The Mage’s head lowered, and his body did not move. The forest was now silent. Even the insects above the trees no longer buzzed. The dense air felt stale and still, but Yoviene ignored this and allowed the thrill of battle to wash over her.

“We did it!” Yoviene shouted to her companions, smiling euphorically at another victory.

Sylvar smiled and winced as he touched his ribs and said, "Not as bad as I expected, but it was a painful experience."

“You think that elder of theirs would mind if he gave us some healing this late at night?” Bronson said slowly as he got up.

“I’m sure he’ll heal you both up once we get back. Hell, the entire village will start showering us with praise and sing songs about us for the rest of their lives! And there’ll be a nice and shiny reward to go with it all.” Yoviene said as she approached the corpse of the Mage. The image of Chief Renlo begrudgingly handing over the priceless tiara to her filled the woman with glee.

She focused her blessing once again, and her sword burst into flames before the flame coiled around the blade, making it glow red as if fresh out of the forge.

“But first, we got to bring proof back.” She said, standing in front of the body and raising her sword, preparing to chop the head off.

She swung her weapon. As soon the sword connected with the corpse, the body blinked out of existence.

“What!?” Yoviene shouted as she quickly backed up.

The flora that provided light to the dark forest suddenly dim. Only slivers of moonlight above gave the adventurers little visibility.

As everyone grouped, Bronson put his hands into the ground and formed a new pair of stone gauntlets.

“Do you two sense anything?” Yoviene asked the elves.

Gaerra and Sylvar concentrated on the area around them. They felt a presence in the shadows.

“There's something here,” Gaerra started. “many things. But I can’t tell what they are."

“I can’t either,” Sylvar said.

The darkness encroached upon further and further upon the group like a predator. They heard growling in all directions. Yoviene and Bronson did not need the blessing of mind to know that all of them could feel the same thing at this moment.

Fear.

The snarling increased in volume before the forest became quiet once again. Each adventurer held up their weapons defensively. Gaerra commanded the boar to protect her.

Silence. The air felt different now. There was hostile energy as if the entire forest declared them its enemy.

The ground beneath them trembled, and large tree roots burst out of the earth above the boar and wrapped around the beast. Its self-preservation overrode Gaerra’s spell, and it started flailing about, futilely attempting to break free. More and more roots entangled the helpless creature and pulled it deep into the ground. Yoviene and the rest of the group can only watch as the forest swallowed the beast whole. The earth left no traces of disturbance as the boar disappeared.

The hairs on the back of Yoviene’s neck stood as she sensed something staring at her from inside the darkness. Fear coursed through her veins like venom. It took all she had to turn and look back. Just inches from Yoviene’s face was a familiar figure in black robes, except now there are huge glowing balls of ghostly blue light where its eyes were.

The Mage of Darlocke Forest still lived.

Yoviene lips slowly curved into a snarl. The fire inside her burned away the fear, replacing it with rage.

I. Will. Not. Lose.

As she prepared to strike the Mage with her sword, Yoviene felt something sharp dig deep into her arm. She turned and saw a large wolf with jet black fur; its fangs tore through her muscles and touched the bone. As the wolf bit down with more strength, there was a loud Crunch! Yoviene fell over in pain. Bronson roared as he ran and ripped it off her, grabbing the canine by the throat. The wolf yelped as the man squeezed tightly in retaliation against it. Before Bronson could snap its neck, the creature faded into a cloud of black smoke and faded into the ground.

From the surrounding darkness, more wolves appeared to the group. One of them jumped toward the now defenseless Gaerra, but Sylvar tackled her to the ground. The elven man turned his head and spotted the wolf melting into the shadows as it landed.

Two wolves held Bronson off as he tried to reach his leader and dearest companion as she gripped her arm that was bleeding profusely. With every punch with his earthen gauntlets, the wolves turned into smoke only to reappear again from the shadows and try once more to bite the man.

“Get up and fight, Yovey!” Bronson shouted at Yoviene.

The woman looked up at the Mage. The figure continued staring at her. She was still unable to see the Mage's face. However, she detected pure hatred radiating out his glowing eyes as they bored holes into her skull.

“You couldn’t kill off a bunch of normal adventurers, so you had to send dogs to finish us off, eh? You’re weaker than everyone gave you credit for. Just a pathetic old man that only does parlor tricks. I’ve seen other magi a lot stronger than you. You’re pathetic.” Yoviene spat out as she got up, heating her free hand with her blessing and placing it over the wound. She cauterized the area and moved her shoulder. She needed proper healing later, but she could still fight. That’s all that mattered to the woman.

She darted toward the Mage. In a flash, he instantly dodged her attack. Yoviene attacked again and failed. This dance of theirs went on for serval minutes. The magus' dodges are no longer the spry leaps from earlier. He teleported around Yoviene instantaneously with each swing of her sword. She flailed her weapon around more frantically, gritting her teeth.

“Coward!” Yoviene shouted.

“Scared of bleeding again!? If you stop moving, I’ll try and make it painless!”

Flames engulfed Yoviene's sword once again as she slashed at the Mage. The flames dispersed, and the Mage disappeared. The woman gripped her sword with both hands and preemptively slashed behind her. Nothing. Yoviene swiftly turned back only to find the Mage standing in front of her. He quickly drew something on her forehead before she can react. Once he finished, the caster smacked his palm on Yoviene’s head and vanished once more.

Yoviene breathed heavily as her head throbbed. She could not hear Bronson shouting her name as the forest melted away as her eyes closed.

The earthy and sweet perfumes of the flowers and trees no longer invaded Yoviene’s nose. Instead, she smelled the familiar musk of damp rotting wood and alcohol. The woman snapped her eyes open and found herself in a small wooden shack. Two straw mats were on opposite sides of the shack, a table and a chair were in the center. The freezing wind outside permeated from the broken roof above and wrapped its fingers around the woman. She breathed in sharply, attempting the suppress the well of forgotten emotions from bubbling out of her.

“What is this?” Yoviene whispered, anger and misery in her voice.

Why? Why this place?

Yoviene heard the voice of a man outside, muttering to himself. Her muscles immediately tensed, and she clenched her fists. A man in his 30s with unkempt brown hair walked inside. He was wearing a teal shirt with stains all over it, pants with crude patches, and worn leather shoes. The man reeked of alcohol and urine. The man was holding a large glass bottle. A little of its contents spilled out as the drunkard swayed back and forth.

He stumbled inside, and Yoviene looked at him with disgust. She opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself. She wanted to say so much to the man in front of her but couldn't.

“You’re back early, girl.” The man said as he walked past Yoviene and sat down at the table.

“Hope you made enough coin for the day. I’m going back to the tavern later for a drink, and I want to play some cards. I’m feeling lucky tonight.” He grinned to himself.

Idiot. You’re never lucky. You always lose. I’m not giving you a single piece of gold I earned! Not again! Yoviene thought to herself, but the words stayed stuck in her throat.

“Here.” A young mousey voice said, and a small coin purse plopped onto the table.

Did I say that?

Yoviene looked down at herself and saw not the callous hands of a woman in her mid-20s who constantly fought with a sword, but the delicate and small hands of a girl ten years of age. She wore a dark green dress, and her long blonde hair reverted to its short cut during her childhood.

The drunkard greedily grabbed the pouch and emptied it onto the table.

“One…Two…Three…Four… Why do you only have twelve gold!?” The man shouted at the young Yoviene.

“Miss Hathern didn’t have much for me, to-ahh!” Yoviene held her left cheek after a hand slapped her hard across the face. It was a dull pain she was all too familiar with. Her heart stung as she remembered her own weakness. Being powerless and feeling the condescending eyes of her father looking down at her.

“Then you should have gone and look for someone else to give you work!” The man took a long swig of the bottle, finishing off its contents.

“You’re just a lazy little shit. Just like your mother, the two-faced bitch.”

I’m the lazy one? Why don’t you go out and look for work for once? Yoviene desperately wanted to say that, but it was as if something sealed her true voice with candlewax.

“I…I’m…sorry, father.” The child weakly spoke as she looked at him, eyes burning with hatred.

“Don’t give me that look. You know I can’t work since the accident ruined my hands!” Yoviene’s father grumbled as he stood up.

She continued to stare at him defiantly. Yoviene started to feel whatever spell that’s holding her start to loosen.

“I’m leaving.”

“What’s did you say?”

“I’m leaving this place. Anywhere is better than staying with you.” She said in a low voice.

Smash!

Yoviene fell to the ground as chunks of glass scattered around her.

The man knelt in front of Yoviene. His face was inches from hers, and she felt his disgusting hot breath.

Her father grabbed her shoulders and began shaking them.

“You think you're better than me? Is that it? Because you can work, and I can’t? Did you forget who gave you the job with Hathern? Do you think it's you she feels sorry for? No, she feels sorry for me! I gave you a job and provided a home for you, and you think you can waltz out of here and be something. You’re too weak and pathetic to make it in this world. You saw how everyone treated me when I got injured and couldn’t work anymore. Even your mother abandoned both of us for some noble. You’re nothing, Yoviene. Nothing!” As he spoke, the man continued shaking Yoviene more violently.

“I… hate…you.” Yoviene managed to say, her anger boiling her blood.

She hated herself more for allowing this to continue for most of her childhood. She wanted this to end. She wanted the memory to die and stay in the past forever.

“Say that again, you ungrateful shit!”

Yoviene’s right-hand started moving around the floor, and she felt something cold on the ground. Something sharp.

“I. Said. Die!” She yelled with deafening fury as she broke free from her father’s grip and struck. The man gasped pathetically as she pierced his stomach. Yoviene’s eyes brighten with relief as years of torment released their grip on her.

“Yo… Yo…. Yovey.” A male voice weakly said.

Yoviene’s eyes widened as she looked at the man in front of her. The smell and sight of the dark forest returned to her, and in the shadows was a familiar face in front of her—a bald man with scars all over his body.

“No. No. No. No…” The woman repeated as tears started pouring down her face. She looked down and saw her sword piercing her friend’s body.

“Bronson… I’m sorry.”