The fae roads weren’t what Alex had imagined, not what he’d imagined at all.

On Baelin’s map of Thameland, they’d appeared as golden glowing lines, shedding sparkling light like sunbeams snaking above fields, forests and hills. It was a captivating image, and—when Alex’s little group had stepped into a fae gate minutes before—he had thought they’d emerge on a path of glowing gold that would lead them through summer forests teeming with pixies and asrai.

They did get a forest, alright.

A forest straight out of a nightmare.

“Charming place.” Khalik eyed the dark trees surrounding them, pulling his cloak tighter about his shoulders. “And cold too.”

The trees were black-barked, twisted and shifting; they turned in their roots, watching the mortals walk the black paths through their woods. Strange cries erupted in the distance, overlaid with what sounded like great claws scraping across stone.

Above the forest floor a low mist hovered, emitting a strange rusty scent, seeming to avoid contact with the path itself. Alex’s eyes scanned the mist, but for all his searching, he found no sign of—

“I haven’t seen a living thing since we got here,” Theresa muttered, her sharp eyes searching the canopy. “No birds, no squirrels…not even an insect. And I’ve never heard any animal make sounds like whatever’s in those woods.” She cocked her ear toward the eerie sounds rising from the forest.

“I’ve never heard the like either,” Ripp said, his hand falling to the hilt of his sword. His large eyes narrowed as his long, pointed ears twitched on either side of his head. “And I’ve been in my fair share of forests; magical and otherwise.” He glanced at Alex and Khalik. “You two got the other half of my pay on you somewhere?”

“I would not tell you that either way.” Khalik thumbed his shortsword’s pommel. “You will get the rest of your pay if we all return alive. I have no interest in giving you any ideas about hiding when danger comes, then picking the coin from our dead bodies.”

Ripp’s sharp features twisted at the insult. “You wound me, sir. I’m a damned professional, not a common bandit—”

A scream tore from the treeline, sending the companions instantly scrambling for weapons, chanting spells, or both. They were tense, ready for whatever horrible fae-beast waiting to charge them.

They waited. And waited some more.

But nothing emerged. The cries ceased.

“Wait…” Theresa frowned, listening intently. “Is that chewing?”

Brutus whined, rubbing a head against Theresa’s side. Najyah ruffled her feathers, cringing into Khalik’s shoulder. Claygon wordlessly hefted his war-spear, pointing it at the treeline, ready to strike.

“Yeah, that’s chewing, alright.” Ripp grimaced. “Maybe we should, ah, pick up the pace a little.”

“No argument from me,” Alex glanced at a small map he’d copied from the Research Castle’s map room. “The good news is that we’ll reach the crossroads soon. And remember, we’re supposed to be safe on the roads according to the Heroes’ bargain with lord Aenflynn.”

“Why did you add ‘supposed to be’?” Khalik asked.

Alex gave him a look. “You know why.”

“Fair enough, then let us move quickly,” the prince said. “I cannot believe I am saying this, but the sooner we reach that dungeon, the safer I will feel.”

With every eye keeping constant watch on the dark woods, the group doubled their pace, marching with purpose along the black road under air thick with tension. As they moved, new and stranger sounds emerged from the woods.

Branches snapped, voices whispered in the breeze and—for a moment—Alex thought he heard heavy footsteps echoing through the mists.

His skin crawled with the sensation of being watched, but he saw no one. Feeling like they’d spent hours in the fae lands, they finally reached the crossroads. The mist thickened around them, growing so opaque, that every tree nearby vanished from sight.

At the intersection where paths met, the world became a wall of thick mist, leaving the forest completely obscured. The strange cries faded away, yet the scent of rust grew stronger.

“Where do we go from here?” Khalik asked.

“Well, that’s the tricky thing,” Alex frowned, looking up at a stone menhir, the monument rose from the centre of the crossroads. “I know where the map says we should go but, uh…”

He gestured to the menhir.

It was twice as tall as Claygon, and its deep grey surface shimmered like water. Etched into its face were markings that twisted and wove through each other in patterns that confused the eye and spirit. It was as though any signs carved in the stone were purposefully trying to hide from prying eyes.

“You know, I think—” Alex started.

“Welcome mortals,” a voice boomed from the menhir, sounding like boulders grinding together. “You who are included in Lord Aenflynn’s covenant and who have stayed on the path to reach here may pass in safety. May you find safety on our roads. And may you be proper guests in our realm.”

Those last words were tinged with a warning, echoing through the mist as a peculiar bubbling and cracking noise suddenly issued from the menhir–its shimmering surface abruptly hardened to solid stone. The four signs carved in its facade no longer wove around each other and were in a language Alex had never seen before. Each symbol was accompanied by an arrow pointing to one of the four directions the crossroads lead to, and from.

The young Thameish wizard glanced at the map, his finger tapping the legend of symbols recorded in the bottom right corner.

“Alright, to get to where we want to go, it looks like we’ll have to head right,” he traced the lines of the roads on the map. “Then it’s another hour’s walk to the fae-gate closest to our dungeon.”

“Come, then let us move quickly,” Khalik said, leading the group down the right hand path.

“Yeah, this is one forest I want to leave as fast as possible,” Theresa agreed, following with Brutus close by her side.

“Aye,” Ripp sped up, taking position at the front of the group. “Luck can run out on you real fast in the fae wilds. I ain't looking forward to travelling these roads for any extended length of time.”

“It’s a means to an end,” Alex glanced over his shoulder at the junction behind them. “But I hear you. I think we should be on our guard whenever we—Oh by the Traveller!”

Without warning, the mist suddenly vanished as though they’d stepped through an invisible door. All around lay summer fields of golden wheat filled with ripe grain ready for the harvest, blowing in a warm gentle breeze. Flocks of gem-feathered birds soared through the sky, gentle birdsong tickled the ear.

As one, Alex and his companions looked at each other, then slowly turned toward the direction they’d just come from.

There the menhir stone towered at the centre of the crossroads, its surface once again rippling and shimmering like water. And around it? No forest or mist.

Only summer fields unfolding as far as the eye could see.

Even the road had transformed, changing from the shade of pitch black earth, to yellow brick sparkling like the morning sun.

“Maybe we should, uh…read a little more about this place,” Alex said.

“Another time.” Theresa tugged on his cloak. “Let’s hurry and get back to the real world before we turn into mushrooms or something.”

“Yeah, fair.”

The shock of winter chilled Alex to the bone as they stepped into a white haze.

A heartbeat earlier, the seven questers had gingerly entered a circle of shining mushrooms lying beside the yellow brick road. Now, they found themselves in the midst of a frozen forest somewhere in Thameland, bracing against gusting winds and whipping snow.

“A white Sigmus is supposed to mean good luck,” Theresa grimaced. “But it’s not Sigmus, and all this snow can go straight to the hells!”

“Will it just keep blowing like this?” Khalik cried over the wind. “The plan will not work if there is no visibility!”

“It should only be gusting, not a full blown storm!” Theresa called back, looking up. “The sky’s blue, we just came out at a bad time!”

“Ugh, I’d give a kingdom for some wind magic right now,” Alex muttered as the blowing snow finally died, revealing a winter wonderland of frost covered oak and pine.

“That’s better,” he dug flight potions and potions of sensory enhancement from his pack. “Here ya go. Now, shall we begin?”

Ripp took a potion, his face screwed up. “Ugh, I hate these.”

“Too unnatural?” Theresa asked, putting a bottle to her lips.

“Too damn slow. When I fly, I feel like I’m moving like a dead snail,” the swiftling grumbled, drinking the liquid down.

Alex shrugged. “Everything’s relative, I guess.” He turned to Khalik and gestured at Claygon. “Would you do the honours?”

“Gladly.” The prince spread his hands dramatically, chanting a spell and laying flight magic over the golem. “Ahhhh, that feels good. It will not last as long as when Isolde casts flight magic, but it should get you to where we need to go, my big friend.”

Claygon nodded, turning his war-spear toward the snow and using its razor-sharp point to write two words in the white:

Thank you.

Khalik smiled as he shot into the air. “You are most welcome, and congratulations on your writing. It has grown both faster and neater! Now, let us see what our foes look like.”

Everyone took to the sky, soaring above trees, climbing through brisk winds until from their vantage point, the ground below shrank to the size of a detailed map. To anything looking skyward, they would look like a flock of ill-defined shapes flying high in the sky, unless they were especially sharp-eyed.

And—luckily—the Ravener’s chitterers were sightless.

It wasn’t long before they spotted the first of the Ravener-spawn tramping through the snow. From a distance, they looked no more threatening than a party of villagers moving through the woods, foraging for roots beneath the frozen earth.

Though the closer they came, the quicker that notion vanished as a steely gleam of pilfered weapons, and untended armour contrasted with the white. These were no mere villagers on an innocent winter’s hunt.

“Do you see them now?” Theresa asked, having spotted the monsters just after Najyah, but right before Ripp.

“Yep,” Alex confirmed, mentally counting the creatures moving among the trees. “There aren’t that many, about…twenty one, it looks like.” He took a quick look at the Thameish report he’d gotten from the Research Castle. “The entrance to the dungeon should be close: it says it’s on the side of a forest hill. Let’s hope the snow didn’t bury it.”

“It did, but we’re in luck, the enemy’s showing us where it is. Take a look,” Ripp grinned, pointing to their right. “Over there.”

Some several hundred feet away—a hill emerged from a clearing in the trees. Around it, another chitterer pack laboured at a task—each using ill-gotten tools—digging out the snow-clogged entrance to their dungeon.

“They work like ants,” Khalik said. “How many would you say there are?”

“Maybe another fifteen,” Theresa noted, stringing her bow. Its enchanted string glowed as she nocked an arrow. “I'm sure there’s a lot more inside, though.”

‘It does not matter…’ Claygon said. ‘All of them will be…destroyed.’

‘You got that right, buddy,’ Alex thought, turning to Khalik.

“Things are looking good to me. What do you think? Is that going to work for your plan?”

“Hmmm,” the prince tapped his chin. “There is more snow than I anticipated. If you could have Claygon rake the hill with flame as he goes in? That would be helpful.”

“Can do,” Alex said. “Alright, we all know the plan. Think we’re ready?”

“Every moment we hesitate is another moment they have to spot us,” the prince said. “Let’s begin.”

“I’m ready to go,” Theresa confirmed.

“Ready to get paid,” Ripp said.

‘I…am…ready.’ Claygon gripped his spear.

Brutus growled, looking down at the dungeon.

Najyah fixed the dungeon with her cold glare.

“Alright,” Khalik said, tapping Alex on the shoulder. “If you could dispense your wonderful haste potions, please? Then, we can be on our way.” He looked at Theresa. “Begin when I give you the signal.”

“Understood.” The huntress nodded.

Alex looked at Claygon. ‘This’ll be your first battle where you’ll be directing yourself, buddy. Are you ready?’

‘I…was…created…to be ready,’ his golem reminded him.

‘Fair enough,’ Alex said mentally, while chugging his potion of haste. ‘Remember, no risks that you don’t need to take.’

‘I…understand,’ the golem replied through their link.

Alex looked at Theresa. “Be careful, I love you.”

“I know,” she said, her eyes fixed on their prey below.

“Then, let us take our positions,” Khalik waved Alex toward him as he flew away from the rest of the group.

The two young men soared higher, flying around the dungeon, flanking it.

“No sign that the dungeon’s sensing me yet,” Alex said quietly, “Looks like we might be too high for it to do so, thank the Traveller.”

“Good, good.” Khalik squinted down at the hill, then up at Najyah circling above. “Now…when the dungeon core turns its wrath on you, you will be able to sense it, right?”

“I should be able to, but there’s only one way we’ll know for sure,” Alex said.

“Then, there’s no point in waiting.” The prince raised a powerful arm above his head.

Across the sky, their companions froze in mid-air, watching him closely.

Then Khalik dropped his arm as though he were chopping an invisible foe in two.

And with that, their companions dove for the dungeon.