Condensation came from their mouths, their bodies shivering mildly as they advanced in the tunnels. Their walk was long through the cavern path, only illuminated with hung-up wooden torches and the fungi by their feet and carriage wheels. The stale air was almost intoxicating, making Ronan wish he stayed outside a bit longer. The passageway soon gave way to numerous others. His arm brushed against bumpy stone walls. They maneuvered to their left, the twigs crunching underfoot as they continued. He could hear the cracklings of the fire, smelling the wood smoke and char. "Oh...Raygnar...might be best to have a hood over your head for now."

Raygnar nodded and did what was told, the large, thick cloak hiding his face. "Oh, by the way, where should I park my horse and carriage?"

Ronan mulled it over; however, Kyle answered it for him: "Maybe we can have him park it near Mrs. Stark's home? She's next door to where the horse ranch is anyway."

Mrs. Stark was an elderly woman who lived by herself; everyone in the establishment recognized her knowledge of medicine and care. Unfortunately, it was known that she had lost her whole family to the Pencari. Her children were kidnapped, and her husband was killed. The pain would always be seen in her aged features and drooping eyes. It gave people like Ronan more determination to make sure no one suffered through it again, but he would do it differently. "Whose Mrs. Stark?"

"Our doctor," Kyle went right up to the front next to Raygnar, arms crisscrossed on the edge of the carriage. "Elderly lady; very nice. And I bet she'll probably like to answer most of your questions for us." A calming smile arose from him as the Draconic Elf hummed, thinking. Huon grumbled, but he shrugged as he tried to focus on the more important matters: How would he explain this to people?

They continued on the pathway without speaking until the area got warmer. The whole settlement was seen below them. The landscape left Raygnar in awe, almost reminded him of the cities he would see in the old picture books, except smaller in height...and dull in color. "Hey Ronan," Huon's voice pierced through the stillness, "Why don't you lead the..." He drawled out, exhaling. "Lead the guy to Mrs. Stark. I'll meet you with River over there once I explain what happened." With that, Huon walked off.

Ronan frowned at the notion of Huon going ahead of them but was more concerned about the reception Raygnar would get. The only way to find out was to see how Mrs. Stark reacted. Guiding the horse-drawn carriage, he walked down the very steep trail. He monitored every step through, looking for possible holes in the carriage that might get stuck. Once they reached the bottom, he trod more lightly, approaching the fenced-in pasture with a wooden home up the hill. The house had two floors, with the first floor expanded and longer than the top.

Ronan turned back and pointed two fingers to the side of the house. "Park the carriage there. Kyle and I will greet Mrs. Stark."

Kyle sprang out of the carriage to follow Ronan while Raygnar guided his horse & carriage to the specific spot. The two approached the front porch and knocked on the door. "Mrs. Stark?" Ronan called, "It's Ronan and Kyle." He backed off slightly, waiting for a response.

After a bit, he heard movement from inside, getting closer. The handle jiggled before it opened to reveal Mrs. Stark in a simple dress with her hair in a bun, wrapped with a scarf. The warmest of smiles radiated from her, "Oh~, it's so good to see you." She came over and gave the man a hug, which caused Ronan to wince. He usually would ask not to be hugged, but for one, she was a very petite woman. Compared to his five foot ten structure, she barely reached five feet. And her losing her family, he wondered if he reminded her of the son she lost. Kyle smiled, "Good to see you as well."

"Oh Kyle, I didn't forget you, dear~; come here," she said, approaching him with a hug, which he reciprocated. "What can I do for you two?"

"We have someone injured, and we were hoping to help him. Although, I want to warn you...his appearance will startle you." Ronan's gaze flitted around them, hoping no one was watching in on them. Mrs. Stark gave a short huff, "Oh my dear, I have seen everything within my lifetime. Nothing phases me as much as it used to. Maybe when I was your age, of course."

I don't know if you will say that once you meet him, Ronan thought as Raygnar drew closer to the front porch. His height alone raised Mrs. Stark's eyebrows. "Goodness, you are a growing boy, are you?" her voice was still sweet despite the initial surprise, and Ronan wondered if it would stay like that after the reveal.

"I guess I am," Raygnar commented, although he wondered how they'd react if they knew he was shorter than average. "I'm Raygnar. You're Mrs. Stark?"

"Yes, I am, dear. Come in! Let's see to your injuries," she said as she ushered the three men inside. Raygnar examined the vast one-room as they entered, which he guessed was a combination of the kitchen, dining, and sitting room. Then he noticed the hallways leading to other rooms and multiple bookshelves almost filled. Raygnar's eyes beamed at seeing this, but he didn't want to be rude and stayed apace with the others.

They entered an almost empty room that had a bed with a carved wooden bedframe. Dark-colored wool bedding was clean and arranged on the full-size mattress. Next to the bed were wooden nightstands with two oil lamps and three small books stacked up. Then, on the end of the bed was an open chest filled with wooden toys, stuffed animals, and books. Raygnar could only think it was there for the kids who came here. With a nod from Mrs. Stark, he sat on the bed and got himself comfortable. The bed creaked with Raygnar's height and weight, but it didn't seem to phase Mrs. Stark as she peered at the three men. "So, what happened? He doesn't seem to be in critical condition from his demeanor."

"Well, first..." Ronan stared at Raygnar and gestured to his hood. With his approval, Raygnar pulled down his hood, revealing his face and appearance. With everything calming down, Ronan realized he never entirely took in Raygnar's appearance. The draconic elf's platinum blonde hair shined in the room, complimented by the rays of light from the window. The scales on his face, with the horns & pointed ears, alarmed Mrs. Stark; it showed from her stiff body and bulging eyes. Giving her a moment, Ronan began the explanation.

"He's a Draconic Elf. We found him in the ruins. My Father notified him of what might've been a lone Pencari, fully cloaked and hidden—no mask. Kyle, Huon, and I investigated, and we found him. Huon gave a good swing on his chest with his battleaxe. I did my best with the med kit but figured an expert opinion would help. He has the shackles on, so he cannot cast magic," he had hoped it would ease Mrs. Stark since she wasn't moving a muscle. "He's friendly, Mrs. Stark; I wouldn't have brought him if he wasn't," then, in an instant, she slowly approached with shaky breaths. Raygnar blinked, focused and stiff, almost preparing for the unexpected. "May I?" she asked, reaching for the horns. Raygnar gulped but didn't protest as her wrinkled hand felt the smooth, hardened horns. Her shakiness then turned to reverence, noticing the scales on his neck and how the eyes were of a vertical slit, slowly becoming round after some time.

"Well," she tried to find words to express her surprise. I guess I have to eat my words about seeing everything." She stood up straighter, feeling like her old self, and then eyed Ronan. "Can you take off the shackles, dear?"

Ronan was taken aback by the request, "A-Are you sure?"

"Of course. I will not have my patients shackled."

Kyle observed his friend scratching at his cheek, who looked fixed in concentration. The room was hushed, and a decision had to be made. Mulling over it, Ronan sighed and went to Raygnar, taking off the shackles. Once off, the draconic elf rubbed his wrists, and relief flooded his eyes. Mrs. Stark approved with a smile, "Use those shackles on actual evil next time, okay?"

Ronan smiled back, although it didn't reach his eyes. He stepped out of the room and said, "I will for next time. Raygnar, I expect you to treat her very nicely, alright?" He spoke authoritatively, although there was a bit of a threatening undertone. Whether Raygnar sensed it or not, it didn't show. Kyle followed behind, thanking Mrs. Stark. They went down to the sitting room to relax and possibly reflect. With time for reflection, Ronan couldn't help but reiterate what she said: "Save the shackles on actual evil."

It then brought him to his Father's many stories about the Pencari, the evil beings that deserved those shackles on their wrist.

Those same stories about the monsters dragging them like ragdolls, leaving a blood trail in their wake. Bodily violation of men and women was too familiar to them, whether in their unseen nests or the patches of trees and bushes. And then the screams, pained whimpers, hoping they will just be done. How the world tilted and blurred. How most of their bodies would be cut up and displayed like a sick, demented art as they would laugh.

Children were not shown any mercy with them. It would make anyone throw up. Ronan felt a sour tang in his mouth, remembering the one story where someone had been suffocating with his intestines while the putrid smell of someone's bowels was being cut. He bit his lip to eliminate the indirect disgust crawling up his stomach. Even though he never witnessed such things, his imagination alone did most of the job.

"Ronan?" Kyle came into Ronan's peripheral view. "You okay? You look pale." He put a hand on his shoulder. "Need help?"

"No, no, no, no." Ronan shook his head. "I'm good." Then he eyed the hand on his shoulders. The numbers eight-one-nine-one were still imprinted there, causing his eyes to droop. Of course, while he didn't see the inhumane acts, he knew Kyle did. And it left him with a moment forever engraved in him.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

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"W-What do you mean you lost him?" Ronan felt his heart sinking to his stomach, his blood running cold, watching the men turn away out of dread. A simple mission instantly turned deadly and tragic. The heat flushed throughout his body, his heart pounding quicker every second. "You were supposed to stay together!" He slammed the table before him, glasses and paperwork scattered from the force while his crossbow barely moved an inch. The two hunters flinched at their superior's reasonable fury, "When was the last time you saw him? And where?"

"It was near the creek as we were hunting, sir! We didn't hear them coming. It couldn't have been more than an hour ago."

Ronan's breath was unsteady, his mind racing with possible outcomes. He didn't want it to end this way—not his friend, out of all people! Snatching the crossbow, he gave no response to the man as he dashed out of the room. The adrenaline pushed him beyond normal limits as he ran through the cluttered pathway, people jumping away from the frantic man with a weapon. He paid no attention to their reaction or any exclamations they would add, only to the exit getting closer to him. Fear, anger, and despair molded in his head, all screaming:

I will kill every Pencari I see that hurts him! I have had enough!

Remember what Father said? Pencari are dangerous! Their looks themselves can kill you!

He's not alive....you lost him...pray his body is just bleeding on the ground...

He reached the entrance of the cavern system, out in the open sky. He barely acknowledged the setting sun that descended behind the mountains and the dark clouds looming ever closer. No, no! Shut up, Shut up, Shut up! He proceeded with the hunt to the creek, where the soldiers said they were. Being stealthy and perceptive was not in his mind; it was a grave mistake for him and one his Father would lecture him about. But he knew one thing: one rule. You cannot scream; screaming will alert them. A simple shriek will bring the monsters to you.

Ronan whipped his head around in the darkening forest with uneven, heavy breaths. Widened eyes dared not blink for fear of something approaching him. His feet were heavy, stomping onto dead leaves and fallen branches as he got to the creek. He remembered the creek as usual: a lazy river, twisting and winding through the area. Its edges were lined with pebbles and rocks that generally shone in the sunlight, with the water being a clear blue-green. But it was dirtied, and Ronan's throat tightened, discovering blood all around the rocks and pebbles. And, of course, there were no bodies left behind.

He searched for a blood trail, anything to find the one who grew up with him, the one whom he sparred with on multiple occasions as they jousted with dexterous flair, the one who he cared about, the one he believed in, as Kyle had believed in him. On one knee, he concentrated on the blood left behind and tailed the possible source of it. His feet were heavily stomped with rapid successions, and he bounced from a few rocks in his way. He didn't react when the air became colder, and the rain greeted the eerie forest below as droplets fell.

Fuck, not now, damn it!

He knew he would lose the trail quickly if he didn't get to Kyle soon. Lose any possible way to get to him. Time was not on his side, and the rain picked up too quickly for Ronan. The darkness, too, greeted him. With the combined force of rain and darkness, Ronan was losing sight of it all, and he knew turning on the light would be asking for the wrong attention. With it slowly sinking in, his body gradually stopped moving. Standing still in the cold, in the pouring rain, that gradually increased. His lips pressed together in a slight grimace, his body growing heavy with each passing second.

You'll never find him. That's the way they are.

While the rain poured down on his face, he felt his eyes watering. A silent choking sob emitted from his parted lips, his limbs trembling at realizing his folly. I'm sorry...I'm so sorry, my friend.

Then he heard hoofs. His body flinched, and his breath held for fear of being spotted. Widened eyes scanned his surroundings until a white light was spotted. He was centralizing on that specific spot, and a shape formed. Ronan recognized it as a deer, but it wouldn't be lit up in the dark like that. And no Pencari would want to look like that. If it did, it wouldn't want to be seen that easily by its victims. The deer turned his head, his white antlers glowing like a kindly beacon to the subjugated. Orbs of white, yellow, and pale blue floated alongside, complimenting its ethereal presence. Radiant patterns adorned its slender body, beating rhythmically like a pounding heart. And the creature stayed, unmoving...dauntlessly where it was.

In its presence, Ronan was reminded of the church. The priest was doing his sermons in the sacrament room, with various people sitting on wooden benches. All of them come to pray for different reasons and to listen to the passages from way before the collapse of their society. It held up to everything they had witnessed and gave them hope for a reckoning from the Lord above. How the white clouds held the heavens in which all good souls went to after death, where their families would not suffer. And how the Lord worked in mysterious ways, appearing as a man with the burning wings of righteousness or as a whisper within the wind. While Ronan wasn't sure if God had any other form he took, he felt like the deer before him had a spiritual presence. In a desperate plea, a stupid notion came to him. "Kyle...Please help me...Kyle was taken..."

He had no idea why he needed to tell an entity that might harm him. Tell a creature as if it could understand what his words are. But in his heart, something said to him that this was a godly being. It had to be. And if the priest was correct, prayers were answered by God.

The creature kept its unwavering posture, almost unmoved. But then it drew closer to Ronan, its pace slow, and eyes fixated on him. The man stumbled back a foot or two, realizing the deer was coming closer, unsure of what was happening. But he stayed where he was afterward as the distance between them shortened. Sooner than he expected, the deer was within one foot of him, a field of warmth flowing from within. It encircled him like a woolen blanket on a cold winter night, a sense of comfort during a grim time of their lives.

Then he heard a voice, a whisper within the wind: I feel your disconsolation, child. Have hope, for your friend will come home.

"Ronan!" His Father's voice penetrated the calm as he ran up. But then he stopped, gasping at the sight in front of him. The deer locked eyes with River briefly before vanishing with the wind. With his presence made, Ronan snapped out of it, and the last of the fog swept away in him. With the warmth gone, Ronan shivered viciously and wrapped his arms around himself. His chest tightened as he fumbled for his words, "What...What just happened?" He frantically searched for answers as his Father jogged to him, pushing him to safety and out of plain sight.

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It had been a whole year since that happened. And it forever left him and his Father wondering about what it was. The shock came when River admitted to seeing that deer while running from the Pencari as a child. A maybe-benevolent spirit perhaps guiding them in some way. Or it could be something related to God. Answers that might never come, but they wondered if it was for the best. And the consolation of said whispers proved true, for Ronan's sake.

A day later after that encounter, Huon found Kyle unconscious in the middle of the woods while patrolling. Kyle's clothes were torn apart, barely holding onto him to the point a blanket was wrapped around him. He had bruising all over his neck and wrists, with bite marks on his neck, shoulders, and various parts of his chest. Mrs. Stark said the worst of them was the bruising on his groin...and his backside.

While he was found alive, he was scarred physically and mentally. Kyle was no longer his usual self: optimistic, energetic, and full of life. Now, he was restrained, flinching at every possible outburst. Nightmares of his trauma and torture remained consistent, and the shame that came along with it. Ronan didn't count the many times he scolded, punched, and screamed at anyone who mocked Kyle. And how they should throw that energy at the monsters, not the victim. Huon was worse, but unlike the others, he kept his opinions to himself. Kyle even avoided hanging out with Huon unless Ronan was with him.

He had always hoped that Kyle would explain how he escaped from the Pencari, but even today, Kyle refused to answer. His platonic love for a childhood friend was too strong, and thus, he never pushed it. But Ronan knew something had to change for his sake, for all their sakes. Their usual routine and lifestyle were not working. And he felt he was getting close to the solution to all of this. "What about you?"

His question caused Kyle to stop, figuring out where Ronan's eyes were. He withdrew his hand and covered it with his other hand. "I'll manage. You know me. Why did you ask?"

"I...am going through dark memory lane again," Ronan admitted, "and I just want to reiterate my promise to you from that day."

"Oh..." Kyle held a downcast expression, fidgeting a bit. "Well..." He hesitantly nodded, "You don't have to. Just being with me is enough. I should be blessed..to be alive."

"Alive with scars?"

Kyle smiled for his friend's sake, "Everyone has scars; some just hide them better than others." His hands went to his pant pockets as he continued walking with Ronan, "I'd rather change the subject if you don't mind. Like how your Father might take the whole thing?"

When he asked this, Ronan rubbed his neck; a heavy exhale escaped him. "Who knows, honestly. Huon probably gave his perspective bias over everything happening, so I must make some convincing arguments. I won't force you to stay, but I'd appreciate the help."

Kyle paused, quiet for a moment. But he didn't take long to nod, "Of course. After all, once you look past the appearance, Raygnar ain't so bad." They sat there, leaning back on the cushioned seats, giving themselves a brief respite. But it was short-lived before the entrance door cracked open.

"Sooner than expected," Ronan huffed as he sat up. But it wasn't the two men he had to convince; instead, the guard at the entrance barged in. The blanched face was enough for Ronan to sit up. "What's wrong?" he queried, waiting as the guard's mouth opened and closed, words barely spoken. After a bit of stuttering, the man finally said. "S-Sir...he's here..."

"Who?" Ronan raised an eyebrow, knowing it couldn't be a Pencari as they had protocol for situations like that. Dare he hope that day would never come. "And why are you looking like you saw a ghost?"

The Guardsman gulped, his posture stooping. "I don't know how, and I don't know why. S-Sir. It's...It's Stungalm. He's here."

Anxiety filled the room; Kyle's body shook in response, holding his breath. Ronan felt sweat rolling down his flushed skin. A sudden and overwhelming sense of dread elevated inside him. "Kyle, stay here with Raygnar. Do not let him out of this building." He barged out of the house, accompanied by the Guardsman soon after.

Five years...it's been five years. Why has he deigned to appear now? What brought him back? Ronan's heart pounded so heavily, it was close to bursting. Not now. Not him. How? Why?