White horse galloped swiftly, piercing through heavy rain that barraged the land, sloshing through soften dirt in the middle of Tur Forest. Slouched black-coated man bouncing on top of it, tightly gripping the leash so he won’t get a taste of mud. Although it was radiant by day, its hideous nature by night was famous among the Folkman. Once the sun’s gone, its peculiar aura will defect any soul who passed by; they will even fear their own shadows. None of that wavered his will. But his horse wasn’t as brave as he was.

“Easy, Argon, easy,” their paced slowed down. “Almost there.”

They never gone there this late. Would they win their race against the sun? a soft touch of its master made it calm once more.

They finally saw their destination – an isolated hay-roofed hut, lanterns hanging in its wooden fence. A shadowlike figure covered in black stood, reached out his hand blocking their way to the entrance. He suddenly stopped.

“Evening, Lord Harron!” It was a woman’s voice. She uncloaked herself.

“My apology, but something important must be discussed immediately, My Lord!” She shouted as her face poured by the rain.

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He got off the horse and handed off the horse leash immediately. It was cold but he found his hand sweating as he stripped his riding gear below the roof. ‘Did our work past years really paid off? Or something bad happened?’ and many questions run through his mind. He opened the weak and squeaky door.

He stepped on the pile of bones. Sleeping vicious dogs snored at separate cage around the room. He scurried forward, to the far back of the hut where there was a wooden door acting as a floor beneath him. He lifted it and proceed downward. He chose to finish the last step of the ladder by hopping to the ground.

Chains clanking. Animals, humans – woman and children at each corner of the room tied, trying to unleash themselves recklessly, while their scream silenced by mask around their mouth. Stitches everywhere, some of their limbs were missing. Their eyes were empty, poisoned by unmeasured sedatives. Cask could be seen around – either empty or being used are the main ornaments of the room.

He opened the rusty gate at the back of the room and barged in.

“Oh, Lord Harron, I’m sorry but this is important,” said the man behind his working desk, he took off his glasses and tidied his half bald hair a little.

“What is it, Valdir?”

“Here, here. Let me show you,” He gone to and fro around the room as Harron sat down, his legs fidgeted a bit.

“This…,” Valdir tried to steal his breath away as he handed the white liquid filled vial.

“This is an Ascendian essence,” their eyes locked onto the intriguing glass container.