Morgan sat behind the old brick wall of the abandoned farm field. His heart thudded in his chest as he went over it all in his head. Next to him was Amira, her bow gripped in her hands. Amira had refused to not go with him and had argued with the priest endlessly. Marindol only relented when she had said something to him. The only thing Morgan had heard was Havar's name.

  The moon had vanished behind a thick layer of clouds. He knew that there were yet more people hiding along every road and possible escape route. The city's walls in the distance were only able to be seen by the watch's lanterns. There was a darkness that even the white snow couldn't dispel.

  The clergies announced a plan to help clear monsters from the underground ruins. A poisonous gas that would be dropped in. The vapors were heavier than air and would sink down the tunnels. This was all explained somewhere around a week ago. The adventurer's guild was given time to pull out any members down below. Then, efforts were made to block up any potential leakage areas that might go above ground.

  It seemed cruel to Morgan. He couldn't help but to wonder if there would be people who would still die down there. The fact they might leave her to die was brought up. Marindol assured the rest that wouldn't happen.

  The time gap between the announcement and the beginning was to make sure of it. Inquisition agents were keeping a tight watch over the entire area to make sure no one got away. Yet they had left several routes apparently unguarded. When a group of smugglers had been caught trying to escape, the inquisition plugged up yet more. To do so, though, they moved yet more people from other areas. The small side road Morgan now sat on was made to look like it only had a few people guarding it.

  He had left three days prior with a group of others under the pretense of checking up on a village. They turned around in the dead of night and hid in a small farmhouse some distance away from the parameter. A single guard had flickered his lamp exactly ten times the night before during a very specific time. The operation had begun.

  He gripped the hilt of the sword at his side and looked to Amira. She was already readying an arrow. Every small noise seemed to grow in volume as he sat. He struggled to keep his breathing slow and steady. For a moment, he worried what would happen if they went another way.

  Then a new fear crept up on him. Like a snake from the wall, a shadow seemed to form over him. He shook it away from the phantom. There was no chance the hound would have slipped back into the city. Yet, nothing scared him more than the idea that he'd look over the wall and see those inhuman eyes.

  Quiet minutes ticked away in the darkness. In that purgatory, his body couldn't relax. The prophecy handed to him by the being he saw from the sword danced about his mind. These were the Hound's comrades. Morgan had to find some way to even talk to him. The thought sent a shiver through him. This would be a chance, if only he could convince them, he considered. Would they accept that? What could he even say?

  Finally, the soft repetitive sounds of footsteps met him. Hand gripped on the sword's hilt, he readied himself. Whatever would happen he had to act now. When the sound was close enough he leapt over the wall, pulled the glowing blade, and pointed it towards them. Each of the five was in a heavy cloak, with their features obscured. The group was surrounded in a matter of seconds. Amira and others aimed at them from behind the small stone walls. The five were completely outnumbered four to one.

  One grabbed the shoulder of a woman who began pulling knives. She let out a string of barely audible words that sounded like nonsense to the young man. In a tired, almost annoyed voice, the man said, “So it was a trap.”

  Instantly, before anyone else could speak, Morgan said, “I don't want this to come to blows. I need to talk to you.”

  The man, who was dark skinned, looked around and said without humor, “I haven't much choice in this.”

  “I promise no harm will come to any of you if you hand over Misana Lura'mi,” he said. One of the figures, smaller than the rest, shifted and began hiding behind another. Looking closer, he realized it was a woman as well.

  “Or you will have us shot right here and left for dead,” the dark skinned man said.

  “I can't accept that as a possibility. I need to talk to the Hound of Sorrow,” Morgan said, improvising more than anything. The priests around him waited for something to happen. Seconds passed in what felt like a minute.

  The woman who was hiding pushed forward a bit and pulled down her hood. The man carefully positioned himself in front of her. Her beauty struck the young hero despite the eye patch and scar. Her pointed were red from the cold air. Her golden hair reflected the light of the sword. Her green eye seemed unable to stay upon him, darting from him to the road. She said, in a shaking voice, “I-I am Misana Lura'mi. Why d-do you want to...speak with him?”

  As the group moved to surround the young lady, Morgan realized what was happening. They weren't keeping her from running. They were actively trying to protect her. Questions raced through his mind, but he forced himself back to what needed to be done. He said, more in a daze than anything, “I think we've all been tricked. You aren't a hostage?”

  Misana's face turned to anger for a moment then calmed. She shook her head, grabbing the arm of another member. Under the hood, Morgan saw the face of an old man who looked down to her with pity.

  The entire situation felt strange. A lump was forming in Morgan's gut as he stared at them. Marindol himself had questioned some things, but had held fast. The young hero had to bring Misana herself to the Hierophant. She was the key to figuring this out.

  He said, “Okay. I need to talk to the Hound of Sorrow. It's about stopping the prophecy. We need to work together.”

  The dark skinned man's eyes were still, in almost a casual manner, looking at all the priests. He said, “Work together with the church. The same ones who locked me and my friends in jail and threw away the key for doing our jobs?”

  Morgan said, frustrated and unsure how to de-escalate things, "Look, I don't know about any of that. I'm sure if we can all work this out. I thought you were holding her captive. How about throwing us some benefit of the doubt.”

  The young man saw the other woman glaring at him under her hood. A shiver ran through him as he recognized the look. The Hound had worn the very same glare. Morgan, swallowing as his mouth felt dry, “I don't know anything that happened, but I have to talk to him. I promise you, on my life, that I am not trying to lie or anything. Please, we have to work together.”

  Misana was staring at him as the man asked, “And why should I believe you? We know Marindol is your little ring leader, inquisitor. Don't play stupid with me. I worked with him myself a few times. I know how that man is. I've seen what he does.”

  Morgan felt as if he was grasping at sand. How could he convince them? There had to be some way to. If he screwed this up, he couldn't be sure he'd ever have a chance again. In his mind the image of the hand snuffing out the sun sat firmly. His heart was pounding. Fear formed in him. He said, “Then, you'd know he only works with the best for people in mind.”

  The angry woman hissed out, “So my brother's death was what was best for the people?”

  It was like a nail had been struck into a coffin. Morgan's mind raced, grasping at anything. How could he argue against that? Marindol himself had shown regret over his past actions. That wouldn't mean anything to her. Every second that passed seemed like another strike upon the nail's head. The image of the people twisted and being broken. He couldn't stop the shaking. It was growing harder and harder for him to keep his emotions from flowing out. He said, “I-I don't know anything about that. I'm sorry, but if we don't work together...”

  “Fuck you, you church lap dog,” the woman said.

  “Mirror, shut up before you start a fight,” The dark skinned man said with commanding force. Her eyes turned to him with rage, and she went silent. She turned her head away and the silence could not hide her stifled tears.

  Morgan's eyes dropped to Misana, who was staring at him. Slowly, he let his blade drop till the point was towards the dirt. He tried to speak, but his voice seemed to catch in his throat. Misana then spoke up, “Fear. Anger. Sadness.”

  The dark skinned man looked at her for a moment and then back to Morgan. He eyed the young man for a few moments. Then, he said, “Okay. So let's say we do believe you. Then what?”

  Morgan's eyes lit up and he grasped this chance. He said, “W-we...we would need to go talk to Marindol himself. He needs to know that his assumptions are wrong. He's spoken to me about his own doubts and regrets. If Misana herself tells him, then he'll believe it!”

  “And if he goes ahead and tries to take her prisoner?” the man asked. Morgan pushed the blade of the sword into the snow and let go of the hilt. He could think of only one way to make it clear. He stepped forward as the priests tensed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amira's hands gripping her bow even tighter.

  “I promise you, you can all come into the room with your weapons. If he tries to order any of you be hurt, I will personally help you escape. I won't let anyone do anything otherwise. I promise you. Please,” he said, bowing his entire body, face to the ground.

  The dark skinned man clicked his tongue and let out a long, weary sigh. He said, “Lady Misana Lura'mi, this is your decision to make.”

  Misana let out a shaking breath and said, “Very well.”

  Morgan felt a wave of relief wash over him as he straightened back up. He said, his voice almost cracking, “Stand down everyone.”

  Slowly the priests lowered their weapons. As Morgan sheathed the glowing blade, a few turned on strange magic lanterns that lit up the area far better. Amira jumped over the wall, walked straight up to him, and slapped him across the face. The young hero stared at her with shock as she began to yell, “Idiot! If you planned to try and talk them down, you should have told us! Do you know how hard it is to keep an arrow held like that?”

  Misana, still flanked by the other four, watched the scene with a strange look on her face but remained quiet. Morgan, rubbing his cheek said, “S-sorry, but would anyone have actually let me?”

  The question caused Amira's face to turn from anger to sadness. A hurt tone was in her voice as she said, “I would have.”

  The words stung worse than his face did as Morgan. He looked to the ground, unsure of what to say. All he could manage was, "I'm sorry."

  “Trust me more, okay?” she asked as she walked away to rejoin the other archers. His face reddened as he walked over to the five.

  Morgan nodded and said, “Y-yeah. Uhm...I'm Morgan Anderson by the way. I'm sorry about...the entirety of this misunderstanding.”

  “Well, I do hope we clear this all up, Mr. Anderson. I for one am happy this tension is no longer so heavy in the air. It was doing a horrible number upon my back. I am Salvester Hazen,” said the old man that Misana held the arm of, “I am Young Lady Lura'mi's personal butler. Forgive Ms Su'Galo, she is an elf and has been through some harrowing things.”

  The dark skinned man was watching the woman as he said, “I am Corporal..I am Azuro Marn. Me, Su'Galo, and Martin were guards in Garnalt.”

  Martin stood awkwardly by Su'Galo. He didn't even look away from her. She was whispering all manners of insults and curses. She was gripping a hammer at her side as tears flowed from her pupil-less eyes. Morgan said, “Oh. That was the city that...”

  Azuro nodded as he trailed off and said, “Well, you at least seem earnest enough. I hope we can manage. We should-”

  "Y'all aren't going to kill each other?” a girl shouted.

  Everyone turned, grabbing their weapons as they looked for the voice's origins. Sitting on the roof of a farmhouse some distance away stood a young woman. She ran her hand through her short blond hair as she tilted her head towards the distance, away from the city. By her stood a demon with the head of a goat and the body of a bear with wings like an angel. She was lighting a lantern that hung on a rope around its neck. Morgan's stomach dropped. The woman shouted, “Ah. Remember me, do ya? How was my acting? I really don't get many chances these days. Ain't like I miss it or anything, but it was fun.”

  Morgan shouted, “Who the hell are you really?”

  She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms with a smile, saying in a dramatic, “Yinla Rowan. Nah, ain't that you looking for. Fredrick Hooper might ring a bell, but that's who I was before I died. Ya know, that guy in those movies?” She laughed and snapped her fingers. “Nah! You want to know what I am! Well, my silly little heroic brother, I am Vindict's Wrath!”

  One of the priests let an arrow loose at the words. Yet one of the demons instantly jumped in its way. Her smile broadened as the monstrous figure stood there. She said, “Brother Barghest was fun to meet, too. God above, I'm so giddy right now. Our whole family is almost together. Aren't you excited?”

  “What the hell do you want?” Azuro shouted, as he stood in front of Misana.

  Yinla's face twisted to a look of boredom. Yet, with a voice completely contrary to it, “What? Oh don't you worry, I'm not here to kill y'all yet. Nah. I was supposed to, but I kinda don't think I will. Brother Baron will be really interested in learning about what I just figured out.”

  She paused, as if waiting for someone to say something. Then, when met with silence, she continued, “All well. This'll be fun if I tell ya. I'm gonna let y'all get back to that pretty little city over there. Let everyone you meet know, too. We're going to revive God and everyone in Shalecutte is invited to a special night's party. It'll be the second time we did this performance, but we'll make it better than the first!”

  Yinla grabbed hold of the demon in front of her as it pulled the arrow out and dropped it to the ground. Slowly it began to beat its wings and lift off the roof. She shouted, “Oh and if ya see Brother Barghest before the party starts? Tell him I'm really sorry for what I did to our friends. If he wants, I can pretend to be that one girl for him. Any way, Bye-bye now!”

  With that the demon took off into the air. Morgan turned to see Misana's eye was wide open and terror was written on her face. The priest who had fired the arrow dropped his bow. Azuro turned and shouted, “To the city! Now!”