"... So, thou hath naught from Z'aanta heard as well," H'aanit says with a complex expression of withheld pensiveness and frustration.
"That's very worrisome, that he hasn't even contacted you, his own apprentice," Natalia curls a lock of hair behind her ear.
The two women are seated in Natalia's home in the workman district. It's getting darker outside the window. Linde and Hägen are curled up, relaxing by Natalia's hearth. Two cups of tea, untouched, are on Natalia's table. Her home is not very large or extravagant, having merely the living room, bedroom, and an attic. A bathing enclosure is located outside in the back, set into the mountain rock that came with the land. Some memorabilia like a sculpted branch and plate sit on the mantle of the fireplace, while a cross stitch and drawing or two adorn the wooden walls.
"...Hath he spoketh of me?" H'aanit looks down at some interesting pattern on the wood grain of the table.
Natalia looks at her complex expression with slight amusement, "... Aye, he mentioned an apprentice of his who keeps him in line, haha... You are every bit as I imagined."
"Hm," H'aanit presses her knuckle to her chin and folds her arms before clearing her throat, "Hath there been any sign of him of recent? We haven not hearden from him in the village for three moons now."
"Three moons...? Why, that's the last I saw of him here..." Natalia gasps a bit, "I saw the Knights Ardante but... "
H'aanit frowns. Hägen makes a slight noise of worry.
"...The last I heard was the foray into the near Spectrewood... However, that place is dangerous for many a reason on these mountains," Natalia sighs, "I'm sorry I... can't be of more help... I do hope nothing ill had befallen him. Z'aanta is a good man."
"How hath thee of master known?" H'aanit asks quietly as she notes the Spectrewood in her mind.
"Ah, he and my late husband were friends. Michael was always an avid hunter, though hardly of skill as much as someone as famed as Z'aanta," Natalia smiles softly at the plate on the mantleplace, "When he passed during the Great Pestilence, I was... taking care of the estate. Z'aanta wrote frequently and even visited when he could."
H'aanit remembered that Z'aanta did indeed go on his own often enough, especially after she was old enough to take care of her own hunts. However, she always figured him to be frequenting either gambling dens or conducting hunts than visiting a widow. It seemed... strangely responsible of him.
"...My condolences for thine husband."
"Oh, thank you... Ah, well, I suppose I'm not badly off for a widow, if only just a wee bit lonely sometimes... but Z'aanta helped a lot with that," Natalia curls a lock of hair behind her ear, "I fervently hope he is alright..."
"... I willen search this Spectrewood thou hath mentioned," H'aanit stands, "Mayhap there be yet something there."
"At this time?" Natalia looks out to the darkening sky outside her window as sunset is well upon them. It gets dark fast in these mountains, "The Spectrewood is a dangerous place, even more so at night! You ought to wait..."
"Nay, I haven waiteth enough these moons," H'aanit frowns to herself and picks up her quiver and bow, which were lain against the wall, "I haven hunteth within nights before by light of the moon. T'will be nary a challenge."
Normally, she might have heeded Natalia's warning. A hunter ill-prepared is only rushing to die, after all. However, something was nagging her, telling her she is incredibly close to finally reuniting with that old, grizzled bastard of a gambler. That dangling hope pushes her to impatience.
"No, please wait," Natalia stands, as do the beasts, "The Spectrewood is no normal forest. It is protected by a powerful guardian... And, as of recent, I'm afraid it has been angered somewhat..."
"... What doest thou mean 'guardian'?" H'aanit looks back to the woman.
"No one is sure, but the Lord of the Forest is a story all in Stonegard know... It's sort of like a local deity. It protects the special trees here, so we always have to be careful when harvesting during logging seasons. Take too much and the Lord of the Forest will be angry... and horrible things can happen."
H'aanit raises an eyebrow.
"Recently, people have been attacked more in the Spectrewood. This year's logging has been experiencing many delays from incidents. A rockslide and even run-ins with strange trees that are like monsters themselves... Can you believe it?" Natalia sighs, pressing a hand to her head, "I might have thought it mere fancies as well... But people are worried for reason... So, I beg you to please exercise caution. Z'aanta would not have wanted you to imperil yourself for his sake..."
H'aanit purses her lips. For a second, her finger grazed the rings dangling from her neck. She blinks slowly and turns to leave.
"... Thanken thee for thine concern, Natalia," H'aanit sighs, "But, as I haveth before, I musten hasten to get him out of whatever predicament he hath mired himself in."
Natalia opens her mouth to object. Hägen and Linde trot to H'aanit's side. The widow sighs and decides against it.
"... You really care about Z'aanta," She says in a quiet voice, "I could have sworn he had spoken of you like a daughter, perhaps... and you of a father."
H'aanit pauses in step at the door, "...Natalia... doest I have thine word that... what we hath spoken of... shalt not be repeated?"
"..." Natalia blinks and then slightly giggles, "Whyever the request?"
"... Thinken I do, t'would do naught for him to hear such words," H'aanit clears her throat and keeps her eyes averted. Linde smirks.
Natalie lets out a laugh, "He wouldn't let you live it down, would he?"
H'aanit says nothing, pouting to herself petulantly.
"Ah, I see now what he meant of you. Well, you have my word, H'aanit. It will be our little secret," Natalia nods, "Do be careful."
"Aye, thanken thee."
The widow looks at the huntress' back against the darkened streets outside until the door closes. She sighs to herself, now left alone in this house again. In her heart, she hoped her worst fears were wrong.
…
By the time the others had gathered, H'aanit and Cyrus remain nowhere to be seen at the inn. Ophilia looks worriedly down at the Kindling lantern on her lap. Watching the flickering blue flame within the wrought iron frame, she sighs.
I'm such a meddlesome person... Coming along with them like this and just pouting when I don't know where she is...
She looks pensively at the lantern. It was her duty. Yet, while she should probably have kept on course to Saintsbridge, here she is in the mountains. She had reasoned and allowed herself to be convinced by Odette's logic on the lack of mandated order for the Kindling. However, she couldn't help but feel guilty over her feelings of relief being able to continue to accompany this band of travelers. Perhaps it was just stubborn tradition telling of the route being counterclockwise about the continent.
"Ahh, these baths are leagues better than the Cliftlands!" Tressa enters their room as per arranged roommates they discussed earlier. The merchant had washed in some of the mountain spring baths here and changed into some flannel nightgown, "I feel sooo clean for once... feels like ages!"
"You took a bath at your parents before we came here," Therion rolls his eye, having bathed earlier and much quicker.
"It's still great!" Tressa sticks her tongue out at him and looks around, "Still no sign on H'aanit and the professor, Ophilia?"
"I'm afraid not..." Ophilia sighs.
"You should wash up while you can!" Tressa points a thumb out back, "It'll only get colder as it gets dark, and that isn't fun at all!"
In the other room per courtesy of Tressa, Simeon is engaged in riveting conversation with Olberic about war songs and Hornburgian poetry. Upon learning from Primrose about the man's true identity, he seemed interested in garnering his opinion.
"I do say, Sir Olberic, I mistook you for a common war brute when I first laid eyes on you, haha," Simeon chuckles, "But you are certainly a cultured man. Not many a soldier would know much of a verse from a stanza..."
"I had dabbled in scholarly works before I ultimately took up the blade. Those were my only two pursuits, really. After I joined, I suppose some of this helped to ease lonely nights on patrol," Olberic nods. He'd doffed his armor and weapons, changing into a simple cotton shirt for the night.
"Fascinating. Everhold's traditions are rooted within the Ventus Dynasty, which is also quite unique... but Hornburg has the stuff of legends. Like the age-old epic of the Sword King."
"Aye, 'The Price of Pride,' I believe, was the original title of the man foolish enough to challenge Winnehild herself to a duel."
Primrose stands outside the door, peeping in slightly at the two with a sly smile. She turns and sees Alfyn watching her.
"Oh, Alfyn."
"Hehe, they still at it? Simeon's a smart guy, knows lots," The apothecary chuckles, "He wrote me a poem about redweed on the spot!"
"He is perhaps one of the most intelligent and charming people I know," Primrose chuckles to herself, "I'm very glad to see him again."
"Shucks, you guys must've had a lot to talk about," Alfyn grins.
"That we did..." From the corner of her eye, the dancer espies the huntress pass by in the firelight and her words trail off, "H'aanit?"
At her voice, Ophilia also pokes her head out. She runs out of the inn after the huntress, with some companions following.
"H'aanit!" Ophilia calls to the huntress.
H'aanit had been unaware of them, wholly uncharacteristic of her usual observant demeanor. Linde and Hägen stop first. Then, H'aanit turns to see Ophilia run up to her halfway up some stone steps.
"...Ah, Ophilia," H'aanit blinks, "Aren thou not to bed?"
"I-I was wondering, uhm... Are you going somewhere?"
"What's going on?" Tressa and the others come out before the inn.
"... I musten hasten to the forest," H'aanit says tersely and points towards the shadowy wood, standing darker than the night sky.
"Huh? Now?" Tressa balks, "It's gonna be the middle of the night! Who knows what's in there... You should wait till morning! Haste makes waste, and all that!"
H'aanit glances to Hägen. The wolf looks longingly towards the wood, but still remains where he is, a creature of noble discipline. But the huntress...
"Mine master may be lain wounded there... I cannot waiteth any longer," H'aanit says with a sigh, "Thou needn't worry. Tis my journey."
"No, I'm not letting you three go … unless I come," Ophilia says firmly.
H'aanit shakes her head, "Thou hath yet fatigue from climbing here, no? And t'would be dangerous folly to..."
"Then why should I let you go?" Ophilia retorts, "If your master is wounded, I will be able to help heal him and you... since you don't exactly act in the most careful manner..."
Some of them stare at Ophilia. She was strangely assertive for a second. Then, towards the end of her sentence, she trails off a little and looks like she realized what she was doing. Still, with determined eyes, she looks to the huntress.
"...So, I won't let you go unless I come."
H'aanit sighs, "...Then hasten we must."
"Hold it, just you and the cleric sister?" Primrose raises an eyebrow, "Forgive me for doubting you, H'aanit, but that seems a bit sparse for whatever beasts these mountains hide. They are more active at these nights, I would imagine."
"I will accompany them," Olberic nods, "I need only a moment to gather my sword."
H'aanit opens her mouth to object.
"Oh, thank you...!" Ophilia bows hastily.
H'aanit thinks better of it and sighs.
"Do your friends always run off in the middle of the night into woods?" Simeon asks with jest.
"Only when necessary," Primrose chuckles.
"...Well, you guys be careful," Tressa folds her arms.
"Aye," Olberic nods, "I left the money from the Merchant Guild with you … just in case."
"T-that wasn't what I was worried about at all!" The merchant puffs a cheek.
"Say, maybe I oughta tag along, too..." Alfyn says with concern.
"You just want to go in the woods and pick more berries," Therion rolls his eye.
"It ain't just that!" The apothecary says defensively.
"We shallen return," H'aanit nods quietly as Olberic grabs his sword and armor. She looks up and sees a dark series of clouds pass quietly over the moon. These are poor nights for the hunt. Linde makes a growl of discomfort.
"What's with her?" Tressa looks to the big cat.
"...She senseth something ill..." H'aanit sighs.
Primrose felt a prick of it at the back of her neck as well. There is something creeping out into the air, and she didn't know what. It felt sinister.
"Uh... say, should we... go find the professor..." Tressa scratches the back of her neck, "I was just thinking the winds today felt kinda... Anyway, don't want him wandering about and sleeping out tonight, right? The guy's so dense that he'd die of the cold before he knew it."
"Then it's decided. Olberic and Ophilia will accompany H'aanit and I guess the rest of us will see to Cyrus' whereabouts," Primrose sighs.
"I'll bet the idiot's gotten arrested for asking questions," Therion smirks.
"We'll check everywhere we can, then," Primrose looks to Simeon, "Simeon, you can wait in the inn."
"Gods no, I couldn't let you run around in the night! Don't worry about me; I have stayed up a good deal of nights pondering the lines of next masterpieces. I have stamina, my dear Primrose."
Therion rolls his eye at the guy's practical speech.
"Well, good luck to you all!" Ophilia nods as she, H'aanit, the beasts, and Olberic go to leave for the wood, "May the Flame be with you!"
"Right, right..." Primrose scoffs, "Let's get going and drag Cyrus back before he ends up conned penniless or something..."
...
After he had been rendered unconscious as a result of the ambush, Cyrus wasn't sure how long he was out. He had barely been able to register Lucia's betrayal before absolute panic had seized him. He hadn't glimpsed his attackers at all.
The first thing Cyrus sees when he regains his senses is darkness. More like, he feels something pressed against his eyes, barring his vision. He finds himself unable to speak, something like dry cloth jammed into his mouth. He can smell damp air and mustiness around him. His head swims slightly from first having been deprived of oxygen, and now being stuck in whatever musty basement he's in now. When he moves for his hand to still his head, he realizes he is prone on the ground, laying on the side, his arms bound behind him. His legs are free, but that was a small comfort, given the other restraints.
There is the sound of steps and an unfamiliar masculine voice saying "He fell over again."
"Is he decent? Sit him up."
That voice...
He hears the footsteps approach closer and feels those strong hands grasp him again, sitting him upright in a seat. They hold him there as he feels a hand wrench his head by the hair so he is looking upward. The familiar voice, chuckling and giggling like an excited schoolboy, becomes apparent. The darkness lifts from one eye and he can see bright light from a nearby lantern.
"Quite a dilemma you're in now, eh, professor?" He sees the smiling, mustachioed face of headmaster Yvon, who pulls the whole blindfold off now, "To think you would have had such temerity to try and catch me red-handed in my own home! The nerve and stupidity!"
Cyrus gives a soft glare at the man as he sits silently. His eyes look about furtively. They are indeed in some sort of underground room, but it wasn't a typical dungeon... perhaps somewhere else from within the manse? But that wasn't the most surprising sight. Cyrus masks his surprise seeing Atlasdam students to be part of the perpetrator party. But there was obviously something very wrong about them. Those blank eyes and bloody tears...
"Isn't it wonderful, what the blood crystals can do? They all obey the purer, more perfect crystal. Perfect soldiers." Yvon sneers slightly, waving his hands as though to display trophies, "All thanks to that tome you're so obsessed with."
Cyrus's eyes widen and an angry, muffled growl escapes from his lips as he lunges forward for the headmaster. The brainwashed students slam him back in the seat. Yvon saunters over, relishing the sight of the helpless scholar, and jams a hard fist into his gut, knocking the air out of him as he doubles over, groaning.
As Cyrus wheezes to regain his breath, Yvon chuckles and produces a glimmering blood crystal from within the folds of his robe. It is far more refined in appearance than whatever was in Gideon's laboratory. While the mad man had only scrap crystals, it seems Yvon has something like the real deal. Cyrus can feel the density of magic increase in the air as the jewel pulsates an eerie red aura. The students nearby seem to stiffen in its presence. Even Cyrus himself heard something from that unworldly light calling to him.
"It was fun seeing you run around, doing your little mystery... But you should have stopped once you even thought I was involved," Yvon takes off the gag now, "That was your mistake in pride."
Cyrus coughs and gasps a bit, still looking defiantly at Yvon, "What have you done... these students..."
"Interns, so I call them. They are willing helpers to the furtherance of the pursuit of knowledge of the so-called forbidden. A good cause needs its martyrs," Yvon shrugs.
Cyrus' eyes flare with rage at such nonchalance at sheer manipulation of students, "You monster...! To call yourself an educator-"
Yvon slaps Cyrus hard on the side of the face, cutting him off.
"You continue to doubt my wisdom, Cyrus? Even like this? I am doing this for the sake of knowledge itself. Such forbidden magic is rightfully withheld from the masses... but people like I deserve such power, for only we can understand it. Someone of lowly class like you would never know!" Yvon punches him again, "That! That is the difference between a servant like you and a true scholar like I!"
Cyrus grunts as he cannot defend himself. His tome is nowhere to be seen. He'd be lucky if Yvon hadn't burned it.
"Then... Lucia as well..." Cyrus mutters, blood dripping down his split brow. Part of his vision blurs a bit.
"Her? Oh, no, she is a willing accomplice... very willing, in fact. She helped me poison your dear headmaster Franklin," Yvon leans close with a sneer, "Or did you really buy her acting, you hopeless sap?"
Cyrus' eyes narrow at his own folly. Indeed, he had trusted her too quickly, perhaps. He had been so eager after hearing the confirmations of his long-held suspicions... and he let his guard down.
"Yes, yes, you are just a fool chasing my shadow as always, Cyrus," Yvon scoffs, "It's really too dangerous to keep you alive... But it's also a waste to kill you..."
"...Do you intend..." Cyrus grits his teeth, "To do what Gideon did?"
"Oh, so you did meet him... Yes, I heard you dispatched of him, too. Well, he had served his purpose in providing us the prototype blood crystals... It's not that big a loss. And I frankly like to keep my hands clean, you know?" Yvon smirks, "I can make you a brainless servant, Cyrus."
"Like I would ever serve you like that madman did... Or however you coerced Dominic with his daughter," Cyrus scoffs with a wry expression. It was perhaps the most mocking expression he ever made.
"...That is true," Yvon seems to consider something, "You don't have the manic curiosity or lack of ethics Gideon suffered from... And you frankly have no family that you would die for, like Dominic. You buried your own mother without so much as a tear, didn't you?"
Cyrus looks with critical scrutiny at Yvon, "...How long had you been... watching me so closely?"
"I am not a fool, Cyrus. Don't flatter yourself think you're so deserving of my sole attentions. I keep such a ledger on all the employees and students at the academy," Yvon smirks, "You, who only interests yourself in books... lack the human interaction to know anything in that area."
"...So, what now."
"Well, you may not have the most conventional connections, but you also aren't totally a hermit. As I can see clearly, you care a lot for these students," Yvon strokes his clipped beard with a sinister glint in his red eyes.
"... You wouldn't...!" Cyrus pales.
"You see, a small, buzzing gnat did try to come and find you, as did I. Coincidentally, we were on the same route when I caught it. I was rather surprised myself. Your reputation as a ladies' man precedes you indeed."
"What are you..." Cyrus trails off when he sees two more manipulated students enter from behind Yvon. One carries another chair, and the other has a person thrown over their shoulder. The person is dressed in a familiar gown, with their hands tied behind their back, and light, silver hair peeking out from the sack tied on their head...
Cyrus's blood runs cold, "No..."
The students roughly sit the other prisoner down and yank off the sack at Yvon's command. Cyrus' worst fears are confirmed as he stares at the half-conscious face of Therese.
"...Therese..."
"Unh... p-professor...?" Therese winces as she tries to get a good look at him. Cyrus can only guess she was drugged, as she luckily looked physically unharmed...
"Yvon, what have you done?!" Cyrus roars and braces against his restraints, only to have the manipulated students hold him down, "You've gone mad!"
"Such a waste of breath. I had thought to just kill her, honestly, when the thought struck me that I should be more magnanimous towards a relative of the royal family. Her intentions were so noble, after all! She only wanted to come warn her beloved professor on his sabbatical. And what better reunion than with the very professor she had tattled on back in the Academy?" Yvon sneers as he leans down so his face is a mere inch from Therese.
"I... I'm so... sorry... professor Albright..." Therese whimpers, "I..."
"Yvon, let her go!" Cyrus says, a note of desperation in his voice. He could only guess Therese was trying to meet him out of guilt.
"Such a devoted pupil and mentor. I guess you could say that... maybe this was the result of her actions," Yvon chuckles and straightens, clearing his throat, "Here's the deal, Cyrus. One of you will be allowed to leave this room alive. The other will be subjected to the blood stone implantation and become my next little pet project."
The blood drains from Cyrus' face as he realizes the lack of an actual choice here.
"It's a very annoying thing, when it comes to the blood stone... But a certain curiosity of mine deserves to be sated. You see, these students are all mere pawns. They were infused with the stones rather... unwillingly. I wonder if its power will be greater in a living host. Perhaps retain some faculties so I don't have to waste my breath commanding... The book mentions something about rearranging the mental state and... Ah, I digress," Yvon waves a dismissive hand, "I leave the choice to you, Cyrus. You or little miss here?"
"Professor..." Therese weakly leans forward against the bonds on her arms, "Please... you need to..."
"I'll do it," Cyrus says tersely, "I'll submit to the crystal implantation. Just allow Therese to go free."
"Splendid. Let us begin the ritual immediately, before you change your mind," Yvon chuckles.
Cyrus is forced to his feet and pushed along to another room. Therese is carried like a sack of potatoes once more. Yvon carries the lantern. In its light, Cyrus can see more of this decrepit place they were in. This definitely looks something like a dungeon, or hidden annals of castles. Were they even still in Stonegard?
"Did you know, Cyrus," Yvon says grandly, "That this ground was once that of an old castle of Hornburg origin? They had a fortress on this very mountain... These tunnels are forgotten vestiges from their times... located all around Stonegard."
So, they might still be there... That was probably the only chance his friends would be able to find him.
"My parents, gods bless them, were archaeologists of this sort of thing. They chose the manse location with an access to such a trove of knowledge... and no one was the wiser. No one cared. Fools... People simply cannot appreciate the wonders of the world as true scholars do. They are nothing than animals, content to feed and breed without comprehension," Yvon scoffs.
Cyrus keeps his eyes peeled for Lucia. It was strange that the woman who betrayed him had not even shown herself since he awoke...
They enter a larger room. Cyrus sees that familiar circle of Hornburg runes etched into the floor. Like Gideon's, it glows an eerie red. This circle, however, looks much cleaner and emanates a stronger light. Some of the runes look different as well.
Cyrus is shoved over to the center and forced onto his knees. Yvon chants something and chains made of blood sprout from the circle and clasp onto Cyrus' arms and neck, keeping him kneeling. Yvon now steps into the circle, standing before Cyrus. Cyrus can see that, just past the red glow, the student holding Therese is still there with her.
"Alright, Cyrus..." Yvon pulls out two bloodred crystals from within the folds of his robe. One is clearly more lustrous than the other. The duller one vibrates in tandem with the brighter one. They can almost be heard humming as Yvon begins an incantation in Hornburg tongue. The circle glows brighter and Cyrus sees the duller crystal emit a sort of spark. The smell of blood now becomes very prevalent.
The crystal floats out from Yvon's hand and remains suspended in air. Using the same blood magic as Gideon, Yvon summons a sword made of blood and cuts away at Cyrus' robe and shirt, exposing the scholar's bare chest.
"What..." Cyrus sweats a bit. The concentration of bloody smells in the air is almost suffocating.
"Accept it, Cyrus," Yvon grins as the duller crystal floats down, hovering just before Cyrus, "Accept it and it will all be over."
Cyrus grits his teeth and looks to Therese. The girl is still mostly out of it. However, she manages to get a glimpse of him with teary eyes. Her lips seem to be trying to tell him to stop...
"... I accept it."
At his words, the crystal seems to enter his chest. It buries itself into his flesh, causing strange veins to erupt. The initial prick escalates almost immediately into agony. It feels like there is a blade from within his chest, tearing the very fibers of his flesh and searing his bones. He can feel it spread, as if his own blood were boiling. The veins reach up from where the crystal embedded itself in him and spread like webs along his body, reaching his eyes.
"AHH- AHHGHH!" Cyrus howls and foams, prostrating himself and thrashing against the chains that hold him as the invasive crystal fills his body with pain. Blood drips from his eyes, nose, and mouth as the pain shakes the screams out of him.
"...Yvon."
Over the pounding in his ears, Cyrus hears that familiar voice. He manages to turn his head with a pained grunt and sees Lucia enter the room through red-tinged vision. She looks taciturn as usual, her eyes set on Yvon.
"What is it now? I'm in the middle of something..." Yvon clicks his teeth as he turns to face the woman.
"You shouldn't kill the one you're looking to control," Lucia says, completely composed and not batting an eye at Yvon's clear annoyance at being interrupted. They look more like equals now than headmaster and secretary.
"Oh please, I am completely in control. He can take more," Yvon scoffs, clearly relishing this moment, "Ah, that reminds me. Take the girl to the blood room."
Cyrus twitches and sees the student with Therese lumber out. He strains angrily against his restraints and the pain, a beastly roar of pain and betrayed anger rising to his bloodstained lips.
"YOU- YOU BACKSTABBING-"
Yvon slams his foot down on Cyrus' head and grinds it a bit on his hair, pressing his face to the stone floor, "A future doormat is not to talk."
"Argh... Gah... Ah-AGGH!"
Reject it, reject it...! If Yvon wasn't going to keep his end of the bargain, Cyrus had no reason to comply with his own. He had no idea how far the ritual had progressed or if he could even resist at this stage, but he had to try.
Red. All he can see is red as the crystal jammed in his chest emits a bright and brilliant light, illuminating the entire room. His cry of anguish reverberates through the forsaken halls.
…
Primrose, Alfyn, Therion, Tressa, and Simeon meanwhile had pursued a route of questioning some local witnesses who saw the scholar and some lady friend abscond into the manor at the wealthy district. When asked about the woman or the manse, people seemed vague on details, especially about the manor.
"Folks seem to think some bad air is around there..." Alfyn scratches his head as they arrive to the stone steps before the place, "Doesn't look that bad."
Therion quietly shifts his scarf. This place was one of those mansions that gave him the case of heebie-jeebies. Sure, he would still loot it... but it required a bit more caution. He would usually pick more up at the local tavern about possible haunted spots, but they hadn't stopped there.
"Ah, a castellated manor such as this must have much history... By extension, it's possible that unsavory things may have occurred here," Simeon waxes on, "I am very interested in what story lies in these walls..."
"We're not here to sight see or anything! We gotta find teach!" Tressa huffs and walks up the steps, "Huh, the gates open really easy... and the front door's unlocked!"
"Well, that... that makes sense..." Primrose sighs, "I can only imagine that Cyrus pursued some strange fancy here with his acquaintance."
"Sounds about right," Therion grunts and steps in cautiously after Tressa. The place is dim, practically pitch dark inside.
"Man, no one lives here... The folks made it sound pretty much abandoned..." Alfyn follows.
"Ah, now we must unravel the reason of why...!" Simeon announces.
"We're not here to do that," Primrose pulls Simeon's ear playfully, "We're looking for the professor."
"Book rooms are our best bet," Therion grunts as he lights his blade aflame. He had managed to restock on daggers and swords with money made by pawning off the crap he'd stolen so far. His flaming blade torch reveals the main steps have seemingly caved in, or collapsed mechanically, revealing a dark tunnel going down below the manor floor.
"That looks like a better bet," Primrose walks past him. Therion rolls his eye.
"Curious indeed. So, it seems this is perhaps connected to the old fortresses from Hornburg and nations past," Simeon rubs his chin, "Perfect build up to a climax, I might say...!"
"Climax? For what?" Alfyn asks obliviously as they all make their way cautiously down into the bowels of the place with Primrose and Therion in the lead.
"Well, every story with mysterious places like this lead up to some climactic event, you know? A furious battle, sorrowful death, ecstatic surprise!" Simeon muses enthusiastically.
"Hey, shut up a second, will you?" Therion grumbles.
"Ick... the air is so stagnant here..." Tressa makes a face as she makes sure to watch her step.
Primrose keeps her eyes peeled with vision in the dark. There is undoubtedly something off about the manse, and the feeling is even stronger as they descend. The walls here resemble something from old castles, with large bricks that have been sheltered from time. On the floor, she sees some depressions where some feet have trampled. Whether it was recent or not is unknown.
"AGGGHH!"
The loud roaring cry that echoes through makes Tressa's blood run cold. The others also pause. That voice, without a doubt...
"Cy...!" Alfyn's eyes widen, "He's...!"
Therion clicks his teeth and starts into a sprint, all the while keeping his senses alert. Primrose overtakes his pace a bit, as she did not need the light of the flame to navigate. That cry was of genuine pain and agony. The dancer found herself worried for that bookworm.
"This way...!" She hisses as they round a corner through the system of underground corridors.
Another cry rings out, stabbing fear into Tressa. The merchant girl can notice as they pass several rooms with doors; that this must have been some sort of dungeon. She swallows.
"He'll be fine... he's got too much to say to die..." Therion says under his breath.
Within perhaps the deepest level of the underground area, an eerie red light permeates from a room where some people in Atlasdam Academy robes are gathered. They turn with red eyes and tears of blood to the party. Tressa has to suppress a scream from their haggard, haunting expressions.
"Rr... raah!" One of them lunges, "No one is allowed here!"
"Tsk..." Primrose sidesteps trips him, sending him sprawling onto the floor. His compatriots all growl and converge as well on the party. Over the rush of the mooks incoming, Primrose glimpses two shapes leave the room where the red light is coming from and run further into the dungeon.
"Hmf..." Therion easily leaps over one of the crazed students and kicks another one in the face.
"Woah! Hey, hey, what are you- Ah!" Alfyn barely evades the lunge of one. Simeon also seems as inept as him, clumsily dodging out of the way.
"Hey, watch it...!" Tressa pulls out what looks like a rod that expands when she swings it, allowing her to clock one of the guys on the neck and knock them down.
"New toy?" Therion smirks as he rams another guy in the chest, throwing them against the wall. Tressa doesn't have time to respond and just sticks out her tongue.
"Cyrus?!" Primrose goes to look in the glowing red room and braces herself against the immense energy pulsating from within, "Ugh...!"
In the room, whose doors have been blown down, she sees a red magic circle with Cyrus in the middle of it, kneeling and fettered with various chains that seem to be wriggling out from the red runes etched onto the floor. The professor himself... something red and gleaming emanates from his chest, and his frame seems to be growing, almost bursting out from his shirt and robe. He looks up and Primrose steps back seeing his face mangled with bloodred veins and those same red eyes and tears of blood. Bloody foam froths from his lips. An unnatural reddish hue is spreading through his skin.
"C-Cyr..." Her voice falters.
"G-get out..." Cyrus manages to utter, "T... Take... Therese..."
Primrose glances to the side of the door to see a collapsed student and a girl he might have been carrying with silvery hair. She seems unconscious, but is still breathing.
"Cyrus... what happened?!" Primrose makes a bold step closer to the swirling nexus of blood magic. Her own survival instinct is screaming to get away and leave him.
"Cy?!" Alfyn runs over and his eyes bulge at the scene, "Hey, you alright?!"
"Idiot, don't-" Therion starts.
Alfyn is blown back by a sudden burst from Cyrus' proximity. The apothecary is slammed into the wall and collapses on his side, gasping.
"Oh dear..." Simeon peers into the room, "Prim, get back! Tis not safe!"
"Cyrus, you dolt, what did you do?" Tressa shouts as the last of the possessed students is dispatched of.
"I can't... control it... urgh...!" Cyrus winces. He can hear a voice slithering into his head, telling him to kill and destroy everything... bathe it in blood...
"... I'll handle this," Primrose says assertively and points to Therese and the other hallway, "You all, take that girl over there and get her out... I saw some people flee here down that way. They might have had something to do with this."
"Wha- Prim!" Alfyn protests as he scrambles to his feet.
"My flower, are you sure?" Simeon looks to Primrose, "We had barely met again for over a day and you..."
He pauses when she looks to him. The rest of his plea dies in his throat. His lips twist into a wry chuckle, "...Alright. I know better than to argue with those eyes."
"Prim, what are you gonna do?" Tressa looks worriedly to the dancer.
"... I think it's something only I can do," Primrose nods, "Get going. Don't let those suspicious people escape."
Alfyn wants to protest, but Simeon gets him to help drag Therese out of there. Tressa looks to Prim one more time, "You better be okay, alright, Prim?"
"Get going," Therion shoves Tressa along. He is the last to go on as he tosses the dancer a look, "You aren't looking to die after all?"
"Please, dear thief," Primrose smirks to him, "You know me better than that."
When the last of his steps fade after the others go down the other hall, Primrose refocuses her eyes on Cyrus and the magic swelling before her. The scholar is in clear pain and bracing to keep something contained. She could only guess what torture he was subjected to... and what this all was. However, the magic feeling... was not too different from the darkness she was used to. It must be similar...
What had Cyrus mentioned again? Blood magic was a subcategory of the darkness element... In that case, this really is something only she can do.
"P... rim..." Cyrus says hoarsely as more chains snap and his shape burgeons in muscle mass grotesquely. The red gleaming in his chest pulsates like a heart. His reddening eyes look to her almost pleadingly.
"... Hold on, Cyrus," Primrose's eyes glow red as darkness swirls around her body and unfurls into a majestic display of many peacock tails, "This dance might sting a bit."
…
Up in wooded path to the Spectrewood, under the cover of night, H'aanit and her entourage quietly walk through the underbrush with Ophilia using her staff as light. Indeed, as they walked along the rocky path dotted with trees and thick with grass and underbrush, the party could feel eyes on them.
"Odd..." H'aanit says quietly as she skulks and looks for signs in nature, "... The wildlife here... ist too quiet."
"...Ah, now that you mention it..." Olberic cranes one ear up into the night, "... It is awfully still for a woodland... Even back in Cobbleston, we could hear the scurrying of the rat creatures about the stones..."
"Are they mayhap frightened of something?" Ophilia murmurs, eyes looking about.
Hägen growls and runs further along the path to where a sign is set among several boulders that bar the way forward through the precarious rocky terrain. A slope of thick trees lies downward of the side of this rough path.
"... A rockslide hath occurred, as Natalia hath me warned," H'aanit looks around at the seeming dead end, "It hath their operations in the forest haltend."
"Hmm, there must be another way in, then?" Olberic rubs his chin.
"Aye. This occurrence be'en not of recent time. I saye, the growths here," H'aanit gestures at some weeds that peek out from the stone crevices, "Are about two moons old."
"So, where should we enter?" Ophilia asks tentatively.
"There be'en ways nature doth fighteth against us. As hunters, we doth not defy her, but merely useth another path..." H'aanit glances to Hägen, who seems to be sniffing around, "He doth recognize this place..."
"Grr...!" Hägen pushes down some stones from the slope with his paws and it skitters down into the dark woods. Linde seems to go check alongside the wolf and grunts in affirmation.
"Rawr!"
"They found something?" Olberic glances.
"Aye, a way forward," H'aanit steps over to the slope and looks down, "Tis not very deep... we can climben down."
"O-Oh, I see..." Ophilia moves closer with her light. She could see the tree-line down there... but she was also a person who thought a few steps up a ladder was too high.
"I will helpen thee," H'aanit offers Ophilia her hand, "Berg, hath thee any experience?"
"Aye, I have scaled a few walls up and down these Highlands... Admittedly, it has been a while," Olberic shoulders his equipment better, "But I should be fine."
"A-are you sure you …" Ophilia takes a slight breath and gathers her wits about her, "Flame help me... Alright. I trust you, H'aanit."
H'aanit lets out a soft laugh at the cleric's reluctance and starts to slowly climb down the slope. Her shoes are well equipped for a variety of terrains, as expected of hunter footwear. Olberic's larger frame is not as mobile, but his steps are steady and he can use his hands to grasp for balance. The beasts carefully dig their claws into the stone face and send pebbles skittering as they descend. While not as agile as a squirrel, they were still better than Ophilia, who wobbles clumsily as she holds to H'aanit's arm. Her shoes, better suited for snows, are a bit clunky for mountainsides.
"Uh..."
"Taken care thine step..."
"I-I know, I... ah!"
With just a slight misstep, Ophilia feels her body weight lurch sideways and her foot slips. Her heart drops as her world suddenly seemed to become weightless. Then, in the dim moonlight and the light of her staff, she sees the brilliant coat of pale fur flare out as H'aanit gracefully leaps from where she stood to catch the cleric in her arms. Without missing a beat, she falls past and skims the tree canopy before landing on her feet with Ophilia in a princess carry. The cleric was unsure of how scared or embarrassed she should be.
"... Aren thou alright?" H'aanit looks to Ophilia in her arms.
"Uhm, y-yes..." Ophilia nods meekly. She reaches up to pick a stray leaf from H'aanit's hair.
"Ophilia! H'aanit!" Olberic roughly slides down after them, "Are you alright?"
"Aye, we aren fine," H'aanit lets Ophilia down on her feet. The beasts leap down the last few feet and land beside them. There are signs of deep gouges in the rock here, and something about the trees is eerie.
As though disturbed, there is a sudden rustling among the trees. However, there is no wind. H'aanit and Olberic draw their weapons.
Natalia's words about the trees that were like monsters ring in the back of H'aanit's mind. She notices slashes in the wood, as well as a trail of vestigial conflict leading deeper...
"Ah!" Ophilia's eyes widen.
The largest tree before them seemingly groans and raises the smaller trees in its vicinity as though they were its arms. The trunk of the large tree seems to split open, creating a maw of jagged splinters. Hollow eyes from holes in the bark glow with eerie light, acting like eyes. The tree sways and lurches, uprooting itself a bit as it rustles aggressively. Remnants of arrows and armor embedded in its bark tell of what it may have witnessed...
"It cometh!"
The surrounding vegetation twists to form hands and arms that reach for the party. Olberic slashes at several of them, cutting them clean through. Hägen rips into a few with his vicious maw, and Linde swipes at them with her paws. H'aanit nocks and arrow and shoots it at the tree with little effect on the main body.
"Tsk...!"
"L-let the light... shine forth!" Ophilia's staff charges with white light and she shoots a God's Eye out at the tree.
The shot works and sears a good deal of the tree's face. It gives a raspy howl and swings a tree at them.
"To me!" H'aanit gives a fierce roar of her own and Ophilia sees her form shift before her eyes. She takes on the properties of the familiar frost bear, bearing the brunt of the bludgeon and then snapping it with ursine strength.
"H-H'aanit?" Olberic seems shocked by the transformation. He is swept off his feet by a rupture of roots underfoot that throws him back, "Argh!"
"S-Sir Olberic!" Ophilia yelps as she sees what look like humanoid faces burgeon from the roots now bursting from the ground. The tree's face slowly seems to look more and more like a howling man's face... "W-what in the world...?"
With another mighty roar, H'aanit's frost bear form swings savagely, bashing every tree thing in their way with mighty paws. The tree exhales a burst of greenish spores in response on all of them. H'aanit quickly dispels the beast lore and covers her face with her thick cloak.
"Curses...!"
"Ah-!" Ophilia chants a quick ward against toxins and manages to also shield Linde and Hägen, "H'aanit!"
"Letten... my arrow flyen true!" H'aanit ignores the venomous spores burning her throat as she notches several more arrows and lets them loose onto the parts of the tree which were burned by Ophilia's magic. This has a much greater effect, as her expert archery skill compounds the arrows that hit the wounded area, causing a great splintering crack to form on the tree. It swings about savagely in pain and wallops H'aanit on the head, sending her flying into Ophilia.
"Oof!" They end up in a heap. Ophilia sees blood leaking from H'aanit's scalp and panics a little, "H-H'aanit!"
"Rawr!" Hägen lunges forward and snaps at the intruding roots. Linde aids him with her swinging claws. However, the main body of the tree seems unfazed by their small assault and moves to finish them off with a rampage.
"No...!" Ophilia gives a cry.
"MY BLADE IS UNBENDING!"
Olberic comes thundering back from where he had been knocked down. Leaves and twigs stick out of his hair and armor. His blade dances as he cleaves through the tree's appendages like a hot knife through butter. The beasts have to be careful to jump out of the way as Olberic cuts deeply into the squirming roots.
"Watch my blade dance!"
He reaches the main tree body, now defenseless with much of its arms cut away. With a savage swing, Olberic embeds his sword down into the large crevice H'aanit had created with her and Ophilia's attack. His strike is so forceful that there is almost an immediate crack that deepens the wound in the tree. The giant treant maw gapes and its vestigial vines try to grab or smack Olberic. The warrior holds fast as leaves flutter down around them from the tree's final struggles.
"Haaa!" Olberic pushes down with all his might as the tree lets out a groaning cry.
The trunk body finally gives away under the stroke of his blade and the whole thing shudders, falling silent. The eyes flicker and the roots stop their movement. Silence returns to the eerie wood.
Olberic breathes heavily and wipes his head of sweat as he slowly pulls out his blade. From the tree's gash, there are some remnant spores that issue forth, almost in lieu of blood. The warrior looks around and then back to his companions with worry.
"Are you alright?" He asks as he strides over.
"A-ah, H'aanit got hit..." Ophilia says worriedly as she tries to rouse the huntress, "H'aanit? H'aanit!"
"Nrgh..." The huntress groans and sits up stubbornly, eyes closed as she presses a hand to her head.
"Was she hit on the head? That is very serious," Olberic says, having experienced that well enough himself, "Perhaps we ought to pull back for now..."
As if his suggestion had triggered her, H'aanit's eyes open, though a little unfocused. She sits up hurriedly and goes to stand, a bit wobbly.
"H'aanit!" Ophilia exclaims, "Please, wait... You're hurt..."
"Rowr..." Linde looks up to her with some worry.
"Nay, we aren... on the right track..."
"Huh?"
H'aanit staggers up to the decimated tree body and plucks out an arrow from its trunk that was there before they arrived. Despite her swimming head, she could tell, "This be'en... an arrow of master's fletching... no mistake."