The Hint

Morning sunlight filtered through the thick canopy above as Adonis and Elora stood at the edge of the forest. The air was cooler here, damp with dew and heavy with the scent of moss. Despite the calm, a sense of unease pressed at them.

"You ready?" Adonis asked, his voice muffled slightly by his mask.

Elora nodded, her staff lightly tapping the ground. "I've cast a minor detection barrier. If anything approaches us within ten meters, I'll know."

"Good," Adonis said. "Let's move."

They ventured deeper into the woods, their boots crunching softly against dead leaves and brittle twigs. Every step seemed to echo louder than it should, as though the forest itself was listening.

They followed the same direction where Lewin had reportedly vanished chasing his dog. The farther they went, the dimmer the forest seemed—even though it was well past sunrise. Trees grew unnaturally tall and dense, twisting like frozen tendrils toward the sky.

After walking for nearly an hour, Elora stopped abruptly. "Wait… something's off."

Adonis paused beside her. "What is it?"

She pointed to the ground. A trail—subtle but visible—was carved through the leaves. Bent grass. Snapped twigs. "This isn't fresh, but someone came through here. More than once."

Adonis knelt to examine it. "Multiple footprints. Some smaller… maybe children. But the direction is consistent."

They followed the trail deeper until the air turned cold—unnaturally so.

Suddenly, a strange scent wafted through the air. Sweet… almost like flowers, but laced with something metallic.

Then, they saw it.

A clearing.

And at its center… a crumbling stone altar, overgrown with ivy and stained with dark blotches. Surrounding it were crude wooden stakes driven into the ground—dozens of them—each one tied with frayed, rotting ropes.

Elora's face went pale. "This… this looks like a ritual site."

Adonis approached cautiously. "These ropes… someone was tied here."

He placed a hand on the altar. The stone was warm.

Suddenly—

BOOM!

A heavy burst of mana exploded from the woods to their left.

"Scatter!" Adonis yelled, and both leapt apart as black smoke surged from the trees, coiling like snakes.

From the smoke, three figures emerged—humanoid in shape, but twisted. Their skin was ash-grey, eyes glowing faint red, mouths permanently stretched in a grotesque grin.

"Plagueborn," Elora whispered. "They… they were human once."

The figures lunged, but Adonis raised his hand and summoned a golden sword, its glow slashing through the smoke.

"Back me up!" he shouted.

Elora struck the ground with her staff, and a circle of lightning burst outward, knocking two of the creatures back. The third leapt at Adonis—but he turned, slicing its head clean off in one motion.

The headless body collapsed to the ground, twitching violently before dissolving into black mist.

Panting, Elora steadied herself. "These things… they were villagers."

Adonis didn't respond right away. He stared at the place where the body vanished.

"The villagers aren't missing… they're being turned."

He turned toward the red star still faintly visible above the forest canopy.

"And I think there is deeper conspiracy"

Adonis staggered to a halt among the mossy undergrowth, adrenaline roaring in his veins.

"Elora," he panted, "remember what the old woman sang when we first met her in the woods?"

Elora's eyes widened. "The rhyme… about wind, tales, and blinding light covering the skies?"

"Blowing wind, carrying tales,Of love and joy, of sorrow and wails…

Blinding light covers the skies…And that is where true darkness lies…

What you see, what you feel,May not be truth — may not be real…"

He nodded, voice urgent. "Exactly. I think she meant the red star, and the place where its light shines strongest. That's where the truth lies."

Elora frowned. "Why there—why now?"

Adonis stared up through the branches at the faint glow of the red star. "Since we arrived, no one has disappeared. That means whoever is behind this is in the final moments of their plan. We need to hurry before they complete whatever ritual they've set in motion."

Without waiting for her reply, he grabbed her hand. "Come on!"

They sprinted through the forest, guided only by the pulsing crimson light filtering between treetops. Leaves whipped past them; roots threatened to trip them, but neither slowed their pace. The forest seemed to part for them, as if compelled by that scarlet beacon.

Meanwhile, in a hidden hollow off the path, the old bent woman from before leaned on her crooked stick. Her yellow eyes gleamed as she watched their retreating forms.

A thin smile curved her lips as she whispered to herself:

 she hobbled deeper into the shadows, her laughter echoing through the trees.