As soon as the sentries fell, more elves began to emerge from the shadows; so many that Oliver's heart skipped a beat. At first, he thought this village might be similar to the previous one, with only a hundred or so inhabitants. But he couldn't have been more wrong.
Elves streamed out from every corner, like ants from a disturbed hill. They seemed to materialize from thin air, from places that looked too small or insignificant to hide so many. 'Where the hell were all these people hiding?' he wondered, scanning the crowd, his confusion mounting. The village, so unassuming at first glance, now held a number far greater than anything he had anticipated.
Hundreds; no, nearly a thousand elves, stood before him now, their expressions unreadable. Their eyes fixed on him with a strange intensity. Some gazed at him with suspicion, others with cold indifference, as if waiting to see what he would do next. But no one spoke.
Oliver shifted uncomfortably under their silent scrutiny. Not a single word of hatred, no thanks, no acknowledgment of his presence. Just blank stares, like they weren't sure whether they wanted to curse him or commend him.
He glanced at the horizon, where the sky was darkening fast. For a brief moment, he wondered if they intended to stand there, silent and unmoving, until the night swallowed them all.
This is pointless. He sighed inwardly. An had mentioned that their teacher had already notified these villages about their arrival and confirmed everything. If these elves knew who I was and why I was here, there's no reason to hang around any longer.
Without waiting for any further interaction, Oliver turned on his heel and began to walk away. If something changes, I can always come back later, he thought. This time, instead of retreating along the treacherous cliffs, he opted for the winding path down the front of the mountain.
---
He was halfway down the trail when he sensed a presence nearby. The feeling sent a chill up his spine.
"What's going on?" he asked aloud, though he saw no one around him.
A soft voice answered from the shadows. "Thanks."
Oliver stiffened, glancing around. "No need to thank me. But what was the point of killing that elf? Was he messing with your invisibility?"
The voice responded calmly, "Yes. Whenever I get too close to someone like that, my invisibility slips. I think it's the same reason I couldn't see him before; something about that stone interferes with magic detection."
Oliver frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Why would the Black Crow have something like that? Has this happened before?"
A knot of unease twisted in his gut. "I don't like this... It feels off."
He gave a small, frustrated sigh. "If everything's fine now, you should leave. I hate the feeling of being followed; especially by someone I can't see."
There was no reply, but the presence faded quietly, just as it had come, like a ghost slipping into the night.
At least this one doesn't leave a cold breeze behind, Oliver thought grimly, continuing down the path.
---
In another part of the village, two sharp slaps jolted someone awake.
"Hey, wake up!" Zackary barked, glaring at the groggy figure on the ground. "If you don't get up, I'll stuff your mouth full of dirt!"
The man blinked, dazed, rubbing his eyes. "Huh? What's going on?"
Zackary folded his arms, exasperated. "That's what I should be asking you, genius! Where's the person I told you to keep an eye on?"
The man's eyes widened in sudden realization. "People...? Wait; where are the people?" He scrambled to his feet, panic setting in.
Zackary's eye twitched in frustration. "That's what I just asked you, idiot! Do you even have a plan for what you'll tell the boss when he finds out? Or are you going to explain it with your life on the line?"
The man groaned, rubbing his head frantically. "Something's not right! I swear I never sleep on the job, you know that!"
Zackary snorted. "It's hard to say at this point."
Before the argument could escalate further, Tom appeared from the shadows, waving a hand dismissively. "Relax, Zackary. It's not his fault."
Zackary shot him a glare. "Not his fault? He was supposed to keep watch!"
Tom gave a faint smile. "He fell asleep because of the other party's blessing. There's no point blaming him now."
Zackary grumbled, but let the matter drop with a frustrated shake of his head.
Tom's smile lingered as he watched the group disperse. He knew exactly what had happened. He'd known about the strange flowers growing near the guard post, flowers that released a sleep-inducing scent and he had deliberately chosen not to warn anyone.
In his mind, it made no difference whether they ran early or ran late. Running early just meant fewer secrets to keep.
He turned to Aegnor, who stood nearby, quiet as ever. "Getting used to the new place?" Tom asked with a casual tone.
Aegnor gave a small nod, but his silence spoke volumes. Tom didn't fully trust him; not yet. After all, Aegnor had played a key role in leaking information about the elves captured and killed earlier.
The radicals were reckless, Tom thought grimly. They stirred up more trouble than they were worth.
Though Aegnor had always seemed indifferent to their chaos, Tom wasn't convinced. Some said Aegnor wasn't as unpopular among the radicals as he pretended to be. And then there were the stones, the strange stones that Aegnor had supplied.
Those stones, capable of disrupting magic, were incredibly rare. There had only been one, but it was enough to make the elves' spells falter.
Tom watched Aegnor carefully. Was I right to be suspicious? He wasn't sure, but something about the entire situation gnawed at him, like a puzzle missing too many pieces.
Aegnor stood perfectly still, offering no answers.
And the question lingered, was Aegnor just a quiet ally, or was he playing a deeper game?
"Alright, I'm leaving now." Aegnor glanced around, his sharp eyes flicking briefly over the surroundings before turning away. The elf accompanying him followed without a word. "If you need anything, you know where to find me; unless I'm asleep, of course."
His tone was light, almost dismissive, as if everything that had transpired was no big deal. Do whatever you want, it's not time yet. With that, he disappeared into the shadows, his steps barely audible on the dirt path.
Tom didn't bother to watch him leave. He had seen enough. With a slight exhale, he turned and walked the other way, lost in thought.
---
"Same thing again," Oliver said, swirling the water in his cup. His voice was heavy with frustration, though he tried to mask it.
An sat across from him, his expression calm and focused. "That's fine. Forcing more information won't do us any good; it'll only complicate things. This much is enough." He tapped the table thoughtfully. "It's better not to get too tangled up in the traitors and shifting allegiances for now. But you mentioned the Black Crow Chamber of Commerce setting up a large magic circle?"
Oliver nodded. "Yeah, though I have no idea what it's for." He tapped his fingers rhythmically against the side of his cup. "I've never seen anything like it before."
An leaned forward slightly. "What does it look like?"
"Give me some paper," Oliver replied, reaching for a pen. "I'll try to sketch it out, but I couldn't see the whole thing clearly. There might be some gaps."
As the pen moved across the page, a rough but intricate pattern began to take shape, a vast, circular diagram, filled with intersecting lines and strange glyphs. When Oliver finished, he leaned back, pushing the paper toward An. "Something like that."
An studied the drawing for a moment, his eyebrows lifting slightly. "Honestly... If you had the magic to go with your archery, I might be outmatched."
Oliver chuckled bitterly as he stood. "It's just a sketch. Besides, if I 'did' have that kind of magic, I probably wouldn't still be standing here."
An smiled faintly. "Fair point. I'll show it to Ziggy. You should rest; you've earned it."
---
Night fell.
Inside a dimly lit room, two figures stood over an unconscious man, whose breath was slow and shallow, like he was trapped in a dream from which he couldn't wake.
One of the figures crossed his arms, glaring down at the lifeless green stone resting on the table. "Is this what you call progress? Something so fragile it can't survive sunlight, rain, or even a breeze? It's useless!"
The second figure, keeping his head low, responded carefully. "Patience. We're seeing results, aren't we? We've learned how to extract degraded blessings and seal them into stones."
The first figure scoffed, gesturing toward the unconscious subject. "And how exactly do you plan to use it on the battlefield? You want to drag that poor idiot along, tied up like a dumpling?"
The other man shook his head. "Of course not. But even tied up, she'd still be a monster, one carrying dozens of blessings. That kind of raw power, controlled or not, is dangerous."
The first figure narrowed his eyes. "So when will she be ready for deployment?"
The man hesitated. "We still need more field tests. A violent berserker who can't control herself won't be much use. She'll destroy everything in her path, friend or foe."
The first figure rubbed his temples in frustration. "Where are you planning to send her next?"
"There's already tension between the elves and humans in one of the border cities. It's the perfect place to test her without attracting too much attention."
"Make it quick." The first figure leaned closer, voice low and stern. "If you wait too long, and the conflict ends, there won't be anyone left to use as test subjects or to meet your 'criteria.'"
The second man gave a tight nod. "I know. We'll head out in two weeks."
"Two weeks? Is that when you're setting off, or are you still fiddling with adjustments?"
"We'll need those two weeks to make sure everything is stable. Even if she's just a prototype, we can't risk anyone discovering her before we're ready."
The first figure straightened, pulling his cloak tighter around himself. "Fine. But I'm leaving now, if I linger too long, it'll raise suspicion."
The second man gave a slight bow. "Goodbye."
And with that, the first figure vanished into the night, leaving the room heavy with the weight of unspoken secrets.
---
Meanwhile, Oliver sat alone, poring over a map illuminated by the flickering light of a lantern. Eight locations were circled in ink; each one marked by unusual terrain or obscure landmarks. Some of them looked nearly impossible to reach, places so remote or treacherous that he doubted anyone had been there in years.
He ran his finger over the map, tracing the paths between the locations. Something about these places felt significant, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
And then, like a whisper from the depths of his mind, the dream resurfaced. The memory of that blinding light, searing and radiant, hovered just at the edge of his consciousness. It was strange, he could almost feel it now, as though the light had somehow drawn closer to him.
'Was his memory playing tricks on him?' Or was there something more to the dream, some hidden meaning he had yet to uncover?
He leaned back, staring at the map, lost in thought. 'Why does it feel like I'm missing something?'
Oliver exhaled slowly, drumming his fingers against the edge of the map. Whatever the dream meant, whatever that light represented: he had the distinct sense that time was running out.
And he wasn't sure if he would find the answers before it was too late.