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Chapter Text

It was snowing the day the mountain opened wide and took its first breath of the world above. The sky was a blinding white and the haze in the air felt so sharp it hurt to breathe.

Wraith could barely see his outstretched hand before his face, and he was sure if he removed his glove the pale white of his bones would be swallowed up by the world around it. It was a pity, the shock and awe he had anticipated for so long did not live up to his expectations. But then again, very little did. His king strode forward, a hulking mass along the cliffside, and Wraith wondered where his thoughts lay. In the prison they meant to leave behind? In the stark cold with his people huddled for warmth and cautious of this new word? Or maybe he was thinking of the past, being one of the few still alive to remember this place, and perhaps he too had expectations that were not met.

Or maybe he was thinking of the dangers of this land. It was no secret that the world above was home to monsters of a different breed. Ancient horrors spoke of in whispers lest they wake and be summoned to you. Some of the creatures were supposedly so old they existed before Souls settled into Monsters and Men. Before even love and compassion existed.

And speaking of, there was the matter of humans denizens; smaller creatures who possessed neither the size nor horror of the monsters but were cunning and ruthless in a way that made them just as dangerous.

Wraith turned away from the looming expanse and looked back to those who were the first of his kind to taste freedom. The group of 20 or so Monsters magically dwindled down to less than half. He wanted to laugh out loud but held back his mirth that his people who were only moments ago so desperate to leave actually shrank back inside to escape the harrowing wind and snow. But he did not fear the snow or the cold. He knew it well. Wraith hadn’t been in Snowdin for some time, the town that he once called home was always in a state of cold before it was swallowed up by the ever-rising tides of the black toxicant. But this felt familiar, and it was almost like greeting an old friend with a cold handshake.

Captain Undyne was beside him, grumbling about her guardsmen’s lack of fortitude under her breath. She had been buzzing the entire journey up the mountain's winding path. No one had expected the barrier to be broken so suddenly and all her questions about how it had come to fall had remained unanswered. She wouldn't let up about what happened in the castle’s basement; what happened to the Souls. Wraith refused to answer and that only spurred her on more. That was until Asgore, sensing Wraith's pain threatened to rip out her good eye if she didn't keep her questions to herself. Seemed his king was still capable of mercy.

“Winter,” Asgore grunted and it was almost lost to Wraith; the solemn word quickly carried off by the wind. “Whether beginning or waning I am not yet sure.” He turned and walked back up from the path he wandered and addressed his captains and the guards that hadn’t strayed from their position, shouting over the wind. “We are setting up here until the storm passes. Envoys will be sent to the rest of the Capital asking people to stay in their homes if they can but be prepared to leave. We can shelter back inside the mountain but–”

The sound of a distant scream pierced through the cry of the wind and Wraith lamented that it did not sound distant enough for his liking. It was like ice scraping on metal and a chill settled in him for the first time since leaving the mountain.

Undyne summoned a ring of spears that danced around her like an aura. She grabbed one and looked to the skies, ready to sink it into the heart of her foe with frightening precision. But nothing came. Nothing that they saw, at any rate.

With renewed purpose, Asgore rushed past his men and spoke with more urgency. “I want fires built at the mouth of the cave and manned all day. And not fires made of magic. It’s not the light we need but the heat!” The guards who chose to shelter inside set to work, rushing into the dark of the mountain to find materials to burn. “We can not let them burn out once they have been lit! Let your weapons burn if you have to. And rest while you can, Stars know you’ve earned it, but I want two individuals on watch at all times.”

“Sir,” came a voice that Wraith recognized as Blook the laureate. Just that one syllable came out shaky and broken into pieces, a testament to his fear. Blook was no fighter and was with them for ‘posterity’ as he called it. Lately, Wraith couldn’t find a single thing about their time spent under the mountain worth remembering. “What was that noise?”

Asgore did not search for him, knowing full well the folly of looking for a ghost in a snowstorm. Instead, he turned to Wraith and Undyne before he answered. “There are not many things that venture this far up the mountain, but rest assured those that do are better suited to it than we are. Captain Wraith, I will leave this in your hands. Captain Undyne, you will accompany me back to Hotland. We must prepare our people as best as we can for what lies ahead.”

She nodded in response before dispelling her spears barking orders to a few of her men. The bright red of her hair disappeared long before she made it to the mouth of the cave.

Asgore didn’t follow. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Do not venture out until the storm subsides, and do not let the fires die.”

“They won’t sire, not on my watch.” Wraith could already venture a guess as to why the fires were important, having heard of creatures made of ice that shy away from the flame. But curiosity was a creature too, and a morbid one at that. So he asked. “And what happens if they were to die?”

Asgore looked out over the cliffside and his large eyes grew hazy with a memory. The world he saw looked like it didn’t exist; it looked as bright and indiscernible as seeing stars behind your eyes. “Those that fear fire grow to love the ashes. You’d be dead in minutes.” That was all he offered before following the tracks Undyne made in the snow.

Wraith didn’t sleep that night. Or the night after. Or at all really. He walked silently about the makeshift camp for the entirety of the storm listening for strange new sounds to commit to memory. There was going to be much he had to learn if he wanted to survive in this world.

Chapter Text

The morning was still a long way off and the world soundly slept. Mostly. There existed plenty of things that came out at night for a plethora of reasons. Take you for example; silently meandering through the moonlit wilds as if on some romantic stroll and not looking for a man-eating monster to slay.

A rumor had begun circling around that people were disappearing near the village of Shormark, a small settlement north of the Divide. It seemed to be that unlucky inhabitants of the village were traveling out to visit their loved one’s graves but would never return. Even the occasional traveler or caravan was recorded missing, their last known whereabouts heralding somewhere near Shormark. Those who gossiped on the matter were eager to share their thoughts; it was Whispers calling them into the trees to their demise, or a sickness silently spreading that Shormark wished to keep under wraps. The most colourful theory being that unsuspecting villagers were being snatched up and sold in a secret slave ring.

Whatever the actual cause it mattered not, you made the trip North, and shortly after arriving the rumors were confirmed to have some merit; people were disappearing near the village's graveyard but at the hands of a large, hulking monster that meant to desecrate the dead and dishonor the village. The only thing no one could agree on was whether its fur was black or brown.

The plan was always to help out if you could, but now you were intrigued, curious to see the beast that was described. One that uprooted graves in some unholy fashion to degrade those that passed. You couldn't place what creature it could be. Typically things that disrupted graveyards were more ethereal in nature or at the very least human-esque. Not some form of dire beast.

The stars in the sky glistened and the moon shone brightly as you traveled to the cemetery; a full moon was a good omen to hunters, at least those from your own clan. A tribe of seers who worshiped Mother Moon in all of her glory. But to you the superstitions didn’t matter; hunting under the dark veil of a new moon simply meant you too were harder to spot.

The village’s graveyard was less than two kilometers away and you saw no signs of any tracks, no bodies, no blood trails, and no signs of a struggle raising further questions. When you reached the cemetery's edge there was no monster but you did see some of the carnage that had been described. The ground was dug up in the center, the dirt pushed off to the sides creating a ring. Headstones and wooden coffins were broken and the ruble dispersed. Whatever this was it appeared to be nesting, having chosen the graveyard as a new home.

Maybe those back at Shormark would be happy to know the creature had no intent to violate the dead, it only needed a place to lay its head. Hmm. Probably NOT a comforting thought, you mused with a smirk.

Movement from beyond the graveyard caught your attention and plain as the day yet to come was the hulking creature, perhaps similar in feature to a bear, though taller and it walked on its hindlegs. Arguably the most noticeable and off-putting feature was the arms, long and gangly hanging so low they dragged on the ground. A Wuusa’rah, you realized; a beast from deep within the Elder Burrow forest. It struck you as odd that this was to blame for almost two dozen deaths. And even odder still that there appeared to be no sign of any bodies or subsequent carrion. There wasn’t even so much as a hint of the stench of death.

While you were no expert you did know that this creature’s diet didn’t typically consist of people. They ate wild game and were skittish at best and only dangerous when backed into a corner or their territory not respected. And even then they wanted you gone, not a fight. You’ve certainly never heard of Wuusa’rah killing so many people but this creature clearly couldn't be left to its own devices.

Having never encountered one before your options had to be weighed carefully. Its large reach could be a problem, and the razor-sharp claws spelled further trouble. Range attacks would be ideal, but there was no way it wouldn’t close the distance in seconds. You'd likely get only a few shots off and maybe one throwing blade before tactics needed to change. But where to fight it?

The northern edge of the graveyard bled into the forest. What it might provide in cover wouldn’t counteract the annoyance of dodging around trees, and fighting among the disturbed graves would be just as treacherous. Your best bet was to draw it towards you and out into the open. The monster returned to its new home and busied itself clearing the space.

Well, you thought sarcastically, at least half the village would be happy to learn its fur is brown..

Staying low you crept closer to the graveyard's edge, using a dead spruce tree for cover as you repeated the plan in your head. Four javelins, four shots, you had to make each one count. You crept from behind the tree slinking closer and slipped into some tall grass on the outskirts. The Wuusa’rah had its back turned to you and it appeared to be shaking a tombstone, grunting in annoyance when it didn’t budge before bumping its head against the stone. Silently you withdrew a javelin and readied your aim before letting out a loud whistle.

It halted, ears twitching while sniffing the world around it. It made a curious sound, low and loud, not unlike the bellow of a horn before finally shuffling on its feet and turning your direction. Its large dark eyes reflected the light of the moon and after a deep breath, you moved forward stepping into your throw. The javelin loosed and struck the beast in its shoulder and within seconds you made the next throw, landing it more center, closer to its neck.

Your eyes locked, understanding and anger marring its expression and it wasted no time to close the gap. It crouched down and dashed forward on all fours, the ends of the stuck javelins snapping off as they scraped along the ground. You hopped back and your third throw missed its mark, landing again in the shoulder.

The second you made your final shot the hairs on your neck stood up and shivers ran down your spine. You knew before it landed that it would go straight into the eyes of the beast and you were rewarded with a deep, guttural roar. The Wuusa’rah stopped dead in its tracks and began to arduously pull the javelin free from its skull, the tip of it shining black in the moonlight. This gave you enough time to safely move forward, looking for the perfect angle before losing your throwing blade.

A spark of adrenaline coursed through you as the beast thrashed its body from side to side. The blade sunk deep into its socket and you resisted the urge to make a triumphant noise; it would do no good to blind a foe then tell it where you were.

Now with both eyes wounded the Wuusa’rah scrambled away, flailing its long arms forward as it fought for space and stumbled back into the cemetery. You silently followed and shored up your maul, there was no need to prolong any creature’s suffering. “Kills should be quick and clean,” echoed your childhood teachings. Now you simply needed to wait for an opening to approach and drive the spiked end into its skull.

The fur on its face grew soaked with blood that glistened as it dripped to the ground and again you hesitated, thoughts straying. Wasn’t it curious that the only signs of a fight to be found was this very one? You shook away the pointless thought and raised your maul high in the air.

Time to end this. May your soul find rest.

The beast cradled its face as one hand continued to swipe frantically forward. With a powerful swing, you drove the maul down onto its skull, but before it made contact you were thrown back and to the ground; a searing pain blossoming into your side as the wind was knocked from you.

You turned around in time to see a large dark figure lunge forward and you barely managed to wedge the handle of your maul between its jaws before it could sink sharp fangs down into your neck. The creature's breath was hot and smelled of rotting meat, turning your stomach as you struggled to push its head away.

There was another Wuusa’rah, only this one was smaller and quicker on its feet, but a lack of height certainly didn’t mean a lack of power. You didn’t even hear it coming before it struck and you cursed inwardly that you were caught off guard and overlooked something so critical. Long claws dug into the soft earth on either side of your head as it tried to rip your maul free from your hands. You needed a plan and quickly.

It has black fur. Hence the confusion in town. your brain supplied unhelpfully. With your arms occupied your only option was to try and kick the beast hard enough for it to reel back. You looked down the length of its body to determine the best spot.

It’s a boy. Fantastic.

Well, at least that thought held something of value.

With as much strength as you could muster and with no room to wind up, you aimed a kick between its legs, striking multiple times in quick succession before it pulled back in annoyance, freeing your maul from its teeth and swiping a sharpened claw at your head.

You rolled to the side avoiding the hit and stood up on your knees, fishing two large stones from your pocket. The Wuusa’rah readied another attack and seconds before it came down on you, you closed your eyes and swiped the sunstones against each other.

Even with your eyes closed the blinding light flashed through your eyelids and when you opened them the second Wuusa’rah was crouched and shaking its head as if to frantically chase away the blinding spots from its vision. Your opportunity was fleeting and you stood up from your knees, stifling your sounds of pain before striking the beast with a blow that left it crumpling to the ground, the life seeping from its body and into the earth.

One down, you thought ruefully, turning your attention to the last Wuusa’rah to dispatch. Its wailing had died down into a throaty whimper as you approached, feet treading silently on the soft, turned ground. The rise and fall of its shoulder trembled as it caught your scent, turning to face you with hollow bloodied eyes that no longer held an expression. The pain in your side was settling, a positive sign that nothing was cracked, just bruised but it still hurt to raise your weapon up and you bit back another groan of pain.

This time you settled on a different choice of parting words for the monster who wandered so far from its home. May your soul find peace somewhere soft.

It was over in one swing and the beast landed with a heavy thud. Easing down beside it you pulled free a sharp dagger from its strap on your leg and worked the tip into its mouth, cutting away at the gums and one by one wiggling the jagged teeth free. The claws were removed after, at least the ones in any decent condition, and your haul was secured into a pouch strapped to your belt.

You spotted your throwing blade nearby and reached down to pick it up when you saw something peculiar from the corner of your eye; a cluster of ivy vines hanging from tall tree branches near the forest’s edge. They hung right over a well-used path leading into the trees. The leaves came to a sinister-sharp point and were tipped with a dark shade of red, practically discernable in the dark of the night. A gentle swaying revealed darker intentions and its true nature for there wasn’t so much as a breeze in the air tonight.

The truth became as clear as a stream and you understood just why there were no bodies to be found anywhere around the graveyard. It wasn’t the Wuusa’rah killing villagers and travelers, but Sanguine Ivy, a lethal carnivorous plant. Its presence was simultaneously off-putting and aggravating; had you known about it you could have used the plant to your advantage with the Wuusa’rah, possibly leading them into a trap. But the fact that it was growing here at all was a sign of much bigger problems.

You looked over to the fallen monsters who in the end, were guilty of no crime other than making a new home where they were unwelcome. It was unlikely they could have ever been successfully relocated back to the forest and you wondered what caused them to leave their home in the first place.

At any rate, it was time to return to Shormark and inform the locals of the true killer and their serious weed problem.

The night had cooled significantly as you traveled back, made all the more obvious by the sweat you worked up chilling on your flesh. This journey took longer as your body sorted out the pain and adjusted to its lingering presence. The blow you received sliced through your armour and the furs and leather hung in tatters by your side. Your flesh was already darkening with a violent bruise but that was certainly better than the alternative. Perhaps as payment for your help, someone in Shormark could see to stitching your armour before you set off on your next night time stroll.

Chapter Text

Five days after you left Shormark you arrived in a small hamlet. It was early in the evening, the sky’s darkness not yet chasing the soft glow from the horizon away. It had a name you didn’t recognize but to your amusement, the inn and tavern was called Castaways, a horrendously generic name that you’d seen countless times before. It was by far the largest building around and the loud music could be clearly heard from outside.

This place was perfect; tiny and well off the main road. Surely a safe place to go unnoticed for the night, even if you’d still be sleeping outside.

There were few people out tonight, and those that were hurried over to the inn or meandered to their homes and barely paid you any mind. You liked this place already. In larger towns and cities people often recognized you and that came with its fair share of ring jumping. People were eager to shower you with some misguided praise or thanks that they thought they owed.

If only they knew that you were essentially following orders on some predetermined path that you had no choice but to walk, they might withhold their praise. You were owed precisely nothing for going through the motions you were simply destined to take.

But here you could forget all that. A small smile tugged at your lips, tonight you were; free to be another shadow on the wall. Listening to rumors and taking in the quiet tells that people didn’t realize they were giving off. Learning just how the world was turning through the eyes of others and if maybe the world’s path needed to be adjusted ever so slightly.

With no real job, at least nothing official, you continued to take it upon yourself to wander aimlessly and help people in any way you could. “Embrace the outside world and its people” your mother had once asked of you. She hadn’t given any sort of time frame so for now you adhered to her request to the best of your ability.

As you reached the doors to the inn you noticed the guard stationed outside, his helmet slid comically forward on his head as he nodded to your approach.

He’s practically a child, you thought. The boy could barely be over 15 years of age and someone fancied him to be a guard? Well, one does grow up fast in these times.

This hamlet, like every other settlement, was still recovering from the Black Tides, a four-year war against Queen Seraphine, and the pool of eligible guards in such a small place left much to be desired.

Hopefully he wouldn’t be finding himself in the middle of a drunken brawl that needed to be taken outside anytime soon; his nose barely came up to your chin.

You gave him a smile and returned the nod before pushing your way past the creaky wooden doors. It became immediately clear that the majority of the townsfolk were here. The place was packed and any space between tables became an impromptu dance floor.

Three people were up on a makeshift stage – old wooden pallets from the looks of it, with instruments in hand singing a familiar song while the bustling crowd stomped their feet and clapped in time to the music. Some even sang along to the chagrin of the staff.

You’d certainly be hard-pressed to find a quiet corner to relax with this ruckus but what you did see as you skirted the crowd was a familiar flash of long fiery hair at the opposite end of the tavern, strategically close to the barkeep. You stalked silently through the tavern, avoiding all eye contact with anyone else before helping yourself to a seat at the small table. The woman there paid you no mind at first, grinning at the rowdiness of the crowd and taking healthy sips of her drink.

It came as no surprise at this point that Moth would be here, she had a long-standing habit of turning up in whatever place you found yourself in and she was now a welcome sight.

At the beginning of your reluctant (on your part) friendship, you found her to be too crass, too lewd, and too meddling to get along well with. Moth however had taken a liking to you for whatever reason and went out of her way to weasel herself into your space when your paths crossed which happened at an alarming rate.

You cornered her once when she was hanging off the arm of some young man, drunk out of her tree and a devious smirk in her eyes, and demanded to know how and why she was following you. She of course denied it all, insisting that she was simply carried there by the wind.

Pattern recognition, along with her overly friendly demeanor dictated that friendship was inevitable and once you’d taken the time to learn how serious she was about her work, a newfound respect had grown. You had always assumed she was a professional whore but had been surprised to learn that she was a cartographer by trade and had recently expanded her interests to include studying the land’s more feral denizens.

She wasn’t even mad at your original assumption. In fact, she asked with a smirk and a wink, “Why can’t I be both?”

There was no one like her, and after what the two of you had gone through together during the Black Tides, becoming lifelong allies was all but destined to be.

You cleared your throat to announce your presence even though she likely knew you were here already. “Good evening Moth, how did you get here?” you asked only as a formality, already knowing the small woman's response; even mouthing along with it sarcastically.

“Carried by the wind,” she responded dreamily while greeting you with a lopsided grin. For her part, she was equally unsurprised to see you here in the middle of proverbial nowhere. “Come, my favourite huntress. Have a seat and catch me up.”

Moth continued to drink as you spoke, clearly only half-listening to the stories of your most recent travels while enjoying the room’s merriment. At one point she waved a woman over, one of the barkeeps, insisting that you needed a drink of your own and food in your belly, all the while her eyes flitted about the room looking for that special someone for the night. You knew her eyes to be a most beautiful shade of icy grey when lit by anything other than dingy tavern lighting, but dingy taverns drew her in much like her namesake.

She hardly spared you a glance as you continued to talk, that was until you recalled chasing the rumors to Shormark and of the pair of Wussa’rah you fought. Her eyes blinked away their drunken haze in an instant, turning focused and bright before she hastily pushed the cups and bowls aside to make space at the small table before she withdrew dark charcoal sticks from a bag beside her and a fresh sheet of parchment from a book in her pack.

You began to give her as detailed a description as you could recall. With your words alone she set to drawing an alarmingly accurate depiction of the beast you encountered earlier in the week. On the corner of the page, she scribbled small notes of the behavior you observed.

“Curious,” she mumbled, her voice barely carrying over the din of the noisy tavern. “Wussa’rah that far from the Great Mountains? Why could that be? And they are dangerous, there’s no question there, but my understanding is that Wussa’rah are not typically aggressive. To think they've easily killed so many in such a short time.” She carefully flipped the page over and began scribbling more notes on the back before shaking her head. “So much for the Capital’s reinstated protection. I’ll bet no guards have even grunted in response to the cry for help, let alone have even been dispatched.”

True enough, you thought solemnly.

“About that,” you began, waiting for her to finish writing her thoughts. “All those people who went missing? The Wussa’rah were not to blame, though they made an excellent scapegoat. I saw Sanguine Ivy in some trees over a path leading away from Shormark. It explains why there were no bodies to be found.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” she deadpanned. “This far north? That would be fascinating if it wasn’t so horrifying.” Moth pulled a large book from a bag hanging off of her chair and flipped through its pages until stopping on a specific map. She traced a finger along its surface, zig-zagging it until she found the town in question. Small markings were added near the detailed tree line that represented the forest near town before she set to writing in the margin of the map the approximate date and names of the creatures found.

“How could it have even got there? It naturally spreads over time if left to grow, but it’s only been found in the southern jungles. Until now I’ve always assumed it couldn’t survive in anything but a sweltering climate. You don’t suppose someone has learned how to propagate it, do you?”

She looked up at you for insight, but you shrugged into your drink. “Couldn't say, the one I saw was young, barely any red in its leaves. Should be easy enough for the town to burn away the infected trees. Now, how about you Moth? Anything worth sharing?”

“As a matter of fact,” she said while slipping her supplies back in their bags. “I stumbled upon a most heinous beast while I was at The Capital. A hulking boar that walks on its hind legs. It reeked so much of death I thought my nose would jump from my face. Its wandering eyes relentless, and its very existence a perverse blight on the Earth.”

You furrowed your brow trying to recall any such monster but came up short. “What was it?” you asked before taking another sip.

Her smile quickly turned coy as she said “Vanguardsman Callon.”

You choked on your drink and pressed your arm to your mouth, wiping away the sputtered mess. Your smile came easily despite the now wet sleeve and matched hers. “Truly? How terrifying. That’s a beast even I’m afraid to approach. I suppose the Capital is on their own with this horror.”

The current song ended in an eruption of cheers and the crowd was settled by the bard’s open hand before a slow and forlorn chord played on his lute. A song you didn’t recognize filled the air and patrons used this lull in the atmosphere to refresh their food and drinks.

“What’s next for you then huntress?” Moth asked while stowing away the remaining pieces of parchment. “I hear preparations for the Pyre Festival are well underway. You could always check them out.”

You pointedly ignored her suggestion to visit the Capital “Who knows,” was your vague reply. “I may as well cast a stone on one of your maps to help guide my way. But perhaps Little Reach next. I used up the last of my sunstones and need to replenish my supplies.”

“That costs a pretty piece,” she mused. “Would you try and mine it yourself?”

You snorted at the question. “Barter for it of course. There’s is always something someone needs and I am an excellent problem solver.” A serious look marred your expression and you physically held back a shudder. “You couldn't pay me to set foot in those caves.”

“Ah ha, so there are some things that yet scare you? The mighty Hallowed from the East.”

You cringed at the name and rolled your eyes at her implication. “I never said there wasn’t.”

“But you implied it,” she countered.

“No, the world did that. I simply grew tired of correcting them.”

"Well then, fuck the world,” she sneered, raising her glass. Whether she meant metaphorically or literally, you remained unsure. “To a hard knock life, huntress” At that moment a gruff-looking man walked past your table toward the bar and her gaze followed, grey eyes shifting with the sway of his hips.

You knocked your cup to hers but she didn’t notice, much to your amusement.

Moth’s voice grew quieter “And to other… hard knocks, perhaps?”

Ah, large muscles, sharp jaw, and blonde dreadlocks – a telltale sign that your time with her was adjourned. She didn't even acknowledge you as she arose and set upon her newest conquest of the evening, following swiftly behind him to the bar’s counter.

Hopefully, there would be no pictures to be shared of this particular beast, but you knew Moth well enough to know that was probably asking too much. She loved oversharing.

Now friendless for the evening it seemed like as good of a time as any to finish up and find a safe place to rest for the night. Most people had no qualms with you sleeping in their stables or fields and you typically didn’t ask much in the way of permission these days. Chances are whoever the lands belonged to wouldn’t even notice that you had come and gone.

With your drink downed and the remaining bread crammed into your mouth, you spun on your heels to find yourself face to face with Moth again. Even in the dim light, you could see her pupils were blown wide as she bounced on the heels of her feet.

“Don’t run off into the night just yet, yes? I’ll find you in the morning, I need to speak with you again before you leave.” Despite being well past tipsy she reigned it in to give you a sober pleading look.

“Then why not speak to me now?” you asked trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice.

There was a mischievous glint in her eye and she wrinkled her nose. “Now’s not the time. Love waits for no one my friend, and who am I to ignore its wanton call?” She turned away but stopped to give you a look over her shoulder. “Wait for me, it’s imperative we speak.”

“Alright,” you conceded, “but I won’t stay long, so don’t sleep in.”

“Oh, I never do, huntress.”

Moth hurried her way up the stairs to the paid rooms where that poor man surely lay in wait, unaware of the trouble yet to come. Of all the things you’d fearlessly face down a naked and aroused Moth was not something you were chomping at the bit to experience. In fact, you had yet to see the aftermath of one of her conquests. She always turned in for the night with another; sometimes hand in hand, sometimes clothes slipping off as quickly as they could run to their room, but she always came back decidedly alone.

Your evening came to a quick end once she left and was spent behind the tavern listening to the muffled music and in the company of fireflies. The night was warm and you drifted off to a light, dreamless sleep.

In the morning you chose to wait for Moth close to the doors of the inn. You passed the time sharpening the small throwing blades that were kept strapped to your leg. As expected when she exited the building, travel clothes donned and bags strapped to her back she was unsurprisingly alone. The object of her affection was nowhere to be seen and she was glowing brightly as a mid-day sun. She always looked remarkably rejuvenated and almost younger after a late-night tryst. One of life’s many mysteries that you had no desire to unravel.

You stood at her approach. “Alright Moth, what do you wish to speak about?”

“Good morning to you too. So, it hadn’t occurred to me straight away and I thought nothing of it at first, but the Wussa’rah are not the only monsters I’ve heard as of late traveling away from their homes. In Aeon’s Deep, there was a mass influx of grey tusks. They appeared to be diseased. The whole herd was culled in case whatever sickness they had could spread to people.” Moth sucked in her bottom lips as she recalled more sightings. “And Kelpies have been reported sighted as far south as Skullport, traveling to the lakes in the area. Of course, I haven’t yet verified any of this myself. But it seems odd, does it not?”

You thought for a moment, migration was very common behavior for many creatures and you saw no cause for concern. “I suppose so, but it could be something seasonal. Or just a coincidence.”

“Or,” she offered quietly, “ caused by another ancient horror waking up?”

You frowned, unamused by the joke but the look on her face spoke volumes about her seriousness. “No. I’m sure that’s not it. If it were, witches would be squawking like grave gulls. We’d hear something about it by now.”

“Witches are not always the first to know when forces in the world are shifting huntress. It’s monsters and animals. Creatures that are older than us. I just think we should keep our eyes and ears open. That’s all.” Moth sighed and looked up at the sky. Her red hair was far more striking outside and all who passed you by took notice of her. She was beautiful despite her frown and the way she worried her bottom lip. “Let’s continue our travels and plan to meet up again soon to compare notes.”

“So... business usual?” you joked with a small shrug.

She huffed but a slight smile still blossomed before turning into a lopsided grin. You both snickered quietly together, the soured mood quickly chased away.

You had been so focused on Moth that you didn’t hear the quiet footfalls of a man approaching until he was suddenly right upon you. He was short and wore light, flowing travel robes. The second you noticed the white makeup on his face, a painted line down the center of both lips you stepped back but it was too late. His hand shot out like a snaked and gripped tightly to your own as an uncomfortable heat spread throughout your arm.

Moth glared daggers at the man but didn’t intervene. She clearly understood the magic being used even if there were no visible signs of it. “Just what the hell do you think you are doing?!”

The man ignored her and held his gaze intently to your own. He was a runner for the King, further discernable by the white line of eyeshadow under his eyes and his hair cleanly shaved off. His smile was wide and all teeth as he spoke. “Hello, huntress. You’ve been quite the tricky little girl to find.”

You grunted in response but bit back any acidic remarks. The damage was already being done and the sooner he said his piece the sooner he’d be on his way.

“The King requests your presence at the palace for the upcoming celebration. And may I add in a timely fashion?” As soon as the request was spoken the heat spreading through your body began to subside.

Once he pulled his hand away and took a step away from you Moth shoved him back even further, prompting you to step in to try and prevent any further altercations. She wrestled out of your grip and turned towards the man.

“An impetus curse! Under the King’s orders? Was that foul magic not outlawed when the Queen was overthrown? How reassuring to see her filth still survives to this day.” Moth spat on the ground but made no further moves toward the man. Her face was a shade of red that almost rivaled her hair. Moth kept glancing between the runner and your wrist, enraged knowing there was nothing she could do about the magic now weaved into your body.

“Outlawed? Don’t make me laugh. My job is to deliver a message to the Hallowed and ensure that she finds her way to the palace. I’ve simply guaranteed my success on the matter.” The runner licked at his lips and gave Moth a half-hearted bow. “But if my liege demands an apology for my shameful behavior I will willingly give it.”

When he stood back up the smile on his face turned cruel, a startling reminder of your time fighting these people when they fought for Queen Seraphine. He lifted up his hand and have the flesh of wrist a gentle kiss. “I’ll even accept a hearty slap on the wrist if he so chooses.”

“If we’re quite done here,” Moth began, “please be on your way and kindly fuck off down a cliff to your painful demise.”

“Doesn’t that sound just lovely?” he asked before turning around and walking away. “You ladies have a nice day.”

You both watched him intently as he sauntered his way toward the road. Only when he was finally out of sight did you allow yourself to relax.

“I should have been paying closer attention. Could have tried to lose him in the forest nearby. Though I can’t say I expected this,” you commented while further examining your hand.

Any traces of unnatural warmth was now gone and with it any signs that something was amiss. For now.

The impetus curse was a type of magic heavily frowned upon. One is given an order or a direction and any actions or inactions you take that don’t help fulfill the directive will leave you feeling unwell and best and dead at worst.

The moment you first noticed you were being sought out you had taken extra precautions to go unnoticed. Large cities and main roads were avoided but clearly you had grown too complacent.

“So his flies found you in the end?”

“They always do,” you huffed in response. The longer you avoid the King’s runners the more persistent they always became.

“Unsettling isn’t it, to think of them as belonging to him now? You should have hunted them all down after the war.”

“The fighting was over. They put down their weapons and swore a new allegiance. Was I just suppose to go on a mass murder spree in the streets?” you asked incredulously.

Moth shrugged, “I would have kept your secret.” Even as she joked her still demeanor seemed deeply troubled.

“Unbelievable,” you murmured. Not that you balmed her. You tried to swing the conversation in another direction. “So much for getting more sunstone, hey?”

Moth continued to look upset, sadder than you’d ever seen before but eventually, she took in a deep breath and took the bait. “There, there huntress. The markets will have some. And a dagger to stick in your ear once Callon starts talking. But it’s no small journey to the Capital. How do you plan on getting there?”

“I’ll set off on foot today. Now that I don’t need to avoid cities I can go to one and find a caravan to travel with.”

The sun was higher in the sky now and the small village was filling with the sounds of people working for the day and small children playing. Moth smiled at a small girl who was pulling at her mother’s clothes and pointing to her. Most likely awed by her thick bright locks. The mother scolded the child for pointing and dragged her along.

“Take this trail South West and it will come to a fork in the road. Go right at the fork and in two days’ time you’ll be at Mortamir City. It’s the closest place you’ll likely find a caravan heading to the Capital. Don’t stray if you can help it,” she warned, her expression turning grave again. “It doesn’t take much for the curse to worsen.”

“Thank you Moth.”

She offered one of her rare, deep smiles. The ones that her wrinkles couldn’t hide behind and made her pale eyes look soft and inviting. “Take care of yourself. Until our paths cross again, my friend.” Moth waved you off before walking East with the cool summer breeze.

For a moment you just stood there. There was no way of geting around your newest path, but for a few brief seconds, you wished for the freedom you had not ten minutes ago.

Out of curiosity, you took a few steps backward, due East and the opposite direction of the Capital. Once your body made it ten paces back a dull pain blossomed in your right temple. Thankfully it disappeared once you moved forward towards the path Moth had described.

You spoke out loud but quietly, a plea to the world around you. “No distractions this time, please. The monsters under your bed will just have to behave themselves for now.”‘