The air was suffocating with urgent tension, the elders hurriedly made their way to the great hall. Their faces, etched with lines of worry and confusion, mirrored the collective unease that hung in the air.

Some muttered under their breath, others exchanged furtive glances, all wondering what could have caused such an abrupt gathering. Some were already privy to the news, but they were still in denial.

Upon entering the hall, they were met with an ominous sight. Elder Varek stood there hunched, his figure casting long unsettling shadows in the dim light. Guards were stationed inside, a violation of the sacred custom that forbade their presence in the elders’ hall. Yet, the elders were not focused on that, instead, their eyes quickly shifted to something even more alarming...a body, shrouded in a white cloth, lay motionless on the floor.

Besides it was Varek who remained silent, his face a mask of grim determination. Standing to his right was his daughter. She was sobbing quietly, her tears streaming down her cheeks. Illuminated by the flickering glow of torches, casting long shadows on the stone walls, the scene was unsettling.

The elders’ faces became stern and weathered, they were etched with concern and determination. They exchanged anxious glances, their unease now deepening. Some of them knew the situation, yet they were still in disbelief.

“What happened, Varek? Why have you summoned us here?” Jorim demanded, his voice a mix of irritation, worry, and denial as he was still in shock.

Without a word, Varek knelt down and pulled back the cloth, revealing the fragile, lifeless body beneath. Gasps echoed through the hall as the elders recognized the face of the deceased.

Lyra stepped back terrified, her hand flying to her mouth. “it’s… Tharion!”

The hall fell into a tense, oppressive quiet, the gravity of her words sinking in. The elders knew that whatever was to come, it would test the very fabric of their community. Lifting the cloth further, a dagger was soon revealed, protruding from Tharion’s chest; its hilt adorned with intricate, ominous designs. The sight of it sent a chill through the room.

Rina’s eyes widened in shock. “Who could have done this?”

Alaric clenched his fists, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and sorrow. “Who would dare to kill one of us in our own homes?”

Elder Jorim shook his head in denial. “what motives did they have!.”

The initial shock began to give way to a profound sorrow. Tharion had been a respected elder, a pillar of their community. His death left a void none of them were prepared to face.

The heavy doors creaked open, and Aren entered, his presence commanding immediate silence. He crouched down to examine the body, his face unreadable. He removed the cloth completely and put it to the side.

What met him and everyone else was the body of Tharion, his long brown hair spread out like a fan. His body was thin but firm with muscles, covered entirely in fur. The scene was both serene and tragic, the flickering torchlight casting eerie shadows on his still form.

After a tense moment of just staring, he looked up, his gaze icy. “Everyone, except for the elders and two guards, leave the hall!!” Aren ordered, his voice leaving no room for objection.

The room emptied swiftly, leaving only the elders and the two guards standing in a somber circle. Aren placed his hands on Theron's body, and with deliberate care, he removed the leather covering the upper body. He proceeded with his bare hands to rip the tunic he was wearing, revealing the fatal wounds.

His eyes closed, and he began humming. Noone dared to speak, they knew not to interpret a shaman while he works. He placed some stones down and continued humming, blue lights began revolving around him spooking those near, and causing them to distance themselves.

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It took some time, but without any warning, his eyes snapped open, his mouth started moving. He began to glow with the same color revolving around him as he began to speak… his speech no longer flowing like normal, but in rhymes as if describing an event he was currently seeing, “A toxic fate... ejected with hate! The killer on the loose... he doesn't have an excuse! Poison in the vein... it brought great pain. Betrayed by kin... or a foe within? Suspicion in the air... deceit everywhere.”

The other elders listened intently, the shadows of the flickering torches dancing across their faces. Their eyes were taking turns looking at the still warm corpse! Their emotions were unstable as they all felt conflicted on what to do, someone murdering an elder in his home wasn’t something they have seen!

Varek stepped forward, his face solemn. “I and my daughter were ordered to leave the resident so Zarek and Theron could speak privately. As we attended to our duties in the village, the servant who brings water to Theron home stumbled on the gruesome seen, she found him dead, a dagger embedded in his heart.” He said, stressing the fact he was nowhere near Theron before his death, “We were then notified, they called us while we were taking care of some wounded hunters, they can testify that we were with them for the majority of the day! I’ve asked around and Nobody nearby saw anyone enter the cabin, they only saw Zarek leaving!”

Alaric narrowed his eyes. “Bring the hunters!” he ordered

Two injured hunters, bandages visible on their arms and legs, were brought before the elders first.

“These men can confirm our whereabouts,” Varek continued. “We were tending to their injured, and my daughter was with me helping.”

The first hunter, a tall man with a rugged face, nodded. “It’s true. They were both with us, tending to our wounds after a difficult hunt."

The second hunter, a younger man, added, “We saw them the entire afternoon. They didn’t leave our side.”

Jorim, his voice gruff, questioned them. “And you’re certain of this? No chance they could have slipped away?”

The first hunter shook his head. “No, Elder Jorim. They were with us the whole time.”

Aren straightened himself, the light revolving around slowly died and faded. He gathered the stones and stored them away. his voice carrying an edge of finality, spoke up. “We must act swiftly. Tharion’s death is a grave matter, and we cannot delay in uncovering the truth.”

The elders exchanged uneasy glances, their minds spinning with suspicion and doubt. Varek seized the moment, stepping forward with a grave look in his eyes. “Zarek was the last to see Tharion alive, and the dagger in his chest… belongs to Zarek”

Lyra’s eyes narrowed as she fixed her gaze on Varek. “And you believe Zarek would do this? To his own father?”

Varek’s expression hardened. “I do not make accusations lightly. But the signs point to him. We cannot ignore what’s before us.”

Alaric frowned. “That’s a serious accusation, Varek. We cannot condemn the boy without solid evidence that the dagger is his.”

Jorim nodded in agreement. “Zarek has always been an outcast, but that doesn’t make him a murderer.”

Rina added. “Enough!! There is no point of this, we need to bring Zarek here and question him ourselves.” She said, and turning around toward the guard who was escorting the hunters out, she ordered, “bring Zarek here!!”

The guard nodded, and rushed on his way.

The elders continued their deliberation, their voices low but urgent. They debated possible motives and suspects, their words tinged with fear and suspicion. Possible leads popped up, possible clues, and even possibly names, and a name that the elders didn't expect to hear was that of Zarek

It took a few minutes later, but when the guard that was dispatched to fetch Zarek returned, his face was pale and his voice trembled. “Elders, Zarek… Zarek is gone. His belongings, everything… they’ve vanished.”

The hall fell into stunned silence once more, the weight of the situation pressing down like an iron fist. The elders stood frozen, the implications of Zarek’s disappearance heavy on their hearts.

Shocked gasps and murmurs filled the room as the elders processed the news. Aren’s rhymes still echoed in their minds, and it seemed as if they all understood the underlying meaning.

Aren, noticing the shift in the atmosphere laid down the stones again, his eyes now filled with a red glow, and he began to silently pray. It took him merely a moment before he spoke, “The killer is on the loose, he has no excuse! The signs are clear, fate draws near. Beware the night, for stars' might. They are upon our doors, wishing for wars. We must steer clear, for trouble is near!”

The words sent a chill through the gathered elders, the gravity of Aren’s prophecy settling over them like a suffocating shroud. The room was thick with suspicion and dread.

Varek took the opportunity to press forward. “Zarek must be captured. He is a danger to us all. We should have dealt with this years ago when the stars first warned us.”

Alaric stepped forward, his voice resolute. “We must not act in haste, Varek. We will find Zarek and bring him back here to answer for this. Only then can we uncover the truth.”

Jorim nodded firmly. “We owe it to Tharion to find the truth, but we also owe it to Zarek to give him a chance to explain himself.”

The tension in the room remained thick as the elders prepared to move. But before they could act, the hall doors flew open, and a guard stumbled in, his face pale as death.

“They… they have come!” he gasped, terror dripping from his voice.

The elders turned to face him, their expressions hardening. The time for deliberation was over. The storm had arrived.