The banshee’s haunting wails echoed through the air, gradually fading into the distance. Though the eerie cry had silenced, the forest was still alive with unsettling sounds—howls, groans, and growls that seemed to come from all directions. Luckily for the two men, the creatures responsible for these noises remained shrouded in the shadows.

  For a time, the men continued on without disturbance. Then, Malick’s sharp ears caught the faint sound of sobbing—delicate, almost childlike, though he couldn’t say for sure. He froze in his steps and signaled to Soren, urging him to listen closely. Soren, too, caught the sorrowful sobs and, without a word, silently joined Malick as they tried to trace the source of the unsettling cry.

  As they neared the edge of a clearing, they carefully positioned themselves behind a veil of dense foliage, observing from the shadows. In the center of the clearing stood a pale young woman, seemingly in her late teens, her forearm pressed tightly against her chest. Her dark brown hair hung in a loose braid down her back, and her white blouse and folk-patterned skirt appeared worn and tattered.

  It was clear the girl was injured, as blood gently trickled down the porcelain skin of her arm—a stark contrast against her pale complexion.

  Encircling the girl were several dire wolves. Malick quickly noticed something was off. The creatures were disfigured, their bodies marred by grotesque growths and lesions. Their fangs appeared unnaturally long, sending a wave of unease through the dark elf. These wolves were clearly not normal—they must be suffering from some kind of affliction.

  Both Malick and Soren watched the scene unfold, their expressions a mixture of concern and curiosity. The young woman, unaware of their presence, continued to sob in distress.

  “What's wrong with them?” Soren whispered, his gaze fixed on the wolves’ unsettling appearance.

  Malick shrugged, uncertain, and scanned the area for any other signs of danger. He hesitated to intervene. These dire wolves were unlike any he had encountered before. The girl’s plight, though tragic, wasn’t his to solve. His priority was reaching Savantra as quickly as possible—and, ideally, without further complications.

  Malick slowly turned and took a few steps back toward their original path when Soren’s voice broke the silence. “Where are you going?”

  “We should keep going,” Malick replied flatly. “We’ve wasted enough time.”

  Soren was stunned. “Weavers really are ruthless,” he muttered with contempt. “We can’t just leave her there to die!”

  Malick disregarded Soren’s plea, turning away decisively and walking off. He fully expected Soren to follow, but just as he took another step, a loud rustling from behind made him pause. He spun around, only to see Soren, dagger in hand, charging into the clearing, rushing toward the girl.

  Malick briefly entertained the thought of leaving Soren behind. He watched with a mix of amusement and annoyance as the red-headed man yelled at the dire wolves, brandishing his tiny dagger in a futile attempt to protect the girl. Despite his cold nature, a flicker of guilt stirred within the dark elf. As irritating as Soren could be, he did have his uses—and Malick still needed him to gain access to the city. Despite the temptation to walk away, he couldn’t bring himself to abandon him.

  With an exasperated sigh, Malick drew his sword and stepped into the clearing, reluctantly joining the fun.

  “You’re an idiot,” Malick scolded Soren.

  “And you’re not as heartless as I thought,” Soren responded.

  Malick shifted his focus to the girl. “What’s going on here?” he asked.

  The girl appeared taken aback by the sudden presence of the two men, hesitating before answering. “I... I don’t know. I think they’re just frightened and confused.”

  The dire wolves held their ground, staying in formation without advancing. Malick studied them more intently. The growths and lesions on their bodies looked unnatural, almost painful, but it was their eyes that struck him as even more bizarre. They seemed to glow with an eerie blue light...

  Malick stepped closer to Soren, lowering his voice. “I think this has something to do with that blue orb we saw earlier.”

  Soren glanced around, visibly confused. He hadn’t seen any blue orb this time.

  “Look at their eyes,” Malick urged. “Do you see it?”

  Soren followed Malick’s gaze, and his expression shifted. “There’s a blue glow!” he exclaimed. “But what does this mean?”

  One of the wolves snarled and took a step forward. “Stay back!” Soren shouted, thrusting his dagger toward it. The other wolves, sensing the rising tension, began to move forward as well.

  “Please! Don’t hurt them!” the girl pleaded, her voice trembling.

  Malick was taken aback by the girl’s plea. She had clearly been harmed by these monstrous dire wolves, yet she was trying to protect them. It didn’t make sense to him. The Shadow Weaver within him wanted to cut them down without hesitation—eye for an eye.

  “They were traveling with my group.” Tears welled in the young girl’s eyes as she spoke. “These wolves are...” Her voice faltered, and she quickly corrected herself: “...were our companions.”

  Humans really like to make things complicated, Malick thought to himself. He let out a frustrated sigh. “What do you propose we do with them, then?” he asked, his tone sharp. “These wolves are no longer the companions you knew. They’re dangerous. Letting them roam free is not an option.” The dark elf’s voice was cold and stern.

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  The girl paused, her gaze distant, before her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I know you’re right,” she sobbed. “I... I just can’t bear the thought of any harm coming to them. Even though they’ve changed...” Her words broke as she cried uncontrollably. Her distress seemed to agitate the wolves, their movements growing more restless.

  Soren, despite seeing the girl’s distress, sided with Malick. The dire wolves were not only dangerous but clearly in agony. They looked pained, and putting them out of their misery would be a kindness. Not knowing a better way to solve the situation, he placed his arm around the sobbing young girl and turned her away from the wolves, nodding to Malick to finish the task.

  Several yelps and whimpers echoed through the forest as Malick swiftly took action with his sword. The girl sobbed silently into Soren’s chest. He gently patted her back, offering what little comfort he could in the midst of the grim scene. To her, these wolves had been more than just animals; they were family.

  Soren could relate to the young girl more than he wanted to admit. Years ago, he had found a stray cat that had become his constant companion. Unlike most cats, it was unusually loyal, always by his side. Their bond felt deeper than he could explain, something beyond the ordinary. When the cat passed, Soren had held a quiet ceremony, alone with its remains. That memory still carried a heavy sadness, and he understood the girl’s grief all too well.

  Malick sheathed his sword and approached Soren and the girl. “Your group—where are they? Are they all right?” he asked.

  The girl shook her head, her eyes filled with anguish. “I had been walking behind and got distracted," She sniffled, her voice breaking. “When I looked ahead, my friends were engulfed in some sort of light... It seemed to be radiating heat,” she said as she recalled the warmth on her skin. Her face twisted in pain and grief. “I remember hearing screams...” She hugged herself tightly, shaking her head, tears streaming down her face.

  Soren wrapped an arm around her gently, offering what little comfort he could. “It’s okay,” he said softly, his voice soothing. “You're safe now... It’s okay...”

  The girl took a shuddering breath, trying to calm herself, but her voice trembled as she continued. “Their skin... it was melting. I was so scared...” Her body shook, and she stared into the distance, lost in the memory. “I just ran as fast as I could... Oh Gods!” she cried, her grief overwhelming her once more. “I left them there! I left them!” The sobs wracked her body uncontrollably.

  Soren wrapped the girl in a comforting embrace, whispering reassuringly, “It’s not your fault.”

  Malick, however, was far more curious about the girl’s companions than he was about consoling the girl. “Can you take us to the location where you were separated from your group?” he asked.

  Soren stiffened, his voice rising with frustration. “Now isn’t the time!”

  Malick’s tone was firm and unyielding. “Now is the perfect time. Since we’ve entered this forest, we’ve encountered multiple disturbances that can’t be explained by anything in nature. What is the source of this blue light? What is it capable of? Don’t you want to know?”

  Soren glanced at the girl, who was still trembling in his arms, her grief palpable. He sighed and shook his head. “Can't it wait, though?” he asked, a subtle motion toward her with his eyes. The girl was a broken mess, clearly not in any state to confront the aftermath of whatever had happened to her group.

  Shadow Weavers truly have no compassion, Soren thought. He knew they were infamous for being ruthless warriors, but witnessing their coldness firsthand was difficult to accept.

  The girl’s sobs began to subside, turning into soft sniffles as she composed herself. She whispered, her voice barely audible, “It’s okay,” her words almost unintelligible. “I will show you...”

  Good girl! Malick thought with a sense of relief—she had finally come to her senses. The constant sobbing had been unnerving, making him feel tense and restless.Thank the Gods it was finally coming to an end.

  “Just give me a moment,” the young girl said, placing her hand over her injured arm. She closed her eyes and began chanting in words neither Malick nor Soren could make out. To their surprise, the wound slowly faded, the injury shrinking away until only a faint scar remained—magically healed before their eyes.

  “A druid?” Soren asked.

  “Yes,” the girl replied, her voice quiet and tinged with slight embarrassment. “I’m a druid of Willow Grove.”

  Malick recognized the name Willow Grove. “Isn’t that the home of the Lorendari?” he asked.

  The girl nodded.

  The Lorendari were a group of healer druids specializing in ailments that weren’t of natural origin—diseases brought about by magic, curses, or other supernatural forces.

  Malick considered the girl thoughtfully. She might be more valuable than he’d first realized. Perhaps the time spent rescuing her hadn’t been a complete waste after all.

  The girl took a deep, steadying breath. “Let’s go,” she said, her voice stronger now. She led them a short distance through the forest before coming to an abrupt stop. “I won’t go any further. I don’t wish to see what’s left.” Her eyes stared blankly ahead, a distant, haunted look in them.

  “I’ll stay with the girl,” Soren offered. Though he was admittedly curious, it felt wrong to leave the girl alone while they ogled her friends’ remains. Soren had no problem letting Malick handle the grim task, while he stayed with the pretty distressed damsel.

  Malick nodded and moved forward to inspect the area. As he followed the path the girl had pointed out, he couldn’t help but think about how fragile humans were. Their emotions often clouded their judgment, causing them to act impulsively and irrationally—just like the girl. He was fortunate to be a Weaver, able to maintain his composure and stay objective in any situation, giving him a constant advantage.

  Still, despite their emotional fragility, the humans he’d met so far were proving to be more interesting than he’d expected. A thief with ties to Savantra, and now a Lorendari? They weren’t the worst companions to have, after all.

  Malick advanced cautiously, uncertain of what lay ahead. A harrowing scene unfolded before him, confirming the young girl’s account. Viscera and bones were scattered across the forest floor, and a putrid stench assaulted his senses. The scene differed from the aftermath of the mysterious light in his own village, where nothing had remained once the light faded. A heavy weight of questions pressed on the dark elf’s mind. Was his tribe still alive somewhere, hidden from sight? Or had they met the same tragic fate as these unfortunate souls?

  Other than the horrifying scene before him, Malick found nothing else of note. Even as a Shadow Weaver, the sight unsettled him, leaving him feeling uncomfortably ill. He quickly turned away and made his way back to the others. The girl seemed on the verge of asking something, but Malick simply shook his head. She fell silent, her eyes distant and lost in thought.

  “Let’s rest,” Soren suggested. “It’s not safe in these woods.”

  Malick glanced up at the darkening sky. “Good idea.”

  The trio walked for a while before finding a small cave. Cautiously, they entered, wary of what might be inside. Fortunately, it appeared to be empty. Deciding it was a suitable place to rest, Malick and Soren set up camp, arranging their supplies and preparing their bedrolls. The girl, having nothing but the clothes on her back, was offered Soren’s bedroll for the night. She initially hesitated, but he was insistent, and she finally accepted the offer, grateful for the small comfort after everything she’d been through.