Shattered Vows

"Retreat. Fast. Quiet."

Gilian and Arvan crouched behind a fallen log, breaths shallow and bodies tense, staring at the grotesque scene just a few meters ahead. The clearing remained bathed in the eerie hush of mist and horror. The Grove Beary, cut in half yet still twitching, continued its grotesque feast. But what came next was far worse.

"We help them," Arvan whispered, eyes darting to the two injured adventurers.

"What are you talking about!" Gilian snapped hearing it.

"It will leave a bad taste if we just leave them be," Arvan added while laughing nervously. He realized that it is dangerous yet he just can't leave them like that.

Gilian knows deep down, he feels the same.

Gilian nodded slowly. "But if things go wrong, we run. No heroics. We live to warn others."

Arvan gave a stiff nod. It was an old hunter's rule: survival came first. Still, neither of them moved. The shock rooted them to the ground.

Then it happened.

The female mage—who had been leaning against a tree, weak and trembling—screamed.

It wasn't a scream of pain. It was primal. Ferocious.

She lunged at the swordsman next to her.

"What—?!" Arvan blurted, but the rest of his words caught in his throat.

The mage sank her teeth into the swordsman's neck.

Crunch.

Blood sprayed in arcs across the mossy ground.

The man screamed, flailing, but the mage only bit harder—tearing into his flesh like a starving beast. Her eyes rolled back. Blood stained her teeth.

Gilian clapped a hand over Arvan's mouth, muffling the scream that threatened to escape his lips.

They watched in paralyzed silence as the swordsman collapsed, twitching violently before going limp.

But the nightmare wasn't over.

The bisected Grove Beary suddenly lifted its gore-drenched snout. With a strange gurgling growl, it tossed aside the corpse of the girl adventurer and dragged itself toward the fresh kill.

Gilian's eyes widened.

"No..."

The bear didn't attack the mage. It joined her.

Together, beast and mage tore into the dead swordsman's abdomen, ripping and devouring without hesitation.

It wasn't just wrong. It was unnatural.

The hunter in Gilian wanted to move, to run, to scream—but his limbs trembled. Even Arvan, usually bold to a fault, sat motionless, pale and wide-eyed.

Wet tearing sounds filled the air.

Slurch. Gluk. Snap.

They couldn't look away. Couldn't speak.

Couldn't even think.

It was as if the forest itself was holding its breath.

After several minutes, the bloodied figures finally stopped moving. The mage leaned back, her face soaked in crimson. The Grove Beary slumped, mouth twitching slightly, but otherwise still.

Nothing moved.

Only the fog.

Only silence.

Gilian finally whispered, "We have to go. Now."

His voice was hoarse, like it had been dragged over stone.

Arvan didn't speak. He just nodded.

They crept away, every step deliberate, every breath carefully held. When they were far enough from the clearing, they broke into a full sprint.

When they returned to the meeting point, Herman and Cren were still talking in low tones beside the hanging cockatrice.

"We need to leave," Gilian gasped. "Now."

***

Cren blinked. "What happened?"

Arvan bent over, catching his breath. "Something's out there. Several somethings. Monsters. Adventurers. I don't even know anymore."

Gilian looked to his father. "It's not normal. Dad—it's not normal. One of the Grove Beary was split in half and it was still eating. There were more. Wounded. But moving. And one of the adventurers... he was crawling. His chest was gone. He was still moving."

Herman's jaw tightened. He reached for another arrow and strung his bow. His voice was low.

"Calm down, explain slowly", Herman said to both of them while still vigilant of the surroundings.

Gilian stumbled into view. "We... we saw it."

Arvan followed, gasping. "The adventurers... they... they weren't right. One of them bit the other. Then the bear—it didn't stop. It joined in."

Cren blinked, baffled. Herman's eyes narrowed.

"Bit? What do you mean by "bit?" Cren asked.

"She bit his neck," Gilian said, voice still shaking. "Like an animal. Then the Grove Beary—despite being cut in half—dragged itself over and started eating with her."

Arvan clutched his knees, nearly collapsing. "It wasn't just that. The adventurers—one had their chest crushed, and they were still moving. And the mage… it was like she wasn't human anymore. after twitching she suddenly become crazy!"

Herman glanced at Cren. "That matches what I saw. Crushed skulls. Bodies with bite marks. Human-sized bite marks. I thought it might be some rogue adventurer, but... this?"

Cren's face darkened. "That's not normal. It's like something got into them. A sickness, maybe?"

Gilian's mind suddenly connected the pieces.

"The rumor from Merchant Day..."

Arvan looked up. "Gustave's story. The one about people going mad. Biting others. Even animals."

Silence fell again.

Herman stood slowly. "We can't keep this to ourselves. Whatever this is... it's spreading. We need to warn Arnan Village near this forest."

Cren nodded firmly. "Agreed."

They hoisted their cockatrice prey. But none of them cared about the meat anymore.

***

As they turned toward the village path, none of them noticed the faint shimmer deep in the woods.

Back in the clearing, the corpse of the swordsman twitched.

Then slowly, it began to rise.

Eyes pale.

Neck torn open.

Mouth moving wordlessly.

It turned toward the trees—and began walking aimlessly.