vierna’s pistol, by contrast, had a rapid-fire rune.
Fenric stilled his trembling hand, placed his eye to the sight, and aimed at the big man, while Vierna did the same with her dueling pistol.
Both exhaled at the same time.
What happen next?
