The adventurers walked through the dark forest and fog, and the grim skies started raining upon

them. Luthor could feel a presence of something vile within the group.

"What is your name?" He asked the young hooded woman.

"My name is Kassandra." She answered with a fright in her voice.

"Are you hiding something? I can feel it." He insisted, and as he patted her cloak, he found the chalice, raised it towards his face and observed:

"A goblet made of bloodstone and black iron with a demonic face on it, Is this one innocent too, Edgar?"

"Well, I think we would need more information before we make conclusions."

"Now you are really starting to concern me."

"I stole it," Kassandra admitted as the group walked towards the mountain, the way becoming steeper with each step.

"From whom?"

"The cult that we just fought, that's why they chased me." The girl explained.

"And what about the magic blast you used to turn that cultist into bashed squash?"

"It's sorcery."

"I saw." Luthor replied, "So somebody had to teach you to control it."

He knew that sorcerers are rare, being different from witches and wizards by the fact that their powers are innate from birth, with far greater potential than mere mortals.

They are also known as the mageborn, natural conduits of the arcane magic.

"Leave the girl alone, Luthor; you are stressing her."

"Stressing her? She is our prisoner!" Luthor replied.

"Come here, girl." Edgar grabbed her shoulder and brought her to his side; "Stay with me, and you will be safe, okay, Kassandra?"

"Okay."

During that time, Eldon was a couple of steps ahead of the rest of the party, leading the way with a torch in his hand, until a cave appeared in the side of the mountain, hidden by a dense forest.

"This must be it; let's go in," he proclaimed.

"This is beyond insane; we are bringing a goblet right back to their feet." Luthor protested.

"Do you have any better ideas? We certainly can't hide it from them!" Edgar replied.

"We could send it back to the village with Hogwatch; that is, if Garric wouldn't try to destroy it." Luthor clearly understood the complexity of the situation.

"This is but an entrance." Kassandra spoke, "They are probably far ahead of us."

The group continued into the cave. The darkness was thick and impenetrable, and Eldon strode ahead as he followed the traces of magic. As soon as they went into the cave, they were met with a cold gust of wind and icy droplets of mist that could be felt on their skin.

The road down was carved into the stone, resembling crude steps that led deeper into the ground. From the very start this seemed like a terrible idea; however, witch-hunters had very little choice in that regard, so they walked down the stone stairs.

They could hear only drops of water echoing through the bowels of the world, the deep, reverberant sound of the humming wind, and the occasional squeak of a bat. The torch's light allowed Eldon to see very little ahead of him, and he entirely relied on the traces of magic that he followed in his waking trance, and Kassandra stood close by, for her eyes could not penetrate the darkness, unlike Luthor and Edgar, whose eyes were adapted to the absence of light. To them the cave looked as a dim and muffled laminar space, its colors muted, barely more than the shades.

"Drops of blood; we are on their track," Eldon spoke as he went on, and Kassandra closely followed, watching her step so as not to stumble against a rock in what little torchlight there was. As they went downward below the surface of the world,

it seemed that the cave had reached a network of large caverns, a world of its own, yet none of them could see far enough to observe its shape, for it was completely swallowed by the dark.

"We are in the underworld right now, the place where the sinful souls linger for eons before they are collected by Naldir and given a new existence in Tharvalok." Luthor explained.

"In Underworld the rivers flow,

The hollows sleep, and cold winds blow,

Beneath the ground, so deep and low,

Where no mortal dares to go."

Edgar mumbled to his chin, his voice heavy with sorrow.

As they went deeper into the guts of Elemorion, they entered a dense fog, and they could see shapes in the mist, resembling lost people that walk around aimlessly in their centuries of sorrow, trapped in the pointless existence, void of everything except misery and grief.

Among many souls, the shape of a woman appeared, and Edgar rushed towards her.

"Aleena?" His eyes full of tears, and his voice cracking with pain, yet the specter simply walked through him. It clearly wasn't the woman he was looking for, nothing but a ghostly shape, yet his eyes were playing tricks on him; he saw her in every shape in the mist.

"Who is Aleena? You seem to mention her often," said Eldon.

"Forget it," the man exclaimed and sat on a nearby rock; "Don't wait for me; I'll catch you."

The group went on, but Kassandra walked a couple of steps back and sat next to Edgar.

"What are you waiting for, girl?"

"You told me to stay with you, remember?" She said silently and looked at the floor as the light disappeared behind a rock while the rest of the party continued.

"Well, that may be true; you can stay." The man spoke, his voice heavy.

"You are in pain; can I help you?"

"Why would you help me? We barely met; you don't even know me. Why would you care?" Edgar questioned before he took a bottle of wine out of his coat and drank a swig.

"Because you cared too." She answered.

"You are a dear one, it would seem." The weathered man took another swig, swept his mouth with his sleeve, and placed the bottle beside him. Perhaps he didn't even sober up ever since they found him in the tavern, and he was drunk even before that, since who knows when.

"Thank you," she answered, and the man took another swig.

"Does this make you feel better?" She questioned

"It is supposed to."

"Does it?"

"It doesn't; it just makes me bear with it easier."

"Tell me, what troubles you? I won't tell anyone, I promise, and maybe you will feel better."

Edgar didn't speak a word; he just drank more.

"Is Aleena dead?"

"Of course, girl, why do you think I'd be checking for her in this place?"

"Was she your wife?"

"She was not, maybe she would be, in some better world. But since you already know enough, I don't see a reason not to speak." Edgar said and handed the bottle to Kassandra, and she took it with both her hands and drank a little sip that turned her face zesty.

"You don't have to drink if you don't want to."

"Okay." She said happily and handed him the bottle.

"She was a witch."

"A witch? What kind of witch?"

"The one that I pursued for many years, those times were much easier; villagers talked about strange rituals, cattle went insane, people had nightmares, harvests were inconsistent, goats disappeared, you know, simple things,

and upon hearing the rumor, I came to Brynmere, no plague at that time, no skirmishes in the forest; those people that died in the woods, I knew some of them for years, yet they thought very little of me." The drunk man explained, as he took another swig and the story unraveled:

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"I was a young witch-hunter back then, in my middle twenties, a prodigy. Most of my peers were still apprentices at that time. I wanted to prove myself. I found many witches; I lost count. Most of them were pagans, old native people of the land.

They lived here before the Kingdom claimed what's theirs, yet those that refused to convert to the new faith simply fled to the forests and lived their lives that way, while others practiced their native faiths in secrecy.

Those were the witches that we hunted, and one of them, Aleena."

"So she was just an ordinary woman?" Kassanda's curiosity grew.

"Far from it; she was a druidess dedicated to the deity known as The Forest Father, a demigod of a sort. Every forest has one, and let me tell you, she was both powerful and intelligent.

My ego was enormous back then; I strived to be the best witch-hunter in the realm, yet there was one witch that always escaped me, always just out of my reach, so I pursued her for years.

Sometimes she toyed with me, intentionally giving me hints, before disappearing again, and I could never catch her.

Hogwatch was led by our old priest, doing the bare minimum to protect the flock, but then Garric came.

The big man in chainmail armor and fur on his shoulder you saw back in the forest, back then a young warrior from the north, experienced in battle against the raiders, was sent to train the Kingsmen, the crown's militia here in Aerinthorn.

"He pushed me." Kassandra added with a grudge on her face.

"Sooner rather than later he joined Hogwatch and earned his name; he was extremely inquisitive, and his zeal was unmatched; he wanted to kill every witch, every last pagan, even the smallest one; he burned their bodies and gave them no peace.

It was clear to me; Garric was his name, but Thane was only his nickname. Whose surname is Thane? He was hiding his past because he was one of the pagans from the north, converted at a very young age, trying to prove himself as a true man of Xorael.

No person is truly evil except the ones that feel a constant need for proving, and unfortunately I was one of such people, same as Garric.

We became best friends, and he quickly became a watchmaster of Hogwatch due to his capability. As a duo we murdered many; you know how many nails we collected?

The church bell in Brynmire is made of witches' nails, all from the pagans our men have crucified under our command. We also lost many young men, but they fell in battle, and many more came to replace them.

One day, we found a hidden village, full of pagans, and we have decided to raze it. Its walls were made of wood, and their archers did wreak havoc upon our ranks, but we were many; even the Hogwatch patrols of neighboring villages came to our aid, even the Kingsmen.

There were at least two hundred of us by the time their walls fell and their houses burned. I realized there were women and children there too, not that I hadn't known it earlier, of course, but that is when the thought had come to my mind.

For some of them, it was already late, yet I saw a group of around fifteen hiding in a large tent, and I led them to safety; that's where Aleena met me;

she saw me save them, she appeared from the woods, telling me she'll lead them away from danger, and I left back to the remains of the town we burned.

Despite the losses, our men celebrated that night, yet Garric was restless. I always suspected he saw me, yet I couldn't confirm or deny it.

Aleena came to me in my dream and revealed to me a spot in a forest. I still relive that dream from time to time; I remember it vividly. It was what must be the reddest sunset I've ever seen.

That day I went exactly to the spot I saw in a dream and waited, and exactly at sunset, she appeared. She seemed so surreal, a witch that I pursued for years, now right in front of me.

I shook her hand, a greeting pagans know very little about, but I did it only to touch her, to confirm she was actually there. She was beautiful, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.

She told me that her people needed sustenance; the winter was coming, and everything they had was burned. I already saved them, a handful of women and children that survived. How could I deny it?

So I met her there again, many times, and the cattle kept disappearing, dried meat too, and other resources.

Harvests were still inconsistent, sometimes missing large portions, but this time it was no witches or pagans; it was me.

I did it to save them, and Aleena, despite my past, saw some good in me. The redemption, you see, how could a person whose people have been slaughtered by my blade and crucified by my hand ever see anything but a tyrant in me?

Not even I saw anything good in me, yet she did. What I felt for her, I never knew if it was mutual or not.

Yet one dusk, I approached the spot, carrying a basket of goods, and she met me there at a sunset, as usual. We spent a couple of moments exchanging very few words, but then Garric and his men appeared all around us.

It was a trap; they caught us both, but what still bothers me the most were the words that Garric spoke:

"Well done, Edgar, you can add this one to your count."

I swore I had nothing to do with the ambush, but her eyes looked at me only with hate; there was no way I could explain to her, I wasn't the traitor she thought me to be.

As soon as they left the forest, they nailed her to a large wooden cross, and as they carried her towards the church to be burned, I followed them and tried to make my amends, to explain to her that this wasn't planned, yet she didn't listen to me;

her eyes were looking straight at mine and judging, full of tears.

"Traitor! Liar! You fooled me!" She yelled from the cross. At that moment I wished that she could simply read my mind, to know I had nothing to do with the ambush, yet it was not possible to prove.

I followed her straight before the church gates and explained myself and begged for her understanding up until the moment she burned, and even after the fire had settled, I found her body lying in the ash, at least one half of it,

or a coal that resembled a human shape, and I knelt there for days, telling her I didn't mean to betray her, but to no avail; she was already dead. Her remains were blown away by the wind, and it took half a Hogwatch to drag me away from the spot.

I was lost; I threw my sword into the lake; all I did was drink. I collected the nails that were used to crucify her and forged them into a knife, a knife I still carry to this day, and sometimes I can hear it whisper to me,

"Traitor! Liar! You fooled me!"

Every night I whisper back to the blade, hoping that maybe she could hear me and understand."

The man finished the story and felt lighter, but when he looked towards Kassandra, she was already asleep at his shoulder.

"Well, at least she cared," he thought as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her through the darkness ahead, following a trail of magic towards the rest of the group.