Deirdre moved swiftly through the swamp, her boots making soft squelching sounds on the damp, mossy ground. The Fens' perpetual twilight cast a faint, silvery glow across the landscape, the reflections of the purple moon and its shimmering ring glinting on the surface of still pools. The air was heavy with moisture, but Deirdre barely noticed. Her body felt light, her steps unencumbered. The pain from her earlier wound was gone, replaced by an almost unnatural sense of vitality.
She glanced at Orsafi, perched on her shoulder, the carbuncle’s gem faintly pulsing. “We don’t have much time,” she murmured. Her voice, though quiet, carried an edge of determination. “If they figure out how to activate the gate stone before we find them, I’ll be stuck here.”
The thought made her stomach twist. Her pack, her scrolls, everything she needed to leave the Domain—Hoch and Needle had taken it all when they betrayed her. She could only imagine the kind of damage they’d do in the Exchange if they got away, armed with stolen resources and whatever else they could grab. Worse, without her scrolls, there was no way back for her.
Deirdre paused, her sharp gaze sweeping the terrain. The Fens stretched endlessly in all directions, an otherworldly mosaic of gnarled trees, glowing moss, and mist-shrouded pools. She had always prided herself on her ability to track and navigate, but here, in the labyrinthine expanse of the Witchlight Fens, even her skills felt inadequate.
And yet, something was different.
She stilled, her breath catching as an unfamiliar sensation swept through her—a faint hum, almost like a vibration at the edges of her awareness. It wasn’t something she heard, but something she felt, a resonance deep in her chest. Deirdre furrowed her brow, tilting her head slightly, as though the sensation might become clearer if she focused.
“What… is that?” she whispered.
Orsafi let out a soft trill, her gem’s light flickering in tandem with the hum. Deirdre’s heart quickened. She turned her head, testing the sensation. It faded as she turned one way, then grew stronger when she adjusted her direction. It wasn’t random. It was like the Domain was guiding her, showing her where to go.
Her pulse steadied as understanding began to dawn. This must be the Domain Lord’s influence—or rather, the essence they had imparted to her. She’d felt nothing like this before in any Domain. It was as though the Fens themselves were alive in her perception, their energies pulsing and flowing like a great unseen river. And now, there was something disrupting that flow—a jagged, discordant ripple cutting through the magic around her.
The disturbance was unmistakable, and its source was clear. Hoch and Needle.
Deirdre pressed forward, her pace quickening. Each step brought her closer to the disturbance, the hum sharpening into something stronger and more deliberate. Her fingers brushed against her belt, reassuring herself that her tools were still in place. She didn’t have much, but she had enough to survive.
“They won’t get away with this,” she said, her voice low but firm. Her hands clenched briefly at her sides before she released the tension. This wasn’t about revenge—it was about justice. About reclaiming what was hers and ensuring the balance of the Fens remained intact.
With Orsafi’s light casting faint halos on the mist around them, Deirdre moved forward with a renewed sense of purpose. Whatever this new sensitivity was, she would use it. It was her only chance to stop them before it was too late.
Deirdre slipped silently through the twisting paths of the Fens, her newfound sensitivity guiding her like a compass. Each shift in the magical flow felt like a subtle tug against her consciousness, sharpening her focus as she drew closer to the disruption. Her breath was steady, her steps light, and Orsafi’s faint glow was her only illumination.
The disturbance grew stronger as she crept closer. The normally smooth and steady hum of the Fens’ energy was fractured here, like a spiderweb of cracks in glass. Deirdre crouched low, the damp moss cool beneath her fingers as she approached a clearing surrounded by spindly trees whose branches hung like skeletal fingers.
Voices broke the silence. Hoch’s sharp tone carried through the mist, his frustration unmistakable.
“I don’t understand! It should’ve worked by now!” he barked, the gate stone clutched tightly in his hand. “What’s wrong with this damned place?”
Needle, leaning against a tree with his bow slung over one shoulder, let out a low growl. “Maybe it’s you. Or maybe this Domain doesn’t want to let us go. Either way, figure it out fast—I don’t like sitting here waiting for something to eat us.”
Deirdre peered through the foliage, her heart pounding as she caught sight of the two men. Hoch was pacing furiously, the gate stone glowing faintly in his hand as he muttered a string of incantations. Needle stood rigid, his eyes scanning the swamp, his fingers twitching near his quiver. The tension between them was palpable.
“Why would the magic be so unstable?” Hoch muttered, glaring at the stone. “It worked perfectly fine when we arrived. What changed?”
Needle’s sharp laugh was bitter. “Maybe stealing from the Domain wasn’t your brightest idea.”
Deirdre smirked faintly from her hiding place. So, they were beginning to realize their mistake. She had suspected the Domain Lord’s influence was at work, and this confirmed it. The Fens themselves were fighting back, their magic disrupted to prevent Hoch and Needle from escaping.
Orsafi trilled softly on her shoulder, and Deirdre placed a hand on the carbuncle’s gem to steady the glow. She couldn’t afford to give herself away—not yet. Watching the two men struggle filled her with a quiet satisfaction, but it didn’t mean she could let her guard down. Needle was restless, his movements twitchy, and Hoch’s frustration was boiling over.
“Stop standing there and do something useful,” Hoch snapped at Needle, throwing his arms up. “You’re supposed to be my backup, not a glorified lookout.”
Needle shot him a dark glare but didn’t move. “Your mess. You fix it.”
Deirdre pressed her lips together to stifle a laugh. The cracks in their partnership were showing, and it was only a matter of time before their tempers snapped. Still, she had no intention of waiting for them to figure out their next move. If they found a way to stabilize the magic, her window of opportunity would vanish.
She shifted her weight slightly, her attention flicking to the pack slung over Needle’s shoulder. Her heart clenched at the sight of her belongings—her scrolls, her tools, everything she needed to complete her contract and return to the Exchange. The sight strengthened her resolve.
She glanced at Orsafi, whispering, “We’re getting closer. Let them keep fumbling—time’s on our side.”
The carbuncle chirped softly, her gem flickering faintly in response. Deirdre leaned back into the shadows, her mind racing as she began to formulate her next move. For now, she would observe. The Fens were on her side, and patience was a tool she intended to use.
Deirdre lingered in the shadows, her sharp eyes darting between Hoch and Needle as they continued their tense standoff. Despite her satisfaction in watching their plans unravel, a prickling sensation at the edge of her awareness demanded her attention.
It started as a faint pressure, like a whisper brushing against her thoughts, tugging her focus away from the clearing. Her newfound sensitivity to the Domain’s energy sharpened, and her pulse quickened. The hum of life and magic she had been following was shifting again, darker and heavier than before. A warning.
Her hand rested lightly on Orsafi’s gem as she whispered, “Do you feel that?”
The carbuncle let out a soft trill, her ears twitching. The light from her gem dimmed slightly, a subtle reaction that sent a shiver down Deirdre’s spine. Something was wrong.
She inched back into the undergrowth, her movements slow and deliberate as she extended her awareness outward. The energy around her felt thick and oppressive, each pulse tinged with unease. It was different from the controlled disruption she’d felt earlier near Hoch and Needle. This was natural—a predator’s presence bleeding into the Domain’s flow, marking its territory.
Unlike Hoch and Needle's jarring presence, which cut through the Domain's magic like a blade, this disturbance felt ancient and familiar - a part of the Fens itself. The energy didn't resist it but rather flowed around it, like water around a stone that had rested in the same riverbed for centuries. This was old magic, primal and patient, the kind that had existed here long before Collectors ever set foot in the Domain.
Deirdre crouched low, her breath shallow as she scanned the mist for any sign of movement. The oppressive sensation grew stronger, and her heart pounded as she pieced together the clues. The heavy air, the sudden silence, and the way the mist seemed to hang in unnatural stillness—all signs of a Miststalker.
Her stomach clenched as she recalled the creature’s reputation. The Miststalker, a giant mantis-like predator, was known for its ruthless efficiency and eerie camouflage. Its pale grey and white body blended seamlessly with the swirling fog, and its compound eyes could detect the faintest movement. It hunted with precision, using needle-like stingers coated in paralytic venom to immobilize its prey before striking.
Deirdre’s thoughts raced. The Miststalker’s territory was vast, and its presence in this part of the Fens was no coincidence. It would already be aware of Hoch and Needle—two noisy intruders stumbling through its domain. The realization filled her with a grim sense of opportunity.
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She had no intention of confronting the creature head-on; she wasn’t foolish enough to think she could outmatch it. But perhaps she didn’t need to. If she could manipulate the situation just right, the Miststalker might handle her problem for her.
Deirdre’s fingers tightened around the warding crystal hanging around her neck. It was enchanted with a burst of harmless light, a tool she’d brought for defense against hostile creatures. Her plan was risky, but she couldn’t afford to waste time. Hoch and Needle still had her supplies, and if they managed to stabilize the gate stone, they’d be gone before she had a chance to act.
She turned her gaze to Orsafi, the carbuncle’s faint glow steady and reassuring. “We’re going to need your help,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “Think you’re up for a bit of bait duty?”
Orsafi tilted her head, chirping softly. Her gem pulsed once, brighter than before, as if in understanding. Deirdre offered a small, rueful smile. “You’re braver than I am,” she said, running a hand lightly over Orsafi’s fur.
Positioning herself deeper in the shadows, Deirdre whispered her plan to Orsafi. The carbuncle trilled in response, her small frame tensing with readiness. With a final nod, Orsafi darted into the mist, her gem’s light flashing intermittently like a beacon.
Deirdre exhaled slowly, her senses attuned to every shift in the air around her. The Miststalker was already moving—she could feel its presence tightening, the energy of the Domain quivering under its influence.
All she could do now was wait and trust the Fens to help her even the odds.
Deirdre crouched low in the underbrush, every muscle in her body taut with tension. The oppressive stillness in the air thickened as Orsafi’s glowing gem flickered like a wayward star, luring Hoch and Needle deeper into the Miststalker’s territory.
“There it is!” Needle’s harsh whisper cut through the silence. His bow was already in his hands, an arrow nocked as he nudged Hoch with his elbow. “Easy pickings. The carbuncle’s alone.”
Hoch muttered something under his breath, his irritation evident. “We don’t have time for this. The gate stone isn’t working, and now you want to chase glowing critters?”
“Do you know how much a live carbuncle’s worth?” Needle snapped, his voice dripping with greed. “It’ll cover every contract we’ve ever botched.”
Hoch hesitated but relented, his shoulders stiff as he followed Needle into the thickening mist. “Fine, but make it quick. This place is crawling with things I’d rather not meet.”
Deirdre’s fingers curled into the damp moss beneath her as she crept after them, her breathing steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She could feel the Miststalker’s presence now, a looming weight just beyond the edge of her awareness. Its energy pulsed like the slow beat of a war drum, each thrum sending ripples through the Fens’ magic.
The mist thickened further, swallowing sound and sight in equal measure. Hoch and Needle’s movements became hesitant, their footsteps faltering as unease crept into their expressions. Needle glanced around, his bow trembling slightly. “You hear that?”
“Hear what?” Hoch snapped, though his voice wavered. He wiped his hands on his tunic, his usual confidence eroding with every step. “Stop imagining things.”
Deirdre froze, her heart racing as the Miststalker revealed itself.
It emerged silently from the fog, its pale, segmented body gleaming like polished stone. The mantis-like predator was enormous, its elongated limbs ending in sharp, serrated edges. Its compound eyes glinted faintly, reflecting the dim glow of Orsafi's gem as it honed in on its prey.
Needle saw it first, his sharp reflexes snapping into action. In one fluid motion, he nocked an arrow and loosed it at the creature's head. The arrow struck true but glanced off the Miststalker's armored carapace with a sound like metal on stone. The creature didn't even flinch.
"Domains take it!" Needle cursed, already reaching for another arrow.
Hoch stumbled back, fumbling with something in his cloak. His hand emerged clutching a crystal, dark energy crackling around it. "Don't just stand there!" he shouted at Needle. "Keep it busy!"
The Miststalker moved with unnatural speed, its forelegs slashing through the air where Needle had been standing a moment before. He rolled to the side, loosing another arrow that struck the creature's leg joint. This time the Miststalker hissed, the sound like steel being drawn across glass.
Hoch thrust the crystal forward, dark magic erupting from it in tendrils of shadow. The spell caught the Miststalker's leg, trying to hold it in place. For a moment, the creature paused, its compound eyes shifting to regard this new threat.
Then it simply... moved. The creature's movement defied natural law - it didn't step or leap or fly, but seemed to shift through space itself, as though the very air was its domain. One moment it was caught in Hoch's spell, the next it had phased through the magic like smoke through a sieve, its segmented body rippling with impossible grace. Even Needle, with all his combat experience, took an instinctive step back. The Miststalker's compound eyes shifted to track the movement, its head tilting at an angle that no living thing should be able to achieve.
The Miststalker's mouth opened slightly, and before either man could react, a volley of tiny, needle-like stingers shot out with deadly precision.
The stingers struck Hoch and Needle almost simultaneously. Hoch’s eyes widened in shock as he staggered, his limbs locking in place. He collapsed to the ground, his body rigid and unresponsive. Needle managed a strangled curse before he too fell, his bow slipping from his hands.
The Miststalker advanced, its movements slow and deliberate. Each step was eerily silent, its spindly legs barely disturbing the mossy ground. It loomed over its paralyzed prey, its serrated forelimbs twitching as though savoring the moment.
Deirdre gripped her warding crystal tightly, her mind racing. She could let the Miststalker finish them off. They’d stolen from her, betrayed her, and left her to die. But the thought twisted uncomfortably in her chest. This wasn’t who she was. She couldn’t stoop to their level, no matter how much they deserved it.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped out from her hiding spot. Her boots made a soft squelching sound against the damp ground, drawing the Miststalker’s attention. Its head snapped toward her, the compound eyes glinting ominously.
“Back off,” she said, her voice steady despite the fear coursing through her. She activated the warding crystal, a burst of bright light radiating outward. The Miststalker hissed, its compound eyes flickering in confusion as the magic disrupted its senses.
The predator hesitated, its body swaying slightly. After a tense moment, it clicked its mandibles and retreated into the mist, its form disappearing as silently as it had appeared.
Deirdre exhaled shakily, her heart pounding in her ears. She glanced at Hoch and Needle, both frozen in awkward, contorted positions. Their eyes flickered with panic, the only movement their bodies could manage.
“Looks like karma caught up with you,” she muttered, kneeling to retrieve her pack from Needle’s rigid grasp. She rifled through it quickly, ensuring her collected resources and return scrolls were intact. Her fingers brushed against Hoch’s gate stone, and she pocketed it without hesitation.
Deirdre straightened, casting one last look at the paralyzed men. “You’ll be fine once the venom wears off,” she said, her voice firm but not unkind. “Maybe this will give you time to think about what you’ve done.”
Orsafi bounded up to her, her gem glowing faintly in the mist. Deirdre gave the carbuncle a small smile, her tension easing slightly. “Let’s get out of here,” she murmured, turning toward the path that would lead her out of the Fens. The air felt lighter now, the oppressive weight of the predator’s territory fading with each step she took.
The perpetual twilight of the Witchlight Fens stretched endlessly around Deirdre, its muted hues of violet and silver giving the swamp an eerie stillness. With her pack securely fastened, she adjusted her grip on the gate stone she’d taken from Hoch. Its faint warmth reassured her that escape was within her grasp—if she could find the right place to use it.
Orsafi trilled softly from her shoulder, her gem pulsing in rhythm with Deirdre’s quickened heartbeat. The carbuncle’s presence was a comfort, a reminder of the bond that had guided them through the worst of the Fens’ dangers.
Deirdre paused on a patch of raised ground, her senses tingling. The faint hum of the Domain’s energy was stronger here, and she closed her eyes to focus. Slowly, the patterns in the magic revealed themselves, a latticework of flow and concentration that shimmered just beneath the surface of her perception.
“There,” she whispered, her eyes snapping open. A small clearing ahead seemed to pulse faintly, the air thicker with the magic she now recognized as the Domain’s lifeblood. She quickened her pace, ignoring the ache in her legs as she approached the clearing.
The spot was perfect—a nexus where the Fens’ energy pooled like a still lake. It felt alive, humming with a quiet power that resonated in her chest. Deirdre knelt in the center, pulling the gate stone from her pocket.
The stone glowed faintly as she activated it, the runes etched into its surface flaring to life. For a moment, the air resisted, the magic of the Fens reluctant to yield. But Deirdre coaxed the energy gently, her hands steady as she whispered a quiet plea for the Domain to release her.
The magic responded to her touch like a living thing. Where Hoch had encountered resistance, she felt something almost like recognition. The Fens' energy curled around her fingers, acknowledging her respect with a subtle warmth that resonated with the hum in her chest. This wasn't about forcing her will upon the Domain - it was about finding harmony with its natural rhythms.
Deirdre closed her eyes, letting her newfound sensitivity guide her. The Domain's magic moved like water - not the still surface of the pools, but deeper currents beneath, each flow connected to countless others. Where Hoch had tried to punch through that flow, she instead sought the places where the currents naturally converged. The gate stone warmed in her hands as she aligned its power with the Fens' own rhythm, like finding harmony in a complex song.
"There," she whispered, feeling the moment when the magics synchronized. The portal didn't tear open as Hoch had attempted, but rather seemed to emerge naturally, like mist rising from still water.
The resistance gave way, and the portal shimmered into existence, its edges rippling like water under moonlight. The swirling vortex revealed a glimpse of the Exchange’s bustling corridors—a sight that filled her with relief and determination.
Deirdre turned back toward the edge of the clearing, where Hoch and Needle lay paralyzed. Their bodies remained stiff and unresponsive, their eyes tracking her movements with thinly veiled panic.
She hesitated, her fingers tightening around the strap of her pack. Leaving them behind was tempting—poetic justice for their betrayal. But the thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. She wasn’t like them. She couldn’t be.
With a resigned sigh, she approached Hoch first, grabbing his collar and dragging his limp form toward the portal. He was heavy, his dead weight pulling at her shoulders, but she gritted her teeth and kept moving. Orsafi hopped ahead, her gem casting soft light to guide their path.
“Lucky I’m not the kind of person you are,” Deirdre muttered under her breath as she reached the portal’s edge. She propped Hoch against a nearby tree before returning for Needle.
The wiry man was even harder to maneuver, his stiff limbs catching on roots and rocks as she struggled to drag him. By the time she reached the portal, her muscles ached, and sweat dampened her brow.
Deirdre glanced at the swirling vortex, her heart heavy with conflicting emotions. Justice, not vengeance—that had always been her guiding principle. Leaving them behind would cross a line she refused to approach.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped toward the portal, Orsafi chirping softly as she followed. The silver and violet hues of the Fens faded behind her, replaced by the bustling energy of the Exchange. For a moment, Deirdre lingered, the weight of her decisions pressing against her chest.
With one last look back at the misty swamp, she stepped fully through, dragging Hoch and Needle behind her. The Witchlight Fens released them without resistance, the portal closing with a soft ripple.
The portal dissolved like morning mist in sunlight, the edges of the gateway melting away in gentle waves rather than snapping shut. The last whispers of the Fens' magic brushed against her consciousness like a farewell, the Domain's energy receding naturally rather than being torn away. It was a reminder that sometimes the gentlest path was also the strongest.
As the chaotic sounds of the Exchange filled her ears, Deirdre squared her shoulders, her resolve solidified. The Fens had changed her, though how much, she wasn’t certain yet. But one thing was clear: she was stronger now, and the path ahead would demand every ounce of that strength.