Chapter 33

  Evolon stood in a large, dark chamber, the air thick with the cloying smell of damp earth and decaying leaves. Her night vision, usually a boon in such situations, struggled for several seconds to adjust to the dim, almost oppressive light filtering through what appeared to be a dense forest. Looking upwards, she could just barely make out the rough-hewn stone of the cavern ceiling far above, a dizzying distance away. This was no ordinary woodland; it was an indoor forest, a bizarre ecosystem contained within the castle, with hundreds, perhaps thousands, of trees, interspersed with patches of thick grass and tangled undergrowth. She placed a hand on the wall behind her, finding it cold and rough—an inky obsidian black, barely visible in the gloom. She moved silently, one hand trailing along the wall as a guide, her senses on high alert.

  A shiver, colder than the cavern stone, ran down Evolon’s spine as the full scope of the scene before her registered. Scattered throughout the trees, frozen in grotesque tableaux, were creatures, locked in eternal struggles. A majestic Griffon, wings outstretched in a silent roar, was perpetually harassed by several frozen wolves, their fangs bared in a silent snarl. And just behind the wolves, half-hidden in a thicket of thorny bushes, was a Dwarf, crossbow raised as if about to loose a bolt. Evolon approached the Dwarf cautiously, her boots making no sound on the damp earth. She touched his neck with two fingers, the skin cold and stiff, and the chilling realization washed over her. These were taxidermied trophies, meticulously preserved and posed. But this wasn't some cozy hunting lodge; this was something far more insidious, a macabre gallery of death. She looked around, her gaze sweeping across the frozen battlefield, and found more scenes like this one. Elves, Humans, even a Catwoman, all locked in eternal combat with monstrous beasts, some of whom seemed to be fighting unseen foes. This silent, frozen war was a monument to some unseen hunter's skill, or perhaps, his madness.

  A raspy voice, seemingly emanating from everywhere and nowhere at once, broke the unsettling silence. It was smooth, almost melodic, yet laced with a chilling undercurrent of violence that sent a shiver down her spine. “Welcome, Evolon,” it purred. “I trust you appreciate my… collection?”

  Evolon retrieved her bow from her back, the polished copperwood cool and comforting in her hand. As she scanned the dense trees before her, searching for any sign of movement, she nocked an arrow, the arrowhead gleaming faintly in the dim light. Without a word, she began to move slowly and silently towards the direction she thought the voice was coming from, her footsteps muffled by the soft earth and patches of green grass. She passed another scene of frozen carnage. Several lizard men, their scales dull and lifeless, surrounded a huge six-legged rhinoceros, their spears forever poised to strike. As she moved past this gruesome display of power, the voice spoke again, closer this time. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mirage, Hunter of the Doombringers. This… is my sanctuary.”

  Evolon continued her cautious advance into the heart of the indoor forest, every nerve in her body screaming for her to turn back, but she pressed on. Her senses were on high alert, straining to detect any sound, any movement, any hint of the unseen hunter’s presence. The taxidermied figures seemed to watch her every move, their glassy eyes following her as she passed, adding to the unsettling atmosphere.

  The hidden voice continued, a hint of something akin to reverence creeping into its tone. “I love to relive the thrill of the hunt. The more dangerous the prey, the more exhilarating the victory. You see, I’ve slain beasts of all kinds, from the mundane to the truly fantastical. But sentient beings… they possess a cunning that most beasts lack. And Cadium wielders, like yourself, Evolon, even more so. The struggle, the desperate will to survive… it makes the hunt that much more intoxicating. And when the chase is over, and the prey is finally brought down… the feeling is… indescribable. But I'm not telling you anything you don't already know, am I? I can see it in your eyes, the hunter's instinct. You are loving every second of this.”

  Evolon felt a surge of anger, hot and sharp, rise within her. This creature, this Mirage, was a monster, a predator who reveled in the suffering and death of others. “I am nothing like you,” she hissed, her voice trembling with rage. She clamped a hand over her mouth, realizing she had spoken aloud, tears of frustration and grief welling in her eyes.

  Suddenly, the air in front of Evolon shimmered, distorting the light filtering through the trees. She felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a premonition of imminent danger. She felt the unseen eyes on her, knew it was the perfect moment for a hunter to strike. Reacting instinctively, she moved erratically, hopping behind the thick trunk of a massive tree just as she felt a sharp sting of pain in her thigh. Taking a quick glance down at her leg, she saw a gash in her pants and blood welling up through a shallow cut across her thigh. Quickly, she activated her invisibility ring, the cool metal a welcome sensation against her skin, and drank a small healing potion from her pouch. As the wound closed and the bleeding stopped, she kept some of her blood in her hand.

  Now, she too, was an unseen predator, stalking in the shadows.

  Evolon decided to use Mirage’s arrogance against him. She knew he was watching and listening, and that he held the home-field advantage in this strange, indoor forest. She deliberately left a few drops of blood on the damp forest floor, creating a trail any hunter would find irresistible. She moved slowly and silently through the underbrush, careful not to make a sound.

  Mirage, predictably, took the bait. His disembodied voice echoed through the trees, laced with anticipation. “Clever girl,” he murmured, his unseen form moving in a strange, almost erratic pattern through the trees. “Trying to lead me on a chase. But you can’t hide from me, Evolon. I can smell your fear, taste your desperation, just like all the others. I wonder if you will also beg for your life in the end?”

  Evolon continued her carefully orchestrated retreat, her senses straining to detect any sign of her pursuer. She could feel his presence, a coldness in the air, a prickling sensation on the back of her neck. He was close, she knew.

  She led him deeper into the forest, towards a cluster of particularly large trees. She knew she only had one chance. She stopped, feigning exhaustion, leaning heavily against one of the trees as if struggling to stay on her feet. She could almost hear Mirage’s triumphant chuckle. He thought he had her cornered. She wiped a smear of her blood on the rough bark of the tree and started sobbing, tears flowing down her cheeks.

  Mirage, confident in his victory, approached the spot where he knew his quarry to be. He drew his blade, a special, near-invisible artifact from his nearly extinct race of sentient chameleons – experts at remaining unseen until it was too late. Drawing closer, his footsteps muffled by the soft earth, he slowly and cautiously moved around a tree. His two eyes, each capable of independent movement, swiveled in opposite directions, ensuring he maintained a 360-degree view of his surroundings. He slowly moved around the tree, preparing to strike his invisible blade into… nothing.

  Feeling a sudden, sharp pain, Mirage looked down, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. The point of a sword protruded from his chest, the gleaming metal a stark contrast against his skin. The shock of the situation dawned on him slowly as the blade vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Mirage slumped to the ground, his lifeblood spurting through the gash in his chest and back, staining the earth a dark green.

  Evolon, her breath catching slightly from the exertion, wiped the greenish blood from her blade using the chameleon man’s own clothing, a grim irony not lost on her. “The hunt… is over Gaston,” she said softly, her voice devoid of any emotion.

  Unbeknownst to Mirage, before drinking the healing potion, Evolon had retrieved a cheap necklace with a Heat Sight enchantment on it, a seemingly insignificant trinket that Pierce had distributed to the party, its redundant effects proving surprisingly useful. Placing the necklace over her head, she activated the enchantment, allowing her to perceive even the slightest variations in temperature. While Mirage was stalking his prey, confident in his invisibility and hunting prowess, Evolon was watching his heat signature move through the trees, a bright, telltale beacon in the dim light. She had used the drops of blood to draw him into a strategically chosen choke point, a narrow passage between the trees. There, she wiped her blood on a single, large tree trunk and then, dropped her cellphone, playing a recently recorded audio clip of herself struggling to breathe, gasping for air. While Mirage was distracted by the sound, believing he had finally cornered his wounded prey, Evolon silently sprinted around the other side of the tree, retrieved her sword from her inventory and positioned herself to strike. She aimed at an invisible point – the spot where she would have been had she actually been stalking herself – and then, when Mirage stepped into range, she struck, driving the sword through his lower back, piercing his heart, and protruding through his chest. Placing her foot on his back for leverage, she retrieved her blade, the movement swift and efficient.

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  Silence returned to the chamber, heavier now, more oppressive than before. Evolon touched Mirage’s corpse, the skin already growing cold, and then stowed it, along with his gear, into her inventory. She glanced at the notification that popped up in her vision, a small smile playing on her lips, before mentally minimizing it. She could deal with the loot later. The important thing was that the threat was neutralized. The message read: “Your group has slain a carrier of Cadium. How would you like to distribute the 5 Cadium acquired?”

  “I guess I’m up next. I’m hoping for a cooking competition like on the Food Network!” Ignis said with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood as he calmly opened and walked through the doorway etched with the fiery symbol. As expected, a large slab of stone slammed down behind him, sealing the chamber with a resounding thud. The bright light of the chamber momentarily blinded him, forcing him to blink rapidly. He quickly retrieved a pair of Oakley mountain biking sunglasses from his inventory, the polarized lenses dimming the harsh light considerably and allowing his eyes to adjust. The room was enormous, the perceived edges of the space difficult to discern. He could, however, make out the distinct difference between the paint on the walls and ceiling—a soft, ethereal blue—and the odd, swirling cloud formations that surrounded him in all directions, both above and below. Underfoot, the “ground” felt strangely insubstantial, like walking on a layer of solidified mist. Above him, multiple layers of cloud formations drifted lazily, some wispy and translucent, like cotton candy, others thick and billowy, resembling cumulus clouds on a summer afternoon, creating a three-dimensional maze that stretched up to the high ceiling, which was painted to resemble a vast, blue sky with even more distant clouds. The illusion was remarkably convincing, and for a moment, Ignis felt a disorienting sense of vertigo, a momentary disorientation that made him sway slightly.

  He cautiously moved forward, testing the solidity of the cloud-floor with the toe of his boot. It held his weight, though with a slight give, like that one time he went to Lucas Oil Stadium for a cooking convention and was able to stand on the springy, artificial turf of the football field. The air was cool and carried a faint, almost metallic scent of ozone. He recognized the smell; it reminded him of the Pandemic days, when he had to hire a crew to disinfect his restaurant every night using ozone generators. He quickly realized that the layered clouds were not just for show. They were strategically placed, creating a labyrinthine path with a strange, almost unsettling verticality. He instantly knew this was a maze, a carefully constructed obstacle he would have to traverse to reach the opposing wizard waiting at the far end.

  Ignis began his ascent, moving carefully from cloud to cloud, testing each one with a gentle prod from his foot before fully committing his weight. He was carefully judging their density and stability. Some of the clouds, he quickly discovered, were false; stepping onto them would have resulted in a rather nasty fall, forcing him to start the maze over, if he didn't have his trusty feather of levitation activated. The “walls” of the cloud maze shifted and swirled around him as he progressed, the painted sky creating an illusion of constant movement that made the experience even more disorienting. It was a clever trick of light and perspective, but Ignis kept his focus, his mind sharp and alert. He used his inventory to test the clouds before trusting them with his full weight. He absently pulled a small bag of candy corn from his pocket tossing the yellow and orange candies on the clouds as he walked, glad he hadn't given in to his initial impulse to put this junk where it belongs in the garbage.

  After what seemed like an eternity, navigating the treacherous cloud maze, he reached the far side of the chamber. There, amidst the swirling clouds, a small, checkered table and two chairs sat as if prepared for a quiet game. At the table, a woman in a light blue wizard’s robe sat calmly, her hands resting on the tabletop. She had long, flowing auburn hair that cascaded down her shoulders and a delicate, almost ethereal beauty, reminiscent of actresses like Lily James or Zooey Deschanel—the kind of approachable beauty that put men at ease and didn't intimidate other women. Her eyes, the color of a clear summer sky, held a warm, welcoming glint.

  As Ignis approached, she smiled, a disarming expression that radiated kindness and genuine warmth. “Welcome, Ignis,” she said, her voice soft and melodious, like the gentle chime of wind chimes. “I am Vivienne, and I’ve been expecting you.”

  Ignis stopped a few feet from the table, his senses on high alert. He cautiously looked around the seemingly innocuous setting, searching for any sign of the obvious trap he knew was waiting. He glanced at the chess set on the table between them. The pieces were stylized slightly differently from those on Earth, with subtle variations in their design, but they were clearly recognizable as chess pieces. He paused, ready for the trap to be sprung at any moment.

  “Vivienne,” he acknowledged, his voice neutral, giving nothing away. “I presume this is your… welcoming gift?” He gestured towards the chess set with a slight nod of his head.

  “Come now,” she replied, her smile widening slightly. “We are not barbarians, we do not settle our differences with fists or blades. It has been so long since I have had the company of an intellectual. I propose a simple game of chess. The stakes are straightforward: the winner takes all, and the loser… disappears from this land, never to be seen again.”

  Ignis raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Disappears? A rather permanent penalty for a game of chess, wouldn't you say?”

  “Are you afraid of losing?” Vivienne asked, her expression shifting to a playful pout, her lower lip slightly extended.

  “Afraid? No,” Ignis replied, a small smile playing on his lips. “Cautious, perhaps. My normal mental juggling is along the lines of sourcing the perfect ingredients to create a seamless menu with perfect cohesion, leaving the diner in a state of bliss by the end of the night. Chess, while intriguing, is a decidedly different kind of mental exercise.”

  “Oh my, are you flirting with me? After the way you whisked that Goth Elf off her feet, I would have expected much more charm,” Vivienne said, covering her smile with a gloved hand and letting out a small, melodic giggle.

  He cautiously took the seat opposite her, his eyes scanning the board. The pieces were indeed different. The pawns were more slender, almost like darts. The knights were stylized griffons, and the rooks were the familiar castles. He assumed the rules were the same as back home, a comforting familiarity in this strange place.

  “Very well,” Vivienne said, picking up a white pawn with a delicate touch. “Let the game begin.” A shy smile curled up on her lips, adding to her already disarming charm.

  They played in silence for several minutes, the only sound the soft clicking of the pieces as they moved across the board. Vivienne played with a graceful, almost languid style, her movements fluid and elegant, as if she were conducting an orchestra on the wind. Ignis, on the other hand, played with a more deliberate and analytical approach, carefully considering each move before committing, his brow furrowed in concentration.

  As the game progressed, Ignis, seemingly out of nowhere, started a conversation between moves. “You know, I still live at home with my mother,” he said, a casual statement designed to throw her off balance, and it clearly worked, judging by the look of astonishment that briefly flickered across Vivienne’s face. “Every night, she loves to watch Wheel of Fortune and play a game of chess,” he continued, his voice conversational. “She started teaching me the game as soon as I could walk.” He moved a piece, narrowly escaping one of her many cleverly laid traps on the board. “If I won,” he continued, his eyes meeting hers, her smile now showing a slight amount of teeth and reaching her eyes, “she would give me a single piece of caramel candy.” He reached into his inventory, pulled out a wrapped caramel candy, and placed it on the side of the board between them, a small, nostalgic gesture. “By the age of fifteen, she had me in tournaments, and I was quite good,” Ignis said, his movements on the board becoming slightly faster, more decisive with each sentence. “The only problem with this little story,” he continued, his tone of voice subtly shifting, the lightheartedness fading slightly, “is no one ever asked me if I liked chess.”

  “Oh,” she murmured, her eyes still fixed on the board, a cute frown creasing her brow. “It seems I’ve been outmaneuvered.” She looked up at him, her smile still present, but a hint of something else, something sharper, glinted in her eyes. “Congratulations, Ignis,” she said. As she spoke, her hand moved swiftly, almost too fast to see. A shimmering blade of wind materialized in her palm, aimed directly at Ignis’ heart. The trap had been sprung, just as he had anticipated.

  But Ignis was ready.

  The moment Vivienne’s hand moved, Ignis unleashed the Time Stop spell he had been holding in reserve, a trump card he had been preparing since he first laid eyes on the beautiful wizard. The world around him froze. Vivienne’s wind blade hung in the air, halfway across the chess table, like a cloudy dart frozen mid-flight. He calmly stood, pushed his chair back into the table, picked up his caramel candy, unwrapped it with deliberate slowness, placed the sweet treat in his mouth, and closed his eyes, savoring the sweetness and the fond memories it evoked. He slowly walked around the table, reached out, and touched her shoulder. “Checkmate,” escaped his lips as he cast Ice Blast. A wave of icy energy pulsed from his fingertips, encasing her entire body in a layer of shimmering ice. Her light blue robe now shimmered in a thousand facets of icy crystals, adding an almost holographic white depth to the garment.

  He frowned slightly, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. He then stowed her frozen body, along with her gear, into his inventory as the Time Stop spell ended. He glanced at the pop-up notification hovering in the center of his field of vision.

  “Your group has slain a carrier of Cadium. How would you like to distribute the 5 Cadium acquired?”