Getting over my initial shock, I held out my hand and slapped the wall, except my hand went through it. A moment later, I was through the wall and met with Devon smirking as he leaned on a table. The place we were in had torches with red flames lighting the way. Something about the tunnel felt ominous, but I wasn't entirely sure what.

"One of the perks of the emblem is access to the Whisper Tunnels. Keep close. We don't want to be separated, or I'll have to waste time to find you," he said.

I blinked a few times and jogged along behind him. When I caught up, he muttered something and picked up the pace. The air felt heavy, but the ground felt slick, almost like my feet slid with each step.

The muttering picked up in volume till I heard them repeat like an echo on either side of me. So focused I was on the strange muttering that I barely registered that we had stopped our jog and were now walking at a slow pace.

Peaking out from behind Devon's back, I saw a dead end. The red torches cast an ominous glow, dying the room in a crimson hue.

"What just happened?"

There definitely wasn't a wall at the end of the tunnel.

"Whisper Tunnels, they use old magic from the Paths. Whisper where you need to go and then head forward. You need to keep a clear image in mind when you do, but it helps many of the older Grimms get around. We try to restrict access to the tunnels even with the emblems; there are too many stories of Grimms getting lost in these tunnels. And if you're especially unlucky, you'll find yourself in a random place, not inside the Warren."

He answered my question and approached the dead end. Like the last cave wall, he phased through it without resistance.

As I passed through a moment later, I found Devon staring at Neina sitting in her chair, her legs propped up and with a leatherbound tome in one hand.

"Neina, please. It's been a long few days," Devon pleaded.

When Neina didn't answer, Devon used a finger to push the book down. Bored green eyes stared back at him, and she sighed exaggeratedly before setting her book on the table.

Leaving a book like that feels wrong, but it somehow feels intentional. She comes across more like a cat than a wolf.

And if her goal is to annoy Devon, then she's succeeding, considering the twitch in his eye.

"So you showed the pup the tunnels and raided Maro's armoury. I hope you logged what you took, Devon. You know how uppity he gets," she teased. She turned and sniffed the air until she opened her eyes and stared. "You smell like flames and medicine. Did you burn yourself learning a new spell?"

Is her nose psychic?

She grinned and strutted over to the raised circle in the center of the room. "You're not using your senses, pup. I suggest you start before Devon gets you killed."

If Devon seemed grumpy before, he now looked ready to snap. "Neina, open the portal."

She waved her hand and spoke aloud, the strange chant stirring something in my chest. "Ek kalla til slóða fyrir hjálp.”

An unseen wind picked up and then travelled into a spot before her fingers. Nine prismatic orbs appeared before she flicked her hand, sending the orbs flying. Much like the last time I saw the portal, I watched as thickened roots grew from the stone between thin cracks that widened as more roots expanded outwards.

The portal archway formed as the lights latched onto the roots. The orbs' size stretched into a black plane and fit itself across the archway. In a dozen heartbeats, the black gave way to a clear image of a torch-lit village bathed in moonlight. Gnarly black trees with purple leaves became a forest, wrapping around the village wall.

Neina lowered her hand and skipped to her chair. As she picked up her book and snuggled in, she winked, and her face disappeared behind the pages.

Devon rubbed his temple and stepped closer to the portal. "Same as last time, exhale before passing through."

He didn't wait, a rather annoying habit of his. With a sharp exhale, he stepped through the portal and disappeared.

I was about to do the same when a knock rang through the room. I turned around to see Neina lower her hand. "Did you need something?"

"No, not from you. Not yet, anyway," she replied. She rested the book against her chest and tossed me a small brown pouch. "Don't trust him, Cain. He may seem like the dependable type, but he has his own motives. Remember that."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

That's not ominous at all… Okay, then.

"Thanks for the warning."

After exhaling slowly, the air left my lungs, and I stepped through the portal. Again, my cloak did something strange during transit, and I felt it expand into a protective shell around my body. Now that I understood the energy around me as mana, I could feel it chaotically whipping at the shell, swirling in random patterns.

For a second, I thought I felt something there, but my feet crunched into loose gravel, tearing my attention back to reality.

"What's that in your hand?" Devon asked.

Huh?

I looked down at the pouch in my hand and shrugged. "I don't know. Neina gave it to me. She…” I shook my head. "Never mind. Should I open it?"

Devon shrugged. "Leave it for now. She wouldn't actively cause you harm, so it's at least safe."

It's not the most confident answer, but whatever. Free magical stuff is free magical stuff.

After pocketing the pouch into my new backpack, I followed Devon and examined the surroundings. The night was clear, and the moonlight shone, giving enough light to see the village clearly. Around us, the trees stood eerily in the shade, but the surrounding woods were thankfully silent.

The village wasn't far, and the gates came into view, as well as two guards clutching tightly onto their spears.

"They look scared," I said.

"Because they are. Tell me, have you noticed it yet?" Devon replied.

Notice what? Everything's normal, and the forest is silent. What am I mis-

"Oh. The forest is silent at night."

He nodded, and I moved closer, reducing the distance between us while I kept a hand on my new axe. The cold iron already felt comforting against my skin. Its presence provided reassurance against the suddenly all-too-long shadows.

The guards must have spotted us approaching because one ran inside the gate while the other looked relieved and worried. He had a line of sweat dripping down his forehead, and I could see his eyes darting around.

"Why is he so scared?"

"Because we're Grimms."

Well, duh, but why does that scare him? Aren't we the good guys?

"H-hello sirs, may I ask your reason for entry?" the guard stammered.

Devon stopped a few feet away. "On a hunt."

The guard visibly swallowed, the sound like a gunshot against the silence. For a moment, he tried to say something but closed his mouth and nodded instead. "Good luck, sirs."

We slid past the guard and into the village. It looked exactly what a fantasy village would look like—wooden houses with little light. A few wooden posts had a metal lantern hanging from its hooks, but it was a far cry from the street lights back on Earth.

Following Devon, I continued to observe the different houses and people who looked from their windows. They looked like the guards, both relieved and scared when they saw our red cloaks.

Starting to feel like the boogeyman. That woman looked pale as a ghost.

Eventually, we stopped at one of the few buildings with lights and sounds of people. The place smelled clean, but it carried a hint of vomit. Sure enough, I spotted glistening brown chunks in the grass. From the boisterous shouting coming from behind the door, it sounded like a pub.

Devon pushed through, and the sounds stopped. When I peeked out from behind him, I saw the wide-eyed faces of the pub patrons. They looked like they'd seen a ghost as they stared at Devon's cloak.

The hunter ignored them and pushed past the tables to reach the bar. The barkeep behind the counter was a short man covered in scars.

In a surprisingly clean apron, he gripped the edge of the counter and fixed his one good eye in Devon's direction.

"What can I do for you, Grimm."

Devon sat on the nearest stool, and I joined him, feeling like an awkward shadow. He tossed a silver coin on the counter. The barkeep glanced down and promptly made the coin disappear so fast I couldn't see where he stashed them.

The barkeep reached over and grabbed two clean glasses along with a brown bottle. He poured till each cup was half filled and set them down in front of us with more force than needed. For a second, he looked afraid as his eyebrows twitched, but when Devon merely picked up his drink, he grunted and excused himself.

I stared at my drink with some hesitation. The smell reminded me of beer, but it had a sharp undertone that made me think it tasted bitter. After looking around and seeing a couple of people glance my way, I lowered my shoulders and raised the glass to my lips.

Oh, that's disgusting.

I lowered the cup to the counter and kept it between my hands. Devon kept drinking while looking bored. Eventually, I couldn't take the lack of information.

"What are we doing?"

Devon took another swig. He smacked his lips and frowned at the cup before placing it to the side. "Waiting."

It's like pulling teeth. He wasn't this tight-lipped when we met. What gives?

"Waiting for what?"

"Give it a few clicks."

Withholding a sigh, I tried the drink again, but it tasted as awful as the first sip, so I followed Devon in placing it away from me. The barkeep side-eyed us but went back to polishing a glass in the corner.

From his stiff shoulders and awkward posture, he seemed on edge. What for, I didn't know.

I suppose that's the whole point of being a Grimm.

I glanced to Devon, who maintained a blank expression on his face.

If only he'd tell me what was going on.

Before I could cave in and ask another question, Devon slowly stood up, silencing the hushed whispers that had started back up. I hopped off the stool and waited as he stared at the door.

"An old saying my mentor told me on my first hunt: 'a smart hunter does enough to catch the prey, not impress the crowd.' It's a good rule to follow in villages like these."

I didn't have time to ask him what he meant when the door opened. The other guard who entered the village before us stepped in, followed by a large, portly man with the world's curliest mustache. He almost looked cartoony if it weren't for the pale skin and haggard appearance marred with sweat.

The other patrons moved out of the way, clearing a direct line from the guard to us. The portly man wrung his hands but kept a tight grip around his jacket pocket. His eyes scanned the room, and he shared a look with the barkeep that disappeared as quickly as it came.

The man stepped past the guard but kept within grabbing distance. He cleared his throat and met Devon's eyes. "I believe we have business, sir Grimm."