(Whispering Wood – Lower Area, Western Province)

  "Any clue where we're headed?" Gareth’s voice cut through the dark as he wiped drying mud from the crevices of his white armor.

  Eric didn’t answer right away.

  He kept walking, boots squelching in the mud. A small lantern hung from his waist. In one hand, he cradled a flickering detection rune.

  He exhaled, breath fogging. Heat radiated from his body, evaporating moisture from his skin.

  "You’ve asked that like five times already," he said, voice low.

  Gareth tramped beside him, cloak soaked through and clinging to his frame. "Let me see the guidebook."

  Eric didn’t look at him. Didn’t need to. He conjured the guidebook and handed it over. Suit yourself. Let’s see what you can do with it.

  Gareth flipped through the soggy pages, squinting at the hand-drawn map and barely legible handwriting. “Okay, so... around the Whispering Woods, we’ve got woods, and... a ri... river.”

  He lifted his lantern closer, struggling to make out the text.

  “Any mention of slippery slopes?” Gareth muttered, flipping a page. “Crea...tures—no. What else...”

  The pages started to stick together, ink bleeding in places. Gareth peeled them apart with exaggerated care, tearing the pages apart anyway. "Who writes in water-soluble ink for a forest guide?"

  “Probably someone who didn’t expect geniuses to read it in the rain.”

  The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but the forest still dripped. Gareth handed the guidebook back with a scowl.

  “Whatever. Just be quick about it. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m soaked to the bone.”

  He glared at Eric—who, annoyingly, was steaming gently in the cold, heat rolling off him like a furnace.

  Eric kept moving. “Let me guess. You want to feel warm too? Go ahead—hug your big brother. No need to be shy.”

  “Good idea.” Gareth yanked Eric up and swung him onto his back. “Much better. Keep me warm and I become your mount.”

  Eric exhaled. Whatever. I'm feeling a bit tired anyway.

  They continued their walk in the dark woods, accompanied with dim lantern light.

  ten minutes,

  twenty minutes,

  A faint mana reading pulsed in the distance.

  "Wait," Eric said, pulling Gareth's white hair hard enough it stopped him.

  "I'm picking up something," he murmured. His eyes scanned the black beyond the trees. "There's a structure nearby. Big."

  Gareth looked up, looking at the pulsing rune on Eric's hand, "A structure? Since when can it detect structures?"

  Eric kept focusing on the rune. "It’s weird. You know the entire thing is coated with mana. Let’s go check it out."

  “You sure?”

  Eric pondered. It could be dangerous. Then again, this might be worth checking out, perhaps, even...

  “We're already lost anyway, what's the worst that could happen, right?” Eric shrugged.

  Gareth smiled and nodded.

  They ran in silence, Gareth following Eric's direction and instruction. Until a moss-covered stone arch emerged from the gloom.

  —

  As they stopped in the area of one of the stone gates, Eric got off Gareth's back.

  The temple rose from the undergrowth, unremarkable at first glance. Moss clung to its weathered walls, vines threading through the cracks, pulling the structure deeper into the forest's grasp.

  “You didn’t tell me there was a temple in the Whispering Woods.” Gareth

  “Why do you think that is?” Eric replied, eyes still scanning.

  “Get down, over here,” Gareth whispered, pulling Eric behind a large, gnarled tree that offered some cover.

  Two people were patrolling the area. Minutes later, Another pair showed up, doing the same thing.

  “Would you look at that! An ancient temple, and people patrolling around in plain white robes and hoods. Textbook bad news.” Gareth leaned back, “Let’s just go.”

  Just then—

  “HELP!!!” Three robed figures emerged from the shadows, dragging a struggling girl to the temple.

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  The girl kept thrashing. One of the figures stepped on her stomach with the sound loud enough to be audible from Eric's position.

  “I know what you are about to say,” Gareth said, “But at least could you check how many are inside.”

  He shook his head, “What do you think I have been doing since we got here? That building is coated in mana, no way to gauge how many are inside.”

  Gareth sighed, louder. “Yeah yeah yeah, let’s go.”

  —

  They moved with silence, crouching low, using the overgrown vegetation as cover. The damp stone was cool under Eric’s fingertips as they reached the temple’s base.

  A pair of patrols approached.

  Eric signaled. Gareth nodded.

  As the first robed figure turned the corner, Gareth struck. His spear materialized mid-swing, the blunt end cracking against the man’s skull with a sickening thud.

  Before the second guard could react, Gareth had her in a chokehold, his arm pressing tight until she slumped.

  Eric exhaled, a blaze pearl ready to be launched at the tip of his finger, slowly dispersed.

  “These guys are just in their underwear beneath these robes,” he muttered as Gareth pulled one on.

  “So?” Eric replied, adjusting his hood, “It’s just a drizzle. At worst they’re gonna catch a cold."

  Gareth shrugged. "I believe they’re decent people. They’ll understand."

  “Agreed, brother. Let’s go.” Eric

  -

  They made their way closer to the entrance, pretending to be a part of the patrols.

  The immediate chamber from the entrance was vast, supported by towering stone pillars engraved with faded writings. Eric's fingers grazed a hidden blaze pearl inside his sleeve, warmth steady against his skin.

  Flickering braziers on the wall gave them just enough vision to see what’s on the inside.

  Several individuals were chanting in a circular formation. At least three were on the outer formation.

  He counted—three in an outer formation, five kneeling in the inner. Two captives, the girl from before, now tied to a stone platform, and an old man beside her, limp and bloodied.

  "Please," the woman whimpered, "we're just merchants—"

  The cultists ignored most of her plea, their eerie chanting never faltering.

  “What’s the plan, Mr. Bossman?” Gareth whispered.

  Then—movement.

  The five in the outer circle drew curved daggers and, in eerie unison, plunged them into their own stomachs.

  Eric stiffened as blood pooled around their feet, bodies writhing in agony before collapsing. Oh, hell no!

  He flung his hand forward. The blaze pearl shot from his sleeve and burst above the circle in a flash of orange light.

  The spell staggered the cultists mid-ritual. One dropped his dagger with a startled cry, covering his eyes. Another reeled back as the light singed his robe. But two others had already committed—blades plunged into their abdomens with wet, stomach-turning sounds.

  Blood spilled onto the floor, mixing with chalked runes.

  The girl screamed.

  The inner circle, half-blinded but still chanting, raised their weapons to the captives.

  Gareth didn’t wait.

  His spear spun in a quick arc, flying straight into one of the executioner’s skulls. The robed man dropped, convulsing.

  The second executioner hesitated, then snarled, raising a staff.

  Eric reacted instantly—hurling a second orb of fire. It exploded in a tight blast, hitting the woman mid-barrier. The hastily conjured shield shattered like glass, sending her stumbling backward.

  Gareth lunged before she could recover, driving her back with a flurry of spear feints. She parried one—but not the punch to the gut that followed. She folded and hit the stone hard.

  Another cultist screamed something in a low, ancient tongue.

  Eric’s neck tingled. Trap!

  A jagged spear of shadow burst from the floor just behind him. He rolled sideways, the tip missing him by inches. He came up with fire in both palms and swept an arc toward the caster.

  The cultist absorbed it, cloak flaring around him. He twisted his arms and split the flames with a hiss of shadow.

  “A conjurer, eh,” Eric growled. “Not bad.”

  The cultist raised a hand—tendrils of living shadow curled from his fingers, forming into clawed serpents that slithered toward Gareth.

  “Get down!” Eric shouted.

  Gareth dropped flat. The shadow-creatures whipped past above him. One circled back.

  Eric kicked a brazier, sending it crashing to the floor. Sparks and flame scattered across the stone. The shadows recoiled instantly, hissing like scalded snakes.

  Eric grinned. Weak to light, noted.

  He slammed two blaze pearls together, flooding the room with golden radiance. The shadows screamed and dissolved mid-lunge.

  The conjurer cried out, shielding his eyes.

  Gareth didn’t waste the chance. He snatched a throwing knife from his belt and hurled it. The blade flashed and embedded in the cultist’s throat. The man collapsed, gurgling.

  Another figure rose near the platform, dagger raised over the girl.

  Eric blinked—one had survived. The earlier light blast had only slowed him.

  He charged.

  The cultist brought the dagger down, but Eric was faster. He shoulder-checked the man off the platform, sent him sprawling. The dagger clattered across the floor.

  The cultist scrambled back, muttering a curse, blood in his mouth.

  Eric reached for his next spell—

  —but Gareth landed beside him, drove a boot into the cultist’s chest, then cracked his spear across the man’s temple.

  Silence followed.

  Only the sound of Gareth’s breath and the girl’s sobs filled the chamber.

  Eric dropped to her side, untying the ropes with shaking hands.

  “Are you alright?” he asked, voice gentle.

  Gareth rolled his eyes at the most cliche question Eric asked.

  She trembled but nodded. “Please… my mother and brother… they took them as well, somewhere in this temple.”

  Eric exhaled. “You stay here, okay? I'll bring them back.”

  Gareth approached, rubbing his sore knuckles.

  "Let me guess,” he muttered, “time to play hero?”

  Eric helped the girl sit upright.

  Then he turned to Gareth, face calm but eyes hard.

  “You got me. It's time to play hero.”

  —