Kaela pushed back a strand of her hair, her eyes taking in the gloomy surroundings. "Wow," she said softly, "this place feels... haunted."
Croaksalot's usual bright demeanor was dimmed by worry. "It was never like this before," he croaked sadly. "Ribbiton was always full of music and laughter, but now... now it's all fear and shadows."
Shadow, Azazel's loyal companion, tilted his head curiously, his sleek black fur rippling like living darkness. The panther let out a low, rumbling growl, as if he could sense the unease infecting the land.
Azazel adjusted his sword, which glimmered faintly with the dormant power of the Sky Serpent. "We'll figure this out," he said, his voice steady. "Let's meet with your Frog Council and see what they know."
---
The group made their way to the Council Chambers, an impressive structure built from large, twisted roots and decorated with shimmering swamp pearls. Inside, a circle of elder frogs waited, their wise eyes filled with worry. The head of the council, Grand Croak, wore a crown made of cattail reeds and was seated on a moss-covered throne.
Grand Croak's voice was deep and somber. "Welcome back, Croaksalot," he said, his long throat pouch swelling as he spoke. "But I wish this reunion were under happier circumstances."
Croaksalot bowed respectfully. "Grand Croak, these are my friends—Azazel, Kaela, and Shadow. They've come to help us."
Azazel nodded. "We heard about the disappearances. What can you tell us?"
Grand Croak sighed, the sound heavy with grief. "It started a few weeks ago. Frogs began vanishing without a trace, and the only sign left behind was a trail of shimmering swamp moss. The younger frogs are terrified, and even the bravest among us refuse to venture out at night."
An elderly frog councilor with spectacles perched on his nose added, "There are whispers of an ancient evil... The Mucklurker, a swamp monster from our legends, said to feast on the unlucky."
Kaela folded her arms. "A monster from a legend?" she mused. "Sometimes those are based on real threats."
Another councilor, a frog with a scar across his left eye, interjected. "We've searched the swamps, but no one has found a trace of the Mucklurker. It's as if the very swamp itself conspires to hide it."
Shadow, who had been silently observing, suddenly perked up. His glowing eyes fixed on a flickering shadow outside, and he let out a low growl. Azazel frowned. "Shadow senses something," he said. "We need to start investigating immediately."
Grand Croak's throat bobbed. "Please, be careful. If the Mucklurker is truly back, it will not show mercy."
---
The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across Ribbiton as Azazel and his companions ventured to the first house where a frog had disappeared. It was a small, cozy home built on a cluster of lilypads, but now it looked desolate. A mother frog, her eyes wide with worry, clutched her two remaining tadpoles.
"Please, help us," she pleaded. "My eldest son, Tadwick, vanished three nights ago. There was... moss. Shimmering swamp moss near his bed."
Kaela knelt beside her, offering a warm smile. "We'll find him," she promised. "Can you show us the moss?"
The mother frog led them to Tadwick's room. There, scattered across the lilypad floor, were small patches of swamp moss, glowing faintly. Azazel bent down, his fingers brushing the moss. It pulsed with an eerie light, sending a shiver up his spine.
"Magic," Kaela whispered. "Old magic. And not the good kind."
Shadow sniffed the moss and sneezed, shaking his head. Croaksalot looked even more worried. "This is bad," he croaked. "Very bad."
They visited more homes, hearing similar stories and finding more patches of the glowing moss. As they gathered clues, the sky grew darker, and the swamp mist thickened.
---
Returning to the Council Chambers to report their findings, Shadow became distracted by a swarm of fireflies that danced through the air. The panther's eyes lit up with curiosity, and he leaped after the glowing bugs, batting at them playfully.
"Shadow, focus!" Azazel called, but he couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. Kaela giggled, watching the mighty panther prance around like a kitten.
Croaksalot, however, was mortified. "Shadow, please!" he squeaked. "This is a serious place of governance!"
Shadow ignored him, pouncing at the fireflies and sending one of the frog councilors tumbling backward into a muddy puddle. The elder frog emerged sputtering, covered in muck.
Kaela burst into laughter. "Oh no! Shadow, look what you did!"
Azazel shook his head, chuckling. "I'm sorry about that," he said, trying not to laugh. "Shadow has... a playful side."
The councilor wiped mud from his face, looking less than amused. But the tension in the chamber eased, and even Grand Croak cracked a smile.
---
The sun had fully set, and the swamp had become a labyrinth of shadows and swirling mist. As the group made their way back to their temporary camp, a mournful, ghostly croak echoed through the air.
Kaela's laughter faded. "Did you hear that?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
Azazel drew his sword, the blade gleaming with a faint blue light. "Stay close," he instructed, his eyes scanning the darkness.
Croaksalot huddled between Kaela and Azazel, his whole body shivering. "That... that was the cry of the Mucklurker," he whispered.
Shadow stepped forward, his fur bristling as he peered into the mist. Another croak sounded, this one closer and more sorrowful. The air grew heavy with an unnatural chill, and Azazel felt the hairs on his neck stand on end.
"We're being watched," he murmured. He took a cautious step forward, but the swamp seemed to hold its breath.
The wail came again, this time so close it felt like it was coming from right behind them. Azazel spun around, sword at the ready, but there was nothing there—only the mist and the faint rustle of the reeds.
The group exchanged uneasy glances. Whatever was out there, it was waiting.
—