The curious bird, which had flown away earlier, returned to perch on a branch near the cabin. Its sharp eyes scrutinized the scene below, intrigued by the unusual sounds coming from inside. It tilted its head from side to side, observing each movement, each shadow cast by the flickering moonlight.
Under its keen gaze, the pool of blood slowly spread, like a dark stain seeping into the night's tranquility. The rhythmic beat of its wings was the only sound accompanying the metallic echoes from the cabin, a striking contrast to the surrounding serenity of the forest.
Inside the cabin, darkness reigned, oppressive and thick. Yet a shaft of moonlight through a crack in the wall partially illuminated the scene. On a dilapidated table, a bucket filled with red liquid stood ominously. Xiao Yao sat before it, his face partially lit by the moon's silver glow. His serene smile contrasted eerily with the room's grim atmosphere. His thoughts were inscrutable, and he seemed utterly indifferent to the surrounding darkness.
With calculated slowness, Xiao Yao took the bucket, his fingers closing around the handle with delicate precision. Then, without hesitation, he brought the bucket to his lips. He drank voraciously, almost beast-like, the red liquid overflowing from his mouth, trailing down his chin and throat. The drops fell onto his robe, yet strangely, they left no stains. It was as if the droplets vanished before they could leave a mark, evaporating into the dark air of the cabin.
Xiao Yao continued to drink with wild intensity, each gulp seeming to feed him an invisible energy, reinforcing the mysterious and unsettling aura emanating from him. The moon, a silent witness to this macabre ritual, continued to cast its cold light on the scene, amplifying the moment's strangeness.
Minutes passed as Xiao Yao, seated before the bucket, drank its contents with an almost supernatural voracity. Each gulp was absorbed as if his body were a bottomless well, capable of containing everything. The red liquid, which should have stained and soaked his robe, seemed to mysteriously evaporate, leaving no trace of its passage.
When the bucket was finally empty, Xiao Yao leaned back against his chair, his eyes slowly closing. The moon's glow, which had bathed him in silver light, disappeared behind a cloud, plunging the room into total darkness. The silence was oppressive, each second stretching into eternity.
Seconds, then minutes, passed in this absolute silence before a distant noise broke the eerie stillness. The characteristic sound of horse hooves on hard ground echoed, drawing closer. This unexpected and disturbing sound roused Xiao Yao from his lethargy. His eyelids lifted slowly, revealing dark, unfathomable eyes.
"Not enough... it's not enough," he murmured in a raspy voice, each word spoken with laborious slowness.
Had a citizen of Luminara been present to hear these words, they would have immediately recognized the language of their kingdom. Yet, Xiao Yao's accent was strange, unusual, adding a layer of bizarreness to his already enigmatic presence. His tone, though calm, carried a gravity that sent chills down the spine of anyone who heard it.
***
Far from the cabin's troubling atmosphere, the horse approached, its hooves striking the ground with a hypnotic regularity. The surrounding forest, usually peaceful, seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.
Two figures, wrapped in large cloaks that concealed their forms and faces, rode the same horse. The exhausted mount stopped at a prudent distance from the abandoned cabin. The moon, partially veiled by wandering clouds, cast a diffuse glow on the scene, creating shifting and uncertain shadows.
"This cabin is really well-hidden. No wonder the city patrol couldn't find anything," one of the men murmured, his voice barely audible, as if afraid to break the oppressive atmosphere.
The other man, casting a vigilant look around, nodded in agreement. "True," he replied in a low voice, slowly dismounting and tying the horse to a nearby tree.
"Speaking of patrols, that mayor really put his soul into finding his daughter, even mobilizing most of his guards," he added, his words tinged with a hint of ridicule and a trace of cynicism.
A soft chuckle escaped his companion's lips. "The more he dotes on his daughter, the better our plan will work," he said, laughing softly, his eyes glinting with mischief under the moonlight.
The man tying the horse, finishing his knot, suddenly straightened, a look of perplexity on his face. "Don't you find something odd?" he asked, staring intensely at the cabin in the distance.
"What?" his companion inquired, intrigued by the change in tone.
"There's no horse in front of the cabin," the man replied, his voice tinged with growing unease. His eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for signs of life or unusual activity.
His companion, after a moment of reflection, shrugged, attempting to dispel the tension. "Maybe they tied it behind the cabin. It's better, right?" he responded, trying to rationalize the situation.
Suddenly, a small bird emerged from the tree cover, flying gracefully over the two men before perching on one of their heads. The hooded man, visibly irritated by this interruption, shook his head with annoyance, then made abrupt gestures to shoo the intruding bird away. The bird flew off immediately, its wings beating lightly and almost imperceptibly in the forest's oppressive calm.
The two men continued towards the cabin, but the one who had expressed doubts about the absence of horses stopped once more, anxiety etched on his tense face. "It's too quiet, isn't it?" he asked, his voice laced with growing apprehension.
His companion, clearly more relaxed and amused by his friend's excessive caution, replied mockingly, "They're not going to sing and dance, are they?"
Still unconvinced, the anxious man ignored his companion's sarcasm and retorted, "And the hostage? She should be making noise too, right?"
His companion shrugged with feigned indifference. "Maybe she's asleep," he replied, trying to downplay his friend's concerns.
Despite the attempt at reassurance, the anxious man wanted to continue, his tone filled with persistent doubt, before being cut off by his exasperated companion, who continued, "What are you worried about? Earlier, we saw from afar the patrol shouting her name. They found nothing, so she must be here."
These words somewhat reassured the skeptical man, who finally nodded, though his gaze remained wary. Together, they approached the cabin door, their steps softly crunching on twigs and dead leaves. They knocked lightly, following a prearranged code: two light knocks, one strong knock, then another light knock.
This was a signal they had agreed upon to identify each other. As they waited for the door to open, one of the men suddenly felt something beneath his feet. He looked down, and despite the darkness, he clearly saw what he had not noticed before: a reddish liquid.
The sight of this liquid made the man shiver, his thoughts racing toward alarming conclusions. The red liquid slowly spread, betraying a macabre scene inside the cabin. His heart tightened.
"What is...?" he murmured, his eyes wide with astonishment and fear. His words were lost in the darkness as the moonlight revealed the shards of the dark truth hidden behind the cabin's closed door.
The red liquid, thick and viscous, formed a dark, sinister pool around his feet. Each drop seemed amplified by the moon's spectral glow, accentuating the contrast between the surrounding darkness and the silver light. The man slowly lifted his eyes to the door, his thoughts swirling with increasing intensity.
His companion, noticing his reaction, also lowered his gaze and felt his heart tense upon seeing the red liquid. Fear gripped them both, every fiber of their beings vibrating with escalating apprehension. The forest's silence intensified their fear, giving the impression they were surrounded by a voracious beast ready to pounce.
Without hesitation, the two men withdrew slightly dark wands from their sleeves, intricately carved from ancient wood. They twirled them around, their movements precise and marked by masterful expertise.
It was evident: they were mages. Yet even these masters of the arcane felt their fear growing in the face of the unknown. Around them, there was nothing but trees, the sound of branches whipped by the wind, and the hoots of owls. The scene was unsettling, every shadow seeming to harbor potential danger.
Perched on a branch above them, the small bird still watched them, its head tilted as if mocking their fear. The bird's piercing gaze seemed to challenge their courage, adding a note of mockery to their already tense situation. Every movement, every sound in the forest seemed amplified by the oppressive silence, leaving them on edge, ready to confront whatever lurked in the shadows of the cabin.
Finally, with a nod, they decided to proceed. They cautiously approached the cabin door, wands raised, poised to cast defensive or offensive spells at the slightest provocation. The silence was palpable, each step echoing like thunder in the oppressive darkness.
They reached the door and opened it slowly, the hinge emitting a sinister creak that echoed into the night. Inside, they saw red liquid seeping from under the table in the middle of the cabin, forming a dark and viscous pool. Above the table sat a bucket. A chair was turned towards the window, bathed in the pale glow of the moon, while the rest of the room remained shrouded in oppressive darkness.
One of the men, his hands trembling, murmured a spell. His wand emitted a faint white light, dimly illuminating the cabin's interior. The light revealed a macabre scene that churned their stomachs.
They saw drained limbs scattered on the floor: legs, thighs, torsos, arms, and dislocated faces, each part seeming to have been emptied of its vital essence. The legs were twisted at impossible angles, the thighs exposing whitened bones, and the torn torsos appeared deflated, like abandoned carcasses. The arms, with atrophied muscles, were grotesquely splayed, and the faces, frozen in expressions of horror, had empty eye sockets, as if their souls had been ripped out. Everything was covered in a thin film of red liquid, accentuating the scene of desolation and carnage that defied comprehension.
The horror struck the faces of both individuals simultaneously, along with the foul stench. The air, thick and suffocating, was laden with the metallic and sickening smell of the red liquid staining the floor. They felt as if they had entered a wolf's den without permission, intruding into a realm where only monsters belonged.
The scene unfolding before them was so violent that it defied human understanding. The drained limbs—legs, thighs, torsos, arms, and faces scattered everywhere—seemed devoid of life. The jagged outlines of the bodies told a tale of unbearable suffering and terror. The empty eyes, staring into nothingness, seemed to accuse them of this silent desecration.
This macabre sight was not the work of a normal, sane human being. Even a starving wolf, driven by basic instincts, would scorn such a display of brutality. Every detail of this horror scene spoke of inexplicable cruelty, a darkness of the soul that defied all logic.
Wing beats were heard, followed by a strange sensation above one of the men's heads. Without looking up, they knew the bird from earlier had returned. They made no move to chase it away, focused instead on the frantic twirling of their wands, desperately seeking to ward off any surprise attack.
But there was only silence.
"We need to leave now!" one of them said, his voice trembling.
"Damn it! Who has thwarted our plan?" the other responded, annoyed and angry, his eyes scanning the room and the surroundings fruitlessly. He then recalled the presence of the bird on his companion's head and moved to shoo it away.
As he looked up, terror gripped him. It wasn't a bird. A young man clung to his companion's head, his feet coiled around him like a sinister living vine. His companion seemed oblivious, as if trapped in an illusion.
The young man's eyes met those of the other mage, and a sinister smile stretched across his lips. The scene was both supernatural and terrifying. The young man, suspended like a sinister shadow, exuded a palpable aura of menace. His movements were infused with an almost inhuman fluidity, adding to the horror of the situation. The man below, struck by this nightmarish vision, felt the air freeze in his lungs. He wanted to scream, to warn his companion, but no sound escaped his mouth.
Each second seemed to stretch into an eternity of icy terror. The surrounding darkness, barely disturbed by the glow of their wands, seemed to close in on them, enveloping them in a living nightmare. The presence of the young man, hovering above his companion's head, turned the cabin into a theater of horror, where the unimaginable became reality. The young man's cruel smile amplified the dread, a twisted grin that seemed to relish their helpless terror.
Seeing his fear, the young man fixed him with a cruel smile, his eyes sparkling with malevolent gleam. With deliberate slowness, he twisted his hands, exerting a strange and sinister pressure. His companion's face, once alive and vibrant, contorted, his features frozen in eternal horror.
The companion, still unaware of his tragic demise, seemed to stare back with the same empty eyes. That lifeless gaze reflected pure terror, frozen in a moment of complete incomprehension.
The standing man felt his heart constrict at this sight. He wanted to scream, to flee, to do something to escape this horror, but he was paralyzed, captive to the young man's sinister smile and his companion's vacant stare.
The man brandished his wand frantically, his voice echoing and shattering the peace of the forest: "Terramotus!"
The cabin's wood levitated under the spell's effect, twisting and moving in the darkness ahead where he believed his companion and the demonic young man were. Having deactivated the light spell, he was forced to strike blindly, his movements desperate.
Planks of wood flew in all directions, hitting walls and the floor, emitting sinister creaks in the darkness. Chaos reigned, and each impact echoed his own panic. The man could only hope to hit his target, battling against invisible terror in the oppressive shadow.
After a few seconds, he activated the light from his wand again, casting frantic glances around him. Chaos ensued, pieces of bodies scattered on the floor, but no trace of his companion or the demonic young man. The cabin's oppressive silence was broken only by the man's short breaths; every shadow seemed to come alive, every creak of wood echoed like an imminent threat.
His heart raced as he rushed to the door, swinging it open before running to his horse. His hands trembled so much that he struggled to untie the horse. Panic distorted his movements, every second stretching into an oppressive eternity, the feeling of being watched by an invisible presence overwhelming him.
Finally, he managed to free the horse and hastily climbed onto its back. But just as he was about to command it to gallop, he felt icy hands close around his neck. Legs wrapped tightly around his chest, and he looked up to see a dark face staring down at him. The young man, suspended upside down, gazed at him with chilling intensity. His smile was a grimace of pure malice, his eyes piercing the terrified man's soul.
His breath caught as the young man tightened his grip, and an unspeakable terror washed over him. He was now nothing but a plaything in the hands of a force he couldn't comprehend, trapped in a nightmarish scene where every heartbeat tolled like a death knell.
Minutes passed, and once again, the silver light of the moon struck the decrepit door of the abandoned cabin. Inside, dull and repeated thuds echoed as if something massive was pounding against the dilapidated walls. A thick, sinister red liquid began to slowly seep under the cracked door, staining the earthy ground outside in a terrifying and macabre painting.