Chapter 1: Flamefade

It is the eve of Flamefade, the autumnal equinox. With the fields laid bare and winter's grasp still distant, all of Arras gathers in joyous celebration of the harvest festival. Folks from even the most outlying farms have made their way here.

Sunset is still a an hour or two away. The wind is pleasant, bordering on chilly, but warmth is found both by the roaring bonfire and in the stock of Galthic's cellar. Children race about the village green and dance around the fires. Older youths, past their naming ceremony, help out where they can or sneak off to get drunk and steal a kiss or two. Market stalls overflow with fruits, greens and all the bounty of the harvest. Little effigies of the goddess Kimra sway in the breeze, made from sheafs of wheat, corn and barley.

Dathana Arborine's famed ciders draw much appreciation, and as she chats up Galthic her partner Charina keeps a hand firmly gripped around her arm, not letting her get too far away. The Corwyns have emerged from Moonspindle Books, if only for a short while, and do their best not to show how much they'd rather be curled up by their hearth with a good book. To find Evelyn Oakroot, always something of a curiosity in Arras, one only has to follow the enrapturing scent of her freshly baked bread and honey cakes. Rolf Miller sits alone by the fire, quietly nursing some mulled wine and smiling as his children dance and holler. Harl has given up on pestering Norn about the make and history of his greatsword, and both men now chug some ale to get through the awkward silence.

For Gaelan Weir though, tonights awkwardness has only begun. Though it can hardly be called a secret, since just about everone knows by this point, tonight is when his recent betrothal will be officially announced...

The past days have been busy for Lirann. Her family being farmers, they take the worship of Kimra seriously and are heavily involved with the festivals preparations. Whenever she thought she might finally finish the endless chores, her mother would send Lirann on yet another errand. With the day finally here, she is mercifully relived of her duties.

She was never the most sociable person and crowded festivities are not her forte. She has found herself a spot away from the busiest part of the village. Lounging on some hay bales, she snacks on a honey cake while observing the festivities from a distance. Finally she has some time to muse over what transpired in the forest recently. That thing that attacked them, she is sure it is still around. If only there was some one to talk about it. Gaelan would have been an obvious choice for that, but he was busy getting married or something. Besides him, the only person around to confide to would be the old hag Anathema. Not even an option at the best of times.

Lirann takes another bite from her cake. It is very tasty, The festival is not all bad she supposes.

Thalen walks out the door of his parents' shop, straightens his cloak, and locks the door behind him. The warmth of the last few weeks has finally broken, and Thalen smiles as a cool breeze moves about him, causing the tails of his cloak to flutter. While normally, he would be looking for a place to set up and earn a few coins, tonight Thalen just wants to find a comfortable seat by a fire, a flagon of Dathana's cider, and some good friends to while the hours away with.

Crossing the village common, Thalen approaches the stall selling a famous brew, plunks a few coins upon the roughshod wood, and picks up his mug. He scans the gathering crowd.

A group of younglings approach: "Mr. Thalen, are you going to be telling stories tonight?" They smile and look up expectantly.

Thalen kneels down to look at them eye to eye. "I don't think so, young ones. Very sorry, but I am just here to enjoy the festival."

One girl with dusty, blonde hair pushes out her bottom lip.

Thalen nods. "I know, I know. But I promise that you will still have fun. You don't want to listen to stories when there are so many other activities that you could be doing." He stands up and shoos the children. "Go on now, go have yourself some fun."

They run off, the flicker of the fires shining on their faces. One boy turns back and waves. "Bye, Mr. Thalen!"

Thalen returns the wave. He walks over to one of the fires and finds a solid-looking stump to sit on. He sips his cider, waves to his parents, and immerses himself in the sights, sounds, and smells of Flamefade.

Ophira stands alone in the mushroom filled glade, a small flat stone in front of her. Arrayed upon the stone are a series of offerings to Kimra, as well as the Mother, that she has crafted--a pinecone carved to resemble a mighty pine, a crown of autumnal leaves, a piece of amber, a ripe apple, and a beeswax candle carved with Ophira's secret wishes, slowly melting away. After she has completed her ceremony, she bows, ceremonially clear the altar, offering the items back to nature, blows out the candle and waves the smoke across the altar, and then sprinkles the stone with salt to cleanse it. She completes her autumnal ceremony with a mindful walk back to the village, enjoying all that the autumn woods have to offer.

When she arrives, she perks up, accepts a flagon of cider, and join the children in a dance. She waves to her childhood friend Thea, offering her a hug when given the chance. She smiles at Thalen, a good friend ever since the tow of them caught those Northern spies together. She spends some time visiting with Beric as well, though she sees him often. And when she sees Gaelan, she makes sure to stop by. They sometimes ran into each other in the glade that they both love and the two have become friends. But Ophira knows he has an especially big night tonight!

Gaelan's arm troubled him for some days after the thing in the woods grabbed it. It's grip had been ice cold and like iron; the strapping young man was glad that there were no further sightings of the death-touched thing after that. And so when the scar on the fisherman's arm became faint, Weir began working with purpose. For his parents, for the village, for those who needed any sort of help for the celebration. Boxes were moved, a low stage built, dozens of casks and barrels carried into place.

There was no shortage of need for laborers, and so Gaelan kept busy... keeping his mind off not just the thing in the woods, but the far more terrifying prospect of pending nuptials. He didn't know this Miller girl, not really. They'd met, of course, perhaps exchanged measuring glances the way teen girls and boys do, but now they--they were betrothed.

Weir's heart ached as he worked. He longed for something more in life than hauling nets and emptying weirs. And milling was not that something more. Tales told to him by Thalen and others made the muscular youth's spirit soar, tales of knights and dragons, of damsels and castles and spells and jousting tourneys. Those thoughts danced in his head as the day wore on, and as more and more people gathered for the harvest festival.

Avoiding his parents and every member of the Miller family, Gaelen continues to work behind the scenes for anyone who still needs help. He sees Lirann at one point and merely nods a hello. Thalen he spies, but does not approach--the popular young man is busy entertaining well before the sun has even gone down.

Gaelan's eyes linger on Ophira when they find her. He normally finds the apprentice easy to talk to and to look upon, but not today. Today a cloud lingers above his head, dampening his mood and his expression. Then the calls come--more wine! Another cartful of animal feed! Wood and tools to repair the door on the church after it was damaged by boisterous children.

If the man could shrink to nothing tonight, he would. But be can't, so he remains a shadow in the background, a villager intent on anything but celebration.

If there's a party in Arras, you can be sure that Thea Wildheart will be there! And Flamefade is one of the biggest parties of the year. The strong heroine who once wrestled a bear into submission makes her rounds around the village square, shaking hands, patting backs, and downing the plethora of free drinks shoved into her hands by smiling well-wishers.

Glancing around as the time of the festival approaches, Thea sees her childhood friends slowly beginning to join the crowd. She gives Lirann and Thalen nods from across the way. She returns Ophira's wave, quickly making her way over to embrace her in a too-tight hug. "Ophira! How is the old witch treating you these days? Working you like a dog, as usual?" she laughs.

As they chat, Thea glimpses Gaelen lurking nearby. She favors him with a knowing smile before retuning her attention to Ophira.

Beric wanders through the festival, taking in the sights and sounds. Nok sits on his shoulder, also looking about. When the smell of Evelyn's sweet breads drifts by, Nok croaks Cake, cake. Beric chuckles. "Patience, Nok. We'll get there."

A few moments later, Beric sees Galen alone on the edge of the activity, looking pensive. He walks over to his old friends and gives him a clasp on the shoulder. "You look like you could use a cider. Want me to fetch you one? And perhaps one of Oakroot's honey cakes?"

Cake! Nok croaks.

"Hush, Nok. You'll get yours."

Gaelen can't help but grin and return his friend's clasp--doubly firm with his meaty hands.

"Beric, it is good to see you! And Nok too," the fisherman says. He doesn't stink of eel tonight, and that took some scrubbing. "Thea is here too, and all the others as well, I think."

Village kids who were of and age tended to stick together... but now, they were nearly adults.

"A cider and honey cakes would be grand," Weir adds. "But I'll go with--I have coin of my own, you know."

Ophira notices the shadow behind Gaelan's eyes. She considers approaching him to see if he needs to talk, but it feels presumptuous to do so. they were friends, to be sure, but Gaelan and she had never been confidantes. And as if on cue, Beric appears near Gaelan, looking to cheer him up. Satisfied, Ophira turns to see, and be embraced by, Thea.

She replies to Thea's questions, saying, "Oh yes, strict as ever! Although..." she hesitates, a note of concern coming into her voice. She continues, saying, "Something is off with her lately. I don't know what. I've seen some unusual things in the wood, Thea, and Ana had some kind of ...episode a few days ago. I'm worried, if I'm being perfectly honest."

Then, making a conscious decision not to dwell on such things at the festival, she sets it aside and says, "Well enough about that strange old bird. How are you, Thea Wildheart? Plan to drink any more boys under the table tonight? Or maybe tonight you'll find one to do more than drink with, eh?"

Thalen sees his friends congregating. I should probably say hi. From behind a woman's skirts, Thalen sees the same girl from before--dusty blonde hair--peaking out every once in a while. She smiles at Thalen and then hides again.

Thalen curls a finger towards her. "Come here."

She looks up to her mother who has seen the exchange. She nods. The little girl wanders slowly over, her hands behind her back. She looks down at the ground.

"What is your name?"

"Liora." She moves her feet in the dirt.

"Liora! That is beautiful. You are very lucky to have such a name."

Liora looks up and smiles. "It means light!"

"Yes, it does." Thalen nods. He rubs his beard. "Well, Liora, I know I said that I wasn't planning on telling stories, but I feel a telling of the Song of the Last Dragon-King building up inside of me." He looks around. "Why don't you go run and gather up your friends so they can hear the tale."

Liora claps and jumps up and down. "Yes, sir, Mr. Thalen." She spins and runs away.

Thalen looks up at her mother, who mouths, Thank you.

As the small group of friends gradually join up, the evening air begins to slowly fill with music and laughter. Children bob for apples in wide wooden tubs and troughs, chase each other around or pillage the overburdened communal tables. A handful of them wrestle roughly out of their parents' sight, with one enterprising child having dragged a pelt out of some home and draped himself in it. Judging by the grunts and roars he makes, it seems they're play-acting one of Wildheart's most famous deeds. However, anyone young Liora so much as brushes past seem to drop whatever they are doing. Very swiftly a small congregation of eager listeners start to swarm near Thalen.

__________


After much cajoling from his children, Rolf Miller picks up his lute and strums up a tune. Though he can often seem quite dour and weary on his visits to town, tonight his mood is more in line with everyone else's. Once or twice, his daughter Theda throws an uncertain glance in the direction of their friend group, perhaps towards one in particular. But she makes no attempt to get within speaking distance. Instead, she busies herself by dancing with her youngest brother, the two of them merely silhouettes against the crackling bonfire.

__________


Lirann hears the creaking of old legs before she hears the reedy voice. "My oh my, it seems my favorite spot has been taken already. Hmpf! Oh well, I suppose it couldn't hurt to get a little closer to the festivities." Ada, Beric's grandmother, likely the oldest person in Arras, hobbles over next to Lirann, leaning on her walking cane, perhaps a little too theatrically.
Grandmother Weaver, most call her. The children tell almost as many scary stories about her as they do Anathema, but to Beric's friends she's a familiar face. She gives a sly, toothless smile and cackles, a low, breathy sound as she leans forward. "Just as well. Eyes're getting worse every year. I can just about tell where the big fire's at. But... they still have a little use left in 'em. You're the Cormick girl, aren't you?"

Lirann nods back at the others, not really interrupting her pondering. The old lady finally stirs her from her thoughts. It is mildly annoying, but Lirann does her best to not let it show.

"I am indeed. Lirann is the name in case it matters." She answers, a bit vexed at Ada for not knowing her name by now. "I don't mind surrendering this spot to you." She continues while getting up. "I probably ought to go and see what everyone is up to anyways."

Gaelan and Beric have only started in on their cider and cake when they spot Aidan from across the bonfire. Gaelan's father appears frazzled, looking around the crowd until his gaze falls squarely on Gaelan. He gestures towards the two of them with a calloused hand, its meaning quite clear; we need to talk.

__________


"Oh, that's very kind of you, my dear. Lirann? That's right. Forgive this old crone, the memory's as bad as the eyes, I'm afraid. Oh, and if you see my grandson, tell him I wish he would come by more often. I swear..."

It lasts only for the briefest moment. Like a shadow sweeping over the sky, all light dims around them. At the very edge of perception, Lirann senses something both strange and familiar, a presence reeking of incense and gravedirt, lingering at the edge of the village. Something she has not felt since that fateful night at the old graveyard, when she and Beric nearly paid with their lives for that accursed crown.

"...you'd have thought he might've learned a trade from that Weir boy, but no, instead he spends every day over at that young lady's house, tending her pets and..." Ada continues, apparently unaware of what Lirann noticed.

Gaelan and Beric

It's been some days since Gaelan has had time alone with his good friend, so he's not yet told him about his experience with Lirann and the Thing in the woods near the glade. But before he can discuss the matter, his father has found him.

"I'm neglecting my family," he says quietly as he starts making his way towards Aidan Weir. Then, lower, to himself he adds, "And my betrothed."

Gaelan's eyes find Theda on that walk over to his father, and his cheeks flush. A torrent of emotions swirl within the man, but he does not outwardly show most of them. If the Miller girl looks over, he will nod and hold her gaze... otherwise he will see what his father has to say.

"Alright, but remind your father that this is a festival," Beric says to Gaelen as he departs.

Beric looks around to see where he might wander next and sees his grandmother talking to Lirann - whether Lirann wants to or not. Beric smiles to himself and then heads over to resuce his friend.

On his way over, he thinks maybe the world dims briefly. He looks up, wondering if a shadow of some kind passed overhead, but nothing. Maybe he imagined it.

"HI, Gran Gran," he says when he arrives. "Glad to see you made it out to the festivities." Then to Lirann, "I hope my grandmother is behaving herself." He smiles, but senses that perhaps more than just his grandmother is bothering Lirann. "You should come try one of Oakroot's new salted honeycakes. They're surprisingly good." He gives Lirann a quick wink, hoping she picks up on the fact that he's trying to rescue her from his grandmother.

Braced for Nok to say "cake" again, Beric is surprised when the crow does not. Maybe he sensed the same strangeness that Beric did.

"...Yes..Yes..." Lirann mumbles in response to the old woman's ramblings. She is too distracted with the ominous presence to humor her any more than that.

She briefly acknowledges Beric with a nod. "Yes...Yes.. We should do that." She says in response to his suggestion, not so much picking up on his intentions, but just absentmindedly nodding along.
It takes her another second to snap out of her stupor. "Right. Yes. I heard they are really good." She finally responds in a more coherent way. She gives the old lady a friendly smile. "If you'll excuse us, we ought to try those cakes. Now don't stay out here for too long, the night will get chilly soon." She says to Ada, not unkind in her demeanor.

As they are about to leave, she casts a glance towards the edge of the village where she can feel the unwelcome presence. In her mind she utters a million curses before turning away.

Thea snorts with laughter. "Ha! They should be so lucky! I'm still waiting for the right person to come along who can match me for brawn and bravery. I'm beginning to fear that the dating pool in this village is too shallow for my tastes. Mayhaps I'll need to broaden my horizons!"

She smiles at the children re-enacting her mighty deeds, munching happily on a sweet cake.

Gaelan

In the middle of dancing with her little brother, Theda's eyes meet Gaelan's across the crowd. She pauses, mid-step, holding his gaze. Her brother pulls impatiently on her wrists to resume. For a moment, it seems she might break away and head over to him, now that he is not surrounded by friends. However, Aidan makes his way towards Gaelan and blocks the view between them. By the time Gaelan manages to glance past him, Theda is back to dancing, if perhaps a little half-heartedly.

"There you are! Been keeping busy I hear. Everyone I've talked to had seen you at some point, but nobody could tell me where to find you." Usually quite composed, Gaelan's father is a practical, down-to-earth voice both at home and at Stone Hall gatherings. Right now though, his face—as rough and leathery as an old shoe—is drawn tight with worry. Despite the evening chill, he seems to be sweating noticeably.

"I needed to- I mean, we need to talk... I know this isn't..." Aidan trails of a little as he looks his son up and down. He takes a few gulps of air, and when he speaks his voice has steadied a bit. "Look, Gael, I know this might not be how you imagined things would turn out. The Miller girl, she's... it's the best match anyone could hope for. Your mother and I—your mother especially—worked hard to make this happen."

He pauses. With a hand scarred from years of working the nets, he scratches nervously at his chin as he looks over towards the bonfire. "Just earlier tonight, I had to talk Rolf down, he was about to call off the whole thing. The betrothal, the announcement tonight, all of it. Said we had pushed him into this, that his... that Ida never would have agreed to it. I managed to get it sorted, but..." He glances over where Rolf Miller had sat just before. Now his empty lute rested against the chair. "Please. Son. I know your heart might not be into this, not yet. But, for your mother's sake, just don't give him a reason. Show him the very best side of our family."

---

Lirann & Beric

"Oh there you are, boy! Yes, yes, of course, go and enjoy the festivities, I'll just take a seat here for a while. You know..." Even as she waves the pair off, her idle small-talk trails behind them as they leave, until the cacophony of the crowd subsumes it. As they walk, Nok turns his head in the same direction as Lirann, towards the outskirts of the village. But says nothing. Whatever presence briefly streaked across Lirann's senses, she can't feel anything right now. However, Beric notes that the sounds of horses and oxen in the nearby stables have grown agitated and restless, and several small rats scurry past them, away from the village edge.

---

Ophira & Thea

Harl somehow manages to disentangle himself from his stilted conversation with Norn. The smith gives an uncharacteristically enthusiastic wave towards Ophira and Thea and hurries over. "Ah, you two. Hope you're enjoying the evening. I- er, I trust the axe I made you serves you well, Wildheart?" He glances over to where Norn stood, but the weathered old man seems to have made himself scarce.

---

Thalen

"The Last Dragon-King? A fitting choice for the evening, I must say." Elder Caitrina's voice carries easily over the throng of over-excited children gathering around Thalen. The most junior of the three members of Arras council since Rolf Miller stepped down, she easily stands out in the crowd. Her elegant, fur-lined green cloak, intricately embroidered dress and even a few pieces of jewelry all show her as one of the most well-off virgaters in the Arras. The children quiet down at her arrival, but are still visibly buzzing with excitement. She gives a wide smile towards the young storyteller. "I was preparing a few announcements, but I suppose I could hold off a few moments more. I'd hate to see disappointment mar their faces."

Ophira giggles a bit at Thea's response and says, "I don't blame you. The pool is shallow indeed here, even for those of us who do not favor a specific gender! We both need to venture out if we are to find someone good enough for the likes of us, yeah? I mean, look at us!" She laughs again.

When Harl approaches, Ophira listens to his request and leaves him to Thea. She turns and scans the crowd around her, curious about how the others are faring.

"Something spooked the animals," Beric says to Lirann as he watches a rat scurry by. Quieter, he says, "I'm not a student of the mystic, but I thought I felt something strange a moment ago. Something not quite natural? Maybe. Did you notice anything?"

The crowd of children sits upon the ground, the glow from the fire flickers on their faces. Adults gather behind them in a semi-circle; all are enrapt in the tale. Some smile, some stare open-mouthed. Thalen weaves his story, one he has told many times. His cloak whips as he uses his hands and arms to accentuate his point.

Long was the war, through fire and ash and broken stone.
At last the Dragon-King fell upon the mountain slopes,
his vast body sprawled where rivers would one day run.
His bones became the hills, his blood the fertile soil,
yet still we sing of him, and remember his fury-drenched cry.

Thalen waits a pause, hands uplifted, allowing the end of the story to hang upon the air before taking his bows. He smiles at the children as they thank him and shakes hands with some of their parents before sliding out of the firelight and walking over to Harl, Ophira, and Thea. Always a good time to talk to the curmudgeonly blacksmith.

Gaelen had intended for Beric to accompany him over to see his father... to have some support, a familiar crutch to lean on if the conversation turned awkward--as it surely would. He couldn't blame the man for bolting, though, and it was with a bit of envy that the big, broad-shouldered youth watched his friend go.

He catches Theda's look briefly before his father starts in, and Gaelen can't quite sort out the feelings that surge in his chest, the butterflies that loop in his belly. Is it fear? Excitement? Attraction? Pure terror as the rest of his life looks back at him?

Aidan's avalanche of worried words buries all that. As surely as the man blocks Gaelan's view of the girl he is somehow supposed to marry, so too do his words pelt and unbalance his son. Gael loves his father, but the elder Weir is on edge, off his game. There is much at stake from his perspective, which of course is whole reason why his son is so quiet, so pensive.

As the fisherman speaks, Gaelan can't help but look around at the festivities. There's joy and comfort in Arras tonight, from the cheers over Thalen's storytelling to the quiet conversation Beric and Lirann are having. Then there's Ophira and Thea laughing, and that sets the tall man's mind reeling. Unresolved feelings swirl and leave Gaelan a bit lost as he father looks to him, expecting him to respond.

"Why is... Rolf so against it?" he hears himself say. "Does he think so little of fisherfolk? Does... does Theda think that way, too?"

Thea & Thalen

Harl nods towards Thalen as he approaches. "Ah, thought I heard your voice, lad. Keeping the little ones happy and out of my shop, I trust? Speaking of, smithy's a real mess these days." For someone like Harl, that's about as close to a warm invitation as anyone has ever gotten.

---

Gaelan

Aidan grimaces at the question, and when he speaks, it is with a stubborn sense of pride that Gaelan knows well. "Maybe. Perhaps that is part of it. I know we don't have much, not compared to someone like him. But our roots here go back far. And I think..." Aidan looks around, cautiously lowering his voice, though nobody seems to pay them much mind. "The kids are all he has left after Ida. Your mother and he, you know, they're old friends, they go far back, since they were younger than you. I think that's the reason she was able to persuade him, when nobody else succeeded. He's just... protective. He needs to see that you're a good match for his girl."

Aidan stands a little straighter, his voice grows steadier. "And I know you can do this. You're going to go far, much farther than I ever could. Show them both what I see. The boy who impressed Sir Vanion enough to take him under his wing. The boy who, when the need was great, grabbed his axe and headed into the wilds, heedless of danger." It looks like there's more he wants to say, but instead his eyes are drawn towards the center of the crowd, where a few farmhands are arranging a makeshift stage. "Blight take me, I thought we'd have more time."

---

Everyone


Once Thalen has concluded his song, and attention once again begins to drift, Caitrina takes to the stage hastily assembled near the largest bonfire. Flanked by the other two council members, she spreads her arms wide and ensures as many eyes are on her as possible before she begins to speak.

"Arras! Dearest friends, young and old, whether born here or by a fortuitous road lead here. Come closer, hear my words. I bid you welcome to this years Flamefade." The speech is a familiar one, given every year with only some variation. While some adults draw close, others, mainly the younger ones, take the opportunity to slink away, blessedly free of parental oversight. Caitrina extols the virtues of the farmers, praises the bountiful harvest of the past year, but also cautions everyone to look out for each other. She makes mention of the brigands that have been sighted in the wilds, though Thea and Thalen notice that she never mentions anything of Sigwald's Red Men.

The speech is quite a long one, and as it reaches some sort of midpoint, Gaelan feels his father give him a firm nudge. Rolf is already leading Theda towards Caitrina. "And on a lighter note, I have the privilege of announcing some happy news." The councilwoman waves a hand towards Gaelan, bidding him to come up to join her.

Thea carefully removes the finely crafted axe from its harness and holds it before her. "It is a marvel, Harl! The balance is perfect, and its edge is razor-sharp! It is a fine companion to the sturdiest shield in the village! Thank you again."

She grabs another sweet cake and munches on it as she stands towards the back of the ground and listens to the elder's speech.

"Yes I did." Lirann responds to Beric with a heavy sigh. "I will deal with that later." She says, not clarifying what she means with that.

She looks on to the crowd gathering for the speech, having no inclination to join them though. "Let us check up on those animals."

Thalen smiles at Harl and gives him a playful punch. "Ah, you old softy." He looks at Thea as she walks away and grabs a sweet cake. "I would be happy to come visit, and I bet I could convince Thea to stop by with me. You know I am not as useful when it comes to physical labor, but I am always happy to chat with a friend." He looks towards the crowd gathering around Elder Caitrina, readying themselves for her speech. "Just say the word, and you know we would both be there." Thalen places a hand on Harl's shoulder. "We love you, Harl, like family. I'd best get closer so I can listen to the speech. Happy Flamefade, Harl." Thalen approaches the group and wraps his cloak around to protect against the wind.

Ophira quickly grows bored of the honeyed words and hot air and finds her way to the edge of the crowd, where she can acquire a cider and enjoy it in relative peace. She sits on a raised stone fence, giving her a view over the crowd, her legs crossed in front of her. She surveys the crowd, the beautiful evening, and the stars above. She finds herself entranced by the night sky.

The nudge sends Gaelan into motion. He feels sick to his stomach and wishes he had even a single friend nearby who might offer up a reassuring nod, but lacking that--he heads for the platform. Instead, he risks a look at Theda, uncertain if it will feel worse if he's looking right at him... or if she isn't!

As Thalen and Thea heads away from Harl, the blacksmith gives a—possibly quite embarrassed—grunt that seems to say that yes, he would like a friendly visit sometime soon. Then he looks around, makes sure nobody saw that moment of weakness, and blends into the crowd to hear the speech.


Caitrina welcomes the two youths to stand next to her. As Theda Miller takes her place, she keeps throwing glances towards her father. Her face is guardedly neutral, but grows flushed with red as her and Gaelan's eyes meet past the elder between them. She nods and mouths something vaguely like 'hi' towards him, but then her face is obscured by Caitrina's flowing cloak as the councilwoman raises her hands skywards.

"In trying times such as these, the delicate threads that tie our community together are more important than ever." The wind picks up, whipping and tugging at the hem of Caitrina's cloak as she speaks. "And so tonight, I have been given the privilege of announcing..."

As Lirann and Beric move away from the crowd, the wind shifts. Through the heavy wood-smoke of the bonfire it is hard to detect, but now they pick up a different scent, sharp and acrid, coming not from the open fires, but from Galthic's inn next to them.
Thalen glances aside from the speech, and his gaze fall on an open window of the inn. At first his eyes tell him it is merely a candle flickering in the breeze, but then he sees tongues of yellow flame dancing hungrily, spreading quickly over the walls and ceiling.

Before anyone can react, a scream cuts through the chill evening air, from somewhere within the inn. Then more screams, spreading out into the crowd as more and more heads turn from the elder's speech. "Fire!" someone shouts. "Galthic's is burning!" cries another. "There's people in there!"
Panic breaks out among the assembled masses, parents shouting for their children, people being knocked over in the frenzy to get away from the inn. A few level heads try—valiantly, but in vain—to organize a group to fetch water from the river and the well. Elder Caitrina's voice, like the other councilor's, are lost in the cacophony.

Thalen jumps up on the stage, flourishes his cloak, and raises his hands high in the air. "Good people of Arras! We have an emergency." He points at Harl. "Harl, could you please round up the children and take them to a safe distance?" He then points to several parents of the children who were listening to his story. "We need buckets, and we need to create a line from the well to the inn. If we all work together, we can put out this fire."

As soon as she notices the fire, Lirann rushes towards the open window and peeks inside.

"Is there anyone in here? Come quickly!" She shouts, ready to assist anyone who tries to exit the building through the window.

"Nok! Go fetch the witch, Beric shouts to the crow, hoping the witch may have magic that can help.

Then Beric runs to the door of the inn and flings it open if it isn't already. He surveys the situation, looking for anyone that he might be able to help and listening for any responses to Lirann's call.

Gaelan’s world, already swirling around him in stomach-churning fashion, tilts further when the flames—and cries—go up from the inn! He holds Theda’s gaze just for a moment, then rather absurdly says, "I have to go!" before he takes off, racing towards the burning building.

Upon reaching it, the man will not hesitate. He intends to burst inside and search for anyone needing help, following the screams.

With a flutter of wings and a loud caw, Nok takes off into the sky. As Beric pulls the door open, a gust of hot air flows over him as bright orange light spills out onto the village square, melding with the light cast by the bonfire.

Chaos spreads among the villagers. Children cry, clinging tight to their parents. Those who have fallen to the ground are in danger of being trampled by those trying to put distance between themselves and the fire.

But Thalen's steady words cuts through the din. The storyteller's familiar voice causes people to stop mid-step. In the brief pause that occurs, Harl is the first to speak. "Aye!" The smith motions towards a group of children and begins leading them away. "You lot, to the Stone Hall with you!"

Several adults and youths look uncertainly between Harl and Thalen, then hurry towards the well, grabbing others along the way. Though fear still reigns, small pockets of organization starts forming in the crowd, following Thalen's lead.

Lirann peers inside, squinting through the heat and smoke to try and get a good view. The bar where Galthic usually stands serving his drinks is fully ablaze, trails of fire snaking from the stairs leading into the cellar and up over the railing and stairs to the second floor.

As if in response to her call, there's a crash as a dark shape comes tumbling down the stairs from the second floor. A man, draped in bedding, crashes to the floor and looks around wildly. When he sees the open door, he struggles out of the now burning bedcloth and stumbles unsteadily forward. Beric grasps his hand and pulls him through the door just as Gaelan barrels past, heading into the inferno.

Once he's out, they quickly recognize him as Holt Birkner. One of the farmers with a house on the outskirts of the village, neighboring Lirann's family's farm. Burn marks glisten on his arms and face. Every desperate gasp for air triggers horrible coughing. But he is out of the fire at least. "...others!" he croaks out between strained breaths.

Thalen continues to organize the water brigade, calling for some adults to grab buckets and bowls, and lining up the villagers in two lines from the well to around the inn.

In the few moments where he isn't directing, he scans the area for anyone who may have started the blaze.

The shouts and alarm interrupts Ophira’s stellar reverie. She looks over, see the fire, and jumps off her perch on the wall and runs toward the fire, alarmed.

As she approaches, she shouts out, "Bring any who are hurt to me! Quickly!" She slides to her knees and clears a space in the ground. She reaches into her pack and pulls out bandages and a skin of fresh water, as well as a soft leather pouch that contain her Goodberries.

She looks up and sees Thalen trying to manage the crowd, which sets her mind at ease. But then she looks back toward the fire and sees Beric and Gaelan risking their lives. She calls out, "Be careful! Don’t… " she trails off, not wanting to think of the worst case scenario here. Her berries can heal, and she knows the ways of magic that provide her with the healing touch, but she can only do so much, after all.

She shouts at Beric and Gaelan, and Lirann as well, saying, "Bring me anyone injured! And be careful!"

"Don't be stupid!" She yells at Gaelan as he rushes in. "At least cover your face before you breathe in all that smoke!"

Thea swears colorfully as she rushes to the burning inn, a few paces behind her swifter companions. Like Gaelan, she doesn't hesitate, plunging into the inferno to try to help anybody still trapped within!

As Thea and Gaelan charge heedlessly into the flames, timbers groan under pressure as the fire greedily eats away at them. With a loud crack, wooden beams give way above them and a chunk of the floor above comes crashing down upon them. Only thanks to their quick reflexes do the two of them just barely manage to scramble out of the way. From the newly opened hole to the second floor, they can hear shouts of fear, a pair of voices, young by the sounds of them. At the same time, barely audible over the crackling inferno, from behind the bar counter a low, pained groan emanates.

Lirann's trained eyes sweep over the chaos inside, her mind working in overdrive. Judging by how blackened and burnt the cellar stairs are, it seems likely the fire started down there and spread upwards. She follows the snaking trail of the flames, and sees the remnant of several oaken casks, slowly being scorched into crumbling coal. Their contents—Galthic's pride, his Vareesan Brandy—seemingly poured haphazardly on the floor and set ablaze.

As the gasping-for-breath Holt Birkner is brought before Ophira, Thalen and Beric keep their eyes open, taking in the situation and trying to see where help is most needed. As such, they are the first to see when the doors to the stables are thrown wide open, and several horses come charging out, terror plain in their eyes. While some scatter, two panicking horses charge straight towards the line of people trying to put out the fires!

Ophira speaks soothing words to the burned man and tries to coax him into lying down and relaxing. She assesses his wounds, reaching into the soft leather pouch at her belt and pulling out a glistening purple berry. She raises it to his lips, saying, "This will help...Stay calm. People are working to rescue the others in the fire now. You've done your part. Just rest."

Thalen's eyes stretch wide as he watches the horses charge at the line of impromptu firefighters. He takes a step back and then squints at the stable doors.

Beric sees the horses charging towards the townsfolk. Keaping into action, he runs to out himself between the horses and the people, waving his arms to get their attention. With a few words of power, he summons the ability to speak with horses.

"NOT HERE! THAT WAY! SAFETY IS THAT WAY!"

He makes grand gestures with his arms, motioning away from the people, hoping that the simple instructions will get through the horses' panic.

Beric

Screams erupt as the horses nearly collide into the lines of people Thalen has successfully organized. Men drop their buckets of water and fall backwards over each other.

But before anyone is trampled, Beric steps in front of the frightened animals. With words laced with his subtle, earthy magic, he brings the horses to a halt. Their terrified screams—DANGER! and DEATH! all now understandable to him—quiet down and they move anxiously in place.

RAVEN-KIN. It's a brief acknowledgement. They know his face, his voice, they know he is a friend. With that, they take off in the direction he gives them, giving the blazing fire a wide berth.

The other villagers slowly get to their feet, fetch their buckets. Someone pats Beric on the shoulder as they pass by. As the work resumes, dozens of eyes never leave the young man. He can see suspicious glances from some, but in others' eyes there is a quiet awe.

---

Thalen

While motioning people back into work, Thalen takes a sharp look towards the low, squat stables. Though it is hard to tell at this distance, the latches on the stalls seem undamaged, and not at all to have been forced open by the stampeding animals. Instead, the way had likely been left open for them to escape.

As near as Thalen can tell, about half of the people assembled for Flamefade still remains within sight. Many left in a hurry to find their children och siblings, and still have not returned. Neither Dathana or Charina can be spotted, nor can Norn or Evelyn Oakroot. Harl the blacksmith is still herding the young ones towards the Stone Hall. Rolf Miller, red-faced, tries to lead his children to safety, pointing towards Harl, while he bodily blocks Theda from rushing towards the inn to help out. Hugh and Catrin Corwyn do their best to follow their son's directions, encouraging others to listen to him, even as they throw nervous glances towards their cherished bookstore, only a few houses away from the inn.

---

Ophira

Holt grasps faintly in the air, his eyes almost blocked shut with soot. At Ophira's soft voice, he calms slightly, enough to accept the berry she gives him. After chewing only a few times, his body relaxes, his hand dropping to his side. His breathing eases, and as the pain subsides he lies on the ground, somewhere between waking and dreaming.

---

Gaelan

"Something fishy is going on here!" Lirann declares, talking to no one in particular and probably not being heard by anyone in the chaos either. Remembering the commotion at the stables earlier and witnessing the stampede just now sparks her suspicion and with the spilled brandy she suspects some sort of nefarious plot.

She is not brave and/or foolish enough to rush in to the fire, so there is not much to do here either. Instead she rushes over to the stable, looking for any sort of clue as to what might have happened there.

Seeing that Holt's wounds have been soothed, Ophira stands and looks for others who might be injured. Seeing no one in her immediate area, she looks around for anyone nearby who is working to help people, rein in the horses, or fight the fire. She runs to them, lays a hand on their shoulder, and says, "May your endeavor to save others be a success!"

Casting about quickly for something--anything--that will even temporarily douse the flames on the stairs, Gaelan hopes to find a blanket, a pitcher or flagon of ale, a cask of wine. If such a thing is at hand, he'll smsah or thrown it on the worse of the fire on the steps, then bound up them. If nothing comes to hand, the man simply tries to leap the flames and cross them quickly.

"Thea, prepare to catch people!" he says to the burly Wildheart.

Gaelan

Fortunately, there's no shortage of liquids to douse flames with. Wisely staying clear of the high-proof, flammable stuff, Gaelan locates a barrel of Galthic's more watered-down ale. With this, he can make his way to the second floor unharmed.

The second floor is thick with smoke and heat, but the flames have not spread as far here yet. It does not take long to identify the source of the screaming. In the second bedroom to the right, Gaelan finds the pair, both about the same age as himself or a little older. The young man is vaguely familiar but hard to place, probably from the outskirts of the village, while he quickly recognizes the girl as Galthic's niece, Kayleigh. Both look hastily dressed, and are covered in soot. Where fire has spread across the floor from beneath, they are desperately throwing sheets and stomping on it to smother the flames.

OphiraLirann

It only requires a cursory examination before Lirann is certain that something fishy is, indeed, going on. Not only were the doors to the stalls left unlatched, the ropes tying the animals have been severed by a blade. Once the fire started spreading, there was nothing stopping them from fleeing in a panic.

Seeing Beric and Lirann nearby, Ophira rushes to them. Lirann is within the barn, examining the horses' stalls, while Beric is outside, calming them. She him and puts her hand on his shoulder and intones a blessing; Beric feels a tingling warmth pass over him. This was not the first time Ophira has bestowed a mystic blessing upon Beric, given that they have spent time together working for Anathema.

She says, "What do the horses say, Beric?"

Thalen instructs one of the women to keep the bucket brigade working and steals away toward the barn. He walks up to the wall and then falls into a crouch. He finds the shadows and sneaks around the back, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the missing townsfolk who are mysteriously absent.

Beric nods to those who pat him on the back and ignores those who give him odd looks. As he is figuring out what to do next, he feels the familiar sensation of Ophira's blessing.
"They're too terrified to say much of anything right now. We may be able to ask them what they saw after things calm down." He motions towards the tavern. "Gaelan and Thea ran into the blaze. I'm heading back there to in case they need help when they come out."

Ophira nods and turns to follow. She isn't sure how much help she could be during the fire, though she could save lives after they get out and need healing. Still, she is willing to do whatever she can!

Thea nods to Gaelan. "Alright, I'll be ready."

As he runs up the stairs, she positions herself near the bottom of them, feet spread wide in a stead stance, knees bent and ready to absorb the impact. She raises her arms and shouts up, "Okay! Toss them to me!"

With her suspicions justified, Lirann begins searching around the village. More specifically, the parts of the village that might have been left empty after everyone got distracted by the fire and horses. She looks out for anyone lurking around away from the crowd who might be up to something.

Inside The Fire: Gaelan & Thea

Kayleigh's eyes dart up, and she tugs at the tunic of the young man beside her to get his attention. "Gaelan!? How did you-?" The panic writ across her face gives way to a shimmer of hope. "We couldn't get down the stairs! Is the way clear?"Outside the Inn: Ophira & Beric

Thanks to the quick work rallying the villagers and keeping the stampeding horses from disrupting the work, the situation seems to be contained for the moment. Though still a significant danger to anyone still inside the inn, the fire has been reduced enough that it likely won't spread to the surrounding buildings.


Some Distance Away: Lirann & Thalen

Moving away from the chaos at the village square, Thalen weaves gingerly between houses, keeping himself well cloaked in shadows. Lirann moves on her own investigation, not too far away. The sun has nearly set, bathing the surrounding village in hues of gray. For a moment, once away from the din of the crowd, the silence seems almost deafening.

And then they hear something else. Shouting. Screaming. But not from the place they just left. From far away, out towards the edge of the village.

Thalen is the first to see the shape moving in the dusky light. Stumbling forward along the main road, heading in the direction of the blaze. Until it notices Lirann, and limps in her direction.



One step. Two steps. The figure staggers forward, now illuminated by the distant light of the burning inn. Charina Arborine stumbles, catches herself, then drags herself another step, her steps uneven and heavy. Her hand clutches at her side, and Lirann catches a glimpse of the sheen of blood on on her pale fingers. She only get halfway towards the young sorceress before her legs fail her, and she falls to her knees in the muddy road.

"Raiders... My Thana... they came from nowhere..."

Beric is going to prepare to help anyone that Gaelan and Thea rescue (or Gaelan and Thea themselves if they get badly hurt).

Now that the fire and the animals seem under control, Ophira turns to Beric and says, "Call if anyone is injured and needs my help, OK? I'm going to look around. Something is not right here..." She walks toward the center of town, scanning the area for anyone else in need of help--or causing trouble.

Lirann initially reaches for her dagger as she sees the figure approaching, but quickly relents once it becomes clear what is happening.
She rushes towards Charina and tires to steady her as best as possible. "What happened? Where are you hurt?" She asks frantically while looking around, spotting Thalen in the process.

"Quick! Get some help!" She shouts to him.

It’s difficult to tell in the din, in the roar of flames and shouts of both those in need and those trying to help, but Kayleigh might yelp as Gaelan lifts her as though she weighs nothing, throwing her across his shoulder. Turning to race back down those burning steps, he says to both her and the young man she was with, "Is there anyone else up here?!"

Then, when Thea calls impatiently from below, he tells the man, "Jump! She will catch you! Now, man, go!"

Ophira sees Thalen and can tell immediately that something is wrong. When he calls for her, she breaks into a run. She follows him back until she sees the injured woman, Charina.

As she runs up, Ophira says, "She’s badly injured! Lay her down, gently!"

She kneels before the injured woman and begins to chant in a strange tongue, invoking the four directions, the four elements, and the three fold goddess. Finally, her hands begin to glow with a warm radiance. She touches the woman’s injuries and heals them!

Inside the inn

Gaelan feels more than sees as Kayleigh shakes her head fervently, slung over his shoulder as she is. "Just us! There was another—Mr. Birkner, I think—but I heard him rushing past before. Did he get out?" Her voice is shrill and high-pitched with fear, and her hands grip Gaelan's shoulders like a vice.

At Gaelan's command, the young man's face goes white. "Are you crazy? I'm gonna break both my legs if... why don't you help her down first, and then come back up and-?"
"Jonah!" At Kayleigh's bark he takes a nervous step forward. "Just do as he says and jump, we don't have time!"

Jonah leans hesitantly over the hole, judging his chances. Just as he is about to step backwards, the flame-singed planks under his feet creak and give way, and he crashes, headfirst, towards the floor below!Further away

Charina winces as Ophira examines her, each shallow breath a painful struggle. Yet as the young witch-in-learning sweeps her hand across the wound, the flow of blood slows, then halts, and then finally reverses. It pulls back into the wound, leaving only a clotted membrane on top. The skin along the edges stretches, knitting itself together. In moments, the only traces left are a white scar, and a blot of dark crimson on the dress.
It takes Charina a moment to even realize what just happened. Stunned, she lifts her blood-wetted fingers and simply stares at them. "What...?" Looking back at Ophira, she seems to put two and two together.


She gets to her feet, unsteadily at first, but with far more strength than before. "Thana... my Thana!" Her eyes grow wide as panic seeps into her voice. "They need help. Norn, Evelyn... we have to warn the others..."

Thalen kneels down next to Charina. "We can help, we just need to know where? Are you from one of the outlying farms?"

Charina shakes her head. "Dathana, she... the ciders ran out, she went to fetch more. It took so long. I... I got worried so I went to check on her."

"There were so many of them. Norn, he told me to run, warn everyone. He stayed behind, to hold them off." She winces, feels at the remnants of her wound again, as if to make sure it's really gone. "But one of them caught up with me."

Ophira stands as Charina does, though it is clear that the magical healing was draining for her. She wobbles for a moment but regains her balance and listens. She raises a hand and touches the distraught woman's arm and asks, "So many of whom, Charina?"

Wanting to curse when the floor gives way and this Jonah disappears in a shower of sparks and flames, Gaelan instead squints against the heat and says, "He'll be alright! Better down below with Thea than up here with the fire! If he's hurt, she'll help him out!"

He's taking the steps two at a time, then, trying to hurry the girl to safety!

"Right, we should probably get back to the others first." Lirann says, a bit frustrated with Charinas unhelpful explanation. "If there are attackers around we ought not to stray from the crowd."

Thalen walks a few steps in the direction Charina stumbled in from. He squints and searches in the distance and cocks an ear to see if he can see or hear anything or anyone.

"I got you!" Thea says, grunting with effort as she catches Jonah in her muscular arms. She sets him down gently as Gaelan comes down the stairs with Kayleigh. "Is that everybody? If so, let's get out of here before the fire gets worse!"

"I think this is everyone!" Gaelan says to Thea as he reaches the ground floor, soot-stained and flame-singed as he heads for the door.

Beric waits outside the into see if anyone is wounded to the point of needing help.

Seeing Thalen straining his eyes to look off in the direction from which Charina came, Ophira stands and looks as well. She also listens.

At the inn

From outside, the people of Arras look on in horror. Rafters wreathed in flames quake and break apart as a sizeable chunk of the roof caves in, crashes through the second floor and slams into the ground floor. Scalding heat and smoke billows out, momentarily obscuring all vision.

When the clouds of ash finally clear, the villagers look on in mute shock. The walls of the inn still stand, if only barely, and the fire has spread nowhere else. But Galthic's is a gutted, hollowed-out ruin, a pyre still crackling at its center and tendrils of smoke curling into the darkening sky.

And silhouetted against its glow, five figures can be made out in front of the ruined doorway. Thea and Gaelan, winded but standing strong, while Beric checks over the young couple with practiced eyes and a steady hand, taking the measure of their injuries. Though weary and soot-streaked, somehow, almost miraculously, everyone seems to have gotten out in one piece.

For a lengthy moment, nobody moves. Then, a soft sob breaks through the silence. A woman rushes from the crowd to embrace Jonah, then a man follows. Kayleigh's sister sweeps her into a hug. Holt Birkner's children are both at his side, gently dabbing at his wounds with a wet cloth. An uncertain cheer rises from somewhere in the crowd. Followed by another. And more. While some keep their heads enough to still tend to the flames ravaging what remains of the inn, others flood forward to embrace and cheer the brave youth who risked their lives.


The moment only gets to last for so long though. Charina pushes her way forward, her hoarse voice at struggling to make itself heard to all but those closest to her. Yet as her words are gradually picked up, the cheer dies in her wake, replaced by looks of realization, despair, and finally panic.

"Raiders, here?"
"Oh gods, who has been taken?"
"Did they set the fire? They must have, right?"
"Has anyone seen my children?"



Away from the crowd

Thalen and Ophira gaze out across the fields surrounding the village. They notice some signs of a struggle, farming implements now knocked over and left on the ground, a door left ajar, signs of someone getting dragged through the soft dirt. Whatever happened, it happened quickly and remarkably quietly.

In the faint light, Ophira spots something else. The outline of a man, slouched against the tanner's house on the edge of the village proper, and two more figures, lying motionless on the ground just beside.

Ophira points toward the figures and says to Thalen, "I’m going to see if I can help them. I’d appreciate some backup…"

Then she turns to Charina and says, in a commanding tone, "I healed you, now help me. Go into town and call for help out at the tanner’s farm. Go!"

She turns and runs toward the slumping figures.

Thalen nods, pulling his cloak close around his body. He runs beside Ophira. As they near the tanner's house, Thalen peals off and moves towards the signs of struggle, searching the dark night around him again.

Thalen and Ophira run toward the tanners house. As they arrive, Ophira steps close to Thalen and touches her arm, whispering, "Be safe..."

Lirann does not like the idea of them being out here all on their own. She was thinking about escorting Charina back to the inn, but with her friends heading head first in to danger, she relents with an annoyed sigh and follows after them.

Once they reach the fields she lets herself fall behind. Instead of rushing to the tanners house she surveys the area from the edge to the village, looking for anyone that might be trying to outflank Thalen and Ophira.

At the tanner's

As Ophira draws closer, the unmistakably pungent stench of the tannery—some foul blend of rot, urine and lye—seeps into her nostrils. Lirann and Thalen, both keeping an eye out for danger, are far enough away to be mercifully spared from the worst of it.


Ophira


"Damn it all. Urgh... twice-cursed fools." Ophira recognizes the voice before she can make out the contours of the rugged face. Norn slumps against the timber-framed wall of the tannery. One hand grips his leg, stained dark with crimson, while the other clutches a woodsman's axe. It too drips with blood. He doesn't seem to notice the young witch. His eyes instead linger on the two lying in the dirt close to him.

One of them takes Ophira a moment to recognize. Judd Tanner's lanky form is sprawled out in the dirt in front of his own house, a puddle of blood slowly congealing around him. The other, larger shape she knows immediately. Galthic, face-down in the dirt. Neither man shows any sign of life.


Lirann

Not far away, Lirann keeps a keen eye open. From the side of the tannery, just outside of Ophira's and Norn's view, the dark shape of a man creeps along the wall, towards them. A hood obscures his features, and in his hand is a short blade.


Thalen

At the same time, Thalen, skulking along, spots another shape, moving on the opposite side of the tannery. Squinting his eyes, the young storyteller can just barely make out another man, armed with a club, but moving with a pronounced limp towards the corner, ready to ambush Ophira as she nears the house.

With his attention drawn, Thalen does not notice the third man until he almost walks into him. Hooded, in dark leathers, standing tall and still, the man is similarly observing the scene at the tannery.

Standing very still. No slight twitches to the hand, no shifting of the weight from one leg to another. For all outward appearances, he might as well have been a statue. For the moment, he gives no sign of having noticed Thalen, who stands only a few feet to his side.

Thalen squints and thinks.

"Watch out! It's an Ambush!" Lirann shouts and points at the shady figure she sees skulking around at the tanners house.

Ophira approaches carefully... and notices the threatening men!

At the inn
Soot-stained, red-faced and with adrenaline pumping as he stands in awe of the now raging fire, Gaelan tries to make sense of the scene. Families are reuniting and voices are breaking, hands are clapping the heroes on the shoulders, but when Charina brings the news of raiders, the broad-shouldered young man catches Wildheart's eye and gestures with his head. They need to help!

Searching for a weapon in the chaos -- an axe, a shovel, a heavy plank -- he then rushes to Charina's side.

"Where?!" he asks urgently. "Charina, where have these raiders been seen?"

Thea quickly slips her axe from the loop on her belt and looses her sturdy shield. "We'll make them realize what a huge mistake they've made coming to our town," the local hero vows, ready to follow Gaelan into the fray.

The Inn


At the question, Charina gestures vaguely in the direction of the Fentir River. "The man who attacked me, it was somewhere over there." Then, catching herself, she adds; "Your friend, Ophira? She said she saw something over at Judd's. She was going to look closer. Your other two friends went with her, I think."

As soon as the words leave Charina's lips, Thea races off, axe in hand, side by side with Beric. Gaelan grabs a shovel leaning on a nearby wall and follows close behind his friends. Behind them, dozens of villagers scatter in all four directions, suddenly fearful for what might have befallen their homes while they were occupied. The barely heard shouts of Elder Caitrina and the other councilors do little to restore order. Some at least dutifully remain to keep the flames in check.

The Tanner's

Ophira picks up the telltale sound of the halting man as he drags his bad foot through the grass. She has enough to time to gather her thoughts as one of them barks out an order.

"She's alone, get her!"

Both men round the corners, just as Lirann's warning rings out. It causes them to stop in their tracks for a moment, heads turning to locate the origin of the sound. The man closest to Lirann, an older man with a grimy gray beard and a single eye, notices her first.

"Ignore her, we only need the one!" Both of them ready to move in on Ophira, weapons brandished.The third man—is that right, man? Something's off. His chest is not moving, there's no sign of air being exhaled—suddenly starts moving at the order given by the older man. Not a rush, just a quick walk forward towards Ophira. A sickle gleams in his hand.


As he passes Thalen, he turns his head towards the storyteller, noticing him for the first time. And then he continues on, showing no interest. Yet seeing his face now, it's all Thalen can do not to retch.

The face is a decaying mess, parts of the skin fallen off, exposing yellow-white bone. The eyes are greyish, dull and unfocused. Yet even through all that, something sparks a memory in Thalen. It is a face he has seen before.

And then he sees the the wound, a crack in the skull just above the left eye. Thalen was there when it happened, when his friend Gaelan drove an axe into the murderer's head. Ulrich, his name was, back when he waylaid travelers. Back when the two of them had to put a stop to him...

Thalen pauses, his mind racing, he sniffs the air, and heaves. He unslings his bow and fumbles at the arrows in his quiver. If Ulrich is still alive, then that means... His mind couldn't complete the thought. And he is after my friends. I have to do something.

"Hey! Ugly! I thought we killed you! Guess we're just going to have to do it again."

He pulls and then lets loose an arrow. The arrow flies wide and clatters uselessly against the tree trunk.

Thalen stares at Ulrich, his mouth agape.

---

Leaving the Inn
A long-handled shovel in his hands -- not the best weapon but it will do! -- Gaelan races after Beric and Thea. To the tannery!

Lirann brandishes her staff and chants a quick incantation before sending a bolt of deadly magic at the one eyed assailant.

There's a flash of light as the bolt strikes the man. He barely even has time to react as the impact lifts him off his feet and slams him into the wall. He crumples into a heap on the ground, unmoving.

"Damn it!" The other assailant, a man, in his 40's perhaps, with greasy hair and a desperate look, moves forward towards Ophira, wincing in pain each time he has to lean on his bad leg.

Ulrich, whatever remains of him, pauses briefly as the arrow whizzes past him. Then, as if suddenly registering the new threat, he turns on the spot, lunging with ferocious speed back towards Thalen!

Ophira prepares to conjure forth her sorcery to protect herself, only to remember that she used it to save someone's life just minutes ago! Ah well; 'twas worth it, even if it leaves me in a bind now! she thinks, and quickly backpedals away from the threatening men. She cheers when Lirann drops one of the men with her magic, but shouts a warning when the seemingly dead man lunges at Thalen, saying, "Thalen, no!" Then, at the dead man, she yells, "You stay away from them! May the Moonlit Lady curse your blade, you foul thing!"

"Stay away from her!" Norn shouts as the bandit gives chase. The stranger passes his fallen comrade and picks up the blade lying on the ground. Lirann sees him take aim with the club and throw with all his might. Moments later, Ophira feels the impact as it slams into her, nearly knocking her off balance. Looking over her shoulder, she sees he is still after her, now with the short sword in hand. Yet with his wounded leg, he struggles to catch up to her.Ulrich heaves forward towards Thalen, slashing wildly with the sickle. Yet between Thalen's agile footwork and Ophira's quickly woven spell, he strikes nothing but air.

Thalen takes a step back from Ulrich, scowling as he knocks another arrow.

Scrambling backwards from the wild swings, Thalen manages to line up the shot. The arrow strikes the creature straight in the chest, cutting through rusted chain and weather-cracked leather with ease. Ulrich staggers backwards, a low, guttural sound emanating from his throat. Then his hand grasps the arrow sticking out of him, snaps the shaft off, and he throws himself forward again!

Ophira yelps in pain as the club strikes her. She turns and sees Thalen struggling with the strange dead man and turns to run closer to them, though still moving further south, to keep distance between her and the other man. She draws a stone and loads it into her using, letting it fly at Ulrich!

Trying to finally get the bandit to leave Ophira alone, Lirann rushes straight north towards the little pen. While running she taunts the guy. "Hey slowpoke! You're a thousand years to old for this, go home if you know what's good for you!"

The stone arcs across the open field and strikes Ulrich, glancing off the side of his head. He halts only momentarily, then continues his attack. Yet whether it is from the arrow or the stone, his movements seem a little slower, a little more unfocused. The arm not holding the sickle hangs limply at his side, his head lolls loosely from side to side. Whatever is holding him together, it seems to be failing. Yet he still has enough power to lash out again.

The other bandit looks between the young mages, an annoyed frown playing across his face. At first he takes a few uncertain steps towards the wounded Ophira, his attention clearly split. Then he suddenly sees Thea, Beric and Gaelan racing towards them, and panic takes over. With a loud curse he charges, tries to intercept Lirann, and swings his sword in desperation.

Thalen doubles over as the sickle cuts through his midsection. He drops his bow, and his tunic changes color as blood starts to weep from the wound in his stomach. He pulls the dagger from his belt and launches himself at Ulrich, hoping to deliver a killing blow. "Die, you foul monster!"

Ulrich lunges forward just as Thalen strikes, and the dagger sinks into the creature's throat. Ulrich stops dead in his tracks, a low rattling sound escaping as whatever little life animates him flees. All that's left is a years-old corpse hanging off of Thalen's blade.

Beric takes in the situation. "You guys, help Lirann. I'll tend to Thalen." Then he runs towards Thalen.

Weir merely nods at Beric as he speeds towards Lirann and her attacker as quickly as he can.

"Damn it..." As Gaelan barrels down towards Lirann, Thea close behind him, the bandit's eyes flit over towards Ulrich's still corpse, then back again. He looks tempted to make another attempt towards Lirann, but seems to think better of it. "Damn it!"

He raises his sword in a warning as he begins to back away from the group. "Don't think to try anything stupid, boy! That goes for you too, girl! I'm gonna... I'm gonna leave. Peacefully, while you take care of yours. Don't wanna kill either of you, but don't think I won't!" He takes another step backwards, grunting with pain.

Ophira ignores the fleeing bandit and runs to Thalen. She quickly pulls out two goodberries and offers them to him, saying, "Thalen! Are you OK? Here, take these, please!" She says so but winces, because she too in badly injured.

Thalen coughs and chuckles as he doubles over again and slowly eases himself to the ground. "Ask for me tomorrow and you will find me a grave man." He accepts the goodberries from Ophira. "Thank you." He chews and smiles. "At least I'll have a good story to tell, right?"

I think the berries are 1 HP per berry.

"Like hell you will!" Lirann barks at the bandit. She charges at the bandit and attacks him with her staff.

So preoccupied is the man, keeping a wary eye on the imposing Gaelan and Thea, that he notices Lirann's swing far too late. With a thud and a crack the staff slams into his good leg, and he drops to the ground with a shout of pain. He drops the sword and clutches both his legs, whimpering in pain and cursing under his breath.

Thalen takes a few moments to regain his strength. "Thank you, Ophira. Your healing arts are a wonder." He stands, walks over the Ulrich, and begins to search through his effects. "Ugh, could this 'man' be any more disgusting?"

If Thalen looks OK after he eats the goodberries, Beric will go to Norn and tend his wounds. With as little fanfare as possible, Beric lays his hands on Norn's wounds, causing the wounds to magically knit together somewhat.

Ophira smiles warmly at Thalen and says, "Thank you, Thalen! That either very brave or very foolish of you to run into danger like that! Either way, you were very impressive."

She turns to look at the others and asks, "Is everyone else OK? Not only here, but back in the village? In the fire?" She sees Beric uses his gift to help Norn, and she asks, "Will that do for you, Norn?"

If everyone else is in good shape and Norn is doing well, she finally turns her attentions to her own wounds. Dropping to her knees, she puts her hand on the bloody gash in her side and her palm comes away wet and red. She yelps a bit in pain, but waits to eat her last good berry until she knows that no one is truly on death's door.

Gaelan is atop the downed brigand before the man even sees him coming. Using the shovel, he pins the injured man down and glowers at him.

"What is all this?! The fire, attacking villagers -- you will pay for these crimes! Who else is involved in this heinous plan?!"

Lirann steps up next to Gaelan. She silently glares at the bandit, brandishing her staff.

In the distance, the flames flicker and falter. It seems the inn, whatever remains of it at least, has been saved. The people gathered there begin to spread out, haphazardly, in every direction. It won't be long before some of them come over to discover the grisly scene here as well.

Gaelan, Lirann & Thea


The man struggles as Gaelan pins him down, but the youth does not budge an inch. Looking uneasily at Lirann, staff in hand, and Thea, both flanking Gaelan, the fight seems to leave his body.

"Look, I didn't wanna come here in the first place. It was the chief, Bohdan, he gives the orders. Had to get weapons, valuables..." He hesitates for a moment. "People. Anything and anyone we could grab. For the tribute.

They said to move in when we saw the fire, when everyone was busy. We all had to bring someone back. Was gonna take one of those", he makes a motion with his head in the direction of Galthic and Judd, "But that old bastard got in the way. Freaked Finn right out, it all got way out of hand so fast. Didn't mean to kill 'em. You gotta believe me."Beric

Beric rests his hand briefly on the grizzled old man. That peculiar little magic of his, the one even Anathema has been at a loss to explain, begins to flow out of him. Norn's breathing eases, and with Beric's help he slowly gets to his feet.

"Ah, that's better. Knew the old witch had to keep you around for something besides feeding her pets." He gives a weak attempt at a smile, yet his eyes are distant. There's something strange in the way he looks over the gruesome battlefield surrounding them. For the past few years he's been in Arras, Norn has not shown himself to be a man of many complex emotions. Taciturn. Strict, certainly. Angry, at times, but it usually passes quickly. But this is something new, something Beric has never seen in the old man before. His hands tremble terribly, and the pain and blood loss might only be part of it.Ophira

Seeing that Norn has recovered, Ophira looks over to the bodies lying down in the muddy grass. Tragically, it seems that the bandit is telling the truth. Both Galthic and Judd are long gone, likely even before any of the group got here. The one-eyed man, struck by Lirann's potent spell, shows no sign of life. Nobody else here seems to be in dire need of healing, as of right now.

Thalen
Now that he has a chance to examine his attacker more closely, without fending for his life, Thalen quickly notices that Ulrich is much the same as when they left him, over a year ago. The same drab clothes and leather armour, stolen boots too fancy for a brigand, the empty knife sheath. The dagger itself is gone, and the sickle seems to be a simple farming implement, probably grabbed from somewhere around here. But beyond that, and the new wounds Thalen has added onto what Gaelan did last time, the only change is what time and weather has wrought.

By all appearances, Ulrich has simply lain in his shallow grave for the past year, slowly rotting away, until somehow, he got up and wandered away.

Still holding the man down, using the shovel handle as a staff, Gaelan glances at Lirann and asks, "Are you alright?"

If she nods or otherwise indicates that she is, he turns his attention back to his injured captive, gritting his teeth.

"What tribute? And where were they to be taken?"

"Yeah I'm fine." Lirann nods. "Unlike our friend here if he does not cut out the nonsense." She pokes his leg with her staff. "Just a little bit or arson and kidnapping, the murder was unplanned? Give me a break."

Ophira slowly pulls herself to a stand, gingerly applying some pressure to her wound, which fortunately has stopped bleeding. She approaches the corpse of Ulrich and says, "This is unnatural; some foul sorcery has done this..." She examines the corpse, looking for signs of lingering magic. She also sees if he carries anything of value, or that might give some clue as to who re-animated him.

Gaelan, Lirann & Thea


The man gives Lirann a venomous glare. "It was them or me, girl, that's just the way the world...—cripes, boy, easy on the ribs!" He groans in pain as the shovel presses down on him. "We set up camp over by that old tower-ruin, to the north. But they won't stay there now, not that they've got what they came for. They'll head for the Falls."

"Look, that tribute was all Bohdan's idea. Those were harsh year, after Sigwald died. We were all scattered. I barely made it through last winter. But Bohdan, he rounded us up, gave us purpose, made us a force to be reckon'd with again. Said we wouldn't have to run and hide no more, now folks would run from us!"

The name Bohdan might not ring any bells, but Sigwald? The former bandit leader of the Red Men, there are few names in Arras that would inspire as many spiteful curses.
As for the Falls? Likely a reference to the Queensfalls, where the village river originates.

The man hesitates again. "Only, Bohdan's not the same anymore. Back in the day, when he was Sigwald's lapdog, he never could've brought us all together like this. But he's got power now. Real power. You saw Ulrich over there, right? Used to run with us too, back in Sigwald's day. But Bodhan says power like that comes with a price, and whoever gave it to him... well, that's what the tribute's for."

"Didn't sit right with me, with a lot of us. But what's a man to do, starve?"
Ophira & Thalen

As Ophira crouches over the body, at first it is hard to tell that it ever was anything other than just that; a still, lifeless corpse. It's fingers are as cold as any one might find in the village graveyard. But then she notices small shifts beneath the weathered skin, hears faint clicks as bone and joints shift and lock up, the stiffness of death violently reasserting itself in moments rather than hours.

Whatever magic this is, it is clearly the complete opposite of everything Anathema has taught her. And so it takes a while to understand what exactly she is looking for. But when she does, her senses expand, just as she has been taught, and she picks up the telltale sign of magic still lingering.

Obvious to her eyes now, flickers of sickly green light rise like smoke from the corpse, lingering briefly in the air like breath on a wintry morning. And something else, a thin cord of the same light, emanating from Ulrich's chest. Even with her full focus, it's barely perceptible and appears to be unraveling now that Ulrich is slain. It stretches out into the darkness, in a westward direction.

"You've no honor," Gaelan says quietly as he keeps up the pressure. Shaking his head, he adds, "None at all. These are innocent people. They've done nothing to you!"

Then, regaining his head somewhat, he asks, "How many does this Bohdan command? And tribute to who?"

Of Sigwald he says nothing. Gaelan crossed swords with the man once, when Sir Vanion allowed him to accompany his small company. It had not gone well for the villager who dreamed of knighthood. Only his helm had saved him that day from a blow that would otherwise have taken his head off...

"Well at least you got your sob-story all lined up and ready to go." Lirann chuckles. "Though it is hardly enough to move me to tears. Maybe next time work in how your daddy never loved you or something." She smirks at the bandit.


Turning to Gaelan she says: "Maybe best to take him in to the village now. I'm sure everyone is eager to have a word with him as well. He can answer any questions we still have far away from the edge of the forest."

Ophira stands, woozily, and shakes her head to clear it. She turns to the others as they begins to return to the village and shares what she has learned. "Someone conjured life--or a sick semblance--back into Ulrich's body with foul and unnatural magics. The necromancer that did this was connected to Ulrich until we destroyed him and returned his body to its final rest. It is possible the person controlling it was aware of what happened here. And, I send that the one who endows Ulrich with unlife is due West from here."

Thalen listens to Ophira, nods, and looks to the West. He scours his mind for a thread, a story, a reference that might help them uncover the evil that returned Ulrich to life.

Beric sends Nok to do a quick scouting of the woods. Not very deep, but just enough to see if anyone might be hiding just out of view.

While his friend does that, Beric listens to the others. He doesn't have anything useful to add, but he pays attention.

Thea listens to the bandit's words with grim determination, her grip tight on the haft of her axe. She keeps looking off to the west, as if ready to immediately rush off to try to put a stop to this Bohdan's wicked depradations!

"There's dozens of us. Ten of us came here, but this place is just the first. Every village is gonna pay the tribute, so Bohdan says." It's hard to tell whether Lirann's mocking or Gaelan's judgement gets to him more, but now some bitter rancor creeps into his tone. He spits blood on the ground and attempt to sneer through the pain. "They'll come back here, don't think they won't! Again and again, until there's nothing left but ruins and empty graves."

"There's people over here, someone's hurt!" A shout is heard as other villagers close in. In short order, the place is swarmed by others from the village. Someone rushes over to Beric and Norn, others check to make sure the other young characters are unharmed. A horrified scream, as Kayleigh finds her uncle lying in the dirt. Angry eyes turn towards the surviving bandit, and Harl the blacksmith motions to Gaelan to let him take over.

Amid the activity of everyone else showing up, Beric walks over to Ophira. Keeling his voice low, he says "I sent Nok to alert Ana. I would have expected him back by now. Maybe we should go check on her."

Ophira finally puts two and two together and replies, "Oh no, Ana! She's out there all alone with these bandits prowling the forest! Let's hurry!" She turns to the others and lets them know, saying, "Beric and I must check on Ana, make sure she is OK!" She then turns back to Beric, nods, and follows him into the woods.

Relinquishing the bandit to Harl the Blacksmith, Gaelan seeks out a weapon (perhaps dropped by a bandit), then hurries after Ophira and Beric.

"Wait!" he calls to them as he jogs to catch up. "I'm coming! Ophira, are you hurt?"

Ophira is walking quickly after Beric when Gaelan calls after her. She turns to look and he can see the grimace on her face and the blood on her tunic, which she holds with her hand to stop the bleeding. She shrugs and nods. "Yeah, one of the bandits got me, but... I'll be OK. Eventually. As long as I don't have to do anything extra strenuous, you know? Like, run to the outskirts and search for bandits? Ha..."

"Will you guys stop being stupid already?" Lirann Shouts. "Don't go running off in to the woods like that! It's way to dangerous."

She turns around and pouts. "The old bat can probably take care of herself just fine anyways."

"Things seem handled here," Beric calls back over his shoulder to Liran. "Come with us if you're worried!"

Looking from Lirann to Beric as they banter, Gaelen speaks quietly with Ophira once he fully catches up with her.

"You’re sure you don’t need a healer, or at least bandaging?" he says, concerned. "Who injured you? One of the bandits?"

"Urgh! No! I mean it is dangerous to go poking around in the dark when there is an unknown number of enemies lurking there. At least wait till morning. There is plenty to do in the village as well."

Lirann walks away and towards the village center, rather frustrated.

Ophira turns and calls back after Lirann, saying, "Lirann, she's the only family I have. I gotta check on her."

Then she replies to Gaelan, saying, "I'll be OK, at least until we get to Ana's. It was Ulrich; he was...like a corpse, given temporary life. It was a violation of nature... The other bandit said that their leader got some kind of power to command the dead, I guess... "

She makes eye contact with him and adds, "I'm scared, Gaelan."

Thalen watches as his friends separate and argue. He has remained silent as the shock of this night washes over him. Wroth like a Vracian. Wroth like a Vracian. Wroth like a Vracian.

He steps forward and raises his hands.

"Everyone! I think we need to regroup and hopefully figure out what is really going on. Remember what Grandma Weaver used to say, 'Wroth like a Vracian'? In the old stories, the Vracian lords would rise from the dead and punish people trying to steal from their barrows.

"Also I was reading about the old wall and there are a bunch of references to people dying in large numbers the same year the wall was supposedly erected. In the ledgers every death was listed as 'cremated (disease)'

"I know that these all seem like unrelated events and I know that I am rarely a man of action, but I believe that we can discover what is at play here. I think Lirann's suggestion is a sound one. Return to the village, regroup, and gather more information. We could talk to some of the oldtimers around here. Maybe we can learn some information that will prove helpful."

To the south, at the village centre, there are raised voices and cries of worry and anger. Elder Caitrina appears to be trying to take a census of everyone present.

To the west, Ophira sees the faint thread of light slowly unraveling. The woods are dark and quiet.

How far to Ana’s hut from where Ophira is? Is the magical trail from the dead body leading near Ana’s?

If it seems like Ana is in danger, or if her hut is very close, Ophira will check on her. Otherwise she will rejoin the others and go to the village I guess

Ophira hesitates and calls to Beric. She says, "The others are gathering in the town square. Do you think we should go there first? I’m worried about Ana, but I’m hurt… I’m not sure it would be safe to go by ourselves…"

Looking at Beric, Gaelan suggests, "Town square first, get a sense of things, then back out to Ana’s hut?"

A quick trip back will not only let the group connect with elders and find out what's happening elsewhere, but will allow the broad-shouldered man to properly arm himself...

Beric stops and turns to look at everyone. He glarea a bit at Lirann's aldeady retreating form. "Something is wrong out there," Beric says, pointing in the direction of Ana's. "Ana's family to me too, as is Nok, who should have been back by now." He looks at Ophira's wound and sighs. "But maybe we should go back to town first. While we're there, I can tend to that wound," he tells Ophira. He nods to Galen. "Let's go."

Ophira nods and turns to walk back to the village. As they go, she leans on Beric as he helps tend to her wound. "Thanks, B. I owe you." But... I'm worried about Ana. Remember what happened to her the other day?"

Lirann continues onward to the village square without saying another word. She barely spares a glance for her surroundings and just frowns at nothing in particular.

"I'm worried too. We'll get out there as soon as we can do it safely." Beric looks back towards the woods again. "I hope Nok's ok."

Back at the village square, Elder Caitrina is doing her best to restore some sense of order.

"Fletchers?" She calls out.

"All here, nobody missing", comes the gruff voice of Gerulf, his wife and five kids of varying ages clustering around him.

Caitrina continues calling out names, while Thalen's father, Hugh Corwyn, sits next to her, quickly jotting down the names as they come.

Even without reading what Hugh's written down, it's plain for all to see that a number of villagers are missing. Dathana. Evelyn. Likely at least a handful more. Judd Tanner's family is mostly accounted for, save for his eldest boy. When Caitrina calls for the Miller's someone shouts that Rolf herded them all back to their home.


"Son...?" The quill falls from Hugh's hand as he looks up, staring agape at the small group, and at the bloodied Thalen in particular. He bolts to his feet and runs over towards his son. Caitrina looks over at where Hugh just sat, frowning. But as she looks over in the direction he's headed, her face grows pale.

"Gods above, what's happened to you?" Caitrina asks as more and more heads turn towards the battered youths.

Ophira steps forward and recounts what she saw, gesturing to her friends to fill in the parts they knew.

"Someone here in town started the fire and riled up the horses; they almost trampled us! Then bandits attacked homes on the outskirts. We fought them off, killing a few of them. And … there was evidence of dark magic involved. A dead body, walking under the command of a necromancer! And one of the guards confirmed that their new leader, Bohdan, has gained some fell powers and requires sacrifices to maintain them."

"I'm okay, Dad." Thalen embraces his father. "My friends have the healer's gift. Sorry to worry you. You don't need any more gray hairs." Thalen takes a step back while Ophira relates the tale. He looks at his father. "It's just like in the old stories, Vracian lords rising from the grave."

Lirann falls in behind Ophira. "They weren't too tough, but I am worried about their numbers." She curtly adds to the explanation.

And with that she quietly continues with her brooding.

After Ophira has shared her experience and perspective, she steps back and lets the elders decide what to do. She bounces impatiently, worrying about Ana.

She looks over at Beric and makes a face suggesting she wants to go soon. Then she notices Lirann sulking and she says, "Hey, are you OK?"

Once they are back in the village and relatively stationary, Beric attempts to do a more proper bandaging of Ophira's wounds. He shares her impatience to check on Ana, but mostly stays quiet. He's better at talking to animals than most people anyway.

As is his way, Gaelan listens and watches as the elders restore order and the pieces of the puzzle of what happened come together. He seeks his own parents briefly, making sure they are well, then looks through the crowd for his nearly betrothed. He hopes to at least make meaningful eye-contact with her, then he speaks up.

"We’ve no time to waste. People are missing, taken by this Bohdan and his brigands. We need to check on the outskirts, make sure the outlaws are gone, then make for their camp to rescue those taken!"

Lirann glances at Ophira. "I'm fine." She mumbles. "I just have a bad feeling about all of this, like there is more going on here than we know and I don't like that. She sighs. I might have to ask 'her' for help, but I would like that even less."

Ophira knits her brows in confusion. She replies, "Her? Not Ana…. Is this related to that thing you did with Beric? Lirann, I’m here if you need to talk about anything…" she puts a hand on Lirann’s shoulder out of friendly concern.

"I know that." Lirann sighs. "It's just that.... You know how lucky you are to have a teacher you can actually trust?" She glances around a bit before continuing. "Listen, I'll help you look for the old bat tomorrow morning. I just want to be prepared. Without our magic we would just be a liability and the others need rest as well."

In the faint moonlight, it's hard to make out Hugh's reaction. "The old lords...?" He frowns, tries to smile, like he thinks his son must be jesting with him. But the bloodied clothes and Thalen's expression are unmistakable, and so the smile quickly dies on his lips. He looks over the group, his eyes drifting back towards Moonspindle Books in the distance. "Of course, of course, I believe you. Cat... Catrin, she went back to check on the store. I need to speak to her."
Though Hugh is a gifted and well-read historian, when it comes to the local legends and stories Thalen's mother has always been the one to ask. But he remains in place as Ophira begins to explain the recent events, even though he is clearly itching to get back to his store.

Hushed whispers race through the crowd, disbelief and concern mingle with breathless prayers. Children clutch at their mother's skirts as fathers—still coated in ash from putting out the fire—tighten their grasps at pitchforks and shovels, as if expecting some undead monstrosity to emerge from the nearest shadow.

As a low dread settles over the assembled villagers, the council, along with a few of the older and most respected of the village, huddle close. They exchange worried glances and look off towards the woods as they hurriedly debate.


Finally, Caitrina takes the stage, addressing the whole of the village gathered there. "Dear kinsmen! It is true, we cannot allow an affront like this to go without reprisal. But we have wounded to tend to, and defenses must be looked to. We do not know when this enemy plans to strike next and cannot afford to let our guard down. I know you wish vengeance against the people who did this, but we have already lost much. Let us not be too hasty."

She turns her head towards the six youths. "You have certainly proven yourselves this night. And yet your village must call on you again. If this threat is truly as you describe it, then..." Her face twists slightly in distaste, though she keeps it from her voice. It's well known that there is no love lost between the two of them. "We need to seek the council of Anathema. The witch may have some answers as we plan how to respond to this attack."

She does not seem to notice the whispered discussion between Lirann, Ophira and Beric. Indeed, though she is technically addressing all of them, her attention is mostly on Thea and Gaelan. It's no secret that she values their famous acts of bravery and brawn highly, and has far less regard for all things mystical and strange.

Hearing the elder speak, Ophira nods and turns to Beric. "My bandages are going to have to wait, Beric. I want to check on Ana, now" Then, turning to her companions, she speaks, raising her voice so that the elder and the others are aware eo her intentions. She says, "Ana is alone out there, where the bandits came from, and I am worried sick about her. Please, friends, come with me to check on her, and to get her counsel about these bandits, as the Elder suggested."

Thalen listens to Ophira and then looks back at his father, torn between loyalty, kinship, love, and his desire for knowledge. He turns back to his father, "Pa, I'm going to go with my friends to help them check on Anathema. When I return, we can talk further about the old lords and legends. I believe that some of the knowledge that we require is connected to events from the past."

He strides purposely back to his friends, adjusting his dirtied cloak with finality.

As Gaelan listens to the words of the council and Elder Caitrina, his face darkens. People have been taken, and now with their lives hanging in the balance the decision is to... wait?

"We will speak with Anathema, tonight," he says before looking at Ophira, and nodding at her.

Before they make to leave, he stops by the house to don his leathers and grab his axes. Before heading out, he says to his father, "I lost track of Theda in all that. Will you find her and explain?"

Ophira nods back with a look of gratitude for Gaelan's help. Having no family to speak of in town, she heads to the only family she's known for most of her life: Anathema.

As a somber quiet falls around the village, the small group heads out. Thalen sees Hugh heading off towards their home, deep in thought, while Gaelan's father marches off in the direction of the mill. As the group walks, they pass by other villagers returning to the heart of the village, odd looks being thrown their way as they stride westwards.

None of them are strangers to these woods. Whether playing, hunting, foraging or otherwise working, the forest is almost as much a home as the village of Arras. And yet, this night, they feel deeper, darker, more oppressive than ever before. The night wind sings in the boughs, the branches creaking and shifting like old bones. Only faint rays of moonlight slip through the foliage to light the path.


They are nearly within sight of the hut when they hear the low, almost gurgling croak. Nok, his feathers gleaming in the moonlight, struggles to drag his own body forward, twisting on the cold earth and kicking with his feet for every inch of progress he can make. When he sees Beric, his body relaxes and he slumps, every ounce of energy clearly spent.

Beric runs over to Nok and picks him up gently. "Hang in, buddy. At sunup I'll have the King's Touch again, and that'll fix you right up. For now, just rest." Beric wraps the bird in a cloth and cradles him in the crook of his arm. Then he looks at his friends. "I'll bring him along. There might be some poultices at Ana's that can help." He leaves unspoken the thought that Ana herself must not be able to help.

Seeing poor Nok, Ophira runs after Beric to make sure the bird is OK. She pulls out one of her goodberries and offers it to Beric to give to Nokl

Then she stands and looks toward the cottage. Can she see or hear anything? Once Beric is finished with Nok, she heads straight there.

Gaelan is wary, on guard as his companions tend to the injured raven. His axe are tight on his axe handle as he eyes the woods, and then the hut.

"What happened to him?" he asks quietly when Beric has his bird friend situated.

As soon as he's safe in Beric's hands, Nok lets out a weak, pained croak and buries his head behind one of his wings.
Shallow breaths come out in rapid succession, his little heart beating terribly quick.

Nothing appears to be broken, nor is there any sign of blood. But across the feathers on his back and wings are several thin ash-grey streaks that look like burn marks. As Beric brushes over them, he notes that they are deathly cold.Ana's hut lies just past a thicket of brushes, a narrow muddy road winding between. As Ophira makes her way through, thorns snatching at her blouse and skirt, she along with Beric and Liraan, feel the prickling, tell-tale sensation of powerful sorcery drifting on the night air.

Surrounding the hut, pacing lazily back and forth, are half a dozen hunched-over figures. Caked in mud, half-rotten, with vacant eyes and barely held-together limbs. They seem to be circling Ana's home, but none of them are currently trying to get inside. And in the moonlit sky above, the air itself is roiling with strange energies.

Ophira observes them for a moment from afar. Do they seem to be protecting the hut, or trying to get in, or simply waiting for her to come out to attack her?

Upon seeing the scene at Ana's, Beric will quietly look for a tree in which he can safely nestle Nok - a crook of branches near the trunk if possible. If combat breaks out, he doesn't want Nok being in the middle of it.

After that, he whispers to his friends. "I don't know if we're up to the task of taking on six walking corpses right now. If they aren't trying to get in the house, maybe we watch and wait? Perhaps sunrise will drive them off."

Beric easily enough finds a small crevice in the tree trunk where he places Nok. The raven gratefully takes the goodberry and swallows it whole. His eyes grow clearer, and he starts moving carefully in his safe spot, testing out his wings in case he needs to make a quick escape.

It doesn't take long for Ophira to notice the pattern. Every now and then, one or two of the undead starts moving closer towards the hut. But as soon the creatures gets close to it, they pull back as if stung, resuming their confused, directionless patrol around the area.

Once she has an idea of what to look for, it quickly becomes obvious to the young witch. There are thin ropes, hidden in the mud, laid in large overlapping circles surrounding the house. The creatures seem wholly unable to cross them.
The ropes themselves are familiar. Woven several months ago by Beric's practised hands, intertwined with rue, sage, mugwort and stranger herbs Ophira has been sent out to find. Anathema had explained that they had protective uses, though she had, as per usual, been light on details.

Just as Beric has secured Nok, a muted crashing sound is heard from within the hut, like earthenware being shattered. The door to the hut is still closed shut, but there are sounds of a struggle from within.

Ohpira can wait no longer. She has been watching the undead shamble and circle the hut; surely they haven't been doing so with any kind of military precision. So when there is the largest gap between them, Ophira makes a run for it!

Upon seeing Nok's strange injuries, and then the eerie, less-than-human things surrounding the hut, Gaelan's hands tighten on his axe handle. Taking on all six seems foolhardy to the other, but he is about to do just that when the sounds from the house spur Ophira to action. Weir goes with the girl, making sure she knows he follows her on this risky run. Arms and legs pumping to catch up with the little witch, Gaelan readies his weapon, preparing to defend the girl if an of the creatures try to cut her off or otherwise waylay her...

Thalen pulls his harmonica from a small pocket in his cloak and begins to play. The tune is quick and lively.

Lirann had come along very reluctantly. While traversing the forest she said nothing and always lagged several paces behind the others. She was more than a little upset about her advice being so thoroughly ignored.

Upon reaching the hut she is about to agree with Beric, but Ophira and Gaelan rush ahead before she can do so. Lirann bites her lip, a lot of curses would be appropriate right now, but it is probably best to keep that for later. Instead she hides herself in the undergrowth, not too far from where Nok is.

Beric readies his sling, planning to shoot one of the creatures farther from Gaelan and Ophira.

The shrill tones of the harmonica cut through the night. The walking corpses look around in confusion, searching for the origin of the sound. When their eyes fall on Thalen, it takes a few moments before they start shuffling in his direction. As they draw closer, it becomes apparent that these ones are in an even worse state than Ulrich.

The distraction is enough to create an opening. Ophira and Gaelan take the opportunity and rush past, through the widest gap between two of them. Yet, as if pulled by an unseen hand, the closest creature suddenly jerks in their direction, lashing out with its hand towards Ophira. However, Gaelan manages to interpose himself, taking the brunt of the strike.

Gaelan and Ophira cross over the warding lines, beyond the reach of the undead. As they do, the creatures quickly lose interest in them and resume slowly moving out towards Thalen and his friends.

Once at the hut, Ophira looks for window to climb in!

Beric lets loose with his sling at the nearest approaching shambler. Then he turns to the others. "They seem pretty slow. Perhaps some of us can lead them away and then circle back."

Thalen stops playing for a moment and shouts. "They seem interested in the music." He walks backwards in front of one of the shamblers. "I'll lead them away and suggest that you all pick some off while they are distracted." He then resumes playing: a jaunty jig.

Shrugging off the blow from the walking corpse, Gaelan grimaces and carries on forward to the hut’s door, which he puts his foot into, heavily. It slams open and the man moves to rush inside, blood drizzling from his fresh wounds.

Still not entirely sure what to do here and still thoroughly upset at this mess she got dragged in to, Lirann continues to hide herself.

Outside (Beric, Thalen, Lirann & Thea)

The rock from Beric's sling strikes the nearest shambler straight in the forehead. It stops mid-step, head thrown backwards by the impact. It sways in place for a moment, and then it collapses onto the ground. It twitches slightly as whatever unlife it had drains from it.The other undead continue their steady advance towards the group. While Thalen leads the creatures away, Thea keeps herself near him, ready to jump in should they get too close.From her hiding space, Lirann gets a better look at the undead as they shamble past, unaware of her presence. Caked in mud and grime and bits of foliage, they are barely holding together as they stumble forwards. It seems very much like they've just recently clawed their way out of the soft forest soil, after who knows how long beneath the earth.

And there is something else too, carried on the wind as the creatures pass her by. At once familiar and strange. That feeling of mist brushing past, a cold, harsh intelligence sweeping over her. Incense, gravedirt. A faded whisper, like a promise of power. Those and many more of the little telltale signs she knows to associate with her old teacher in the dark arts, Queen Theune.

But something is decidedly off. It's not quite the same feeling she's accustomed to. It's somehow... colder. Harsher. Wrathful.


Inside the hut (Ophira & Gaelan)

Gaelan's boot slams into the door. With a crack and the splintering of wood, the door is thrown open.

The hut is all one singular room, and the only window is tightly shuttered. A handful of candles lie in disarray on the floor, extinguished, and the fireplace is cold. Only the faintest moonlight stream past Gaelan's broad-shouldered frame.

Even so, it is not dark inside. A spectral light fills the entire room, swirling mist blanketing the whole ceiling, tendrils of glowing smoke stretching down across the walls. The bed in the corner is cracked down the middle, Ophira's favorite chair has been thrown across the room, fractured wood and ruptured pillows strewn across the floor. Shattered jars lie haphazardly, dried herbs and spices among the shards

And in the middle of the room, floating in the air a foot of the ground, is Anathema. Her robes hang loosely around her frame, her silver hair drifts and sways in the air even without the slightest breeze. Her eyes are rolled back, her body limp. Another figure—the spectral outline of a woman, face contorted in rage, her body seemingly formed from mist and fog itself—grips her throat tight, choking the life out of the witch. Where the ghostly woman's hands touch her, Anathema's skin has grown blackened and scorched.

And all around the two of them, the air shimmers with motion. Ophira does not need to extend her sight to know what they are, their presence is painfully clear. All throughout the hut drift spirits of the restless dead, not as fully formed as the one gripping Ana, but all of them circling her, like sharks scenting blood.

Seeing the success of his first shot, Beric slings another stone at one of the other shamblers.

Thalen plays and plays, turning every so often to check and make sure the creatures are still following him. Every now and again, he turns and walks backward.

Ophira knows this hut inside and out backwards and forwards, and she recalls the many many lessons she has learned here, in this place, from the very woman she sees in front of her in such peril. So Ophira would know if there was ANYTHING in this hut that could be useful against the spirits of the restless dead, or this misty villain before her. A cleansing herb or ritual, a particular crystal that wards against the undead, or even a slivered athame (ritual dagger) that might be potent against unnatural powers. If so, she takes it up and uses it as best she can to drive back the mists and spirits from Anathema, if only for a moment.

And if there be nothing here of use, then she simply throws her own body at the misty woman, her dagger slashing through the misty form left and right!

Outside the hut

Beric lets loose another rock, this time striking one of the walking corpses at the knee. With a sickening crack the leg gives way beneath it, but the undead creature just drags itself forward by its hands, slowed but no less determined.

Thalen, shielded by Thea, leads his pursuers deeper into the forest, skillfully keeping himself out of their reach while commanding their full attention. A few times one of the shamblers stumbles forward and lashes out, but the young man dances out of the way each time. As he weaves in and out among the trees, he finally draws them far enough away to create an opening. The path to the hut is clear for Beric and Lirann, should they choose to make a break for it.Inside the hut

Ophira sweeps her gaze over the chaos of this usually so familiar place. She knows Ana keeps a silvered athame—for ritual work, never cutting or slicing, not even ingredients for her rituals—somewhere around here, but where in all this mess?

In the centre of the room, just beneath Ana's floating form, is the ritual circle where the two of them have spent countless hours in practise. The circle is carved into the very floorboards themselves, with elaborate symbols invoking the elements, the Mother, spirits of the land and more.

Among the extinguished candles is a singular, blocky candle of night-black wax, and the circle itself has been lined with black salt, but the line of salt has been disturbed and broken in several places. More than once Ophira has helped Ana with work like this before, and she knows the signs of a protection circle when she sees it.

Within the carved ritual circle is another, smaller and hastily drawn circle, painted by hand, but it seems Ana was unable to finish it. The symbols are vaguely familiar to Ophira, but in its incomplete state it's hard to be sure of the circle's purpose.

Ophira gazes quickly at the circles trying not to panic…

Staggering inside, Gaelan is shocked by what he and Ophira find. Blood splatters on the floor beneath him the moment he comes to a stop, but the man draws a ragged breath and tries to steel his will to act in the face of such horror...

Observing the scene, Lirann is overcome with a mixture of dread and frustration. She looks around the woods, searching for the source of that unpleasant feeling. Over and over again she ends up fixating on the hut. Using up her last bit of patience, she waits for the shambling undead to move away.

Lirann rushes towards the hut as soon as the path is cleared. She bursts inside, almost bumping in to Gaelan in the process. She quickly glances around the hut, but can't exactly process everything going on in there as fast as she would have liked.

"What in the world is happening in here?" She barks, first at no one in particular, then she repeats the question. This time directed at Ophira and in a softer tone. "What is happening in here?"

Beric doesn't want to leave Thalen and Thea to handle the walking corpses on their own. Although Thalen seems to be doing fine, one trip on a root could change that in an instant. He hopes Ophira, Gaelan, and Lirann can handle whatever is in the hut.

Beric continues to follow the deadbthimgs from a distance and pelt them with stones.

Outside, Beric's steady barrage begins to wear down Thalen and Thea's pursuers. Though the undead show no sense of pain, their bodies have deteriorated so much that even the humble rocks of his sling can tear through them. The one crawling through the muck is struck once more, and ceases to move.Inside the hut, Ophira sweeps her gaze over the half-finished ritual circle and realizes she has seen it once before. On a chilly spring morning two years past, the scent of pine needles and the chirping of blackbirds finding their way in through the shuttered windows. That time, it was all far more elaborate, and Anathema labored for hours getting every last detail of it just right. Compared to that time, this crude and hastily-drawn circle looks like a child's drawing. But the symbols and their placement match with Ophira's memory.

You have grown so much, Ophira. One day, I will have nothing more to teach you. But if you are to tend to the people of this hamlet, like I have, it's important that you never forget what life looks like, through their eyes.

Those were Ana's words that day. And the ritual did just what she has claimed. For a full day afterwards, both Ophira and Ana walked as regular villagers, numb and insensate to the magical energies and spirits all around them. The ritual dispelled all magic nearby, sundered enchantments, rendered objects of power mere household objects.

And drove off magical beings. Ana's intentions suddenly become quiet clear to her apprentice.

As Lirann charges in and Ophira turns her head, a glimmer in the corner catches her eye. Her teacher's silver athame, refusing to reflect the sickly green light of the spirits overhead, instead gleams with the faint moonlight.

Gaelan's eyes are drawn elsewhere. Taking his eyes of the struggling witch held aloft before them, his gaze falls on the broken chair. Among the torn pillows, he sees the leathery binding of a large tome. While he is not nearly as familiar with the contents of the hut as Ophira might be, that one book is easily recognizable. Anathema's grimoire.

Thalen breathes in deeply as he switches up his song to a mournful ballad. He continues to walk backwards and lead the undead so his companions can kill them while they are distracted.

Ophira darts for the athame and falls to the ground next to the ritual circle, where she attempts to complete the anti-magic circle!

Bleeding badly, Gaelan looks from Lirann to Anathema and then Ophira, who suddenly falls to her knees.

"What should we do?!" he asks the pair, hefting his axe, preparing to strike at the wretched creature sucking the life from the old witch. He's not sure if he should simply grab Ophira's mentor and pull her back, or focus or the thing attacking her... but he can tell there's no time to spare.

Moving forward, he swings the wood axe mightily!

Lirann glances at the spirits in the hut, frowning. She slams the floor with her staff, creating a loud thud.

"All of you! Hear me and obey!" She cries out to them. "Leave now!" She commands, pointing her staff at the door.

Beric continues to sling stones at the dead, hoping the others in the hut are doing ok without them.

Thalen, getting overconfident in his ability to walk backward, trips over an exposed root and falls backward onto his rear. His colorful cloak fans out around him. He lets out a groan, and his harmonica falls from his hands.

Ophira tries to carve the remaining turns from memory. Their complexity and the tears now forming in her eyes, plus her still bleeding wound, make this extra difficult and upsetting for her. Still, she tries.

Inside the Hut

Lirann's command echoes throughout the small hut, but the spirits respond only with... cruel laughter? Howling? It's hard to tell. But there's a note of something else beneath it, a deep pain and fury, and a rattling of chains as they circle above.

Gaelan's axe finds the spectral woman's neck. On any mortal, such a blow would have cut the head clean off. But his axe passes through it like mist. It does cause the ghost to react, dropping Ana and gripping her own neck in reflexive defense. The witch falls to the ground with a loud thud in front of Gaelan. Ana makes a rasping sound as she draws in breath, her neck darkly scorched as if by an invisble flame. She remains lying on the ground, her eyes clouded with pain.

Tracing out the lines in her mind, Ophira draws out the final sigil. Though hurried and crude, the circle matches the one in her memory.

The effect is instant. The air trembles around them, as if in anticipation. Then the force of the ritual bursts outward. The formless spirits above scatter, their voices turning to panic. The tattered form of the ghost-woman frays and disintegrates as she is repelled upwards, through the roof and out of sight.

Silence falls in the hut, broken only by the strained breathing of Anathema. To Lirann and Ophira, it is particularly quiet, as their supernatural senses grow numb.In the WoodsAs Thalen lands in the muck, he sees Beric's last rock sail overhead. Before he can get to his feet, the undead are upon him. Thea charges into one with her shield, swipes in wide strikes with her axe at two others. But the fourth gets through and slashes at Thalen with a rotting hand.

Raising its gnarled hand to strike again... it suddenly stops mid-motion. The light in its eyes dim, and it looks away, confused and listless. Both Beric and Thalen watch as they begin to wander aimlessly through the woods in separate directions, showing no sign of aggression or even interest in the three young heroes. Whatever force has been driving them onwards, its control seems to have been severed.

Ophira breathes a sigh of relief and runs to Ana's side to see if she is OK.

As Ophira checks on the witch, Lirann turns towards the door, keeping watch for any more enemies. At least that is what she tells herself. She really just does not want to deal with Ana.

Beric runs over to check on Thalen,
keeping an eye on the dead things in case they change their minds about wandering off. "You suppose we should finish puttting those things down?" He asks. He'd prefer to let them be and run back to the hut to check on Ana, but he'd hate for one of those things to hurt someone else.

It's over suddenly, and Gaelan is left panting, wounded with his axe at the ready. He stands tall near the three women, ready to defend them should anything else merge from the shadows.

"Is she... alive?" he asks Ophira.

Thalen lifts a tentative finger to his cheek and neck. He winces and pulls breath in between gritted teeth. He smiles at Beric. "Don't suppose this will help my standing with the ladies any." He grabs Beric's hand as his friend raises him from the ground.

Thalen pulls his dagger from his cloak and nods at Berics question. "I agree. Can't have them wandering into the village and harming the younglings."

Inside the hut

"Ophira... is that you, child...?" Ana's voice comes out weak and ragged, the words seeming to cause her pain as she speaks them. She tries to push herself up into a sitting position, but her arms fail her and she remains lying on the ground. Her long white hair is messily draped over her features, but she looks older and more frail than Ophira's ever seen her before. Yet she is alive, if barely.

"He's back..." she mumbles, more to herself than any of the group around her. "I thought we – but he's returned again." Her voice trails off, her eyes still cloudy and unfocused. Her breath comes in slow and steady, but she seems to drift in and out of consciousness now.

The wind picks up outside, howling through the woods and setting the branches swaying. But aside from that, everything is silent around the small hut.

In the woods

Dispatching the remaining undead proves to be simple, if grim, work. Bereft of any sense of self-preservation, the creatures fall swiftly to the youths' blades and slings. Soon enough, the three of them are the only ones standing, and they head back to see what has transpired at the hut.

Ophira cradles Ana's head and places a pillow beneath it. Then she searches the hut for bandages, salves, poultices, tinctures, and any other manner of healing, reinvigorating, and soothing substances to give to Ana.

Seeing that the building is safe, Weir takes a knee beside Ophira and Anathema, wincing as he does so. The man's shirt is wet with blood.

"Can she be moved?" he asks quietly. "I do not know that we're safe here. Best to get her care back in the village, no? We can piece together a litter, I'm sure..."

"Let's stay here for the night. That circle makes this place about as safe as anything will get around here." Lirann grumbles as she sits herself in a corner with some pillow she scavenged from the mess in the hut. "Best to get some rest now." She declares as she pulls the hood of her robe over her face and starts to doze off.

Ophira nods in agreement with Lirann and says, "I don't feel safe moving her, and we'd be more vulnerable in the woods walking back than in here overnight, I think." She grips the ritual athame and continues to try to comfort Ana.

Gaelan nods at the others, quick to cede to their greater wisdom, as always. He lets Beric and Nok into the hut when they arrive at the door, then asks, "Where is Thalen?"

"Here I am." Thalen stumbles in the door. "A little banged up, but we rid the woods of those shamblers." He looks around at the hut, Ana, his friends, and realizes that things can never be the same. "Are we ready to head back to the village? I would love to talk to Pa and see what I can piece together from the folklore."

The night creeps forward slowly. Well acquainted with every nook and cranny of the small home, Ophira knows exactly where to look. She finds bandages, various salves and poultices used to soothe against burn marks, stinging nettles and the like, and a pain-numbing tincture she herself has helped Ana prepare. It was intended for easing the pain of childbirth, but it seems to work well enough for Ana, who dozes off into an uneasy sleep. Those who try manage to find a few hours of restless sleep.

A little later. Dawn is not far off. Ana sits unsteadily in front of the fireplace, a cup of steaming tea in her shaking hands. In the warm light of the crackling fire, with her pointed hat resting upon her head, the witch looks a little more her normal self. She keeps touching at the burn marks around her throat, even as she winces in pain each time.


She asks a few questions, softly, almost timidly. Not at all like her usual confident tone. She inquires about the group's injuries, about the state of the village. When she hears of those who died, she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. Her voice is shaky when she resumes. "Thank you for indulging me. But you must have questions of your own? I—I will do my best to answer them."