The moon was hidden behind thick clouds when the Acolytes left the Void Serpent citadel. Dawn had yet to break, and the air buzzed with anticipation. Zayn tightened his cloak, glancing at the rest of the team.
Elira walked beside him, her voice quiet, "No chatter until after the perimeter is secure. Captain doesn't like loose lips."
He nodded. Gorran, Kael, Tessa, Ren, Ayara, and Nira were all around him, each checking their gear or casting small spells for clarity, silence, or shadow-mapping. Zayn didn't know exactly what to expect, but he knew they'd face someone—or something—in the Weeping Hollow.
They stopped at the edge of a dense pine forest. A small river ran through it, its water black under the overcast sky. Mounting the ledge, the Acolytes began their descent into the valley.
"Watch your footing," Elira cautioned. "Roots eat ankles in here."
Zayn scanned the trees. Twisted branches bore carvings. Strange glowing runes etched into tree bark. He frowned and looked at Elira.
"Scouts set them," she said. "To warn or bind. Can't tell which."
They moved slowly, almost silently. Occasional plucks of Bow craft rang from hidden defenders—scouts covering the boundary. Once inside, they split into three squads as Captain Zephyr had ordered. Zayn's group included Elira, Ren, and Ayara.
Ren examines a shallow trench across the path. "Trap. Shallow, but fast. Eli, you wanna disarm?"
She stepped forward, soft chant on her lips. Shadows pooled around her fingers. With a tug, the trench sealed. The roots shifted as if alive, but not attacking. The trap lifted.
Ren smirked. "Keeps them from stepping through without thinking."
They pressed on deeper into the Hollow.
Thick mist hung low, cloaking their vision past ten feet. The forest seemed restless. Zayn stopped near a widening in the trees. He glimpsed movement—forms darting between trunks.
"Something's here," he whispered.
Elira held up a hand. "Positions."
Zayn activated a low shimmer around his feet—a shadow cloak, obscuring him from view. He'd practiced mimicking the abyssal magic of his Order. It worked.
The group fanned out.
A faint rustle. A low growl.
Then a wolf leapt from the underbrush—fangs bared, eyes red as dying embers. It was larger than any wolf Zayn had seen and moved unnaturally fast.
In that moment, Zayn realized: this was no ordinary creature. Something bound by unnatural magic.
Ren fired a poisoned dart. The wolf dodged, leaping toward Elira.
She slammed her palm against a tree. Roots and shadow surged, forcing the wolf back—but it snarled, shaking the earth around them.
Zayn steadied himself, stepping forward. Memories of his Grimoire flashed—but the page remained quiet. He closed his eyes for a breath, focusing instead on the creature.
When he opened them, he sprinted.
Ayara fired a vine trap: roots exploded from the ground, snaring the wolf's legs, halting its charge.
The beast roared.
Zayn raised both hands. Shadows surged from the ground, pouring into the forest floor, creeping toward the wolf—and against instinct, the creature recoiled, its howls echoing.
Ren fired again. A poisoned dart struck its neck, and the beast collapsed.
Moments later, silence reigned again—except for the wolf's heaving breath. The team paused, letting the dust settle.
Elira knelt beside the wolf. "It's not dead. But it's bound to something."
Zayn knelt too, studying the beast's snarling glance. He touched a dark rune burned into the creature's fur—runic symbols glowing with violet light.
"This is the magic they sensed," he murmured.
Ayara pressed a vine seal over the rune. "Containment."
The wolf quieted, its breathing slowing. Ren crouched beside it. "Not ours. This is someone else's magic—ancient, unstable."
Elira nodded. "Captain's right. Observe, don't kill."
They stood. Moving silently, the team followed the wolf deeper into the Hollow, where runic trees pointed toward a narrow clearing.
"What now?" Zayn asked Elira.
"We wait," she said softly. "We watch. We report."
As they stepped behind a thick trunk, Zayn glanced at the glowing runes etched on the bark—mirrored in the wolf's coat, and deeper still in the forest.
He realized this: The mission had only just begun.
The clearing they entered was quiet—too quiet. Mist pooled at their feet like breath from a sleeping god, and the trees stood unnaturally still. Zayn's fingers touched near the edge of his cloak, not for comfort, but readiness. The wolf had been only the begining
Ren crouched near the forest floor and dipped two fingers into the dirt.
"Still warm. Something passed here minutes ago."
"A pack?" Zayn asked, his voice hushed.
"Maybe. Or a handler."
Ayara moved to the front of the group. "Let me try something."
She touched her palm to the ground and whispered a spell in a forgotten tongue. Vines snaked out from her skin, pulsing as they extended through the soil. After a moment, her eyes shot open.
"Three figures. Ahead. Unmoving."
Elira raised a hand. "Everyone tighten formation. No spells unless ordered."
They moved forward slowly, the sounds of breath and soft leather against moss marking their presence. When they reached the source, the sight froze them.
Three men—or what remained of them—hung from the trees. Their robes were shredded, faces twisted, eyes glowing faintly with the same violet as the wolf's rune. One was a young noble; his crest was barely visible beneath the torn chest fabric.
Ren stepped closer, frowning. "These are Legion scouts. From the Steelthorn Order."
Zayn's chest tightened.
The Steelthorn were the ones known for defending border regions—especially from cursed territories. What were they doing in Void Serpent jurisdiction?
Ayara reached for a pendant on one of the corpses. It crumbled in her hand.
"Elira," she said. "I think they were turned. Just like the wolf."
Zayn felt it now—the thick magic clinging to the trees, the bodies, even the wind. Not the same as his own. It was corrupted. Spoiled.
Elira pulled a sigil from her belt and snapped it open. A projection of Captain Zephyr appeared in the center, translucent but clear.
"We found Legion scouts," she said. "Dead and… branded."
The image of Zephyr did not blink.
"Withdraw their identifiers. Search the area. If you find a rift, seal it. I'll send Altor and Eress when the veil lifts."
The projection vanished.
Zayn turned to Elira. "Rift?"
"Old magic," she muttered. "Sometimes magic so vile it tears into our realm from the under."
Ren stood. "I say we burn the bodies."
"No," Elira said sharply. "They might still be anchored to the runes. If you break that link the wrong way, it could trigger something far worse."
Ayara looked at the trees. "We should mark them. So our people know."
They did. Quietly. Carefully.
The air grew heavier.
Then—
Snap.
A branch broke behind them.
Zayn whirled. A figure darted through the trees—slim, fast, not running away but circling.
"Elira!" he called.
"I see it!"
A blur moved again. Another to their right.
Ren drew two blades, crouching low.
Ayara whispered a trap spell. Roots curled around her ankles, ready to surge.
Then they came.
Three figures emerged from the mist—faces hidden behind silver bone masks. Each moved like liquid, no wasted motion. Magic bled off their skin like smoke. One flicked his wrist, and the trees behind the Acolytes groaned.
"Elira," Zayn muttered, "what are they?"
"Assassins," she breathed. "Not ours."
One moved.
Too fast.
He reached Ren first. A blade hissed. Ren parried, barely—his left shoulder slashed open.
Zayn lunged.
He raised both hands, calling on the abyssal energy within. Shadows lashed out, coiling toward the masked enemy. It connected—and recoiled.
The masked man wasn't fazed.
Zayn narrowed his eyes and forced his Grimoire to respond. The page inside remained blank—but he felt something stir. The assassin's attack came again, but this time Zayn didn't flinch.
He grabbed the incoming spell—a twisting vine whip charged with poisoned wind—and extinguished it.
The assassin's eyes widened behind the mask. He staggered back.
Zayn stepped forward.
But then—
A howl.
From the forest edge, five more figures appeared.
"We're getting surrounded," Ayara said.
Elira clenched her jaw. "Zayn. You're with me."
They rushed to intercept the newcomers.
Elira formed spears of dark mist and hurled them. Two assassins leapt out of the way, but one got caught. The mist pierced his thigh. He collapsed, screaming—then convulsed.
Ayara's vines lashed outward, catching one around the throat. She yanked.
Zayn locked eyes with another attacker.
The masked figure raised his hand—and a blast of stone shot out.
Zayn raised his palm. The stone struck him—and melted. Not physically. The magic had been pulled into his own aura and extinguished mid-flight.
Zayn moved forward, mirroring what he'd seen in sparring.
He swung his fist—shadow arcing behind it—and landed a clean hit across the attacker's chest.
The enemy collapsed, and did not rise.
The rest retreated into the trees.
Elira raised her hand.
"Let them go."
Ren coughed, blood streaking his shoulder.
"They'll be back."
"Let them."
Zayn exhaled.
The battlefield fell still again.
And just like that, it was over.
They moved to patch wounds and regroup. Ayara whispered healing spells. Ren winced but managed a small grin.
"First mission," he muttered. "Not bad for a warm-up."
Zayn looked around the mist-heavy woods and felt it again—that pull. That quiet hum in the back of his mind. His Grimoire wasn't just reacting. It was… waiting.
For what, he didn't know.
But the Hollow wasn't done with them.
Elira touched a sigil.
"Captain. We were ambushed. Seven downed. Some escaped. Requesting Altor and Eress immediately."
Zephyr's voice responded through the sigil.
"Hold your ground. If the Rift's still dormant, mark the perimeter. Report when the veil shifts. If it opens…"
The sigil dimmed.
Zayn stepped beside Elira.
"What if it opens?"
She gave him a look he wouldn't forget.
"Then we find out what the Void Serpent Order was really made for."