The fire crackled in the center of the camp, its embers casting flickering shadows across the faces of Emmet’s group. Around the perimeter, the scent of freshly killed beasts mingled with the sharp tang of blood.

Korvin crouched by the fire, sharpening his axe with deliberate precision. “Three ogres and a nest of wargs in one day,” he said with a wry grin. “We’ll be legends by the time we hit the next town.”

“Legends or corpses,” Lira muttered as she cleaned her bowstring. Her nimble fingers moved quickly, but there was tension in her movements. “Monsters have been getting bolder, and I don’t like it. Feels... unnatural.”

Tabitha sat slightly apart from the group, her staff resting across her knees. “She’s right,” the mage said, her voice calm but edged with concern. “Something is stirring. These attacks aren’t random.”

Emmet, seated beside her, stared into the flames. His serpent, coiled at his feet, hissed softly, sensing his unease.

“It’s them,” Emmet said finally, his voice low. “The Blackbrands. They’re pushing the monsters into these territories, driving them toward the villages.”

The group fell silent at his words.

Drenn, the burly warrior who’d joined their band after the prison raid, spat into the dirt. “Bastards,” he growled. “Using monsters to weaken the people, make them desperate. Makes it easier to swoop in and take what they want.”

Korvin sheathed his axe, his gaze sharp. “Well, they’re not counting on us.”

----------------------------------------

The next town they reached was a ruin.

Smoke rose from charred buildings, and the streets were littered with debris. A few villagers wandered through the wreckage, their faces hollow with despair.

Emmet dismounted his horse, his serpent slithering down to the ground as he approached a group of survivors huddled near the remains of a well.

“What happened here?” he asked gently.

An older man looked up, his eyes bloodshot. “Wargs,” he rasped. “Came out of nowhere. Tore through the fields, burned our homes.” He gestured weakly toward the forest. “The rest of the pack is still out there.”

Emmet’s jaw tightened. “We’ll handle it.”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

The man shook his head. “It’s no use. The beasts keep coming, and the Blackbrands...” He trailed off, his shoulders sagging. “They’ll take what’s left of us.”

Emmet turned to his group, his determination hardening. “We’ve got work to do.”

----------------------------------------

The fight against the wargs was brutal.

The pack had entrenched itself in the forest, using the dense undergrowth to launch ambushes. Emmet’s serpent proved invaluable, its sinuous body darting through the trees to flush out the beasts. Tabitha’s spells lit up the forest, her fire and lightning searing through fur and flesh.

Korvin and Drenn fought like men possessed, their weapons carving through the wargs with savage efficiency. Lira’s arrows flew with unerring accuracy, each shot finding its mark.

By the time the last warg fell, the group was bloodied but victorious.

----------------------------------------

The villagers welcomed them back as heroes.

Children peeked out from behind their parents, their eyes wide with awe as Emmet and his group rode into the town square. The older man from before clasped Emmet’s hand, his grip firm despite his frailty.

“You’ve saved us,” the man said, his voice thick with emotion.

Emmet nodded, though his mind was already elsewhere. The Blackbrands had driven these monsters here, and they would pay for it.

Tabitha stepped beside him, her expression pensive. “We can’t keep putting out fires,” she said quietly. “If we want to end this, we need to strike at the source.”

Emmet glanced at her, his determination reflected in her eyes. “We will,” he said. “Soon.”

----------------------------------------

Over the following weeks, their reputation grew. Towns whispered of the band of mercenaries who saved villages and hunted monsters, who asked for nothing but supplies and information in return.

Each victory brought them closer to their true goal: the Blackbrand stronghold.

It was in one of these towns, a bustling trading post on the edge of a river, that they found their next lead.

A trader, his hands shaking, handed Emmet a crude map. “This is where they take them,” the man stammered. “The prisoners. The ones they think are... special.”

Emmet stared at the map, his heart pounding. The location was deep in the mountains, surrounded by treacherous terrain.

“It won’t be easy,” Korvin said, peering over his shoulder.

“It never is,” Emmet replied, folding the map and tucking it into his cloak. He turned to his group, his expression steely. “We leave at dawn.”

As the camp settled for the night, Emmet sat by the fire, staring at the flames. His serpent rested at his side, its golden eyes watching him intently.

Tabitha approached, her staff glowing faintly in the darkness. “We’re close,” she said softly.

Emmet nodded, his voice quiet but resolute. “I’ll find them, Tabitha. No matter what it takes.”

The mage placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch light but grounding. “You’re not alone in this,” she said. “We’ll see it through together.”

Emmet didn’t reply, but her words settled in his chest like a steady heartbeat.

Tomorrow, the road would grow darker, the stakes higher. But he would not falter. His siblings were waiting for him. And he would not stop until they were safe.