Beyond the entrance of the cave, the wind howled as it rushed through dark branches and eerie sounds permeated the night. Now in the dead of night, around witching hour, the illusion of the calm and peaceful forest had been shattered.
Cheri twitched as cold droplets plopped down from the ceiling of the cave onto her forehead. She was still half asleep but with this reminder of her physical location within the ominous Hanling Forest, she shot awake and wiped at her forehead with her sleeve. Sniffing the liquid, she exhaled in relief—just water.
However, as she relaxed, her ears picked up the faint sound of chanting in the distance. She furrowed her brows in perplexion, briefly wondering if the sounds were a trick of her imagination. But soon she realized she had not, in fact, been imagining the sounds. The low, rhythmic chants grew louder, amplifying the sinister aura of the forest. The low chants seemed to vibrate through the trees, making the air around her feel thick. Heart racing, she crept forward towards the entrance and peeked out. Under the silvery moonlight, a number of cloaked figures were illuminated as they shuffled through the forest. In their hands, they carried lanterns with strange markings on them and their faces were concealed. The lantern light flickered in the wind, casting warped shadows along the forest floor. Although her body screamed to retreat, her limbs betrayed her—rooted in place, caught in the flickering dance of shadows. The rhythmic sway of their cloaked figures was both hypnotic and chilling, her gaze remained fixated on them as they appeared to be approaching closer and closer.
A cold rough hand clamped down on her back, freezing her in place. Cheri jumped up in fright, a whimper escaping her mouth. She whipped her head around, gazing into a set of familiar eyes. As her eyes adjusted in the dark, Cheri let out a breath of relief as she realized it was just the General. He pressed a finger to his lips, signaling to her to be quiet as the figures approached and the inauspicious crooning was clearly audible. With one hand ready on his sword, he pulled her behind him into the depths of the damp darkness.
Fortunately, soon the sounds faded once again as the group passed by the cave without even casting a glance towards them. Cheri cast a questioning glance at the General, raising her eyebrow and nodding towards the forest outside.
His deep voice whispered, "I've heard rumors about a noctournal cult that resides somewhere within the Hanling Forest but I hadn't expected it to be true. That must've been them just now. They worship the supposed demons haunting the Hanling Forest and engage in human sacrifice and…other disgraceful activties to 'appease' the demons."
"Do you believe in demons?" Cheri asked in a soft voice.
"I…don't know," the General responded, "I suppose it's possible. Either way, try to get some more rest. I want to get out of here as soon as dawn breaks."
........................….
The next morning, the General and Cheri set out for Duke Angola's territory, the Krynas province.
"General!" Leon exclaimed enthusiastically, giving the General a brotherly pat, "I see you've made it safely. I hope the trip wasn't too rough." Then catching sight of the woman on the horse behind him, he cocked his head in surprise and his grin grew wider. "Miss Cheri, what a surprise! What brings you here?"
She smiled, her eyes crinkling softly as she spoke, "It's a long story, I'll tell you once I get settled in inside the inn. I am extremely grateful to the General for allowing me to come along."
"Right, of course. It must've been difficult to get a good rest within the Hanling Forest," Leon chuckled, offering his hand to help her dismount her horse.
Cheri accepted his hand, sliding off her horse gracefully. "You have no idea," she replied, shaking her head slightly.
Watching from a distance, the General's expression darkened. His gaze was cold and sharp as he spurred his horse forward, riding off toward the stables without a word.
........................…..
The General shifted in the polished wooden bathtub, his mind replaying the scene from earlier. For some inexplicable reason, the sight of Leon's warm smile directed at Cheri had stirred something unsettling within him.
His grip tightened on the edge of the tub. The water, meant to soothe him, only seemed to amplify the tension building in his body. Why did it bother him so much? Was it Leon? The way he smiled so easily, the way he touched others so casually, the way he never hesitated to offer warmth where the General could only offer cold?
Through the thin walls, the muffled sounds of Leon's laughter echoed in the next room. His carefree voice mixed with Cheri's and the General's irritation flared. He huffed, scowling as he submerged further into the bath. The water did little to soothe his growing unease and the rising curls of steam clouded his thoughts.
They were being too raucous, disturbing the peace of others around them. Somebody had to tell them to quiet down. Before he could think better of it, he rose from the bath, water dripping from his form. Slipping on his mask and a robe, he marched down the hall, the floorboards creaking beneath his heavy footsteps. Right as he arrived, the door suddenly swung open. Cheri walked out while still smiling at Leon who was holding the door open for her.
"General?" Leon's voice was soft but full of curiosity, "Is something wrong?"
The General's throat went dry. The sight of Leon up close, his carefree demeanor, his obliviousness to the storm brewing inside the General, made it even harder to think clearly.
"...I pulled a muscle on my back," the General blurted, his mind going blank, "do you have any ointment?"
"Of course," Leon said with a chuckle, "and I can help you massage the area." He gestured for the General to enter his room.
"It's alright. I'll just take the ointment," the General responded dryly.
"How can you reach your back? Don't worry, it's no trouble. It would be my pleasure," Leon reassured, shooting him a wink.
Under Leon's warm insistence, the General could only follow him in and the door clicked shut behind him, leaving only the two of them in the room. The General stood awkwardly in the middle of Leon's room, watching as Leon casually rummaged through his travel kit for the ointment. The room was small but warm, lit by the soft glow of a lantern. The scent of incense filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of leather and pine. The General's muscles were still tense, his mind racing, struggling to comprehend why he had followed Leon here in the first place.
"There it is," Leon said cheerfully, holding up a small jar of ointment. "Now, go ahead and lie down. I'll take care of the rest."
The General hesitated, feeling uncharacteristically out of control. This was a mistake. He should have simply taken the ointment and left. But Leon's easy smile and casual demeanor disarmed him. The General complied, lying face down on the bed, the rough linen sheets rustling beneath him.
The sensation of Leon's hands on his back over his thin robe was immediate, warm, and firm. The General tensed at first, but Leon's gentle pressure and deft movements slowly coaxed his muscles into relaxation. As Leon worked, his touch never lingered too long in one spot, never invasive, always respectful, almost… comforting. But not quite. Did comfort send sparks through one's skin and cause cravings for more?
"I can feel the tension in your back," Leon commented lightly, his voice a soothing balm to the General's frayed nerves. "You must've been carrying a lot lately."
The General made no reply. He kept his face buried in his folded arms, trying to control the way his body responded to Leon's touch. As Leon's hands worked across the taut muscles of his back, the General's instincts screamed to move, to pull away—but for some reason, he stayed. There was something in the way Leon touched him, something that felt less like comfort and more like unraveling. And for the first time in a long while, the General wanted to allow himself to be undone—if only for a moment."
The room was quiet, save for the sound of Leon's hands gliding over the General's skin.
"General," Leon said softly, breaking the silence. "I'm here for you if you ever want to talk or need something. You can trust me."
The General's throat tightened. Trust—an easy word, one he'd never been able to afford. But as Leon's hand remained steady, the General found himself wanting, just for once, to believe in it.