The Scallywags of Ishire.

Night.

GrimWraith Mire.

Uncharted, Critic-Ishire.

************

Lydia glared at the creatures surrounding her. They appeared mortal enough to her—so why were they treating her and Helena with such disdain?

One of the large, hairy figures stepped closer, his predatory gaze burning like a cat stalking its prey. "Hello, damsel," he whispered, his breath rank and foul, his teeth as dark as mud. Lydia wrinkled her nose but held her glare.

"And what is yer purpose here?" the creature asked, his thick accent and rough manner making it sound as though her presence was more of a curiosity than a captive's plight.

"You abducted me!" Lydia screeched, her voice raw with indignation, hunger gnawing at her insides. How could he ask such a ridiculous question?

The creature nodded slowly, as if this was perfectly normal. He glanced over at his companions, and they all nodded in unison, a bizarre chorus of agreement. "What is yer name, then?" he asked again, his breath far too close for comfort.

Lydia suppressed the urge to gag, ignoring his question entirely. Her gaze drifted past him to Helena's unconscious form. Her sister lay so still, it twisted Lydia's heart with fear. The creature lingered in silence for a moment, clearly irked by her defiance, before he huffed and returned to his group.

Moments passed in tense silence. Lydia's frustration simmered until she could bear it no longer. "Please, someone help my sister!" she muttered, stretching her legs toward Helena in vain. "Hello?!" she raised her voice, hoping to spur them into action, but the creatures remained indifferent.

*This is not how kidnappers ought to behave,* she thought bitterly. Where were the demands for ransom, the threats? They acted as though her and Helena's fate meant nothing at all.

"She could be dying," Lydia's voice cracked, her resolve weakening under her fear. "I simply wish to know if she lives."

The creatures barely glanced her way, their stone-hearted indifference chilling her to the core.

Summoning the last of her courage, Lydia straightened and shouted, "Now, listen here, you lot!" Her voice rang out, capturing their attention at last. "I am a princess—the daughter of a witcher and a marchioness—and a duchess in my own right!" She hoped that her lineage would instill fear, or at the very least, provoke them into action.

One of the creatures snickered and stepped forward with a sly grin. "Oh? A princess, ye say?" His voice dripped with mockery.

Lydia frowned as he sauntered toward Helena, raising an eyebrow in mock interest. "And what is this one, then? A witch?" he sneered.

"Yes, she is," Lydia replied coolly, trying to maintain her composure, hoping her confidence would intimidate them. Instead, the creatures erupted into laughter, their coarse voices echoing through the forest. Lydia's cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

The one who seemed to be their leader chuckled darkly. "Ye are nothin' more than insects," he scoffed. "We could smell yer fear from miles away."

"Lydia…" a soft voice interrupted the mocking laughter. It was Helena.

Lydia's heart leapt. "Helena! Oh, thank the heavens. How do you fare?"

"Awful," Helena groaned, her head throbbing. "It feels as though I am drowning."

"I am sorry," Lydia began, her voice faltering. "I never should have—"

"Shh," Helena warned, her eyes wide with concern. "You speak far too much." She glanced around warily, unaware that Lydia had already exposed their identities in a desperate attempt to secure their release. Lydia bit her lip, offering an uneasy smile as Helena slowly sat up, her hands still bound.

The leader, who had been observing them all the while, clapped his hands together. "Well, now that ye're both awake," he drawled, "What have ye to say fer yerselves?"

Helena's eyes narrowed, scanning the creatures with a mixture of curiosity and caution. *What are these things?* she wondered. But before she could speak, Lydia interjected.

"Can we negotiate our release?" Lydia asked, her tone as steady as she could manage. Behind her, Helena discreetly worked to loosen the ropes binding her wrists. The creatures seemed not to care, or perhaps they did not notice.

"We've no use fer human filth," one of the creatures scoffed. "What could ye possibly offer us?"

Lydia remained undeterred. "I can offer you gold," she said, her voice firm.

Her mention of gold piqued the interest of one of the creatures, whose eyes gleamed greedily. "Magical gold?" he asked.

Lydia frowned slightly. She knew little of magical gold, but royal wealth often held more power than magic in certain circles. "Yes," she replied hesitantly.

The leader's expression darkened, his patience wearing thin. "Ye think us fools? Do ye even know what we are?" he growled, stepping closer.

Helena finally managed to untie her last knot. Lydia brought her freed hands to her front, rubbing her sore wrists, meeting the leader's gaze with as much composure as she could muster. "I believe I do," she said calmly, though her heart pounded in her chest.

The creature scoffed. "Impossible."

"But I do," Lydia insisted, her voice steady despite the uncertainty in her mind.

The creatures exchanged wary glances, and one of the more curious creatures spoke up. "We will release ye, if ye guess correctly."

Another creature, more skeptical, frowned. "And what if she is right?"

"Shut yer mouth!" the leader hissed.

The leader then turned to Lydia, a cruel grin on his face. "Tell us, then. What do ye think we are?"

Helena's eyes narrowed, assessing the situation. "And if she is correct, you shall release us?" she asked cautiously.

"Aye," the leader confirmed with a smirk, folding his arms across his broad chest.

Lydia rose to her full height, heart racing. She met the gaze of each creature, one by one. "You are the Scallywags of Ishire," she declared with as much authority as she could muster.

A tense silence followed, the air thick with anticipation. Helena felt her blood freeze, waiting for the creatures' response. Lydia's heart pounded wildly in her chest—had she guessed correctly?

The leader's lips curled into a twisted grin. "Yer right…" he growled. "We are the Scallywags of Ishire."

One of the creatures let out a disgruntled sigh. "Ye admitted it!" he grumbled, glaring at the leader.

"And she made a fair offer," added the curious one, his gaze still fixed on Lydia.

The leader sneered, clearly displeased. "Fine," he spat, motioning for his group to retreat. Grumbling and muttering under their breath, the Scallywags began to move away, defeated by their own foolish game.

"We're only lettin' ye go because ye recognized power when ye saw it," the leader muttered, his pride bruised. He gestured toward a bush, indicating the direction they should take.

Lydia retrieved the coins from her pocket, handing them to the creature. As soon as the gold touched his palm, it shimmered and vanished.

"Ye may leave," he grumbled darkly.

But as Lydia looked toward the thick, pathless forest, her heart sank. How were they to leave when they had no idea where they were?