On the first day, with cups of hot tea in their hands, the group of four sat on the top floor of a port warehouse, enjoying the otherwise beautiful view of the harbor through the windows. Like two long arms, wide piers embraced it from both sides, now filled with moored fishing boats, trawlers, and other vessels. Apparently, people were hesitant to venture into deep waters; only a few scattered vessels lingered near the port, staying close.

The veteran duo, as admitted during last night’s dinner, were brothers—Otan, the elder, and Berk, the younger. They focused on watching the stairs, doors, and side windows, securing the operation. Moira directed Ashan’s magically enhanced farsight to areas she found intriguing.

“That dark spot near the right pier?” she pointed at another location.

“Just an outhouse,” Ashan replied after staring intently, “It’s just a bit deeper there.”

She nodded slightly, continuing to observe. Taking a sip of her tea, she glanced at Otan. He must have felt her gaze because he turned and assured, “All clear here.”

“Great,” she responded, returning to watching the water. The bay leading quickly to the sea was relatively calm today, with minimal cloud cover. A good day for port surveillance. A guard assigned to them stood downstairs at the base of the stairs, ensuring no one wandered onto the top floor.

Thus, the morning hours passed, during which they became well-acquainted with the port’s layout: which hangars were busy, which docks saw the most activity despite the circumstances. In the bay itself, everything seemed normal. They speculated that whatever was happening might occur only in the evening when boats returned, not during the day when they went out to sea—a theory that made sense if a nocturnal predator was involved.

As they began considering asking for food, the brothers noticed a commotion below and alerted the group. Approaching the stairs, they heard their guard shouting, “I said no entry!” His voice abruptly ceased, followed by a loud thud. The four exchanged glances. The brothers positioned themselves at the doors, drawing short swords suitable for indoor combat, standing in high guard positions with blades ready to thrust. Ashan gripped his axe, taking a central stance to shield Moira with his body.

The sound of approaching footsteps reached them—several individuals accompanied by muted exchanges. “Are you sure she came here, the one from the south?” someone asked.

“Yes, damn it. The scouts were clear—she arrived from Kardum with an escort and was taken straight to that bloody traitor of our people. That corrupted city is likely behind the campaign against our tribe’s brothers and sisters,” replied another angrily.

“A nest of corruption and depravity. They even have mixed marriages there,” a second voice added, spitting loudly in disgust.

“Quiet now,” said a third voice. “We’re nearing the top.”

Indeed, their voices grew clearer. The brothers stood silently, ready for conflict. Moments later, their assailants appeared—ordinary townsfolk in appearance, but armed. They paused briefly upon seeing the guards’ drawn swords before stepping closer to make room for the others. There were six of them, though only two could fit on the stairs at a time, and even that was cramped.

“We’ll say this once and clearly. You are gray nomads. Even if from Kardum, there’s a place for you in the Last Tribe. Leave the southern witch, lay down your weapons, and you can leave unharmed,” one of them declared in a tone as if making a fair trade offer.

Ashan, slightly awkwardly, remembered using the same epithet for her when they first met. The brothers had expected to encounter cultists sooner or later, but on the first day? It was a surprise.

Moira laughed unpleasantly. “I’m afraid no one will serve you this witch on a silver platter. You’ll have to take her yourself,” she said, weaving a spell and gesturing. Ashan recognized it instantly.

The leader opened his mouth to retort, likely something resolute, but the rearmost man in the column suddenly screamed, “No, by the forebears, I beg you, no!” Dropping his sword, he shielded himself with his hands as if from a blow only he could see, then tumbled down the stairs, screaming all the way. In the ensuing chaos, the brothers leaped at the nearest cultists with surprising agility, stabbing decisively several times and pulling them into the room, throwing them at Ashan’s feet. He didn’t give them a chance to recover—two axe blows to their heads rendered them unconscious, if not dead.

The remaining three put up a brief fight but fell under the combined combat experience of the brothers and Ashan. Descending the stairs, they found the guard only stunned. They quickly summoned a nearby patrol, and the entire matter was brought before the captain. The tally: five dead cultists and one terrified prisoner, ready to divulge everything to avoid suffering the same fate. The captain, clearly shaken by the idea of six-man squads conducting brazen attacks in his city, profusely apologized to the group and promised it wouldn’t happen again.

He assigned a full five-person patrol to guard their operations. Before returning, they grabbed smoked mackerel, fresh rolls, and thin beer at Moira’s insistence. “Even small victories must be celebrated,” she said, determined to keep morale high despite the ominous situation. Everything indicated the Last Tribe had heavily infiltrated the city, with eyes and ears at the gates and fighters willing to risk their lives in battle. For now, however, they feasted on delicious, fatty fish and beer that barely, but noticeably, buzzed in their heads.

“You conjured that distraction spell, didn’t you?” Berk, the younger brother, asked Moira. She didn’t deny it, nodding in acknowledgment.

“Well done,” he praised. “It was just the opening we needed. That’s a handy trick!” he concluded with sincere admiration.

“Indeed,” Otan agreed. “With you in the rear and Ashan in reserve, I could mow them down like wheat fields—even by the dozen. Let them come!” he boasted, earning hearty laughter from the group, knowing it was a playful exaggeration to lighten the mood.

Everyone burst out laughing at that, fully aware it was the kind of boast meant to lighten the mood. The adrenaline was already wearing off, but good company, decent beer, and passable food kept their spirits buoyant nonetheless. They returned to their observations.Time passed, and the water refused to reveal any further secrets. Moira spotted another dark patch that remained motionless.

“It’s more... dark greenish, over there, about a hundred feet to the right of... yeah, exactly, right there!” she guided Ashan’s gaze to the spot. “What do you think it is?”

“You know, I think it might be... some kind of seaweed? Maybe algae?” he said uncertainly.

“Describe it to me in more detail,” she requested politely.

“It has these thin, elongated leaves, slightly serrated and kind of fringed? And in some places, it shimmers with deep crimson,” he explained, squinting into the distance.

“That’s most likely what’s called blood sea grass,” Moira stated. “It can burn and paralyze a grown man in seconds, but it’s harmless to boats. Just don’t swim through it naked and you are good.”

“Good to know,” Ashan muttered as he kept scanning the water.

The brothers fidgeted slightly before the younger one announced, “This beer, you know, I’ve gotta head downstairs,” pointing toward the stairs. The older one apparently needed to go too and added, “Me too,” before both of them disappeared below deck.

Moira watched them go and quietly remarked, “I didn’t want to bring them up in front of the others, but we need more eyes on this water. I’ll call my birds.” Rising from her spot by the window, she focused and wove a summoning spell. Her three favorite crow-like fiends materialized in a swirl of purple smoke. Delighted to serve her, they eagerly listened to her whispered commands. After a few gentle strokes along their beaks, they darted out of the window into the twilight sky.

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Ashan observed the scene. The spell, as seen through his seer’s sight, was unsettling to track, but the way she treated these creatures, and the odd spark of something almost incongruous in their otherwise ominous forms, left him feeling conflicted. Before the brothers returned, the birds had vanished from sight, circling somewhere high above the darkening waters.

In the deepening darkness, Moira could barely see a thing herself anymore. The task of observation fell solely to Ashan. In the meantime, she explained to the brothers that she had summoned a particular type of bird to assist them. Although their appearance might seem rather macabre, she reassured them that these creatures were simple and highly obedient beings, incapable of harming anyone without her explicit intent. There was no reason to fear them, she added, though their unsettling looks were beyond her control. The brothers were slightly uncomfortable but assured her it wasn’t a problem. They even remarked, “Magic probably isn’t meant to be pretty—it’s meant to solve problems,” a sentiment that deeply pleased Moira more than they could know.

However, when one of the summoned birds returned, the warriors had to summon all their courage not to avert their eyes or grimace. Their restrained reactions touched Moira’s heart, and she silently promised herself to reward their bravery. She stroked the winged fiend gently, and as if in a dream where time flows unnaturally fast, she saw the path it had traveled and the creature it had spotted.

A menacing, massive shadow lurked just beneath the water’s surface. It was something large enough to ram—or even sink—a mid-sized ship, let alone a fishing vessel. With this new information, she was able to provide Ashan with the creature’s exact location. Though it took several minutes, he finally spotted it within his range, though he couldn’t discern much more. The creature remained stubbornly beneath the surface. Moira sent the bird back to continue its surveillance.

Without hesitating for even a minute, she declared, “Call the captain. I have a plan, though he might not like it.” The younger brother dashed off to catch the patrol captain assigned to them. “I need a moment to work out the details,” she added, “but we’ll have to act quickly.”

Ashan and Otan exchanged uncertain glances but did as she asked. When Berk returned with the captain, Moira laid out her plan in a calm yet firm voice.

She gestured for everyone to gather by the window. Although little could be seen in the dark, she began explaining while pointing in general directions. “We’ve located the creature responsible for these incidents—or nearly so. We’ll need to lure it using a fast boat, drawing it toward the left dock, where it will have to swim through the patch of seaweed there.” Her tone was precise and assured. “Once the boat changes course, the people on the dock will need to make noise to direct it toward us. When it’s within my range, I’ll handle the rest. The seaweed’s toxin should disorient it enough for everyone to get off the dock safely.” She emphasized the last point, her seriousness evident.

The captain pondered the plan for a moment. “And you’re certain, miss, that you can handle the beast... by yourself?”

“Absolutely. Without a doubt. Once it’s in my range, all of you can clear the dock,” she replied with unwavering confidence. “My greater concern is a stray arrow from one of those Last Tribe cultists. That’s why you’ll need to secure the area,” she added, her tone turning pragmatic.

"Naturally, we will proceed as you say," the captain replied, a hint of pride in his voice. "To give you some encouragement, thanks to the testimony of the one you captured, we’ve managed to detain and imprison a significant portion of his network—nearly ten people." He seemed invigorated, buoyed by these small victories against the insurgents. Clearing his throat, he continued, "What kind of boat do you need?"

"Fast and noisy," Moira explained, "something that will grab the beast’s attention but can outpace it. We’ll signal the boat from the dock when it’s time to head toward us." She added, "A small crew will suffice, no cargo—strip it down to get every knot of speed."

"Understood. Give me half an hour. I’ll round up the people and find a helmsman brave enough for the task," the captain agreed and quickly headed below.

Left to themselves again, Moira’s companions raised hesitant concerns. "You don’t even know how big this beast is," the younger brother began. "How can you be sure you’ll handle it?"

"This is one of those times when size doesn’t matter," she replied with a wry smile. "Trust me on this: that creature meets its end tonight." Her tone brooked no argument.

"If you say so," the older brother said, glancing at Ashan, who nodded silently. He couldn’t imagine any creature surviving the spell Moira had prepared—he’d witnessed its raw potential the day they met. Whatever it was, she had clearly honed it into something even more formidable.

The group stood to stretch their legs while waiting for the captain’s return. Ashan assured Moira that the three of them would secure the area to prevent any cultists from slipping through.

"You and my birdies," she replied with a conspiratorial wink.

When the captain returned, night had fully descended. The group met downstairs beneath the warehouse to save the captain another trip up to the top floor. He brought a dozen city guards with him, along with a helmsman. Moira laid out the parts of the plan that involved him, explaining the signals and the route. From the side, the captain reassured the man with promises of generous pay and the full support of the guards in distracting the beast. The helmsman, reluctant but bound by duty, agreed. After a brief review of the flag signals and escape path, he took his skeletal crew and set off for the sailboat.

A few guards secured the dock to keep it clear, while the rest gathered at its end, shields ready to bang and throats prepared for shouting. All eyes were on the sailboat as it pushed into the water, illuminated faintly by storm lamps. With few clouds in the sky, the stars and moon offered just enough light to trace its outline on the bay’s surface.

"Ready? Can you see it?" Moira asked Ashan quietly.

He nodded, gripping the signal flag tightly. "I see it."

While Ashan focused on the water, the brothers watched the shoreline. The guards kept the crowd at bay, their shields ready to protect the dock from any potential attack. All four hoped the hastily executed plan had left no time for the Last Tribe to react, even if they had intended to.

Tense minutes passed as the sailboat moved further from the port. Soon, it vanished into the darkness—at least for most eyes. But Ashan suddenly called out, "We’ve got it!" and began waving the flag.

Moments later, the boat made a sharp turn and, catching the wind, sped toward the designated area, slicing through the patch of blood sea grass. The gathered hearts began to race. After a minute or so, the city guards started spotting the boat and exchanged hushed, excited remarks. The captain quickly shushed them, reminding everyone it wasn’t time to celebrate yet.

As planned, the boat glided through the seaweed, and Ashan muttered nervously under his breath, just loud enough for Moira to hear, "It’s right on their tail. I don’t know if they’ll make it—it’s so close."

"Steady," she replied, her voice shaking just slightly. "Give the toxin time to work." But a cold knot of dread had formed in her stomach, the thought of innocent sailors meeting a tragic end gnawing at her resolve. She silently cursed herself for the audacity of her plan. The seconds stretched into eternity until, at last, Ashan exhaled in relief.

"It’s slowing down. It’s working!" he announced, loud enough for the guards to hear.

"Good. Now we make noise!" Moira commanded. At her word, the guards began banging their shields and shouting, while Ashan raised the second flag to signal the boat to change course. All eyes turned to the beast, now visible as it moved toward the dock, emerging further from the water with each moment.

Moira began weaving her spell. Piece by piece, she layered its intricate elements, drawing on the magic of her surroundings. To Ashan’s seer-sight, it was a grotesque and seething thing, pulsating with malignant energy. It was the same spell she’d once readied for him, but now it was larger, more ferocious, and far deadlier. The sight repelled him, but he held his ground beside her.

As the beast approached, guards began retreating from the dock, unnerved by the growing bulge in the water’s surface. Around Moira, faint purple flickers danced near her left hand, but it was the beast that drove them to flee. A minute away, the captain signaled the full retreat, and everyone gladly left the dock—except Ashan and the brothers, who stood by Moira’s side. She poured more power into the spell, pushing it beyond anything she’d ever attempted.

The creature surged forward, breaking the surface with astonishing speed. Its grotesque gray-green body was covered in faintly glowing runes, etched into its flesh like scars. Its maw bristled with rows of teeth, leaving no escape for whatever it caught. Streamlined and deadly, it had tentacles to draw prey into its gaping mouth. For a heartbeat, it hung in the air, poised to strike.

Then Moira’s spell erupted.

At first, it flashed a modest purple glow. For a brief moment, everything fell silent as if the world held its breath. Then, with an ear-splitting crack, the spell detonated in a massive beam of purple light and smoke. The sheer force obliterated nearly three-quarters of the creature. What remained—a steaming, putrid carcass—landed heavily on the dock, breaking several planks under its weight. The air filled with the stench of decayed flesh.

The gathered crowd erupted in cheers. Guards held their ground, but many couldn’t help celebrating as the monster fell. The people, drawn by the earlier commotion, now gathered in growing numbers to witness the fallen beast and its slayer. Moira and her companions joined the guards, swept up in the jubilant atmosphere. For a moment, even the fear of such destructive magic was overshadowed by relief and triumph. This time, magic had been their ally.

News of the event would travel quickly, and it was unlikely the Elder of the Last Tribe would remain unaware of Moira’s involvement. But for tonight, none of that mattered. Drained from the spell but buoyed by adrenaline and the crowd’s chants of her name they get from the guards, she allowed herself to savor the moment.

"Moi-ra! Moi-ra!" they called, a mixture of gratitude, awe, and fear in their voices. She let the euphoria carry her as her companions supported her weary body back to the city guard’s barracks. It was a night she would not soon forget.