4. There is no moon tonight

Hansel

A brown jeep was climbing a hill along a winding path, carrying five young people inside. The oldest among them was no more than thirty, and the youngest no more than sixteen. His name was Hansel, a boy with dark skin and brown hair, sitting in the passenger seat. His scarred arm, which hung outside the window, displayed a tattoo of a dragon coiled around it. He was a bit anxious—nightfall was approaching, and if there was anything he hated more than wizards, it was the dark.

—Hey, Hansel. —A melodious voice came from the back seats. It was a young woman, around eighteen years old, with gray hair and a mischievous smile—. Pass me a cigarette.

—Don't be annoying, Cris, the old man gave them to me. —Deep in the Forge, the old goblin had given him a box of cigarettes he had made himself. To Hansel's surprise, they were very good, and he had no intention of sharing them with anyone—except maybe Jaya.

There was a moment of silence as Hansel and Cris exchanged deadly glares. Phillip, a young man of Asian descent, was sitting almost between the two, looking from side to side, unsure of what to do.

—W-w-wait—he stammered, sensing danger approaching. He quickly changed seats to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.

Cris swiftly rose from her seat and, with one hand, snatched the cigarette pack while drawing her short sword with the other, pointing it at Hansel. He didn't back down—grabbing the pack at the same time while pulling out his silver revolver and aiming at her. Both were gripping the pack by its edges, aiming their respective weapons at each other, when suddenly, a black projectile shot past at high speed, splitting the pack in half and destroying all the cigarettes.

A girl with a serious expression and cold eyes had fired the shot from a wrist-mounted launcher. She gave them a stern look before turning her gaze back to the scenery.

—Lin is right —said a woman named Jaya, the team leader. She had short black hair and only one bright blue eye—the left one was covered by a patch sewn to her face—. Behave yourselves, we're almost there.

Hansel didn't have much time to mourn the loss of his cigarettes. The most important thing now was to focus on the mission. Three days ago, they had left the Island, and a day ago, they had arrived in eastern India to venture into the tropical jungle.

Their target was Kamal Deshmukh, a wealthy Indian wizard who had amassed his fortune through the illegal breeding of Occamys—serpentine creatures with feathered bodies that hatch from eggs whose shells are made of the purest, finest silver.

The Deshmukh family had become one of the most influential magical families in India, a status that had helped them evade repercussions for a past tragedy. An Occamy had escaped into a small Muggle village, causing one of the worst breaches of the International Statute of Secrecy in India's history. Unfortunately, by the time Ministry of Magic agents arrived, it was too late—many lives had been lost. Even so, no one had been able—or willing—to prove that the Deshmukh family was responsible.

By the time they arrived at a small village nestled in a valley, night had already fallen. Their target's location was just a few kilometers outside the village. They rented a room at an inn, which only had one large space where all five of them could rest after the long journey.

—We'll leave at midnight, get some rest until then —said Jaya, sitting in a chair near the balcony.

Although the inn was modest, the room was quite comfortable. The village served as a link between the Narmada River and a city on the Arabian Sea coast, making it a miracle they had found an available room. However, foreigners were rarely seen in this area.

—Great, I'm going out to explore —announced Cris, putting on her green jacket and heading for the door.

—You can't go out, didn't you see how the villagers looked at us? You'll draw attention —said Phillip, who was organizing his backpack—. With this heat, the unicorn blood almost dried up.

—I don't think we'll need it —Hansel replied, lying on the sofa.

—Are you talking about the blood or about Cris? —Phillip joked.

—Both —Hansel smirked.

Cris was about to punch Hansel, but a look from Lin stopped her. She was lying on the bed, just wanting some peace.

—Phillip is right, Cris. No one goes out until midnight —Jaya ordered.

Resigned, Cris obeyed and lay down on another couch. She would never question Jaya's orders. The four of them respected and admired her—she had been the only one to offer them a helping hand when they needed it most. Because of this, the other squad leaders often mocked her. No one else would have dared form a team with such young members.

For over a year, they had carried out various missions with a success rate of over 80%, placing them in the top five squads on the Island.

Trackers—that was their name. They were originally a group of magical mercenaries operating in what would become the United States during the 17th century. Due to the lack of magical governance and laws in the New World, they hunted criminals as well as anyone with a bounty on their head.

Over time, without any governmental oversight, they grew increasingly ruthless, willing to do anything for money. Eventually, they turned against their own kind—delivering witches and wizards to Puritans during the infamous witch hunts.

That was until 1693, when MACUSA (the Magical Congress of the United States) was founded. One of its first objectives was to capture the Trackers and bring them to justice. Many were tried and sentenced—even to death. However, some evaded capture by renouncing the magical world and integrating into non-magical society. Some even married non-magical people, ensuring that if their children showed any magical abilities, those abilities would never see the light of day. All in the name of maintaining their facade.

The surviving Trackers instilled in their descendants a permanent conviction that magic exists and that wizards and witches should be eliminated. Some of these descendants formed a group of new Trackers and settled on an island somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean. They dedicated themselves to, in their own words, "delivering justice" against those wizards or witches who abused their power against normal people. They banded together for that purpose—even though nowadays they're more inclined to loot, traffic, or "track." Hidden and always cautious, they had managed to survive for a long time. And even if some were captured, they would never reveal the location of the island—they possessed an astonishing sense of unity.

Currently, the Trackers were no longer made up solely of men and women, but also of magical beings such as centaurs, werewolves, goblins, and even giants. All of them had been marginalized and had no place in either world; they had established a sort of nation where they supported one another in order to survive. A country on an island called Senvara.

It was nearly midnight when Hansel woke with a cramp—he had been sleeping poorly. He looked around: Cris and Phillip were still resting, and there was no sign of Lin or Jaya anywhere. He stepped out onto the balcony for some fresh air; the sky was clear. The moon shone in a sea of stars—in the jungle, nights were almost always clear, and you hardly ever needed flashlights to see the path.

Had it not been for Lin placing her hand on his arm, he would never have noticed she was there. The girl with tousled blonde hair had been lounging in a chair on the balcony. She too leaned against the railing and gazed at the moon.

—Lin! And Jaya? —Hansel asked, somewhat startled. She pointed her hand toward the door—. I see, she should be arriving soon.

He observed Lin, always so silent. Her silver eyes reflected the moonlight, making them shine—he had never noticed how beautiful she was. After all, she almost always had half her face covered by a scarf, hiding a large scar that split her rosy lips. Only Jaya knew the truth behind the girl's silence, and she had asked the others not to inquire about her past. Lin turned and met Hansel's gaze, and they stood facing each other without daring to do more.

—So, are you going to kiss or not? —Cris interrupted the scene with her usual mocking smile, evidently having watched for a while—and she wasn't the only one.

—Phillip, you too? —Hansel inquired. His friend was standing behind Cris, watching the scene.

—Uh… Cris dragged me along —he apologized.

At that moment, Jaya entered the room. She was dressed in black boots and her customary ranger jacket, with holsters on each shoulder where she kept her weapons.

—Great, everyone's awake —Jaya said enthusiastically—. It's time to leave.

Hansel put on his dragon-skin gloves and black boots, fastened the holster for his revolver to his belt, and secured a dagger made of a metal capable of reflecting spells. The old goblin had given it to him when he was accepted on the island. Phillip loaded his backpack with various weapons, explosives among other things—he was, so to speak, their eye in the sky. Lin was deadly silent, Jaya their leader. And Cris—she cut down anything that got in her way.

—Attention —Jaya said, displaying the map of what appeared to be a fortress—. The target is a greedy wizard, a selfish being who should never see the light of day again. He's probably not alone, so I'd like to avoid an all-out brawl.

She added this while casting a glance at Cris.

—We will split into two groups. Lin and I will go after the target. Cris and Hansel, search the fortress—I have a feeling there will be many valuable things. And Phillip, you know what to do.

—Of course —he replied.

—One more thing. Don't die —Jaya ordered with a smile.

With their objectives clear, they set off toward the fortress. Hansel looked at the moon one last time—it was as beautiful as ever that night. He wondered when he had become accustomed to all of this; he no longer felt any remorse for what he had done. He had to complete the mission, even if that meant killing another person. On the island, there was no place for the weak—one had to kill to live. And on this beautiful full-moon night, someone was going to die.