The quiet forest was filled with soft groans and the sound of ropes as the three of them tied up the caught cultists. The child, worn out by the night and Roan's gentle words, was in a deep sleep during the turmoil, not aware of his companions' masks being taken off.
Lynna watched, her brow furrowed in anticipation, as the identities of the mysterious cultists were revealed. Her eyes widened slightly in recognition as the first mask came off, revealing a face not unknown to her. "Who are they?" she whispered, more to herself than her companions.
Wil, tying a sturdy knot around the last cultist, glanced at the faces now bare to the moonlight. "These folks are the tinker family that settled here some three, maybe four, years ago." he said, his voice laced with disbelief.
Roan, his attention still partly on the sleeping child, joined the conversation. "They've been helpful since they arrived, craftin' tools for the village—good quality, every one of them.", he mused, trying to reconcile the family's helpful past with their current predicament. "But lately, 'em shop's been closed more often than not, not so much in demand."
Curiosity and concern etched on her face, Lynna stepped closer, trying to glean some truth from their eyes. She and Wil interrogated them, but their lips were sealed, their eyes averting the mage's piercing gaze, brimming with a mixture of shame and stubborn silence.
As Lynna pressed for answers, Wil's gaze on the cultists seemed distant, contemplative, as if he were piecing together a puzzle only he could see. His expression was inscrutable, a brief flicker of recognition—or was it empathy?—passed over his features. It was gone in an instant, making Lynna question if she'd seen it at all. There was an enigma in his eyes, something unspoken that suggested he knew more than he let on.
He got close to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Lynna, trust me on this," he said, locking eyes with her, "I think I understand what's going on here, but I need some time to gather more evidence. I'll tell you everything next week."
She hesitated, her instinct as a mage demanding immediate answers, but there was something in Wil's tone that convinced her. Perhaps it was the recollection of the two occasions Wil had come to her aid, saving her from dire situations with his quick thinking and braver-than-he-looked actions.
Deep in thought, Lynna mulled over the night's surreal turn of events. They prayed to something, but it didn't have any apparent consequences, she pondered, the worry lines on her forehead softening slightly. Harmless? Perhaps, as long as they don't continue with these rituals, it should be fine. But can we really take the chance? Her mind raced with the possibilities, yet she found herself leaning towards a gamble on Wil's judgment—for now.
Finally, she nodded, "Alright, Wil. One week. But we need to keep a close eye on them until then."
Wil nodded in agreement, then turned to Roan, suggesting that they should release the family. "They're harmless, and they regret what they've done tonight. I can assure you, they won't try something like this again," he explained, the certainty in his voice somehow convincing.
The bound family nodded eagerly, their demeanor a stark contrast to their previous silence—a vibrant display of their eagerness to return to normalcy and perhaps an attempt to seek silent forgiveness.
With Roan's hesitant yet compassionate agreement, considering Wil's pledge and the family's apologetic manner, they decided to release the captives. The journey back to the village was solemn, the weight of the night's revelations and their implications hanging heavy in the air.
With the family's promises of peace and quiet acceptance of the consequences, the trio led the way back to the village. As they emerged from the thick embrace of the forest, the fresh night air greeted them, tinged with the crisp coldness of winter. They walked in contemplative silence, the village road welcoming them with its familiar turns and the soft whispers of nocturnal life. Above them, the moon hung like a guardian, its pale light casting long shadows that danced quietly alongside as they returned the family to their rightful home, their footsteps a soft echo in the still of the night.