A debuff appeared during their ride, capping Gunnar’s Stamina at 60%. He had been going hard all night, and he desperately needed to rest. As they weaved through the trees, he cast Word of Healing on himself repeatedly, until he finally restored all his Health. But if they faced any more enemies, that debuff could really impair his abilities.

The woods were sparse enough that he didn’t have to use Dark Sight to maneuver very often. For the first few minutes of their journey, he found himself constantly glancing behind them. But no one appeared to have followed after them.

“Why didn’t she come after us?” Gunnar wondered aloud.

“I think she was more worried about clearing Zeda’s estate. She doesn’t need to capture you to put the blame on you and the Cryptids.”

Gunnar sighed. “Zeda knew what she was, and his Rogues were the only other witnesses. And from the sounds of it, Grand Master Faraday doesn’t know who the traitor was.”

“That’s the whole of it, I expect.”

“But what about me? Or Em? That’ll never fly once they get back from Mavenport.”

“Maybe… if I were you, I’d tell Em to watch her back. But my guess is Leilani doesn’t need to convince the Nighthawks for long.”

Gunnar sent Em a quick DM while he walked, but here was no reply. He wondered what had happened back in Mavenport with that last target. What if they’d been betrayed too? What if something had happened to Em.

Or I could just be that they were still in the thick of escaping Mavenport.

Or Em may have had to leave the game again for some reason.

“Leilani talked about bringing back the old ways,” Gunnar said. “What does that mean?”

“Afraid I don’t know much about that sort of thing. For now, we need to get to the crypt. We can figure things out from—”

There was a rustle in the woods behind them, and Gunnar spun. Sheira drew her crossbow, but Gunnar felt a strange sense of calm come over him.

Not a feeling, but rather a preternatural sense, which he realized was emanating from his Soul.

“Don’t shoot,” he whispered.

Sheira did not lower her bow, but she nodded.

A beastly silhouette crept from behind a tree, sniffed at the air, then moved toward them cautiously.

“It’s okay,” Gunnar said. “It’s only me.”

But the dire wolf did not move any quicker. He wondered if she’d been injured, but the wolf did not walk with a stagger or limp. She kept her body low and sniffed often at the air.

Gunnar stepped forward to greet her, holding out his hand.

The massive wolf gave him an obligatory sniff, and then brushed her wet nose against his hand. He slid his fingers beneath her mighty muzzle and briefly scratched the fur of her neck. The sense grew stronger between them. The last time he’d met this wolf, they’d been bonded in battle.

He had advanced the bond right before he sent her away. But this sense must have been an effect of the advancement. He could feel a sort of magical resonance with her now.

“I told you to leave the city,” Gunnar said.

The wolf let out a soft growl and shook her head, pointing her nose toward the edge of the woods.

“You did go,” Gunnar realized aloud. “You just kept close. You came back for me.”

The wolf growled again, though not in a threatening manner.

“Thank you for that,” Gunnar said. “And thanks for bringing your pack.”

The wolf shook her head and pointed her nose toward the edge of the woods, letting out a low growl. This time, more aggressive. She was trying to tell him something—warn him maybe—he just couldn’t understand her meaning.

She nudged her way past him and began to walk up a small hill toward the edge of the forest. She glanced back over her shoulder and let out another low growl.

Gunnar’s skin pricked with nervous shivers. He and Sheira crept softly after the dire wolf, silently climbing the hill.

The dark expanse of night was just beginning to turn to a deep pre-dawn gray as they reached the edge of the woods. It was still a good hour from sunrise, but there was a strange purplish glow on the air, and a thick haze hung over the valley below them. At first, Gunnar thought it was just morning fog, until a faint pungent smell hit his nostrils on a gust of wind. It was unlike any smoke he’d ever smelled IRL—it smelled dank and sour—but he couldn’t quite place it.

The dire wolf let out another growl.

Sheira held her hand up and peered out into the smog. “The wall’s not far from here.”

“Guessing it didn’t look like this the last time you were here?”

“There’s a couple more estates shrouded by that sorcerous mist.”

“Sorcery?” Gunnar asked, suddenly even more on edge. “Leilani?”

Sheira didn’t answer. She took off at a brisk jog along the edge of the forest, weaving behind the last line of trees. The wolf followed after, and Gunnar was left with little choice but to join them. His Stamina debuff didn’t help anything, and the morning chill made his entire body ache with each footfall.

After about a half mile, the elf woman stopped without warning, and dropped to her belly. Gunnar pulled up beside her in an army crawl, his chest pounding against the cool ground.

The mists were lighter here, and Gunnar could make out the silhouettes of at least a dozen Red Cloaks gathered around several bodies spread out on the ground, some with crimson cloaks and some without.

“At the gate, they mentioned guards had been killed by some sort of creatures,” Gunnar said.

“Whatever they are, they’re in that mist. Reckon that’s what’s got your wolf on edge.”

“What do we do?”

“Find another way out,” Sheira said emphatically.

“I can’t go back into the city,” Gunnar said. “I’m on the hit list of all the guilds Sykes is in with. And I’m about to be on the Nighthawks’ list too.”

“Another spot along the wall, then.”

Gunnar shook his head. “There’s better cover here than we’ll find anywhere else. Once we’re across, we should be able to get back to the outer crypt entrance easy enough. Besides, I need to know what Leilani’s really doing. Whatever it is, it’s a hell of a lot more than taking over the Nighthawks.”

“Very perceptive of you,” Sheira muttered sarcastically.

“I’m going,” Gunnar said. “You do you.”

He looked to the dire wolf, who lowered her muzzle, and Gunnar sensed she would follow him.

Sheira heaved a sigh. “This is precisely why I don’t like alliances.”

“You keep saying that, but I don’t think you know what it means.”

Sheira huffed, but followed Gunnar into the mists.

Soon, they were engulfed in the haunting purplish haze. Gunnar could not see more than ten yards in front of his own feet. Dark Sight didn’t help a bit in these mists. The dire wolf—whom Gunnar realized really ought to have a name after saving his skin twice now—kept close to his side as they walked.

“Try activating Spiritual Sight,” Sheira whispered.

It didn’t really change much either, since the entire point of this sorcery seemed to be to provide visible cover. He could, however, make out a large concentration of Mana an indeterminable distance ahead.

“What’s that?” Gunnar whispered.

The wolf let out another low growl.

“Something we best avoid,” Sheira said emphatically.

Gunnar did not get a chance to respond.

Shivers shot down his spine, and he and the wolf both spun around at the same time. There was a gust of wind rushing down on him from above.

He leapt to the side, just in time, as a huge shadow shot to the ground where he’d just been standing. A loud snarl filled the air and Gunnar rolled further away as a huge serpentine neck swung toward him, fangs flashing.

Gunnar drew his saber and faced the creature.

Venomous Wyvern

Level: 18

HP: 240/240

MP: 180/180

Description: A smaller cousin of the dragon, with a serious inferiority complex, and the ability to sense magic at short distances. Watch out for that tail!

The creature stood about ten feet high as it drew itself up on its hind feet. Almost in response to the notification, its tail whipped around at Gunnar’s face, and he barely managed to duck in time.

“No magic!” Sheira said, as she let a pair of daggers fly, dealing a paltry 10 Damage with direct hits to the chest. “It’ll attract more!”

Gunnar cursed to himself. They must have brought this one on them with their Spiritual Sight.

The wyvern lashed out at Sheira, and the dire wolf seized the opportunity and leapt on its back, but was quickly thrown off, dealing only another 10 points of damage.

The creature’s thick scales were going to pose a real problem.

It whipped its tail around again, just missing the wolf’s hind legs as it scampered out of range and spun around. The attack left the wyvern exposed, and Gunnar and Sheira both leapt in with sabers slashing at its long neck. Its Health remained safely at 83%.

Gunnar scampered back, only to have his stomach lurch, as his feet flew out from under him, and he tumbled away, his head narrowly missing a thick tree trunk.

His Health took a small hit, but his Stamina was what was really hurting him. That damn debuff left him already hovering around 25%.

He backed away and waited for it to replenish.

The wolf went for one of the creature’s wings, lashing out with fangs and claws. There was a horrific ripping sound. The actual Damage was small, but the effect was greater than Gunnar ever would have expected.

[Venomous Wyvern has taken a hit to a sensitive area. Left wing is paralyzed for thirty seconds.]

Gunnar hadn’t realized how much it used its wings to shift attacks until the debuff took effect. Its left wing hung limp at its side, and it staggered as it tried to move without it.

For a second, he wondered why the debuff was so brief, but then, he spotted the yellowish glow of Mana over the wound.

The damn thing can heal itself!

It wasn’t as quick as his own Word of Healing spell, but already, the wyvern’s Health was approaching 90% again.

The poor dire wolf had been sent flying right before the debuff took effect, but Sheira seized the moment and slashed at the monster’s face, missing its eyes, but dealing the largest hit yet on its more sensitive face—+20 Damage.

The wyvern whipped its neck around, and sent Sheira flying across the field. It let loose a ferocious roar.

Gunnar let his Shooting Star fly, and it lodged in the creature’s throat.

[Critical Hit! You have dealt +60 Damage to a Venomous Wyvern!]

The wyvern was down to 58%, but its wing was nearly healed. It let out a roar, and Gunnar’s Shooting Star came flying back at him. He snatched it out of the air and backed up as the creature fixated on him.