The air felt heavy, like it was holding its breath. I adjusted the pack on my shoulders and glanced at the sky. Dark clouds gathered on the horizon, their edges tinged with a menacing purple hue. A low rumble of thunder rolled in the distance, faint but growing closer.
“Storm’s coming,” Torrin said, his voice flat as he walked a few paces ahead of me. He didn’t break stride, but his hand shifted to rest on the hilt of his sword, a habit he couldn’t seem to shake.
“We should find shelter soon,” I replied, quickening my pace to keep up with him. Glowbug hummed faintly from the hood of my cloak, its light dimmed to almost nothing. It was a small comfort, even though the little creature wasn’t likely to be much help against lightning and rain.
Torrin nodded but didn’t look back. His gaze was fixed on the road ahead, where the dirt path wound its way through a shallow valley. The trees that lined the sides of the road were sparse in this stretch, their twisted branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. There wouldn’t be much cover here if the storm broke.
I was about to suggest we pick up the pace when Torrin suddenly stopped. He held up a hand, signaling me to halt. I froze mid-step, watching as he tilted his head slightly, listening. After a moment, he turned and stepped off the road, gesturing for me to follow. His movements were deliberate but quiet, and I mimicked him as best I could, my heart pounding.
We crouched low behind a cluster of thick bushes. Torrin motioned toward the road behind us. “Look,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the rising wind.
At first, I saw nothing. Then, in the distance, a wagon appeared, trundling up the road toward us. It was flanked by three riders, their mounts moving with the steady gait of seasoned warhorses. The wagon itself was enclosed, its sides reinforced with heavy iron bars. A faint metallic clinking carried on the wind, like chains rattling against one another.
“Bounty hunters,” Torrin said, his tone grim.
I swallowed hard, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach. “You’re sure?”
“That’s not a farmer’s wagon,” he replied. “And those riders aren’t traders. Too well-armed, too disciplined. Look at how they keep formation. They’re guarding something.”
I squinted at the wagon, trying to make out more details. The riders wore mismatched armor, but their weapons were well-maintained and ready at their sides. One of them carried a long spear, its tip glinting even in the overcast light. Another had a crossbow slung across their back, the bolts neatly tucked into a quiver at their hip. These weren’t amateurs.
Torrin’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. “Stay low. Let them pass.”
I nodded, crouching deeper into the bushes. My breathing was shallow as the wagon drew closer, the creak of its wheels and the steady clop of hooves growing louder. I’d seen enough bounty hunters in Eldston to know they were dangerous, but this felt different. There was something colder about these men—efficient, professional, and entirely unyielding.
As the wagon passed, I noticed movement behind the iron bars. Shapes shifted in the dim interior, the faint outlines of people huddled together. My chest tightened as I caught a glimpse of a small hand clutching one of the bars, fingers thin and pale.
Glowbug stirred in my hood, its hum growing slightly louder. My Sense Magic flared to life, a faint but unmistakable tingle spreading through my chest. I focused on the wagon, narrowing my vision as I activated my Inspect Talent. Words flickered faintly in the corner of my sight, almost too quick to process.v
Captives: Magic users, various Types
Condition: Suppressed.
Age Range: Child to Elderly.
The blood drained from my face. “Torrin,” I whispered urgently, leaning close. “There are children in that wagon.”
He didn’t look at me, his eyes still locked on the passing caravan. “Stay quiet,” he muttered.
“No, you don’t understand,” I insisted, my voice trembling. “They’re magic users. My Sense Magic picked it up. There are kids in there, Torrin. We can’t just let this go.”
He finally turned to me, his expression hard. “And what do you suggest we do? There are three armed riders, and we don’t know how many more inside that wagon. You want to charge in and get yourself killed?”
I clenched my fists, frustration boiling beneath my fear. “We have to do something. We can’t just let them take those kids. Who knows what they’ll do to them just because they have magic?”
Torrin’s jaw tightened. He looked back at the wagon, which was now moving farther down the road. The riders seemed relaxed, their weapons resting at their sides, but their watchful gazes swept the area with practiced precision.
“Wait,” Torrin said finally. “We follow them. At a distance. When the storm hits, they’ll have to stop. That’s when we act.”
I exhaled, relief mixing with the knot of anxiety in my chest. “Alright. But we’re not leaving them, Torrin.”
He gave me a sharp look, then nodded once. “We’ll figure it out. But we do this quietly, and we do it my way. No heroics, Worgslayer.”
I nodded, though my mind was already racing ahead, trying to think of how we could free the captives. The wagon was nearly out of sight now, the riders blending into the growing haze of the storm. Torrin motioned for me to follow, and we slipped back onto the road, keeping low as we trailed the caravan from a safe distance. The first raindrops began to fall, cold and fat against my skin, as the storm closed in.
The first raindrops began to fall, cold and fat against my skin, as the storm closed in. The rumble of thunder grew louder, and the wind picked up, carrying the scent of rain and distant lightning. Torrin’s pace quickened, his movements deliberate but careful as he kept us just within sight of the wagon. The bounty hunters ahead didn’t seem to notice us, their focus trained on the road and the worsening weather.
Glowbug’s hum faded into a soft vibration against my neck, as though the little creature sensed the need for absolute quiet. Torrin gestured for me to stay close, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.
“Keep low,” he whispered. “And watch your footing.”
The road became slick with mud as the rain intensified. Torrin moved with practiced ease, but I struggled to keep my balance, my boots sliding with each step. The wagon ahead slowed, the wheels groaning as they sank into the softening ground. One of the riders dismounted, cursing as he inspected the axle.
“They’ll stop soon,” Torrin murmured, crouching behind a fallen log. I joined him, my heart pounding as I peered through the rain. The bounty hunters were clearly agitated, shouting over the storm as they debated their next move. Finally, the leader, a stocky man with a scar running down his cheek, barked an order. The riders began unpacking tarps and setting up a makeshift camp by the roadside.
“This is it,” Torrin said. “We wait until they’re settled, then we move.”
I nodded, wiping rain from my face as I scanned the camp. The bounty hunters were efficient, their movements practiced as they secured the wagon and tethered their horses. Two of them lit a fire, the orange glow flickering against the stormy backdrop. My stomach twisted as I spotted the captives huddled in the wagon, their silhouettes barely visible through the bars.
“What’s the plan?” I asked, my voice barely audible over the storm.
Torrin’s eyes narrowed as he studied the camp. “Glowbug.”
I stiffened. “What about Glowbug?”
“We use it as a distraction,” he said. “The bounty hunters won’t be able to resist investigating something strange and glowing in the dark. While they’re occupied, I’ll pick the lock on the wagon and get the captives out.”
I hesitated, the idea of sending Glowbug into danger making my chest tighten. But I couldn’t deny the logic. “And me?”
“You keep the kids quiet and watch my back. If anyone notices what we’re doing, we’ll need to act fast.”
The rain poured harder as we waited for the bounty hunters to settle in. They posted two guards, one pacing the perimeter and the other stationed near the wagon. The rest gathered around the fire, their laughter and coarse jokes cutting through the storm. I clenched my fists, the sight of their casual camaraderie sickening me.
When Torrin finally moved, it was with the fluidity of a shadow. He gestured for Glowbug, and I sent a mental command. The little creature’s light brightened, casting a soft glow that danced through the trees. Glowbug darted out from my hood and hovered just beyond the camp’s edge, its movements erratic and enticing.
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“What the hell is that?” one of the guards said, squinting through the rain.
“Go check it out,” another growled, nudging him with an elbow.
The first guard hesitated, then began trudging toward the glow, his weapon drawn. A second bounty hunter joined him, the two disappearing into the trees in pursuit of Glowbug. Torrin shot me a quick glance, his expression tense but determined.
“Now,” he mouthed.
We moved quickly but quietly. Torrin reached the wagon first, his lockpicks already in hand. I crouched near the rear wheel, keeping an eye on the remaining guard. The man’s attention was divided between the fire and the darkened forest, his posture relaxed but alert. My heart hammered in my chest as I willed him to stay put.
Torrin worked with practiced precision, the lock clicking faintly under his skilled hands. The captives inside stirred, their faces pale and gaunt in the dim light. I pressed a finger to my lips, signaling them to stay quiet. A young boy clung to an older girl, his wide eyes brimming with fear. My chest ached as I crouched closer, whispering softly.
“It’s alright. We’re getting you out. Just stay calm, okay?”
The girl nodded, her arms tightening protectively around the boy. The lock gave way with a soft clink, and Torrin eased the cage door open. The captives began to climb out, their movements slow and cautious. I helped the younger children, guiding them to a nearby cluster of bushes where they could hide while we freed the others.
The guard by the fire suddenly turned, his gaze snapping to the wagon. His eyes widened as he took in the open door and the fleeing captives. “Hey!” he shouted, reaching for his weapon.
Torrin moved like lightning, his sword flashing as he closed the distance. The guard barely had time to react before Torrin’s blade struck, the wet sound of steel meeting flesh making my stomach churn. The man crumpled, his weapon clattering to the ground. I barely had time to process what had happened before a strong arm yanked me backward.
I gasped as another bounty hunter grabbed me from behind, his grip crushing against my shoulders. Instinct took over. I plunged and twisted the dagger from my boot into his thigh. He howled, loosening his grip just enough for me to break free.2
Before he could recover, Torrin’s dagger flew through the air, burying itself in the man’s eye with a wet thud. The bounty hunter dropped like a stone, his scream cut short. My breath came in ragged gasps as Torrin retrieved his blade with a practiced motion, wiping it clean on the man’s cloak.
“Move,” Torrin ordered, his voice sharp. He was already scanning for the other guards. I helped the last of the children out of the wagon, the older captives forming a protective cluster around them as we hurried into the cover of the forest. The rain masked the sound of our escape, but I didn’t dare look back.
Your party has defeated: Human x2
You have gained 55 Experience Points.
You have gained a Level.
Available Attribute Points: 5
I dismissed the notification immediately, focusing instead on guiding the captives through the thick underbrush. The storm pressed in from all sides, and the distant shouts of the remaining bounty hunters were muffled by the roar of rain and wind.
I sent a mental command to Glowbug: Hide. Dim your light. Find me when it’s safe. Off in the distance, the little creature’s glow faded to almost nothing, vanishing into the shadows as if it were never there. I turned my attention back to the group, helping the children settle as we prepared to move again.
Torrin took the lead, his steps swift and purposeful. I stayed near the middle of the group, my eyes darting between the children and the shadows around us. The captives moved as quickly as they could, their fear driving them forward despite the mud and underbrush. The storm pressed in from all sides, and the distant shouts of the remaining bounty hunters were muffled by the roar of rain and wind.
When Torrin finally signaled for us to stop, the captives collapsed onto the damp ground, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. I knelt beside the youngest children, whispering reassurances as I checked them for injuries. Torrin stood a few paces away, his sword still in hand, his eyes scanning the darkened forest for any sign of pursuit.
The rain continued to fall in a relentless curtain, soaking through every layer of clothing and turning the forest floor into a slick, muddy mess. We pressed forward through the underbrush, the captives moving in a huddled group behind Torrin. I felt a rush of relief when Glowbug reappeared. It hovered briefly, shaking the rain from its fur and feathers in a flurry of droplets before nestling once more in the safety of my hood. Its faint purring was barely audible over the rain, but its presence was comforting.
“We can’t stay on the roads,” Torrin said, his voice cutting through the sound of the downpour. He stopped to look over his shoulder at the group, water dripping from his hair and the tip of his nose. “The bounty hunters will send riders ahead to cut us off. We’ll take the forest paths. It’s slower, but it’s safer.”
A few of the captives murmured nervously, glancing at each other. Torrin didn’t wait for their agreement. He turned and began cutting a path through the undergrowth, his blade slicing cleanly through low-hanging branches.
As we walked, the tension among the group was palpable. Some of the captives were holding hands, clinging to each other for comfort. A middle-aged man stumbled beside me, his eyes glassy with exhaustion. I wanted to say something to reassure them, but words felt inadequate.
After a time, Torrin called for a halt under the shelter of a large tree. “We’ll deal with the suppression collars now,” he said, gesturing for the group to gather around. He knelt and set to work on the first captive, a woman with a young child clutching her leg. Using a fine tool from his kit, Torrin pried open the mechanism of the collar with deft precision. It clicked open, and the woman gasped as it fell away. She touched her neck gingerly, her eyes filling with tears.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Torrin nodded curtly and moved on to the next person. One by one, the collars were removed and tossed into the bushes. Torrin passed me one of his picks, and I busied myself freeing a young boy who sat quietly beside his sister. His collar was rusted and worn, and I hadn’t gotten the Lockpicking Talent yet.
After some effort, and probably by accident rather than any skill on my part, the collar finally popped open. The boy looked at me with wide eyes, then down at his hands as though expecting them to do something miraculous. His sister squeezed his shoulder, her expression protective.
Once the last collar had been dealt with, the group broke into murmured discussions. Several of the captives began talking about returning to their village.
“We have to go back,” one man insisted. “My family might still be there. My wife…”
“Going back is suicide,” Torrin said sharply, rising to his feet. He wiped his hands on his cloak and fixed the man with a hard stare. “The bounty hunters will go straight to the village once they realize you’re gone. If they find you there, they won’t bother putting you back in the wagon. They’ll kill you and burn the place to the ground for good measure.”
“But my family—” the man started, his voice trembling.
“There’s nothing left there,” Torrin interrupted. “I’m sorry, but that’s the truth.”
The man’s shoulders sagged, and he turned away, his face crumpling in despair. A few others in the group exchanged uneasy glances. One woman, clutching a bundle to her chest, stepped forward.
“I’ll take my chances,” she said firmly. “If there’s even the smallest chance my husband is alive, I have to go back.”
Several others nodded, voicing similar sentiments. Torrin didn’t argue further, only stepping aside as they prepared to leave. “Good luck,” he said, his tone neutral.
A handful of captives chose to stay with us, but as we continued walking, more of them split off, heading toward other settlements where they claimed to have family. Torrin’s expression grew darker with each departure, but he didn’t try to stop them.
By the time the rain eased into a light drizzle, only the boy and girl were left walking with us. The girl, who couldn’t have been more than nineteen, carried herself with a protective determination that reminded me of Torrin. Her brother, younger by several years, was quiet but observant, his wide eyes scanning the forest as though cataloging every detail.
As we stopped to rest by a fallen log, I knelt beside them. “Do you have anywhere to go?” I asked gently.
The girl shook her head, her jaw tightening. “Our parents are dead,” she said bluntly. “They died in the raid.”
Her brother didn’t speak, only looking down at his hands. My Sense Magic activated, and I noticed a small ripple pass through the puddle at his feet, as though the rainwater was responding to his emotions. The sight tugged at something deep in my chest.
“You could come with us,” I offered. “We’re heading to Dawnspire. It’s a big city, and it’s supposed to be safe for magic users.”
The girl hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied me. “Why would you want us to come with you?”
“Because I know what it’s like to feel lost,” I said simply. “And because I think we’ll do better if we stick together.”
She glanced at her brother, who gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod. She let out a breath and nodded back at me. “Alright. We’ll come. I'm Lyra, by the way," she said after a pause. "This is my brother, Evan."
“I’m Harriet, but you can call me Hattie if you like.” I smiled, “Pleased to meet you.”
“Alright,” Torrin said, rising from where he had been leaning against a tree. “We need to keep moving. The rain’s slowing, but it’ll cover our tracks for a while longer. Let’s not waste it.”
As we walked, Evan moved closer to me, his footsteps nearly silent. After a moment, he spoke, his voice quiet but clear. “Thank you.”
I glanced down at him, surprised by the weight in his words. “You don’t have to thank me,” I said. “We’re in this together now.”
He nodded and fell silent again, but his presence at my side was a steady anchor in the storm of uncertainty that threatened to overwhelm me. Glowbug hummed softly in my hood, and I reached up to pat the little creature’s side. Torrin gestured for us to keep moving, his eyes scanning the rain-soaked forest ahead. Lyra tightened her grip on her brother’s hand, and we fell into step behind him, the sound of our footsteps muffled by the wet ground.
Name: Harriet Price
Age: 24
Type: Human (Level 2)
Titles(0/1): None
Classes(1/1): Apprentice
Professions(0/1): None
Talents(10/15): Basic Archery, Basic Cooking, Basic Endurance, Basic Mending, Basic Sneak, Basic Survival Instincts,
Intermediate Crafting, Intermediate Housekeeping, Intermediate Identify, Sense Magic
Condition: Normal
Attributes:
Vitality: 65/65
Physical: 16
Mental: 17
Social: 12
Luck: 11
Experience: 15/200
Available Attribute Points: 5