Finn tore through the underbrush, lungs burning. The forest canopy above no longer glowed orange, the last rays of daylight slipping away as shadows stretched long across the dirt path. He knew every bend, every dip in the roots, every shortcut through the brambles. Just a couple of minutes and he’d be back. Speed and stealth were both things he was good at. He’d been sneaking out of Greystone long before anyone thought to stop him.
Tonight, that habit might save lives.
His mind whirled as fast as his legs moved. The memory of that towering demon’s chest burning—of Veronica planting herself between him and fire that could have swallowed the world—it refused to fade. The heat of it still clung to his skin.
She had blocked it. She had actually blocked it.
But she was scorched for it, her arms trembling, her body smoking with ash.
Finn clenched his fists as he ran, nails digging into his palms.
This is my fault.
He'd gotten close to a cultist. He even brought a weapon this time. But nothing went right.
If he hadn’t shot that arrow, if he hadn’t revealed himself, maybe Veronica could have fought it at full strength. Instead, she got hurt saving him. He was confident in outrunning them—no one had ever caught him before. Even when he was spotted spying on cultists, they always had to give up as Finn knew the ins and outs of the forest like the back of his hand.
Never did he expect a demon to be capable of that much destruction. So much that they didn’t even need to give chase. He always thought the horror and tales of demons were exaggerated, just there to scare children. Now, he knew they weren’t just fairy tales.
Right now, everything relied on whether or not Veronica could kill it, even with all her injuries.
Can she…
He shook the thought away; he couldn’t let himself dwell on what would happen if she fell. He had one mission. One set of words burned in his chest, louder than the thud of his shoes:
Save those who can save others.
Everyone needed to be alerted. Every guard needed to be awake, bearing arms. The lives of Greystone rested in his, and Veronica's hands.
He retraced his steps, sprinting up the small hill, and before long—he spotted it.
The treeline thinned, stone fences and rooftops coming into view as the light of the town speared through the forest
Greystone.
He broke into the open area, weaving through the first paths leading to the gates. People were still out—drinking, eating, laughing as if the town wasn’t teetering on the edge of ruin. A few guards leaned on spears near the edge of the town, chatting idly, plates of roasted meat in hand.
Finn sprinted up to the two guards, gasping out his words before he even caught his breath.
“There’s a demon in the forest! A huge one! Veronica’s fighting it right now—you have to warn everyone!”
The male guard straightened from where he’d been leaning against the wall. He frowned at the boy, then at his partner. “A demon?”
The woman sighed, already shaking her head. “Not you too.”
Finn blinked. “What—what do you mean?”
The man rubbed the back of his neck. “Old Thom’s been saying the same thing all month. Demons, monsters, curses in the woods. We’ve checked three times. Nothing. Not a pawprint, not a feather out of place. Just birds and deer.”
The woman smirked, folding her arms. “And now you come running with the same story? Let me guess—you saw glowing eyes, heard whispers, smelled sulfur?”
“No!” Finn stomped his foot. “I saw it! It was real! It had horns and claws—like an ogre but worse! And it—” His throat tightened, remembering the fire. “It tried to burn me alive. Veronica stopped it. She told me to come warn you!”
The two guards exchanged a look. The man’s expression softened with a trace of pity. “Kid… even if demons were real—and I’m not saying they are—what’s a Tier-1 mage supposed to do against something like that? At that level, a couple of well-trained spear-men could match her. Training is one thing, a fight is another. If she’s really out there, odds are she ran the other way and left you behind.”
“That’s not true!” Finn snapped. His small hands balled into fists. “She’s way stronger than that! Stronger than all of you put together!”
The woman laughed under her breath. “Easy, hero. If she’s so strong, where is she now? Why send a kid back to do her talking?”
Finn’s face went red. “Because she’s fighting it! She told me to warn you because she couldn’t leave! If you go into the forest, you'll see!”
The guards didn’t look convinced. The man crouched, resting an elbow on his knee, trying to put on a patient smile. “Look, I’m not calling you a liar. But stories like this spread panic. If we told the captain a demon was in the woods, the bells would sound, people would start running, maybe even riot. You get how dangerous that is?”
Finn’s chest heaved. “What’s dangerous is sitting around while cultists are planning to kill us all!”
The woman raised a brow and chuckled. “Cultists now, too? Thom said witches last week. At this rate we’ll be fighting ghosts next.”
That mocking smile did it. Finn lashed out with a sudden kick, slamming his boot into the man’s shin. His foot throbbed instantly against the metal armor. He winced and hopped back, hissing in pain.
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The male guard startled, then barked a laugh. “Careful, lad. Armor’s not soft.” He reached out to ruffle Finn’s hair. “Easy now. I know you mean well, but you should just go home. Eat something. Let the adults do the worrying. We checked the old ruins last time Old Thom caused a fuss. We saw nothing there but broken stone. Wasted nearly an entire hour searching the place. There’s nothing out there but goblins and forest wolves, alright? There’s no demons.”
Finn slapped his hand away, eyes burning. “You’re wrong! She’s out there fighting right now, and if you don’t believe me, people are going to die! ”
Before they could stop him, he spun and bolted into the streets, weaving between drunk townsfolk. His toe still burned, but he didn’t slow. If the guards were blind, he’d find someone else. Someone who would listen.
Finn tore through the streets, chest heaving, eyes darting for another patrol. Someone had to believe him.
“Oi, kid.”
The voice came from his left. Finn skidded to a stop, dust puffing up around his boots. A man leaned lazily against the doorway of a shuttered building, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a cigarette that glowed faint in the twilight. Smoke curled up, wreathing his weathered face in a haze.
“You are…” Finn started, struggling to place him.
“Garrick,” the man said easily. “Owner of the Tipsy Barrel, other end of town.” His eyes narrowed, studying Finn’s heaving chest and wild look. “What’s got you running like the devil’s at your heels?”
Finn clenched his fists. “Because he is! Veronica’s out there in the forest, fighting a demon. A real demon! And the cultists—they’re after someone named Claire. She told me to warn the town before it’s too late!”
His voice cracked. He hadn’t meant to spill it all at once, but it burst out of him like a dam breaking.
Garrick didn’t laugh. He didn’t sneer. He just took one last drag from the cigarette and blew the smoke slow. “Claire, huh? That’d be the Viscount’s daughter.”
Finn froze. The words froze in his mouth for a moment. “The… the Viscount’s daughter?”
“That’s right.” Garrick tilted his head, studying him with tired eyes. “If cultists are after her, then you’ll want to head straight to the Baron’s mansion. Don’t waste your breath on guards. Find Elise—the Baron’s maid. She’s sharper than most and loyal to the baron as lovers. Tell her Veronica sent you—tell her Claire’s in danger. If you’re sincere, she’ll believe you.”
Finn’s pulse thundered. Veronica hadn’t just sent him to warn the town in general—she had given him a real mission. To save the Viscount’s daughter. A noble. Maybe this Claire person was who the cultists were after? The very same target they’d been speaking of every time he spied on them?
He nodded hard. “Right. Elise. Mansion. Got it.”
Finn turned to run, but Garrick’s voice cut after him. “Good luck, Finn, the Greatest Hero of Greystone.”
The boy froze mid-step. His head whipped back, but the man was already turning into the alley, grinding the cigarette under his heel as he went.
Finn’s brow furrowed. For some reason, the man seemed unfamiliar. Finn knew of the Tipsy Barrel, but had he ever seen the owner? He was certain it was someone else, but the image just couldn't form. And more importantly—a lingering thought he couldn’t shake away came to mind.
Did I ever tell him my name?
Finn didn’t stop running until the cobblestones gave way to the wide lane that led straight to Baron Welterman’s mansion. The sun sank low now, painting the walls in darkening orange. His chest heaved, lungs clawing for air, but he pressed forward until he hit the wrought-iron gates.
“ELISE!” he shouted, gripping the bars so hard his knuckles whitened. “Elise! The Viscount’s daughter—Claire—she’s in danger! The Baron has to alert the town!”
His voice rang through the square, startling a few passersby. Some glanced at him, muttering, others ignored him outright. But Finn didn’t stop. He kept screaming Elise’s name, kept shouting about demons and cultists and fireballs. His throat felt raw, but he didn’t care.
At last, the heavy front doors opened.
Elise stepped out, flanked by two armored guards. Her silver-trimmed maid’s uniform swayed as she crossed the walkway with measured steps, her expression cool but edged with irritation. She stopped just short of the gate, hands folded, and arched a brow at him.
“You.” Her voice was firm, faintly clipped. “Who are you, and why are you causing such a ruckus outside the Baron’s residence?”
Finn’s words tumbled out. “Veronica—she’s in the forest fighting a demon! There are cultists—Claire is their target—they’re trying to summon something worse! You have to warn the Baron—warn the whole town before it’s too late!”
The guards traded skeptical glances. Elise’s expression barely shifted. She listened, but it was clear none of it was landing. Her eyes half-closed, arms crossing as if she’d heard a hundred tall tales before from people trying to meet her master.
Finn’s fists clenched. “I saw it! With my own eyes! The demon—its fire—” He stopped, breath hitching, then pressed forward desperately. “Veronica blocked it. She stood in front of me and cast this… this massive shield of mana. She saved my life!”
That made Elise pause. Her brow twitched upward ever so slightly. “A mana barrier?”
“Yes!” Finn nodded frantically. “Big enough to block everything. The whole blast!”
The guards gave each other an incredulous look, but Elise didn’t dismiss it. She was a mage herself; she knew what that meant. Slowly, her frown softened, replaced by a glimmer of disbelief that edged toward concern.
A Tier-1 mage pulling off a mana barrier? That was unheard of.
“...You’re certain?” she asked.
Finn swallowed, nodding hard. “I swear it. On my life.”
Elise studied him for a long moment. Finally, she sighed and straightened, her tone shifting to something more measured. “Very well. I’ll grant you entry. But understand this—” She lifted a finger, her gaze sharp. “I will be the one to inform the Baron of what you’ve told me. Both the Baron and the Viscount are in a meeting. If this turns out to be a lie—if Veronica did not send you, or if you’ve fabricated any of this—you will be held accountable. Prison at the very least.”
Finn’s throat went dry, but he forced himself to stand taller, fists clenched at his sides. “I have nothing to fear,” he said, though his voice cracked slightly. “I’m telling the truth.”
Elise studied him another heartbeat, then gestured. The guards moved to unlatch the gate.
As the iron creaked open, Finn let out a shaky breath. He had made it through the first step.
The iron gate shut behind them with a heavy clang. Elise didn’t waste time; she motioned for Finn to follow and swept up the marble steps with long, determined strides. The guards walked to the entrance until she paused halfway, turning her head sharply.
“Back to your posts. I’ll handle this.”
They hesitated, then saluted and returned to the gate. Finn hurried to keep pace with Elise’s quick steps, his small boots clicking against polished stone.
Inside, the air changed. It was cool, perfumed, and relaxing. The Baron’s mansion felt like a different world from the noisy streets outside. Finn’s wide eyes drank everything in as they climbed: oil lamps set in gilded sconces, portraits of stern-faced men and women with Welterman’s same sharp brow, carpets so thick his feet sank into them. He had snuck into plenty of places before, but never here. The opulence pressed in on him, alien and untouchable.
They reached the landing, and Elise stopped. She glanced down at him, her voice clipped. “Stay here.”
Finn nodded, fidgeting, eyes darting between the grand chandelier overhead and the tall oak doors at the end of the hall.
Elise strode forward, heels whispering across the carpet, until she stood before the double doors. She knocked firmly.
“Master, I have an important message to relay.”
Silence.
She waited a moment, then knocked again, sharper this time. “Master?”
Still nothing.
Her brow creased. She looked back at Finn, her normally composed features faintly unsettled. Then she pressed the latch and pushed the door inward.
The hinges groaned.
She stepped inside.
A heartbeat later, a scream tore out from the room.
Finn’s blood froze. Before he could stop himself, his legs were moving. He sprinted down the hall, shoved past the half-open door, and burst inside—
And froze.
The meeting chamber stretched before him, bathed in the flickering glow of firelight.
Bodies. Specifically, two bodies.
And lots—and lots—of blood.
Chapter 14:
will keep spying on those cultists, even if you aren’t going to let me help. This is my home, too. I won’t let some shady guys continue to hurt anyone here.”
“What? No, you are not—”
completely easy—she had morals, of course. But killing some people to make a dent in the demon invasion’s forces, it was a good war strategy. Death of a few hundred innocents, for death of several thousand demons.
and random mercenaries.”
did line up with how they operated. They preyed on people who were desperate, especially those down on their luck. Mercenaries without work would be easy targets.
had provided valuable information about the mercenaries—it just hadn’t been useful, given her time constraints.
Path of Sculpting and Path of Splitting
Looks like something happened at the Baron's mansion. Whose blood do you think is included, that they are seeing?
