The sounds of celebration echoed across the camp, a rare mont of joy among Kyle’s weary forces.
Victory over General Runa had breathed life into the soldiers, and for the mont, the air was light.
But that mont was broken when a breathless ssenger hurried through the crowd and stopped before Kyle. His face was pale, urgency etched into his every movent.
"Young Master Kyle. Urgent news."
The ssenger panted.
Bruce, lissa, and Grand Duchess Amana froze mid-toast, their eyes narrowing as they watched Kyle closely.
But Kyle gave them a subtle signal—a flick of the hand, calm and smooth.
"Keep the celebration going. We don’t need to worry the others just yet."
He said, his voice steady.
He stepped away from the crowd with the ssenger, their steps quick and quiet as they moved toward the command tent.
"Speak."
Kyle ordered once they were alone.
The ssenger didn’t waste ti.
"The priests from the Temple of Charrin have been acting strangely. They’re gathering rare materials, magical artifacts, and even blood samples. According to our informants, they’re preparing for a ritual... sothing massive."
Kyle’s expression didn’t change.
"A descent?"
"We suspect so. And... General Rita has been spotted in the area. She’s lingering near the temple. The sa General Rita who was sworn sisters with General Runa."
The ssenger confird.
Kyle’s silence stretched as the pieces fell into place. General Rita was a fanatic—and now, possibly a vessel.
The ssenger hesitated.
"If sothing happens, we believe you’ll be their target. Especially after the execution of General Runa."
"I figured as much. Good work. Return to your post."
Kyle replied softly.
The ssenger bowed and left.
Kyle stepped out of the tent, his eyes scanning the horizon. Before he could move toward his horse, a faint tremor ran through the air, a shift in the mana around him. Footsteps followed.
Cautious, he turned—and then his expression softened, just slightly.
Silvy stood there, panting as if she had run across an entire continent. Behind her, a group of elves began erging through the trees.
Their armor was light and silent, their presence fluid. So bore bows, others blades, all of them carrying the sa quiet determination.
"The elves are here."
Kyle said simply.
Silvy nodded, eyes shining with urgency.
"We received your ssage. We left as soon as we could."
Kyle gave a short nod.
"You arrived just in ti."
Silvy stepped closer, looking up at him.
"You’re walking into danger again, aren’t you?"
"I always am."
He replied.
"Then let us fight beside you."
Kyle looked at the gathering elves. Their faces were calm but alert—warriors ready for the worst.
And Silvy stood at the front, her hand near her blade, the wind tugging gently at her silver hair.
"Prepare your forces. We move at dawn. We have a temple to visit."
Kyle said finally.
______
Kyle and Silvy rode in silence, the trees thinning as the road gave way to cobbled streets and the looming outline of the city ahead.
The banners of Goddess Charrin fluttered in the distance—elegant white cloth painted with swirling golden designs, casting a sanctimonious light on the city’s pristine gates.
As they entered, Silvy’s brows knit in discomfort. People lined the streets, singing hymns and handing out flowers.
Every face they passed wore an eerily wide smile—n, won, even children. Their eyes glead too brightly, as if so invisible force puppeteered their joy.
"This place feels... wrong. Why are they so happy?"
Silvy whispered, fingers tightening on the hilt at her side.
Kyle’s eyes swept the roads, rooftops, and alleys.
"They’re being forced to be. Or worse—they don’t even know it anymore."
The cobbled path led them deeper into the city, where the scent of incense grew thick and cloying.
Flowers decorated every door and window. At a glance, it could have passed for a festival town in celebration.
But under the surface, there was sothing hollow—like a play being acted out with too much cheer and too little soul.
It wasn’t long before a woman approached them, her face painted with divine symbols in gold. She bead at them as though they were long-lost friends.
"Welco, travelers! Have you co to celebrate the Grand Festival of Radiant Charrin? It’s such a blessing to receive more faithful souls!"
She asked, clasping her hands.
Before either Kyle or Silvy could respond, more people gathered around them, smiling with the sa glassy expressions.
"We’ve waited for this mont all year."
Soone said.
"The goddess will be pleased with new faces."
Said another.
Kyle tilted his head slightly.
"We didn’t bring any offerings."
The crowd stopped.
The air, already tense, shifted with sharp unease.
The smiles remained, but the eyes changed—studying him like one would a wild animal that had wandered into their garden.
Whispers passed like wind through leaves, too low to hear, yet heavy with implication.
Then, one man stepped forward, clapping his hands together cheerfully.
"No matter! If you didn’t bring an offering, you can hunt one!"
The woman beside him nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes, yes. A sacred hunt! The goddess will forgive your lack of preparation if you bring her sothing worthy. Until then, though..."
Her voice trailed off, and her smile hardened.
"You’ll need to stay away from the sacred grounds."
A child behind her echoed the sa sentint with unsettling precision.
"No offerings. No entry."
Silvy’s hand twitched near her blade, but Kyle lifted a finger, signaling calm.
"I see. And where can we find the sacred hunt?"
He said evenly.
The man gestured toward a forested area just beyond the city’s edge.
"Eastward woods. There’s a clearing where beasts gather for the divine moonlight. Bring sothing strong. Sothing that bleeds. The goddess prefers it that way."
The crowd slowly parted, allowing Kyle and Silvy to leave—but every step away was followed by silent stares.
Smiles remained on their faces, but their eyes were hollow again, tracking the two intruders until they were out of sight.
Once clear of the crowd, Silvy muttered under her breath.
"They’re all insane."
"No. They’re all controlled. Devotion twisted into obsession."
Kyle replied.
"They expect us to bring sothing alive... just to step foot near the temple."
Kyle’s eyes narrowed.
"That tells us one thing. Whatever they’re hiding in there—they’re afraid we’ll see it."
He turned to glance back toward the towering spires of the temple just visible through the mist.
"We’ll play their ga... for now."
Kyle and Silvy followed the winding trail out of the city, the cheers and chants of the faithful fading behind them.
A young believer—barely older than a teenager—had eagerly offered to guide them to the edge of the sacred forest.
He skipped ahead, lantern swinging in hand, humming a hymn that made Silvy’s skin crawl.
"You’ll find the perfect offering in there. The goddess always sends her chosen beasts to those she favors."
The boy said, pointing to the dense woodland that lood before them.
Kyle exchanged a brief glance with Silvy, then nodded.
"And what kind of beasts are we ant to find?"
"Oh, you’ll know. They shimr under moonlight. Their blood is thick with power. Catch one, and the goddess might even bless you herself."
The boy said with an eerie certainty.
Silvy stepped forward.
"And if we don’t return with one?"
The boy smiled wider.
"Then you won’t return at all."
With that, he turned and skipped back toward the city, leaving the two of them at the forest’s mouth. The trees were twisted and close together, shrouded in an unnatural mist.
The air was thick, and the silence felt suffocating.
Kyle stepped forward first.
"Let’s find our ’offering.’"
Silvy drew her weapon, following him into the dark.
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