Valen was walking through the same forest he had passed through on his way to his old mansion. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, the twisted branches above forming a skeletal canopy that let only slivers of moonlight pierce through. The echoes of his own footsteps followed him, blending with the distant howls of unseen beasts.
His mind lingered on the encounter he had just left behind the woman who was more shadow than flesh, who had whispered of death as if it were merely another passing wind. He gripped his sword tighter, its familiar weight the only thing keeping him grounded.
As he emerged from the trees and onto the open plains, the cold wind bit at his skin. He followed the familiar path along the cliffs, the ground beneath him uneven and jagged. He was making his way back to Orlen, though doubt gnawed at him would the old man truly have the answers he sought?
That was when he spotted them.
At first, they looked like a group of lost children, gathered near the base of the cliffs. But as he drew closer, something felt... off. Their posture, the way they carried themselves, the sharpness in their eyes, they weren't ordinary.
Valen stopped a few steps away, hand near his sword.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice firm but not yet threatening.
The tallest among them, a horned boy with wild blue hair and golden eyes, smirked as he rested his hand on the hilt of his own blade.
"We could ask you the same thing."
"I was doing what Orlen ordered me to do," Valen replied, his voice steady as he slowly approached the group. His eyes flicked over them, taking in every detail their worn but well-kept clothing, the weapons at their sides, the strange mix of features that marked them as something other than ordinary humans.
The horned boy tilted his head, his sharp golden eyes narrowing. "Orlen?" he echoed, exchanging glances with the others. "Never heard of him."
A small figure, cloaked in dark robes with glimmering yellow eyes, stepped forward. The flickering glow of an enchanted lantern dangled from their staff, casting eerie shadows. "You don't belong here, swordsman," the cat-like figure murmured. "This land isn't for outsiders."
Valen exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the encounter settle over him. "And yet, here I am," he said. "Same as you."
The tension in the air thickened, a silent understanding passing between them. Whoever these people were, they weren't mere wanderers. And if they didn't know Orlen, that meant Valen was further from his path than he thought.
"What is this place?" Valen asked, his voice firm but laced with unease.
The red-skinned one short but wiry, with curved horns and ember-like eyes grinned, revealing sharp teeth.
"It's a Death Den," he said, his voice carrying a strange mix of amusement and reverence. "We're here to repay what we took from her."
Valen's grip on his sword instinctively tightened. "Her?" he echoed, though he already suspected the answer.
The horned boy chuckled darkly. "Death doesn't give without a price. You should know that by now."
Valen's mind flashed back to his encounter in the ruins the golden-eyed woman, her whisper like a blade against his ear. The weight of her words still clung to him like a curse.
"And what exactly did you take?" he asked.
The group exchanged glances, their expressions shifting between curiosity and wariness. The cat-eyed one, still half-shrouded in shadow, finally spoke.
"The right to live."
"We, the Clan of the Blue Fangs, are here to give it back," the red-skinned one continued, his ember-like eyes locked onto Valen's. "I hope you won't try to stop us."
Valen studied them in silence. The way they stood, the way their words carried weight it was clear they weren't just reckless wanderers. Whatever debt they owed to Death, they were prepared to pay it.
"I have no reason to interfere," he finally said, his voice even. "But tell me what happens if you fail?"
The horned boy smirked, though there was no real amusement in it. "Then we don't leave this place."
A cold wind passed between them, carrying the distant howl of something inhuman from deep within the ruins.
The frog-like one, standing slightly behind the others, blinked his wide, reflective eyes in surprise. His webbed fingers twitched slightly as he studied Valen, as if expecting a different reaction.
"You're not going to stop us?" he croaked, his voice carrying both suspicion and disbelief.
Valen met his gaze, unfazed. "I have no reason to," he said simply. "If you owe Death a debt, it's yours to settle."
The group exchanged glances. The horned boy chuckled under his breath, while the red-skinned one smirked as if entertained by Valen's indifference. But the frog-man frowned, shifting uneasily.
"Most would call us mad," he murmured. "Or try to stop us out of fear."
Valen exhaled slowly. "I've met her."
Silence fell over the group. Even the cat eyed one, who had remained eerily calm, tilted his head in intrigue.
The frog-man gulped, his throat bobbing. "Then you should know... there's no guarantee she'll let us leave."
Valen nodded. "There never is."
Valen exhaled, his gaze steady as he looked at the frog-man. "But don't worry," he said, his voice calm, almost distant. "If you don't have anything to lose, she will leave you alone."
The group fell silent. The horned boy's smirk faltered for a moment, the red-skinned one narrowed his eyes, and the cat eyed figure simply observed, unreadable as ever.
The frog-man swallowed hard. "And if we do?"
Valen's expression didn't change. "Then you'll find out what price she truly asks for."
The wind howled through the Death Den, stirring the dust at their feet. For a moment, none of them spoke. They all understood, whether they admitted it or not Death never truly let go of those who owed her.
Valen adjusted the strap of his sword and took a step back. "I've got to go, guys. I wish you good luck and hope for your return." His voice carried a rare sincerity, though his expression remained unreadable.
He turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder. "By the way! if you make it out of this, visit a village named Restall. There's a good man there Orlen, as I mentioned before. He can repair your swords or forge new ones. And who knows..." Valen paused, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "He might even become a good friend of yours someday."
With that, he walked away, his figure soon fading into the mist and shadows, leaving the Blue Fangs standing in the heart of the Death Den, the weight of his words lingering in the air.
Valen walked through the forest for hours, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him like an unseen force. The twisted trees stretched endlessly before him, their skeletal branches clawing at the sky. It felt less like a journey and more like an endless descent an eternal road leading straight into the abyss.
He walked and walked, his steps growing heavier with each passing moment. The whispers of the wind became distorted, almost like voices calling from the dark. His vision blurred, his body weakening. He closed his eyes for just a moment… and then everything faded to black.
Three days passed.
Orlen found him collapsed on the forest floor, barely breathing, his body cold as if death had already claimed him. Without hesitation, the old blacksmith carried Valen back to the village of Restall, where he was tended to with care. But he did not wake.
For two weeks, Valen remained trapped in restless sleep, his body unmoving, his mind lost in dreams or nightmares.
When he finally opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Orlen, his face lined with concern. The old man leaned back with a sigh of relief. "You're finally awake."
Valen tried to sit up, but his limbs were sluggish, his body weak. He frowned. "How long...?"
"Two weeks," Orlen answered. Then his expression darkened. "While you slept, I found a death mark on your body"
Valen blinked. He searched his mind, tried to recall but there was nothing. Just emptiness.
"I don't remember anything," he murmured.
Valen's vision blurred again, darkness creeping in at the edges. His body felt impossibly heavy, his strength slipping away like sand through his fingers.
"Valen! Hold on a minute!" Orlen's voice rang out, firm but laced with concern.
Valen tried to respond, to push himself up, but his limbs refused to obey. The world around him swayed, Orlen's figure becoming a hazy silhouette against the dim candlelight.
Then, just like before.... everything went black.