The Hounds moved out of the mountain fortress, their black boots striking the stone sending echoes against the valley walls. Valak led the way, his cloak snapping in the wind as the air began to warm, leaving the cold peaks behind.
"As we march, remember," Valak said, his voice carrying over the clatter of gear. "This can barely be called a mission. A nearby village under our authority has been attacked by bandits. We are there to investigate and re-establish order."
One of the recruits, wiping sweat from his brow, shifted his heavy pack. "Couldn’t the city send some of the regular guards for this, Sergeant?"
Valak didn't bother looking back. "The city guards protect the city walls and the elites within them. You are at the bottom of the food chain. Don’t expect much."
After a few miles, the path narrowed. Valak stopped, turning to face his squad warning them. "Listen well. When we arrive, do not interact with the Crescentians. That is a direct order. Keep your heads down and your mouths shut."
"Crescentians?" the Wanderer asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Yes," Valak replied, his jaw tight. "The whole village is a cult. They have their own ways, their own laws. We are there for the bandits, nothing more."
Kuma, standing at the Wanderer's side, let out a low whistle. "A village-sized cult? This might be more interesting than I thought."
Valak moved with a sudden speed, leaning down inches from Kuma’s face. "What did I just say, Hound?"
Kuma’s eyes went wide, and he took a half-step back. "Right. Sorry. Didn’t mean anything, Sergeant. Mouth shut. Got it."
They reached the village an hour later. It was an isolated settlement surrounded by a crude wooden fence. At the main entrance, a sagging wooden gate was topped with a carved crescent moon. There were no guards at the gate, and as they marched inside, the silence was unsettling.
"Where is everyone?" one of the soldiers whispered, his head scouting the village.
The village seemed abandoned. Every house was shuttered tight, the wooden doors bolted and the windows draped in thick cloth. In the center of the town stood a massive stone statue of a kneeling figure holding a crescent moon toward the sky.
"We have waited for too long."
The voice came from directly behind them. The squad spun around, blades halfway out of their sheaths. None of them had felt her approach.
She stood in the shade of a nearby eaves, a tall woman with long, dark hair that spilled over her cheeks. A black cloth was tied firmly over her eyes, embroidered with a stark white crescent. She wore an oversized black dress that seemed to swallow her frame, making her look like a shadow given form.
"Elder Luna," Valak said, his voice leveling out as he offered a stiff, formal nod. "Pleasure meeting you again. The garrisons have been busy the past few days; we couldn't spare anyone to come until now."
"That was not our agreement," she replied, her voice flat. "Your general vowed protection for our village in exchange for the Moon Dew. The pact was blood and iron."
Valak looked annoyed, his fingers tapping against his thigh. "Emergencies dictate different agreements, Elder. We are here now. What do you know about these bandits?"
Luna began to move deeper into the village, and Valak signaled for the squad to follow. As they walked, the Wanderer noticed more movement. Women, all dressed in the same heavy black robes, were moving through the village, but they only stepped where the shadows fell.
The Wanderer watched as one woman reached a gap between two houses where the midday sun beat down on the dirt path. Instead of crossing the light, she vanished into the darkness of one wall and reappeared instantly in the shade on the other side.
"Are they vampires or something?" Kuma whispered, leaning toward the Wanderer.
Luna’s head tilted back slightly, hearing the whisper despite the distance. "Only I can move through its blinding light," she said, her voice dripping with a mocking edge. "The cruel sunlight is toxic to us. A 'gift' from the God of Light to those who prefer the truth of the night."
Valak shot Kuma a look of pure disapproval. Kuma just shrugged and held up his hands in a silent apology.
They arrived at the village's storage area. The heavy doors had been smashed to splinters, and the interior was stripped of its supplies.
Luna stood at the edge of the shade, gesturing toward the road. "The bandits will come at noon," she said. "They take advantage of our weakness. They know we cannot follow them into the glare."
“We’ll hold the perimeter,” Valak barked, as he signaled the squad to disperse. “Find cover. We wait for them to come to us.”
Luna didn't look back as she began to retreat into the shadows of the nearest eaves. “Do as you must. But no man enters a house, and no one are to speak to my daughters.”
“These are trained soldiers, Elder,” Valak replied, his tone clipped. “You have nothing to fear from us.”
She offered no reply, her silhouette bleeding into the dark of a doorway.
“No man’s land, then?” Toran muttered, adjusting the weight of his kit.
Valak cut him a sharp look. “You heard the woman. I’m not looking to spark a diplomatic crisis on your first day in the field. Position yourselves.”
The squad moved with practiced silence, turning crates and hay piles into makeshift nests. They hunkered down as the sun climbed to its peak, the heat shimmering off the ground's white stone. Noon came and went. The shadows stretched, then shifted, and still, the road remained empty. By the time the sun began to fade, the tension had turned into exhaustion.
“I can’t feel my legs, Sergeant,” Kuma hissed from behind a stack of barrels. “How long are we supposed to play statue?”
“Looks like they’ve had their fill these past few days,” a voice drifted from the gloom behind them.
The squad jumped, weapons leveled before they recognized Luna standing in the shade of a porch.
Valak stood, rubbing the grit from his eyes. “They aren’t coming. We’ll pull back and return in a few days.”
“No,” Luna said. The word was cold and final. “You stay until they arrive. Or perhaps your General no longer has a need for our Moon Dew?”
Valak’s jaw tightened. He let out a long sigh and looked at his tired men. “Fine. Where do we bed down?”
Luna turned without a word. They followed her through the shadowed alleys to a sprawling wooden structure at the village center.
“Spend the night here,” she said, gesturing to the heavy doors. “My daughters have prepared beds. They will bring food shortly.”
As she stepped into a patch of rising moonlight, the fabric of her dress seemed to drink the light, turning ethereal white. She paused, her back to them. “You are not to leave these walls. No matter what you hear, do not step outside.”
Her hair began to lift, as if caught in an underwater current, shifting from black to a shimmering silver. The men stunned silence, watching her drift away, her feet hovering inches above the ground as she vanished into the night.
“Inside,” Valak commanded, his voice breaking the spell. “Move. What are you gaping at?”
They filed into the hall, eyes lingering on the spot where she had disappeared until Valak slammed the door shut.
The interior was dim, but they weren't alone. Three women stood by the long tables. Their skin possessed a faint, pearlescent glow, and their silver hair reached down to their waist. For the first time, they saw the Crescentians without their blindfolds; their eyes were like mercury.
“Am I in heaven?” Toran whispered, his mouth hanging open.
The Wanderer reached out and cuffed the back of the soldier’s head. “Wake up, hound.”
“Restrain yourself, Toran,” Valak warned, “or I’ll restrain you to a pillar.”
The women moved with a haunting, fluid grace, setting down trays of roasted meats and strange, pale fruits. One of them reached for a heavy cloth covering the high window, pulling it back to let a beam of moonlight strike the floor. As she stepped into the light, she dissolved into the radiance, vanishing instantly. Her sisters followed.
Kuma rubbed his arms, looking at the empty space where they had stood. “I don't know how you find that attractive. This whole place feels haunted.”
“I think you’re just into men,” Toran shot back, though his voice lacked its usual bite.
The squad settled into the meal, the tension easing slightly as they ate. Between mouthfuls, Kuma looked toward the Sergeant. “What’s the story of this place anyway? Why are they like that?”
“None of our business,” Valak said, though he didn't look away from his plate. “Let’s just hope the bandits show tomorrow so we can leave. This place creeps me out.”
The Wanderer leaned back smirking. “The great Sergeant is afraid? That’s new.”
Valak sighed, leaning his elbows on the table. He looked at the Wanderer, then at the younger faces around him. “You’re all too young. Too ignorant. A hundred years ago, magic wasn't the law of the land. Qi was.”
The table went quiet.
“It wasn't the only force either,” Valak continued. “Dark cults, warring sects, they all carved Avaris with war scars. My grandfather told me the world was just an endless cycle of blood until the Forsaken Years. A century that no one remembers. When the smoke cleared, magic was everywhere. Everyone was born with mana. The old ways just... died.”
“Hard to believe,” Kuma whispered. Then, a mischievous glint returned to his eyes. “Wait... does this mean the ‘Mad Dog’ was actually a little kid once?”
The tension snapped. The squad erupted into laughter as Valak surged up from the table, chasing Kuma around the wooden pillars while the boy yelped in mock terror.
Eventually, the fire died down and the feast was finished. One by one, the soldiers succumbed to sleep.
In the dead of the night, a sound began. It was a rhythmic chant repeating, that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards.
HA... SHA... HEN...
HA... SHA... KI…
OURTH OU ZEN
OURTH OU MAG
The Wanderer’s eyes snapped open. The sound was vibrating his very being. Beside him, Kuma was trembling, clutching his sword to his chest.
“What is that?” Kuma hissed.
The rest of the squad was stirring, hands reaching for hilts in the dark.
“Hush,” Valak whispered, his voice a sharp blade in the dark. “Ignore it. Everyone get back to sleep.”
Kuma pulled his blanket over his head, his voice muffled and terrified. “Wanderer... what the fuck is going on ?”
The Wanderer stared at the ceiling, the ancient words of the rite echoing in his mana circle, as he spoke them under his breath:
“Praise the moon above... praise the moon within. Curse all men. Curse all magic.”