“I think I can walk,” Midhir muttered, pressing his hands against the ground, and pushing himself up on his knees. Wincing at the sharp pain that struck his right hand, he raised his gaze as he motioned to get up and drew a sharp breath as he noticed his surroundings.

The world seemed to have been dyed in red. The chalk-coloured monument, and its tendrils intertwining with the Old Growth’s roots had turned a dark crimson. Bright red flowers were blooming on the roots – flowers he had only seen once before.

As his heart sank, he felt blood drain from his face. “What happened here?” His voice was but a whisper as he pushed himself up on his feet. “The Veil… is it torn?” he pointed at the blooming flowers as he looked all around him, trying to spot a tear in the Veil.

His gaze sought the fracture in reality – the blue, vortex like rift like he saw in Lohssa, but all he saw were the unconscious bodies of the assailants scattered around the monument and in the Old Growth. “Where are the soldiers?” He asked as he noticed their absence.

Captain Rianne’s voice reached his ears, startling him. “We sent them off with the person we rescued. The young Lord and I stayed behind to try and wake you up,” she curtly replied. “We must go. We wasted enough time.”

While her tone didn’t give it away, she seemed rather nervous. Constantly glancing towards the northern side of the forest, she rested her hand on her sword’s hilt. She looked like she wanted to be as far away from here as possible, and Midhir couldn’t blame her.

“I can walk,” he stated, breathing out. “Let’s not waste any more time.”

He couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder at the monument as they walked away.

“A few of them escaped after she cut your hand,” Alistair’s voice reached his ears, pulling his mind back to the present. “They ran north, we assume towards the rest of their forces.”

With a scowl, Midhir nodded. These people were an organised group, with a clear goal in mind. They wanted to awaken one of the Old Gods, or maybe all of them. A group of a few dozen people wasn’t enough to accomplish such a goal.

“We’re faced with a terrorist organisation,” he whispered absentmindedly as he rubbed his left eye with his hand. Out of habit, he placed his right hand on the hilt of his sword, only to feel a sharp pain, causing him to flinch.

“I tried to heal your wound,” Captain Rianne pointed at his hand wrapped in a thick layer of bandages, “but it didn’t work. All that healing just vanished. All I did was numb the area, so you don’t feel as much pain.”

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Midhir pursed his lips. He did remember feeling something warm in his palm moments before he woke up. Or, as he was waking up. He wasn’t sure, nor did it matter. “I don’t think the healing just vanished,” he hesitantly spoke as they made their way through the Old Growth. He was almost certain that her healing had stopped the immense pain of his eye being destroyed in what he hoped was a nightmare.

He traced the shape of his eye with his fingers, carefully feeling his eyelid and eyelashes. He pressed lightly, feeling his eye underneath his closed eyelid. It was fine, right? It was, it was perfectly fine.

“What happened to it, then?” she asked with a scowl.

Midhir was about to answer when Alistair suddenly hushed them, grabbing their shoulders, and pulling them behind a tree covered in dark blue and black vines. The young noble quickly reached up with his spear, hooking it to the vines hanging from the tree branch above them, and pulling them down like a curtain to hide behind.

As the dark coloured vines surrounded them, Midhir shuddered. It took quite a bit of his willpower not to move. They reminded him of the tendrils that caught him and struck his eye. That pain was still fresh in his mind, and so was the sheer terror he felt upon comprehending what he was looking at.

They crouched, hiding behind the tree, hidden from all sides by the thick roots rising from the earth, and the vines concealing them. Not even a handful of breaths later, footsteps reached their ears.

“Are you sure she survived?” a woman’s voice rang.

“Yes, my lady,” a man replied with a shaky, frightened voice. “I saw them carrying both her and Lady Elaine off.”

“You also saw some of them remain behind to care for the Unworthy.” She retorted curtly. “Yet he wasn’t there.”

Alistair shot Midhir a rather worried glance. Captain Rianne tightened her hold on the hilt of her blade just as a tall woman entered their field of view.

Wearing a simple leather padded armour and leggings, and knee-high working boots, she certainly didn’t look like a lady. Her unnaturally white and ghostly hair immediately caught his attention, as well as the whip she was holding in her hands, fiddling with it as she walked.

About a dozen people followed her. One of them wore simple robes – it was the frightened man she was talking with. One of the people who escaped. The others all wore leather armour, capes, armoured boots and gloves, and helmets. They carried swords sheathed in scabbards hanging from their belts, and bows over their shoulders. Unlike the somewhat disorganised group Midhir and the others fought before, these people were clearly well trained.

Alistair very slightly shook his head. They couldn’t fight them.

“He was there when I left, my lady!” The robed man pleaded. “I swear it!”

The woman stopped, stretching her back with an audible sigh. “Well, it’s clear that even the blood of someone unworthy is enough to stir the Great One from his slumber,” She turned to face her men. “This has proven an unlucky day, the ritual was interrupted by Lord Orlein’s forces. Visha was unable to complete her purpose, but all is not yet lost!” She raised her voice, clenching her fist around her whip and holding it up.

“The Blood of the Unworthy has started the ritual! You know how it must end! Now go!”

The group of armoured and armed men and woman shouted in unison before rushing past where Midhir, Alistair, and Rianne was hiding. Moments later, only the woman and the robed man remained.

“What should I do, my Lady?” he sheepishly asked.

The woman’s lips curled up with a smile. “Come with me, you have an important job to do as well, my dear,” she brushed the back of her hand against his cheek before walking away, back to where they came from.