The sun was now directly above their heads, its warmth filtered through the canopy while the wind carried stray night colored leaves from Schattwald Forest into the normal woods. By now, Vierna had finished her hunt as best she could. She had caught only small game—squirrels, birds, rabbits, and foxes. By themselves, they wouldn’t be enough to feed the entire village, but the supplies she got from the agent’s camp would at least provide some leeway.
She could easily explain the absence of big game by citing Fenric’s reluctance to hunt deer, boar, or any animal that resembled the villagers’ beastkin population too closely. They would accept that.
But for now, the hunting window had closed. It was time to return to the village.
She entered the hollow oak where Fenric had been resting since morning. Even though he looked fine, it was clear he hadn’t slept the night before. The sharpness he’d shown yesterday was gone, his focus scattered.
Whatever the reason, Vierna decided it was best to hunt alone and let Fenric rest while she hunted.
“Fenric… Fenric.” She tried to wake her half-deer companion.
Fenric’s body trembled, sweat pooling on his forehead. His arms twitched involuntarily, and he whimpered incoherent words like a wounded pup. It was as though he were trapped in some deep, terrible nightmare.
Vierna wanted to wake him, but no matter how she shook or called his name, he didn’t stir. At last, she decided to let his head rest on her lap.
“It’s okay, Fenric. It’s okay,” she murmured.
She gently stroked his hair, wiping away the sweat that drenched his face, and began humming a soft melody—a lullaby she remembered from her mother. She had once asked for a sibling, but she never got one. In a way, though Fenric was older than her, he felt like the little brother she never had—still na?ve, still innocent in ways she no longer was.
Fenric’s nightmare didn’t fade entirely, but his trembling eased. Vierna let him rest there a while longer. After all, he was in this state because of her—and leaving him now felt far too cruel.
After a while, Vierna felt a rustle in her lap.
Fenric stirred, then slowly sat up. He blinked, looking left and right before finally facing her.
“Uhmm… what time is it?”
“It’s midday now, hehe.”
“What? Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“You were so cute when you were asleep, I just couldn’t help it, hehe… Also, you said you couldn’t sleep last night, so I let you rest. I even found some game, so we can go home now.”
Fenric reached for his waterskin, pulled out the cork, and took a long drink. “Thanks, Vierna… I really needed that sleep.”
“Did you get much of it?” she asked.
His expression shifted, his brow knitting tight. “Not really. I was having a nightmare…”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Perhaps some other time,” he said with a faint smile.
“Was it a side effect of the tea?”
“I don’t know. Thank the gods I didn’t faint when Loran’del started asking me those questions…”
“I see. Do you know something that might help with the pain?”
“Hmmm… I’m not really good with plants, Vierna.”
Vierna laughed softly. “But you’re half deer. How can you be bad with plants?”
Fenric didn’t respond. He just looked down at the ground, his face shadowed with something somber. The remark had cut closer than she intended.
“Sorry, Fenric… I didn’t know it was a big deal.”
“It’s okay, Vierna. I’m a complicated guy, you see.”
Vierna leaned closer until her face was just inches from his. “Complicated? You’re probably the purest guy I’ve ever met… I really, really like you, Fenric.”
She didn’t know why, but every time she looked at him there was that mischievous pull, the urge to tease him and see that flustered look on his face.
Seeing him embarrassed was strangely satisfying, maybe because she had never had a friend quite like him before. And besides, who knew how long she could enjoy such innocent bliss? Who knew when Leopold’s men would arrive to take her away, or what would happen after her mission was done? So she teased him as if there were no tomorrow.
Lina had been fun to tease too, but now that Lina was her girlfriend, what she wanted from her was… different. So that mischievous side of her had found a new victim in Fenric.
Fenric shook his head. “Uh huh… you won’t get me the fourth time no way girl.”
“But Fenric… why would I lie? There is no one here we are alone now and I am confessing to you right now at this moment.”
“Yeah right… there is a limit on how much I would fall into the same pit you know?”
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“What pit Fenric? I was really going to confess to you that night you know? But there are too many people around, now we are alone… finally I can tell you how I feel.”
Vierna move his face closer and closer to Fenric. Finally he couldn’t handle it then he blushed and his face was panicking, trying to get away but Vierna cupped her hands on his face.
“Hahaha… see? You were now red like a boiled crab haha…”
Fenric quickly back up and wipe his face with his hand. “You can’t keep doing that to a guy, you know?” Fenric said as he tried to hide his embarrassment.
Vierna shook her hand in the air “Haha… I know I know… it’s just that… haha… sorry Fenric.”
Fenric couldn’t help himself but to also laugh at his own mistake. For a while they just looked like a teenager who teased each other jokingly. Not like a spy and her victim.
Vierna stood up and stretched a little. “Okay, let’s go now.”
Fenric nodded, and the two of them began their walk back to the village. A cool breeze followed them, carrying the scent of pine and smoke. They talked about a myriad of things along the way, though most of it was small talk meant to fill the silence. From their conversation, it seems that Fenric was completely clueless about the Hairon Root tea’s cure. He only mentioned that Aila would probably know more, but they couldn’t ask her directly without drawing suspicion.
Vierna figured Lina was already digging into that matter. Still, perhaps she could probe Aila herself. Since Rolbart was so understaffed, maybe she could offer to help around the apothecary—using Korrn’s debt as a pretext for her “desperation” to find work.
By the time they reached the village, the sun was already lowering behind the rooftops. Vierna helped Fenric back to her house. All that pretending had drained him; his face was pale, and his steps unsteady. He needed rest—and the cure for the Hairon Root’s side effect—as soon as possible.
Seeing how much pain Fenric was in made Vierna even more grateful for Moony. The spirit had taken most of the suffering that should have been hers.
With no time to waste, she turned toward the village center, hoping to find Aila.
Meanwhile, in the dark forest of Schattwald, Lina walked closer and closer to the source of the voice. The farther she went, the more her heart swelled with joy. It was a forbidden euphoria; every step she took lifted her spirit higher. Her eyes welled with tears as if she were gazing upon the visage of a god, something no mortal should ever see.
Memories flooded her mind like a phantasmal dream: a world where her village had survived, where Vierna was there beside her. No wars. No experiments. No suffering. Only pure, complete bliss.
If following this voice was wrong, then what good was it to be right? If sin felt heavenly, then virtue could rot in the gutter.
She began to walk faster. Closer. Closer. Closer. Her thoughts echoed with every step as she drew near that promised paradise.
THUD.
The sound and the jolt of something striking her snapped her, for a moment, back to reality. The black bark and obsidian vines of Schattwald filled her vision. Yet she did not want reality. What she had seen, what she had felt, was so much richer, like a feast after years of starvation. So she started walking again.
THUD.
Another impact, harder this time, snapped her fully awake. Lina spun around, searching for the mischievous bastard who kept throwing stones at her.
“Come here quickly! Do you want to die?”
She saw a boy crouched beneath the hollow of an open tree. His hair was black and tangled, almost merging with the dark bark that hid him. His skin carried a faint bronze tone, and his narrow, dark eyes—unmistakably foreign to the Reich—met hers with a weak, feverish haze. He looked frail, half-sunken into the hollow as if the tree itself was keeping him from falling apart.
Sweat clung to his brow, and his breathing came shallow and uneven. His clothes were torn and mud-stained, the fabric hanging loosely from a body that seemed worn thin by hunger and sickness.
Then Lina noticed something else—a faint mark beneath his right eye.
At first Lina ignore her, but then he threw a stone again right at her face. Pissed, Lina run towards him, intending to smack him in the head.
“You little bra-“
“Shhh shhh…” the boy put his finger to his mouth then pointing behind Lina.
She turned around.
Behind her, the great black tree was trembling—not from the wind, but from something gripping it. A massive gray arm, swollen and veined, clutched the trunk like a strangler’s hand. Then another arm surfaced beside it. Then another. And another. They crawled from the ground, from the hollow roots, from the darkness between the trees, until there were too many to count.
Though it was still afternoon, the blackness of Schattwald Forest devoured the sunlight greedily. The golden rays that had followed Lina into the woods were gone, swallowed whole by the endless canopy above. What remained was a dim, colorless half-light that felt like twilight before a storm. Even the air seemed heavier here, pressing against her skin, damp and cold, as though she had stepped out of the living world and into something that did not welcome life at all.
Then a face pushed forward from the shadows. Its skin was slick and pale, stretched too thin over the skull beneath. Its mouth hung open in a crooked grin, and its eyes were sewn shut with thick, tar-black threads. Yet the stitched lids twitched, the bulging sockets straining against the seams as if something still writhed behind them.
One arm dragged along the dirt, clutching a bundle of human limbs—arms, legs, hands—some fresh, some withered, one still twitching faintly. Another arm, crooked like a leg, helped it crawl forward, its movements jerky and uneven, bones cracking under its own weight.
Among its countless limbs, some bore mouths where palms should have been. They opened and closed soundlessly, teeth grinding against one another as if trying to whisper. One hand held what looked like a lantern—a faintly glowing orb, pale and
And then it stopped.
The creature’s head turned, its face tilting toward the hollow tree where Lina and the boy hid. If its eyes had not been sewn shut, it would have seen them instantly. Lina’s breath hitched. Her body went rigid. She pressed both hands over her mouth, every muscle trembling as she forced herself not to scream.
The forest around them felt deathly still, the air thick with the stench of rot and damp soil. The creature stood motionless, the lantern-hand swaying slowly from side to side, spilling pale light across its stitched face.
Lina’s heart pounded so hard it hurt. The sound filled her skull, loud and uneven, like a drum too close to bursting. She was certain the thing could hear it, that at any moment those twitching sockets would tear open and fix upon her. Her stomach twisted; her throat burned from holding back her breath.
Then the creature’s mouth moved, forming a sound so strange and captivating that it froze her in place.
“Lina… where are you?”

