The night is young. A mob of villagers lit up the sky with their torches as they waited in the bushes before the entrance of a cave, with murder in their eyes.

Earlier that day, word had gotten out among them that one of their own – a local miner's daughter named June – was kidnapped by a strange group of supposed cultists that had been seen congregating at an abandoned mine shaft just outside of town. Occasionally, glimpses of oddly cloaked figures roaming the wilderness had haunted them before, but always alluded the soldiers and even the prestigious Radiant Ones when they were eventually set on the trail. Perhaps, the villagers feared, they had just been lying in wait for the best opportunity to strike.

In their time of need, they enlisted the help of a ranger-knight that had been roosting at the village's inn for the night.

Quinn was never the type to turn down a civilian in need, but insisted on going in alone first, to scout the area.

She entered into a small cavern that dipped into a much larger mouth, with rows of stalagmites like teeth jutting up, and down from the ceiling along the perimeter. At the center was a natural archway through which a mine tunnel ran its course – the throat that lead to the belly of the beast.

Seeing that the path ahead grew quite narrow, she made a signal to her trusty avian companion, Valor, for him to take up a position on a rock beside the archway.

The bird complied, but tilted his head in that way Quinn registered as a sign of confusion.

"Relax, birdbrain," she said, scatching the top of his head. "There's not a lot of space for you to flap those big ole wings in there, so just hold tight."

Valor shrieked, and althought it wasn't all that convincing, Quinn generally took whatever she could get from the stubborn eagle.

She loaded a bolt unto her crossbow then proceeded, alone.

The archway lead to a long corridor, lit by candles set into indentations along the wall, that broke off into several rooms. As Quinn crept along, she saw a cooking and dining area, sleeping areas designed to fit multiple people, storage rooms stocked with basic food supplies and tools. Basically, all the necessities of life for a sizable community of people.

A familiar squawk pulled Quinn from her observations. She looked back and sure enough there was Valor, hobbling just behind her.

"Valor!" Quinn said like a sister scolding her brother for coming into her room without a knock.

The falcon shrieked, reminding her of something very important. Rule Seven: Trust you can rely on your partner.

Quinn sighed. "Okay, fine, but at the first sign of trouble you fly out, okay?"

Valor flapped his wings in confirmation.

A young woman was brushing her hair in front of a mirror in one of the bed chambers when she heard their hushed arguing, and saw the reflection of Quinn passing by in the corridor.

With a gasp, she took to hiding behind one of the cots.

"Is someone there?" She could hear Quinn say, and sense in the form of an irrepressible tingling in the back of her brain as she slowly entered into the room.

Quinn pointed her crossbow at the girl when she suddenly rose from behind the cot, trembling with fear, with one hand clutching a knife. Her hair was long and dark, and so unruly that seemingly no amount of brushing could help it, as much as she tried.

"H-h-help me...please...I just wanna go home..."

Lowering her weapon, Quinn extended a hand to her. "June? Is that you? Are you alri-"

Once she was close enough, the trap was sprung.

June suddenly swiveled behind Quinn and held the knife up to her neck.

"I don't understand," Quinn said, already reaching for one of the bolts in her quiver then dropping it unto the ground, prompting June to knock away her crossbow.

"Of course you don't...none of them do," June said, on the verge of tears. "If I didn't run away, they were going to kill me!"

"The cultists, you mean? In that case you should've just asked for help."

"No!" June shook her head vigorously, beating the sides of Quinn's face with her curls. She snapped the wrist of her other hand that wasn't holding the knife, and it lit aflame. "I'm a mage...the people in the village would have killed me if they ever found out, so I had no choice but to run away with Master Roch!"

Quinn was much stronger than June, and knew about a hundred different ways she could break out of exactly this type of situation, but didn't want to hurt her just yet. She needed to go undercover for more intel, little knowing how much she would come to regret it.

"Look, we can sort this out..."

She glanced to the space underneath one of the cots, where Valor was staying hidden during all this time, and cast him a wink.

Valor cocked his head about, until one of his eyes honed on the bolt that she had previously dropped.

Master Roch, a darkly handsome man, looked upon his audience of men and women, mostly young and impressionable, all dressed in black robes. He did so with the warmth of a father figure they had all come to adore, but internally could barely contain his excitement at what was at hand.

He stood at a table before a sandy pit, wherein his followers were grouped and chanting in unison.

In his hand was a chalice as silver as the moon's pale face, visible through a hole in the cave's roof, hanging almost directly above dark gathering. Almost, Roch's thoughts echoed, with great anticipation.

June entered with Quinn still in her possession.

"Father!" She cried, beaming like a child. "I've found an intruder."

The followers stirred from their chanting to make way for her, until she stood before Roch who appraised them both with a smug grin.

"Look here, children," he said in a booming voice, flamboyantly signalling to the others, "even now as we stand at the doors of Paradise, the outlanders seek to destroy us!"

The crowd erupted into chaos as the followers jeered, clawing or spitting at Quinn in protest.

"June...your friends, your family, they're all worried about you," Quinn said, having to raise her voice to be heard above the commotion. "It's not too late.."

However, June couldn't hear anything over the sound of her own chanting.

Her fate was sealed.

The moon was finally in the right position, basking the scene in its full light.

All at once, Roch's followers held their arms up as if to praise it. Even June, letting Quinn free from her grasp.

Quinn scrambled to the edge of the pit.

Even if she had her crossbow, she wasn't sure of who to shoot in this scenario.

"I've waited years for this moment, Demacian," Roch said, swinging his chalice around with a crazed look in his eyes. "Behold! The beginning of the end for you and your wretched ilk..."

Quinn rolled her eyes. Okay, I'd definitely shoot him if I could...

June and the others were too far gone to notice this crack in their great leader's false image, as their moans and whimpers of ecstacy and soft grazing against one another gradually ramped up in intensity.

Eventually, it became scratches, primal growls, and teeth and eyes glistening before a bite.

Then, Quinn could only look on in horror as it devolved into an all-out bloodbath.

"Damn it...why won't it work?!" Roch, in a fit of rage, was waving his chalice around, vainly trying to catch some of their flying blood in it.

One of the frenzied followers pounced on the table and mauled him like a wild animal would its prey – all semblance of humanity absent from him.

Gods have mercy, thought Quinn, as his screams grew then promptly died out.

The carnage was already over by the time Valor arrived with the villagers, and not a single member of Roch's congregation had been spared.

Valor flew across the room and found Quinn huddled in a corner, untouched but not unshaken.