The forest croaks with the longing voice of a witch, grasping and reaching out for the flesh of little things that scamper and scurry in the streets at night. The wood of the old trees groans and aches as the wind howls, as six silhouettes move through the forest in the glow of supple torchlight — the flames of which do next to nothing to repel the hungry dark.

Hineni walks, looking around himself as he marches as second in line.

Life sure is funny, isn’t it?

The last thing he recalls before all of this is that he was talking to Rhine about some stuff. Then he spent a few days with the frog-god and now he’s been captured by elves, far behind enemy lines.

They haven’t asked him who he is yet, but he’s probably not going to tell them the truth. If his name is infamous amongst the elves, then he hardly wants them to know that he’s the very person responsible for crafting what might be some of the most horrific weapons that plague the front lines, stealing the lives of hundreds of people a day.

This will be fine for a while, until they make him open a status window. That’ll be awkward. He can see it now.

He blinks as he repeats that sentence in his head, feeling an unfamiliar weight begin to press down on his core. It runs through his mind once or twice more.

He’s responsible for so much death and destruction — the loss of so many lives and homes.

Sure, he’s a weaponsmith. That’s his job. But he’s never really… felt anything about it, until now.

The man fidgets with his fingers, rubbing a spot on his chest in the hopes that it will make the feeling go away. What is this?

Guilt?

Why the hell would he feel guilty? He’s never felt guilt.

It must be the influence of the frog-god. She’s probably still messing with him.

Yeah.

Hineni lifts his gaze, stopping.

— He’s at the front of the line.

The man blinks, looking around himself. The woman with the silver-hair behind him bumps into him, as she and the others were all looking elsewhere. “Keep moving,” she hisses, pressing her elbow into him.

Hineni points at the empty spot. “Uh… your guy is gone,” says Hineni.

The others look, seeing that their compatriot is missing, and they devolve into a hissing argument between each other. The woman turns around, saying something in sharp words that he doesn’t understand.

She turns back to him. “Keep moving,” repeats the elf, pushing him.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” remarks Hineni. “I don’t know where the hell I’m going though,” he says, walking on ahead, his eyes scanning the darkness.

“Straight,” says the elf. “Just walk straight.”

Hineni lifts a hand over his shoulder, giving her a thumbs-up as he does just that.

Hours have passed. The five people make their way through the haunting forest, listening to the creeping, crawling, and skittering of thousands of leaves as they move in the wind after them, like a legion of sharp-footed spiders that chase after their dancing shadows.

Hineni thinks about a lot of things.

He thinks about his confusing relationships and life. He thinks about the days that have led up to today. Life used to be so simple, back when he was a sad wretch. He’d sit at his table and stare out of the window with longing, lost eyes that searched for something they never quite managed to find. Then he’d get to work making some shoes for some odd animal or a dinky sword or whatever. That was it.

He’d feel bad; he’d work; he’d sleep. That was all there was, and, in its infinite simplicity, he misses it in a way he can’t describe.

— A hand pushes against his back.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Hineni. “I’m walking.”

Not that he would ever trade it for what he has now. This new life, as confusing a mess as it is, is far more… whole.

He’s never sad anymore. He’s just a little confused and lost now and then. But he’s never sad. Instead, he’s fulfilled, happy, content, and busy. All of this is a lot of work, so at odd times like this, when he’s just abound with empty hands, his mind wanders to those old things of comfort.

There was a comfort to the emptiness.

He just can’t explain it. But he’ll never go back to that. It’s just a trick of the mind, of the sickness that plagued him all those months ago. It likes to tell you that things were better, that they were more comfortable, that you could just… slide right back into the ooze, like nothing ever happened. It’s so warm and familiar, the prospect of laying in bed, of sitting in the dark all day.

It’s a whispering witch, luring you into the night with promises of things sweet and warm.

Someone yelps.

He turns around and all of them look at the back of the line, where there is now one person less.

Four people walk through the forest, their formation tighter than ever. They’ve begun holding hands to build a chain. Hineni refused, not wanting to hold hands with some strange woman, lest someone misunderstand — as odd and dumb as that sounds at a time like this.

He wonders if this is a thought brought on by magic? By a god’s magic?

The power of a god’s magic has the ability to override a person’s mind, their survival instincts, and their gut feelings and thoughts. So, while he should be terrified for his life, terrified for the fact that he might never see the people who he loves most in this world again, Hineni can’t help but feel rather… blasé about it all.

The silver-haired elf is holding onto the back of his shirt, her fingers clenched around the fabric.

There’s definitely some god’s magic working on him. He’s perceptive enough to see that now.

His attitude is wrong for the situation that he’s in. His attitude has been wrong for the situations that he has been in. The war-zone, the front-line, how could he just… drag Rhine to a place like this? How badly is this going to scar the boy’s mind? A young man his age shouldn’t have to see things like this.

And yet, Rhine, too, is just… quietly accepting of it all, as if it were just a normal circumstance of life.

This has to be the effect of Obscura’s magic. He hates to admit it, but there’s no other explanation. Sure, he and the boy have grown in their levels of confidence to a measurable degree, but what’s happening here — this goes beyond confidence.

Could what Nekyia had said be true?

Would Obscura really use him as a prop to get back at her for what happened in the distant past? Is this move to the central-city, closer to the south, really just a siege by the owl-god against her old captured territory and not a sensible move that they all agreed to as a family?

— Someone stumbles, falling over. All of them fall down into a heap, the torches scattering a little to the sides, hissing as they roll over wet leaves.

The elves curse in their language, except for the last one in the back, who screams.

The arm of the person who was behind him is still held in his grasp, but the rest of the person is missing.

Three people walk through the forest.

“So, I hope you have a plan,” says Hineni, now holding a torch himself.

“Zhere is a safe area not far ahead,” says the voice behind him. “Zhe client is vaiting.”

“Sure hope so,” says Hineni. “At this rate, I’ll be free before I… huh?” he asks. “Client? What client?”

She pushes him. “Move!” hisses the elf. “Zhe client who hired us to rescue you.”

“Huh?” asks Hineni. “Hired? Aren’t you guys with the war? The elves and all of that?”

She hisses, rolling her eyes as she pushes him along. “We’re mercenaries. We were hired to extract you from zhe forest. Idiot.”

Hineni blinks. Hired? Mercenaries? Who the hell would hire mercenaries to extract him from…

— The man sighs in relief, understanding.

His people didn’t leave him here after all. This reeks of Sockel, gods bless her squirrelly heart. Or maybe Avarice. He supposes exotic mercenaries are expensive. Well, no, probably Sockel.

He looks back at her to nod.

The third man is missing, leaving only the two of them. She looks over her shoulder and down at her hand, squeezing it as if she were sure she was still holding something in its empty grasp.

“Run,” she says, grabbing his arm and yanking him after her as they rush off in a sprint.

Two people run through the dark forest, shadows reaching out from behind the witch-wood trees, trying to grab them with thousands of sharp, small fingers. The torchlight of their two torches shines abound, doing little to dissuade the heavy shadows of the forest from draping itself over their heads, like a swallowing tide of the ocean, come to consume that which is not of itself.

The two of them break free from the forest, diving into a clearing, sweating and panting. The elf rolls over, holding a torch out behind herself as if to strike away a clawing hand that was reaching for her from the shadows.

Hineni and the elf crawl back and rise up to their feet, having made it to another clearing like the one they had stopped at before.

“You alright?” asks Hineni.

“Never been better,” replies the elf, rising to her feet and pulling him up. She looks around the area before walking into the open. “We’ve arrived,” she calls out into the clearing.

Hineni walks around with her, watching the night, as a light shoots out of the forest towards them.

He turns his head to follow its sharp, crystalline glow.

Eilig shoots towards them, latching on to his chest.

“…Eilig?” asks Hineni, confused.

“Good job,” says Eilig to the elf, who nods. The fairy looks around the forest. “Guess you don’t have to share the money with anybody.”

“Lucky me…” replies the elf, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

Eilig looks back his way. “Are you alright?” she asks. The fairy lets go of him and buzzes around him, looking him over and carefully examining every scuff and mark he has on him. “You’re okay, right?”

“Eilig, what the hell?” asks Hineni. “What are you doing out here? What is this?”

Eilig flies up to his face, planting a finger against his nose as she hovers there. “I told you, dummy. Your big sister Eilig is going to take care of you,” says the fairy. “I knew this day would come eventually, so I’ve been saving up every coin I made and then some,” she explains. “Those fucking gods have their games that they’re lost in against each other, but they’re not taking my brother from me like he’s some figurine on a board.”

Hineni holds out his hand, letting her land in it.

“Your head’s cleared up now, right?” she asks, waving a hand in front of his eyes. “You’re not thinking about that stupid owl anymore, right?”

“…Eilig,” says Hineni. “We talked about this.”

“Like shit we did!” yells Eilig at him, a glare in her eyes. “We didn’t talk about crap! It was your owl-poisoned brain talking to me, not you,” explains the fairy. “Listen. This is our only chance to get you where you really belong,” she says.

“Where I belong is home, Eilig,” says Hineni. He lifts his hand, lowering his forehead to very gently rest it against her head. “With you and with Obscura,” says the man. “That’s the only place I’m going. I was worried about you.”

A small hand presses it against his face. “You listen to me, you brat,” says Eilig quietly. “You don’t belong here. This is wrong. This is all wrong. All of this from the day our family died to now, is not what was supposed to have happened!”

Hineni sighs, pulling his hand back. “There you go with the cryptic talk again. I was just talking to the frog-god about this crap, you know?” he says. “Why can’t anyone just tell me in one, single sentence what the big deal is?” he asks, looking at Eilig, who rubs her arm. “I know you promised some weird, obscure promise to keep something about my past a secret. But…”

“I’m here to make sure you’re safe and happy,” says Eilig. “I’m your sister, asshole. So let me do my job.” Eilig flies up into the air. “We have to go,” she says. “We don’t have long before —”

— Blood splatters strike Hineni’s face.

He recoils, turning his head to look at the last elf, the silver-haired woman, as she falls down, holding a hand over her neck that streams with blood.

She dies.

Standing behind her, hovering in the air, is a tawny-robed figure who shakes off her talons, getting the combined blood of seven elves off of her fingers.

Hineni looks at Obscura, his heart beating in his chest a little stronger than usual. He lifts a hand, reaching out for her.

— Eilig flies between him and Obscura.

“It’s over!” yells the fairy. “I’m cutting in between you and the damn frog,” says Eilig, cold ice growing around her fingers. “You can’t keep this charade going forever!” she points at the owl-god.

Obscura clicks with her mouth, holding out her arms. “Hi~ ne~ ni~” she hoots. “Obscura has come for you,” says the owl-god, stepping towards them, entirely ignoring Eilig. “You are well, yes? Unharmed?” she asks. “Obscura’s precious treasure.”

Eilig swipes her hand up. A wall of crystalline ice shoots out of the ground, cutting off the tip of one of Obscura’s talons. The owl-god shrieks and the night erupts into shadows.

“EILIG!” barks Hineni, grabbing the fairy out of the air.

She looks his way from out of his fist. “FIVE!” yells Eilig at him. “THIS ISN’T REAL! NONE OF IT IS! ASSHOLE! FIVE DOESN'T STAND FOR 'DEMON'! IT'S - "

Everything goes dark.