Mystrick

The woods felt as endless as the mountains. Seraph had rarely been on this side of Nokohii Crest, but with the tracks to follow, it was easy to keep moving forward. Of course, finding their way across a narrow bridge into a new part of the forest, Seraph felt… odd. Not afraid, no. At ease, but still her eyes narrowed as she inspected the area around them. It was a feeling she couldn’t quite explain, one which only strengthened the deeper she and Eskander stalked into the forests around Nokohii Crest. This far out, all signs of civilization were gone. They were flanked by the darkest corners of the forest, the fog collecting at their feet and seeming to rise like a wary spectator the further they went. Silence rested between Seraph and Eskander, though it was hard to talk when the easiest way to keep track of each other in the growing dark was by listening to the other’s footsteps. They remained like that for what felt like hours before Eskander’s unusually quiet voice said, “Stop

“Hey. Are you free today?” Eskander stood right outside of Seraph’s home, the chaos of the festivities seeming blurred behind him as he grinned at her. Well, she hadn’t exactly planned on leaving the house at all, but she couldn’t stay there, not really. Another fight with her aunt had echoed through the rooms that night, just barely blocked out from the rest of the world by the sounds of the carnival around them. She had been staring at her uncle the entire time as he looked into space. Did he think anymore? Or was he simply a body being forced alive by magic until that, too, faded? No, Seraph needed out of the house. “I am. Why?” “I thought we could hang out a bit while I’m here. It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Eskander grinned, tipping his head toward Seraph’s aunt as she passed by, staring at the two incredulously. “If you’re not needed at home, obviously.” “I’m not!” said Seraph, looking back at her aunt and giving her a satisfied grin. Before she could say anything, Seraph

Once a year, Nokohii Crest turned from a quiet, small town to a bustling center of festivities. Seraph was no stranger to it—she had been born and raised here, after all—but she had grown to dread the Nokohii Crest Carnival regardless. So many Niravar from Urus and across Terran came by, and while the outsiders were fine, it was the influx of other Urusians that made everything difficult. She could feel their eyes on her when she walked close to shrines or bridges, could watch as others suddenly straightened up, trying to impress the spirits they believed were watching them through her. Of course, one traveler caught her eye specifically—when she spotted the pale green fur, marked with splashes of black, Seraph practically bounded over and nearly slammed into Eskander on the spot. “Long time no see!” she said, before settling herself down and clearing her throat. “Sorry. Today’s been wild.” It was still only midday, the sun overlooking the entirety of the karst mountains but just

The tavern was perhaps the one place Calix hadn’t expected to find themself in. But Carric was as important to Greyhedge’s recent history as Ianfire himself was. Ianfire hadn’t been the only one involved with the spirit, and Carric’s actions seemed to have been the final nail in the coffin. It had been Hecate who had discussed it with Calix the night before, half-asleep as she had curled against them. She had been planning their next step since she hadn’t fully grasped the story in the fields, though perhaps she wasn’t far off. She had whispered her ideas into Calix’s feathers as if they’d tell her the answer. At least now they could strike out a path, piece something else together from there. Even if Calix didn’t fully understand what Hecate’s plan was. Calix pricked an ear as Daratrine made her way inside the tavern. The gossip and whispers echoed above them, though Calix’s ears focused solely on the footsteps of the magus. When she spotted them, she approached, sitting down

Hecate sat alone in the center of the fields, taking in the twisted arcane presence that surrounded her. Snow collected around her paws, cold biting into the pads of her paws. Every second she breathed, her lungs burned―not from the cold alone, though, but from her worries as she twisted the foggy events of Greyhedge into a coherent story. Much of the town still felt wrong, but the fields had a story she could almost feel confident in. After all, the Curse-of-Glass could not have become twisted by a simple mage. Footsteps broke the silence as Hecate looked back, meeting the dark eyes of Magus Daratrine Petrena. Before Hecate could speak, Daratrine said, “Your friends told me you’d be here if I stopped by. Calix and Nitara, correct?” “Mhm.” Hecate scooted slightly, allowing Daratrine to sit down in a clear patch of the fields beside her. The magus did so and sighed, looking over the damage that had been caused by something far from normal. Far from normal, and yet... Hecate

It was a short walk from the Tinted Basin to the windmill nearby, but no one within the little group wanted to stay close to the waters that hungered so endlessly. After a short rest closer to Greyhedge’s Aether Pool—and awakening covered in a small layer of snow, all just barely warm by snuggling together—Hecate led the trio toward what the locals called, in their endless gossip and rumors, ‘Last Leap.’ The closer they got to the windmill, the more the snow began to reveal signs of something far from normal. Prints, distorted beyond Hecate’s wildest dreams and all bearing ten fingers, held something wrong within them. They radiated magic, and Hecate stopped to inspect them, the flurry of snow that settled across her fur no longer bothering her. Within the shadow of the windmill, they felt like a ray of light, an answer that lingered at the edge of her thoughts. Were you from the spirit? She inhaled slowly, eyes narrowed. Or something else entirely? “Hecate!” Nitara called.

A light drizzle had blanketed Greyhedge the day the three had made their way to the Tinted Basin, as it was called. Every raindrop sent ripples across the surface of the basin, though beyond that, the water was uncomfortably still. When Calix turned to inspect Hecate, they could see just how she hesitated with every step, her ears flattened but not fully pinned. Cautious, but not terrified. There was a strain whenever she confronted things like this, something Calix could understand even without knowing the context, because they’d felt it too when they first ran from Sarthia. This wasn’t something she had done often. “What’s it like in there, Hecate?” “Even. Small. The entire lake seems to be the source of the magic right now,” Hecate said, seeming uneasy with every word. “Though maybe that’s for the best? I’m not exactly an expert on magic and spirits.” Nitara came up from the rear, shaking herself out as rain seeped into her coat. “None of us are, so around us? You’re

As they returned to the Aether Pool, the dark clouds growing even darker as the sun set, Hecate and Nitara were met with a small display of light and color being secured around the cobbled wall of the fountain “Did they start this before we left?” Nitara asked. Hecate stepped slowly, not wanting to bother the cubs and children that were helping each other decorate. She shrugged. It wasn’t like she was fully awake when she left the Aether Pool itself. The fountain built over the Aether Pool, now half-decorated in stylized snowflakes and small lit torches, seemed more akin to something in the other towns Hecate had been in. Was it wrong to see Greyhedge as so dour and different? It was still a town, and there were still people living here. Amongst the cubs and children, and even the other adults helping, Hecate blinked as Calix’s laugh rose above them all, echoing with the trickling water. “Calix?” “Hey!” Calix perked up, grinning in a way Hecate hadn’t seen since they met. A few

The Aether Pool in Greyhedge seemed to be the one place in the town that was anything close to lively. Humanoids and Niravar alike spoke here, scattered around the pool and a statue of Ianfire that watched over them. After all Hecate had seen that week, she couldn’t look at that statue without a bit of unease slithering through her fur. Despite the chance to rest, after all that had transpired, Hecate was alert and waiting for something else to drag Greyhedge’s story back to the forefront. After all, something like this? It didn’t just leave people alone because they were resting. It wanted out, it wanted to be seen, even if it didn’t want to be known fully. Hecate pricked her ears as she heard Nitara and Calix speaking as they walked back from gods knew where. Her focus had been on the pool, on her reflection, on the statue that overlooked them all. The manse shadowed even it, overlooking Ianfire’s legacy even now. Whatever sunlight there had been had been clouded over, though the

Ianfire Still-Light’s manse was the largest ruin of all of Greyhedge. Calix sat by the gates as Hecate and Nitara spoke to a selection of Greyhedge locals by the Aether Pool, their gaze rarely leaving the iron that had, apparently, been magically locked—that was until Daratrine, of course. They were flung open now, the still, dust-covered building beckoning Calix inside. You have met these places before, it whispered, the breeze blowing past the gates and through Calix’s own feathers. You have seen us once, have you not? It was their own thoughts, though. It was always their own thoughts. “Hey!” Hecate bounded back, slowing beside Calix and bumping their shoulder with her own. “Nothing else yet, so we’re going into the manse. As long as you’re ready.” Despite her rather upbeat demeanor that morning, Hecate’s ears remained alert, her eyes focused on the gate. It had been her who had realized that the gates were surrounded by a fading arcane signature, and, corroborated with the