Helen looked down at her unbound wrists and feet, which were no longer shackled, courtesy of Seamus, who had the key all this time. She looked back at the two men, who were currently talking amongst each other.
‘What are they on about?’
Helen raised an eyebrow before looking down at her black leather armor. Her eyes focused on the red handprint on her chest, the simple mark that had signified her allegiance to Deimos. She scowled at the sight of it. She wanted nothing more than to rip the piece of armor off so she could be rid of the marking. Still, Helen knew better than to leave herself unprotected out here, especially with the danger lurking beyond the treeline.
“Hey, marau–Ex marauder. Let’s get moving,” Haggard called out, Seamus right behind him as they walked up to the tree line. Seamus was checking his sword, sheathing and unsheathing it as he followed Haggard, who kept a hand on his hammer’s handle.
“Wait a damn second!” Helen called out right behind them, rushing to Haggard. “Shouldn’t I have a weapon to defend myself with?”
The man laughed, shaking his head as they entered the forest, his eyes focused ahead. “Gods, no, you really think we’ll give a weapon to someone like you?” He chuckled again, walking off as Helen faltered behind. She stared at Haggard as he walked on ahead, ignoring the ex-marauder’s look of confusion and anger.
“Then what the hel am I supposed to do?” She called out.
“Maybe you can mark our path throughout the forest, make sure we don’t get lost,” Seamus answered on her left, nearly making the woman jump from surprise. “Here,” the young man said, reaching for his belt and pulling out a small knife. “It’s not a sword or anything, but it’s better than nothing. Just don’t let Haggard see you with it.” Seamus handed her the small knife before walking off, following Haggard.
Helen looked down at the knife in confusion, wondering how naïve Seamus had to be to trust her with a weapon of any kind, even if it wasn’t particularly lethal. She gripped onto its small handle, gritting her teeth as she stabbed a nearby tree, marking it with an ‘X’.
‘That kind of trust is going to get these people killed…’
Helen shook her head as she followed behind the two men, marking the trees as they walked along.
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“So, you got stabbed… died… and then brought back to life by that shaman,” Edmund repeated. “And you’re still alive because the ritual forced another spirit into your body, keeping you alive?”
James watched as Edmund tried to grasp the facts.
“But then that ritual also brought in other spirits? Bad ones which forcefully possess living creatures and disfigure them?” Archibald joined in.
“I told you that you wouldn’t believe it.” James shrugged as he sat upright.
“Yes, and we wouldn’t believe it if you had told us this any other day, but after what we’ve seen? It’s feeling much more believable,” Brant muttered, shaking his head as he laid back against the stone wall. “Fuck, is this what the Lumen Knights were on about? Is it possible that this has happened to more islands? What if it spreads to Bernis City? To the other clans?” James could see that the older man was panicking, his stern face gaining a hint of horrific realization.
“It won’t,” James assured him, straining as he stood up. “Gryff told me this thing should’ve only affected three islands, at best. As far as I know, it can only spread to other corpses it kills. Hence why we burn the bodies.” James looked upon the blast zone, where the creature’s remains were spread apart, its guts and body parts staining the walls and ground. “It’s why we need to burn whatever is left of this thing. Should it ever try to come back.”
He looked back at the three men, who all looked tired and exhausted.
“I know it’s my fault this thing exists. I want to get rid of it for good and keep it from hurting any more people and living beings. To keep it from…” James sighed, shivering as he remembered the trapped human host back at Yorktown. “To keep it from making more people suffer fates worse than death.” He watched as they all contemplated their choices.
“We’ll keep helping, but after the third island, we’re done,” Edmund said. “I don’t think I can stomach seeing another one of those things.”
Archibald nodded. “I can still help, but I’m going to agree with Edmund here. I didn’t sign up to fight abominable creatures from hell...”
Brant moved, straining himself as he sat up, holding his arm as he sighed. “I’ll stay with you, but I doubt I’ll be able to fight again for a long time… that thing fucked my arm up.” He winced as he showed his bleeding arm, which hung limply. James nodded, reaching into his belt’s pouches and pulling out a copper vial, courtesy of Dahlia.
“Here, it’s a vitality potion,” James explained as he knelt next to the injured man.
Brant grimaced. “Not the same as a healing potion, you know…”
“Yeah… but it’s better than nothing.” James gave the man the potion vial, who tore the wax seal off with his teeth before downing the contents. James could swear he heard Brant hold back gagging as he drank before he finally finished, tossing the copper vial away.
“Ugh… Why does this stuff always taste like shit?”
James picked up the copper vial, making a face as he spotted what looked like an insect’s wing inside it.
“Uh… I think it’s best we don’t ask that question,” he muttered as he pocketed the empty vial. James looked back at the other two men who were standing. “How did you guys survive the explosion? You don’t look as if you’re badly hurt despite being relatively close to the thing before it blew up.”
“Archibald used a barrier spell to protect us both,” Edmund revealed. Now that James looked at Archibald, he noticed how much more drained the elf looked. It looked like he had been running a marathon for days on end. James recalled the many times the elf had used his castings on the creature, the Wizard’s words returning to his mind.
“Those who use the second technique require a heavy tax from their body’s underdeveloped ley lines and physical energy.”
‘I guess Archibald is using the second technique of spell casting… Explains why he looks like he’s on the edge of falling over dead…’
James frowned, his hand reaching for his last vitality potion.
‘He’s gonna need it more than me and Edmund.’
“Archibald, here. You’re gonna need it.” He offered the copper vial.
The elf shook his head, his own hand bringing out a silver vial. “No worries, I have my own.” He explained before he broke the seal on his.
“Keep it for yourself, James. You took a full-on hit from that thing anyway,” Edmund pointed out as Archibald downed his vial’s contents with a grimace.
“Alright,” James muttered, looking back at the small copper vial in his hand. He broke the wax seal, frowning as he stared at the brownish liquid.
‘Well… Doesn’t hurt to try... Right?’
James could swear he could hear Faust laughing in the back of his mind.
He shut his eyes as he quickly downed the potion. He had to hold back his natural instinct to vomit, forcing his gag reflex back as the disgusting, viscous liquid slid down his throat.
‘Ugh! It’s like drinking chunky spoiled milk!’
The mental image did not help him in any way. James pulled the vial away from his lips, dry heaving a little as he shuddered at the taste. Then, out of nowhere, his body slowly gained a soft warmth, and his joints felt miles better than before. James blinked, feeling as if he could run a marathon for miles.
“Damn,” James muttered, looking down at the vial in his hand. Despite its taste, the potion worked like a charm, soothing his sore body like the goddess Delphine herself had come down to massage them.
Satisfied with his newfound energy, James stored the vial away as he turned to the center of the chamber, where the remains of the creature lay.
“Let’s get started on burning and clearing this place.”
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Dahlia shuddered a little after drinking her vitality potion, never able to get used to the taste of the viscous liquid. She soon felt her body warm up, the potion working its magic as her muscles relaxed. The soreness in her body wore off in mere seconds, replacing her exhaustion with a fresh, energetic feeling.
‘Tastes like rotting stew, but it does the job quite well…’
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The shaman stored the copper vial away as she watched everyone else help gather the bear’s remains, piling them in the center of the clearing. Dahlia sighed softly before turning back to the blackened wolf's corpse she had been dragging, which was crystallizing even more.
“Best if we hurry the pace and burn it all down,” she muttered as she dragged the carcass.
Soon enough, the entire group surrounded the pile of flesh and crystals, watching as Dahlia poured some of Bjorn’s drink. With his permission, of course. The shaman handed back the flask, which the dwarf accepted with care.
“Probably should step back. I poured a little more than last time,” Dahlia warned as she herself backed away. Everyone followed her advice, keeping their distance as Dahlia faced the remains of that abomination. She raised her hands at the pile, forcing her fingers to be still once more. It worked this time.
“Ignition,” she chanted out, red runic symbols appearing before the remains. They dispersed in a mere second, lighting up the dwarf’s liquor in a grand blaze, the heat hitting Dahlia like a furnace as it whooshed. They all watched the makeshift bonfire, hypnotized by the flames, as the remains sizzled and popped. Dahlia wasn’t looking, turning away from the sight of burning flesh, still unnerved by it all.
“You think there’s any more of those things?” Miles asked as Dahlia walked off to find a place to sit.
“I doubt it. Judging from how small the island is, if there was another, we would’ve seen its traces or markings,” Dahlia answered before she sat down on a nearby log.
“What do we do now?” Bjorn asked, still watching the burning flames.
“We wait until whatever remains is ash,” Dahlia responded. She watched as Miles sat on a nearby rock, his dirtied mask facing the ground as he rested. Finn looked at the two men, frowning as if he was waiting for one of them to say anything.
“Fine… I’ll say it,” Finn sighed, looking at the shaman. “What the hel are we dealing with? That thing wasn’t natural! It was…”
“Abominable. Hellish even,” Bjorn spoke up, still hypnotized by the bonfire.
“Exactly.” Miles agreed, his grinning facade looking up at Dahlia. The shaman felt their gazes, her eyes averting as she tried to find the words to explain what was going on.
“A week back, James was on the edge of death… I was desperate to bring him back, so I used a ritual to revive him,” Dahlia started.
“What kind of ritual?” Miles asked.
“One that required me to summon a spirit. I did so to force the summoned spirit into James’ body, saving his life but trapping him with the spirit, Faust, from what I’m told. Weirdly, there wasn’t much conflict between him and the spirit, so they… coexist with each other. James stays alive as long as he’s fused with the spirit, and they both seem to have gotten used to each other.”
“But?”
“But… It seemed as if Faust wasn’t the only spirit that was summoned. Something happened, and I’m still unsure if it’s even the truth. Still, it seems some stray spirits were released out into Valenfrost, possessing living and dead beings and,” she shuddered, “crystalizing them.”
Finn looked as if he was going to be sick, his figure moving to the side of the clearing.
“So that’s why your friend is so strange,” Miles commented.
“So, he’s like a draugr,” Bjorn muttered. “My mother told me stories about such things, revenants who came from the cold depths of Hel to enact their unfinished business.” The dwarf shook his head, sighing. “Bad trouble for you to play with forces like those.”
“I… I am aware of what my actions have done. I was desperate at the moment and was afraid of letting James die,” Dahlia explained.
There was some silence after her explanation, the sounds of crackling flames being the one in the clearing. Soon enough, however, Miles chuckled. Both Dahlia and Bjorn looked at the former follower of chaos, his grinning mask shaking slightly as he chuckled.
“You like him, don’t you?” The man asked amusingly.
Dahlia felt her cheeks burn, her eyes widening. “What?” She asked before mentally reprimanding herself. She had spoken in too much of a high pitch.
“Ah, I’m an idiot for not noticing it earlier. It all makes sense now.” Miles laughed even more.
Dahlia opened her mouth to respond but noticed Bjorn was joining in on Miles’ laughter. The shaman watched as both men laughed before her lips curved into a smile, a small chuckle escaping from them. Soon enough, Dahlia was laughing with them, although not genuinely. She had a lot of pent-up stress from that day alone, not to mention the last couple of days. The shaman laughed out all of her stress and nerves, along with the dwarf and masked man. She didn’t know how long they went at it but could remember hearing Finn commenting,
“Bunch of fucking crazies…”
Finally, after some time, Dahlia was on the snowy ground, stray laughs leaving her as she laid back against the log she was on top of before she fell over during her laugh fest. The dwarf was lying on the ground, a dumb grin on his face as he looked at the cloudy sky. Dahlia looked at Miles, who was also on the ground, holding his mask in place as he chuckled lightly. Dahlia tilted her head, sitting up as her grin dissipated.
“What is it?” Finn asked as he sat down on a nearby stump.
“Voices,” Dahlia answered, moving to stand up, her hand automatically straying towards her dagger. She could hear Finn moving just as Miles called out,
“Voices? Could it be another one of those things?”
“I don’t know, but get ready,” Dahlia responded as she headed to Bjorn, lightly kicking him. “Get up! We might get into another fight,” she whispered, her eyes still focused on the dense treeline. She could spot movement but couldn’t make it out well.
‘Ugh… Is my vision still affected from earlier?’
Dahlia did her best to focus on the forest. She could hear how the voices became much clearer. It sounded like… Arguing?
“You gave her a knife?!”
“It was so she could mark our path!”
“You gave her a knife! I can mark our path by pissing, for Delphine’s sake!”
“To be fair, I hadn’t stabbed anyone yet.”
“Stay out of this! You don’t get to defend yourself!”
Dahlia felt her body relax as she recognized the voices, sighing softly as she called out to her group.
“Stand down. It’s no trouble,” she explained before Haggard emerged from the trees, followed by Seamus and an unshackled Helen.
“Oh…”
They all went silent, Haggard’s eyes examining the state of everyone. “What happened here?” He asked before noticing the charred remains of the creature, its flame now long dead.
“We, uh... found one of those ‘things’ and… killed it,” Dahlia explained, gesturing at the battle-torn clearing before looking back at Haggard. “What are all of you doing here?” She raised an eyebrow as Helen stepped up, gesturing at Haggard and Seamus.
“They were worried about you and thought something bad might have happened to you and your little group,” Helen explained, mocking empathy as she shouldered Haggard. “Right, big man?” She asked. Haggard sighed, visibly clenching and unclenching his jaw twice before he responded.
“We heard an explosion and thought perhaps you might have needed help. It seems, however, that you have everything under control.”
“Well…” Dahlia chuckled. “We actually need some help. Now that you’re here.”
Haggard raised an eyebrow, as did Helen. “What is it?” The taller man asked.
“Well… We don’t know the way back to shore…”
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“Break! We need a break!” James heard Edmund call out before both men sat Brant down on the snowy ground. James collapsed on the snow, the cold air stinging his lungs as he panted.
‘I took three full-blown hits from some lovecraftian nightmare an hour ago… How and why am I still alive?’ James asked mentally.
‘I… don’t know actually…’ Faust answered back.
James sighed, sitting up as he caught his breath. He looked over at Edmund, who somehow seemed in worse shape than he.
“Archibald, swap with Edmund,” James called back to the elf, who was resting right behind them. It was the third swap in the last half hour since almost all of them were exhausted.
Even Archibald seemed to be close to passing out despite drinking a potion earlier.
‘How much energy do physical castings demand?’
James thought back to his own Carapace spell. He didn’t really notice the spell’s side effects until after he took a hit, his body heat flaring up with every close call. It had gone to furnace levels when his Carapace had broken, making James believe he was going to cook himself to death.
‘I can’t imagine what Archibald is going through after so many physical castings during that fight.’
James took another icy breath, feeling how his body welcomed to the frigid air. While resting, he still felt overworked, with his muscles taut and sore. He turned back toward the direction of the cave, seeing the pillar of black smoke high in the air. James hoped the remains were burnt beyond recognition.
“Alright,” James breathed out, moving to stand up. “Let’s keep moving. We need to get to the shore before sunset.” He moved to grab Brant, picking up the injured man with Archibald as Edmund followed behind. They continued to carry the man for a good half hour, with the occasional break and switching between carriers.
Finally, after a while, they reached the gravel shores, their rowboat visible from afar. All four men rested on the uncomfortable gravel, finally able to catch their breaths as the sky turned into a familiar orange. James watched the sky, sighing out softly. Despite the clouds obscuring the sky, he could appreciate the beautiful colors painting them.
“Aw shit,” Edmund groaned before getting up as he rushed to the shore. “The tide is taking the boat!” He exclaimed. Archibald rushed in behind him, leaving James to look after Brant. James himself was contemplating helping when the injured man spoke up.
“You’re not from here, are you?” Brant asked in a low voice only James could hear. The young man raised his eyebrow, looking at the older man with confusion.
“What are you talking about?” James inquired, wondering what might’ve tipped the man off.
“The way you act, talk, and the strange ways you phrase things,” Brant explained, looking up at James. “The biggest giveaway, however, is that presence of yours. I’ve been traveling the southern waters of Valenfrost and dabbled in the north as well, but never in all my years have I met someone like you. I’ve met with orcs, Arenian traders, Kasani warriors, and Azurevalians from all over. Not a single one of them can compare to the strangeness you emit.”
Brant’s words gave James insight into how others might view him, which worried the young man. Both Seamus and Dahlia mentioned his strangeness, but James never thought it was more than just a passing feeling.
‘Is my presence so obvious?’
“Quite an imagination you have,” James responded coolly. He crossed his arms as he watched Edmund and Archibald drag the rowboat onto shore, the figure of Frostbite growing closer in the distance.
“Hmph. I get it. You don’t want to give away your secret, huh?” The injured man chuckled. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me,” Brant added.
“Words don’t really mean anything unless backed by trust,” James responded, looking back at the older man with a small grin. “Let’s get past that barrier first before we start promising things,” he finished before moving to pick up the injured Brant and help him to the rowboat.
Soon enough, Team One would be on their way to Frostbite, where Dahlia and her team would wait for them.