The townhall was unusually crowded, the air heavy with tension and exhaustion. The rescued prisoners huddled near the walls, their eyes darting nervously as villagers whispered amongst themselves. In the center of the room, Elira stood with her father, the elder, Felix, and Berry.

Berry cleared his throat, stepping forward. “Right, well, I suppose introductions are in order. Name’s Berry. Magician by trade, prisoner by bad luck, and apparently your resident monster expert now.”

The villagers exchanged wary glances, but the elder gestured for him to continue. “Speak, magician. What do you know of this creature?”

Berry’s expression turned grim, his usual sarcasm absent. “That thing out there—it wasn’t always like that. It used to be something natural. Maybe even harmless. I’d guess, based on its size and some of the features I saw… it was a Bramblehound.”

The room murmured in confusion. Elira frowned. “What’s a Bramblehound?”

Berry rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze darting to the elder. “They’re forest-dwellers. Pretty common in these parts, actually. You’d barely notice them unless you knew where to look. Medium-sized, covered in mossy fur, blend in perfectly with the underbrush. Harmless, too—they eat fruit and bugs, travel in small groups. Curious little creatures.”

Elira’s father tilted his head, his brows furrowing. “And you’re saying that… thing was one of them?”

Berry nodded. “Used to be. The moss-like fur, the build—it all fits. But it’s been twisted. That creature isn’t a Bramblehound anymore. It’s something else entirely.”

The elder leaned forward on her cane. “Twisted how?”

Berry crossed his arms, his gaze darkening. “Mana. Or rather, something pretending to be mana. It’s darker, corrupted. It doesn’t flow naturally like the magic we know—it warps everything it touches. That creature is what happens when too much of it builds up in one place.”

The elder’s voice was steady, but there was a note of concern. “And you’re certain this mana is the cause?”

Berry nodded. “Positive. I felt it the moment that thing showed up. It’s like a poison in the air, spreading through the earth, twisting anything it reaches. If it’s not stopped, we’ll see more of these monsters. And they’ll only get worse.”

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in. Elira’s father finally broke the silence. “What do we do?”

Berry shrugged. “I wish I had an easy answer. We need to find the source of this corruption, but that’ll take time. For now, you focus on surviving.”

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The elder straightened, her voice steady. “Then we must act quickly. These refugees need shelter, and this village needs protection. If we are to endure, we must fortify our defenses and adapt.”

Elira’s father nodded. “The prisoners will stay here. They’ll help us build, hunt, and prepare. We’ll need everyone working together.”

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The village erupted into activity as torches were lit and tools were gathered. Despite the late hour, both villagers and refugees worked side by side, their shared purpose driving them forward. Lanterns were placed around the perimeter, casting flickering light that pushed back the shadows of the forest. The glow created an uneasy comfort, as if the light alone could hold back the unknown dangers lurking beyond.

Logs were hauled from storage, and trenches were dug to set the beginnings of a palisade. The barrier was crude but sturdy, a testament to the determination of those building it. Felix worked tirelessly, his movements fueled by guilt as he carried heavy logs and drove stakes into the ground. His muscles burned, his hands blistered, but he didn’t stop.

Elira watched the scene unfold, a faint glimmer of hope sparking within her. Her father approached, his expression serious as he surveyed the progress. “They’re doing well,” he said. “But this won’t be enough if the monster returns.”

Elira nodded, her worry clear in her eyes. “It’s a start, but there’s something else we need to discuss.”

The elder joined them, her cane tapping softly against the ground. “The food.”

Her father’s expression darkened. “I know. We were already stretched thin before, and now there are more mouths to feed.”

Elira crossed her arms, her brow furrowing. “We can’t keep this up. The harvest wasn’t enough. If we send the tribute to the crown this month…”

“We’ll starve,” her father finished grimly.

The elder tapped her cane decisively. “Then we don’t send it. The king will be furious, but we have no choice.”

Her father hesitated, his jaw tightening. “This will bring trouble. You know how the crown responds to defiance.”

“And yet,” the elder said, her voice firm, “if we send that tribute, there won’t be a village left to protect.”

Elira glanced between them, unease twisting her stomach. “Then we prepare. For whatever comes next.”

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Felix continued working through the night, ignoring the ache in his body and the concerned glances from the others. His guilt weighed heavily on him, driving him to push harder, faster.

The elder approached him as he struggled to carry yet another heavy log. Her cane tapped lightly against the ground as she stopped beside him. “Felix,” she said, her voice firm but not unkind. “You’ve done enough for tonight.”

Felix shook his head, his voice quiet but determined. “I can’t stop. I have to—”

“What?” she interrupted. “Punish yourself? Make up for what happened? That won’t help anyone.”

Felix looked away, his grip tightening on the log. “I need to do something.”

The elder’s gaze softened, but her tone remained steady. “You’ve done something. You’ve worked harder than anyone here. But if you want to truly help this village, we’ll need your strength tomorrow. Rest is not weakness, Felix.”

For a moment, he hesitated, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. Finally, he nodded. “Alright,” he said reluctantly. “But just for a little while.”

The elder gave him a small smile. “That’s all I ask.”

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As dawn broke, the village stood transformed. A crude but solid palisade now encircled the clearing, the torches replaced by the soft glow of morning light. Villagers and refugees alike slumped against walls or sat on the ground, exhaustion etched into their faces.

Elira stood at the edge of the village, her gaze fixed on the forest. She hadn’t slept, her thoughts consumed by worry for Kael. As the sunlight filtered through the trees, she whispered to herself, “Please come back.”