Hinterwood - The Morning After the Hunt
The scent of roasted meat filled the air.
Reinhardt sat at a corner table in The Hollow Boar, his meal half-eaten, his mind elsewhere.
The gold coins Captain Varren had handed him sat on the wooden surface before him, gleaming dully in the dim morning light. His first payment in over three hundred years.
He rolled one of the coins between his fingers, his expression unreadable.
In the past, as a knight of Velderia, money had meant little to him. He had lived by his duty, sustained by the kingdom's wealth and the respect of its people. Now, neither remained.
He was a nameless mercenary.
With a slow breath, he made his decision.
Reinhardt called the innkeeper over. "How much for supplies?"
The man raised an eyebrow. "Depends on what you need."
"Rations for a long journey. A map. And a whetstone."
The innkeeper scratched his beard. "Five silvers."
Reinhardt nodded and slid over the coins. "Done."
The innkeeper counted the money before disappearing behind the counter. When he returned, he placed a small bundle on the table—a wrapped package of dried meat and hard biscuits, a rolled-up parchment, and a smooth whetstone.
Reinhardt inspected each item carefully before fastening them to his belt. With this, he could travel without relying on villages for some time.
Finally, he spoke again. "What's the fastest route to the next town?"
The innkeeper frowned. "That'd be Moonveil Forest."
Reinhardt raised an eyebrow. "Moonveil?"
"A cursed place," the man muttered. "No one sane takes that road."
Reinhardt leaned forward slightly. "Why?"
The innkeeper hesitated, then sighed. "Strange things happen there. Travelers disappear. Others come out days later, lost in time—swearing they'd only been inside for a few hours."
One of the nearby patrons, an older man with a thick beard, spoke up. "And those who go too deep never return at all."
Reinhardt remained silent.
Varren had mentioned the monsters started appearing ten years ago. If Moonveil was already dangerous before then, it meant whatever lurked within had existed long before the monsters arrived.
Which meant it wasn't them.
Something else was in that forest.
"…It's still the fastest route?" Reinhardt asked.
The innkeeper nodded grimly. "By three days."
Reinhardt stood. "Then that's where I'll go."
The innkeeper shook his head. "I don't know if you're brave or just a fool, knight."
Reinhardt gave him a pointed look.
"…Or maybe both," the man muttered, returning to his work.
Reinhardt left the tavern without another word.
---
Nightfall - The Edge of Moonveil Forest
The moment Reinhardt stepped into Moonveil, the air changed.
The cold seeped into his armor, clinging to his skin like mist. The trees loomed taller than any he had seen before, their dark branches weaving together to block out the moonlight. A thick fog swirled around his boots, moving unnaturally—as if alive.
It was a place untouched by time.
Reinhardt kept a steady pace, his hand resting on his sword. Though the villagers had spoken of strange disappearances, they had not mentioned monsters.
That meant whatever lurked here was not like the creatures he had fought before.
The silence pressed down on him.
Then—a whisper.
Soft. Playful. Almost… teasing.
Reinhardt halted. His eyes scanned the darkness, his body tense.
The whisper came again.
"Lost, are you?"
A small, glowing figure flitted into view.
She was no taller than his hand, with translucent wings that shimmered like moonlight. Her hair was silver, flowing around her like strands of starlight, and her eyes gleamed with mischief.
A fairy.
Reinhardt narrowed his eyes. He had heard stories of the fey before, but in his time, they had been nothing more than myths.
Yet here one stood—real, and very much aware of him.
The fairy tilted her head. "Not even a flinch? Most humans panic when they see me."
Reinhardt remained still. "You were watching me."
She grinned. "You stepped into my forest. Of course, I was watching."
Her forest.
Reinhardt studied her carefully. "Are you its guardian?"
The fairy fluttered closer, hovering just above his shoulder. "Something like that. You could say I belong to this place."
She circled him once, her gaze flickering over his armor and weapons.
"…You're different," she mused.
Reinhardt met her eyes. "You can tell?"
She grinned again. "You smell like old steel and forgotten time. Like something that doesn't belong."
Reinhardt's grip on his sword tightened slightly. "And yet, here I am."
The fairy's wings fluttered. "Indeed. And that makes you interesting."
Reinhardt exhaled slowly. "I don't seek trouble. Only passage."
The fairy gave a dramatic sigh. "How boring."
She twirled midair, the light around her pulsing faintly. "But I'll let you pass. On one condition."
Reinhardt raised an eyebrow. "And that is?"
The fairy's smile widened.
"Tell me your name."
Reinhardt hesitated.
Names held power. At least, that was what old legends claimed. In the time of Velderia, fey creatures were said to bind those who gave their names too freely.
But if this fairy wished him harm, she would have already acted.
"…Reinhardt."
The fairy's glow brightened.
"A knight's name."
Her gaze softened, just for a moment.
Then, with a playful spin, she darted back into the air.
"Very well, Reinhardt," she said. "Since you were polite, I shall return the favor."
She placed a tiny hand over her chest and gave an exaggerated bow.
"I am Sylphine, last of the Moonveil Pixies."
Reinhardt frowned slightly. Last?
Before he could ask, Sylphine suddenly tensed.
Her wings fluttered erratically, and her glow dimmed.
Reinhardt's instincts flared. "What is it?"
Sylphine's eyes flickered toward the darkness beyond the trees.
"…Something is coming."
Reinhardt turned.
From the depths of the forest, the fog began to shift.
And then—it emerged.
A massive, hulking shadow, its form barely visible through the thick mist. Its eyes glowed an eerie violet, and its body was wrapped in a swirling darkness that seemed to move unnaturally.
It was not like the monsters he had fought before.
Even Sylphine looked unnerved.
"…That's not one of mine," she whispered.
Reinhardt drew his swords.
The air itself seemed to tremble as the creature stepped forward.
This was not an ordinary beast.
It was something else.
And for the first time since waking in this new world—Reinhardt felt something akin to recognition.
Not of the creature itself.
But of the feeling it brought.
The weight of an old war.
The remnants of something long forgotten.
Something he should not remember—but did.
His grip on his swords tightened.
Sylphine hovered closer, her voice low.
"…I hope you're as strong as you look, knight."
Reinhardt's eyes never left the approaching shadow.
"We'll find out soon enough."
---
To Be Continued…