The stranger carefully made his way through the tall cornstalks, his senses on high alert.

A faintly metallic tang that tickled his nose accompanied the pungent smell of corn, ripe to be harvested.

Just when he neared a clearing in the field, his senses heightened.

In the center of the clearing lay a woman, her lifeless body torn and covered in blood.

Nearby, a shattered wine jug dripped its contents onto the ground. “Messed up, ain’t it?” he muttered, eyes fixed on the chilling sight in front of him.

“The jaw seems barely attached. Something didn’t seem to prioritize the condition of the corpse much.”

His voice was low, almost a whisper, as he took in the gruesome display. “And those cut marks... no way a human did that. Not with that kind of brutality, must be claw cuts.”

He paced around the scene, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, occasionally glancing at the lifeless form before him.

“Five hours have passed since she met her end,” he continued. “But look at her, still untouched by the wolves nearby. They know better than to mess with whatever left these marks.”

Stopping abruptly, he scanned the area and then sighed. “No paw prints... just silence and shadows,” he mused. “Something of rank B is out here tonight, something that even the beast’s fear.”

His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the broken wine jug on the floor. A spark of familiarity flickered in his eyes as he skimmed the label, quietly murmuring to himself.

Fion-Corcaithe. High-end merchandise, not exactly within a simple farmer’s budget. Should I incinerate her remains before she turns into a curse... or perhaps I could use her body?

I’ll plant this pill inside. Whatever creature did this to her will surely return to the corpse, and then we can trace the scent of the pill.”

With a flick of his wrist, he retrieved a small, unmarked vial from his cloak and extracted a single pill. As he kneeled closer to the lifeless body, he paused, his eyes locking with hers.

“Eyes will be a better place for the pill.” With practiced hands, he slid his fingers beneath her eyelids and deftly inserted the pill into the socket of her left eye.

He stood and dusted off his hands, his gaze fixed on the clearing. The metallic tang lingered in the air, but it was slowly dissipating, replaced by the earthy scent of the cornfield.

“May your spirit find peace,” he whispered, his voice carried by the gentle breeze. “And may the creature that took your life meet me, to end his life, too.”

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He pivoted away from the lifeless woman, a weary sigh escaping his lips. “Dawn’s breaking,” he muttered, rubbing at the scar on his chin.

“Got to find some shut-eye before sunset. Battling beasts is a cakewalk compared to snagging some sleep in this godforsaken town.”

His gaze drifted off into the distance, a grimace tugging at his features. “Swear on my blade, no more bloody bounties from nobility ever again.”

In a sour tone, he spat to his left and started his trek back to the town, his steps growing heavier as the first rays of dawn bled into the horizon.

The cornstalks were bent softly in the breeze, almost like murmuring their final goodbyes to the departed soul that they had lost.

The town was still asleep and the only sounds heard were the rustling of his boots on the cobblestone street and the hoot of an owl finding its perch after the whole night’s duty.

He walked by the tavern whose windows had been covered and the door locked.

“Good riddance,” he mumbled to himself as he proceeded with his trip to the outskirts of town.

His sight traced the contour of the horizon, looking for any signs of movement, until he saw an old hotel located amidst the trees.

“Here is far from everyone, I could take a break,” he thought.

he walked towards the hotel, only to pull an old oak door which grudgingly opened with the sound of a squeak.

Standing inside, the musty and dim ambiance of the space was a welcome relief from the chilly weather outside.

He knocked at the counter, rang the bell, and hoped to get help from the reception desk.

But the bell sounded in the deserted auditorium and nobody was in sight.

He waited for just couple of minutes till he started feeling uneasy.

As he was ready to exit, his ears glimpsed faint screams coming from behind the counter.

“Hmm, something isn’t alright.”

He approached cautiously, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He peered into the cracks in the door behind the counter.

Revealing a room filled with dusty old furniture.

His gaze fell upon a woman, a captive bound to an old wooden chair. Her hair was a cascade of red, and her eyes were green as emeralds.

He estimated her age to be around 24, her youthful complexion marred by bruises and cruelly etched marks from a branding iron.

A thought flashed through his mind. “She isn’t alone in there. There’s someone else lurking on the other side.”

His voice echoed in his head as he analyzed the situation further.

He reached out to the door handle, ready to charge in and free the captive, but something stopped him.

The voice inside, a man’s voice, started to speak.

“No one will hear you, harlot, not a soul,” came the chilling voice of a man. He wore a pristine white robe, embellished with the emblem of a lion, blood dripping from its heart at its center.

“You, though, the whole town would hear you in a minute,” said the outsider, walking into the room and pulling out his sword with a quiet sound.

The man grasped his iron branding tool and turned his gaze toward the outsider. He spoke again, frustration was evident in his tone.

“A priest, eh? You, you are far from the capital.” The outsider retorted, his voice tinged with disdain.

“I am what I am, and here, in this godforsaken village, I am judge, jury, and executioner. I serve the higher flame.”