Tennebris resumed her laborious task of clearing the debris, but found her mind drifting to the bugs she fought last night. She tried to conjure any memory, any legend, any scrap of lore that might illuminate their origin or nature. She delved into the forgotten corners of her mind, sifting through childhood tales, street rumors, and even things she had overheard in taverns. But nothing came to her. The creatures remain a terrifying blank. Their insectoid limbs, gleaming pincers, and instinctual ferocity – none of it aligned with any beast or monster she’d ever heard of. Whatever this was, was completely alien to her. It left a chilling void in her mind. The sudden appearance only deepened the unease festering within the city’s battered heart.

  As the sun started it’s slow descent in the sky, in hues of saffron, crimson, and lavender, Tennebris paused, wiping sweat from her brow. Around her, the landscape of the slums had been subtly transformed; pathways were now clear. Makeshift shelters had been made to offer some protection, where the injured had been tended to. Not much could be done for them by the locals, but an effort was made, nonetheless. Her muscles ached, and her hands were raw, but a significant portion of the immediate danger had been mitigated.

  However, the sheer scale of devastation in the aftermath still hung heavy in her mind. Entire buildings remained collapsed, their interiors exposed to the elements. Many families- who were already struggling before the event, were huddling together in temporary encampments. She had done a great deal here, certainly, but the city’s wounds were too deep, and this day’s work, while vital, were merely the first steps in a long recovery effort.

  She grew curious about the stories being told in the roughshod encampments. Perhaps someone had seen something, knew something. The words of that elderly woman held heavy in her mind. “If I don’t do something- something big, I doubt things will ever get better.” She wove through the crowded encampments, unseen and unheard. The people here were weary and frightened, the air buzzed with low murmurs and a collective anxiety that had fallen them She strained her ears, hoping to gain some insight from the crowd.

  “They came from the sewers, I swear!” one woman whispered to another, clutching a child closely.

  “No, from the sea, they rose from the depths!” an old man exclaimed, shaking his head.“I saw them gathering in the forest before the attack.” An onlooker said, watching the argument unfold.

  She heard mentions of demons, plagues, and the wrath of the gods, with every tale contradicting the next. She thought it possible that perhaps each of these stories bore a little bit of truth. It was however, impossible to know at this point. Someone would need to start looking into this. She found herself with a rare dose of courage in her heart. Fueled by the surplus of altruism she suddenly found propelling her forward to a greater purpose.

  She felt that it would be time to seek shelter for the night. Her eyes were now opened to the world and she had realized it was high time she made something of herself. Perhaps it was her pride speaking, but she was ready to put her life on the line to find out.

  “Where would my talents be best suited? Helping the people around me is something I can tangibly do to make a difference in the world. But what about the bigger picture?”

  As twilight deepened, casting long bruised shadows across the damaged city, she found herself going back to her alcove, seeking temporary reprieve from the world’s harsh realities. She settled in, the days physical exhaustion warring with the turmoil in her mind. The sound of the city’s collective anxiousness faded from her mind as sleep started to overtake her body.

  The image of the chitinous creatures, and the unanswered questions about their origin gnawed at her. Perhaps the true path in making a difference wasn’t in clearing the rubble, but in uncovering the hidden truths that may be laying beneath the city’s foundation. Perhaps the ‘bigger picture’ wasn’t in grand heroics, but in unraveling the secrets of the attack.

  She was awakened earlier than normal the next day, the pale light of dawn painting the city in muted grays. It was an unfamiliar sight to her. She had become used to sleeping in every day, as she was never in a place cohesive to restful sleep, so she would normally be found sleeping until noon on most days. She had changed over the last couple of days.

  The crisp morning air replacing the night’s chills, she once again began her morning rituals. Washing up in the ocean, changing her clothes, then braiding her hair as she moved onto her next self-assigned task. She found her muscles aching, crying for rest. Yesterday’s task leaving its mark, not just on her, but on the city itself.

  Havenreach was healing, and signs of life had begun to rear its head as the sun rose in the sky. The road leading to the Lower District seemed the most busy oddly enough. That however, wasn’t what was most present on her mind. She wanted to start an investigation into where these bugs came from.

  The best that she could figure as a start would be going to the guard station and speaking with the guards there to see what they knew. Tennebris imagined that she would just explain that she was there to help, share what she knew, and inform them of her task.

  As she approached the stone edifice of the main guard station, she noticed a state of heightened alarm. More guards than usual were standing watch at the entrance, their expressions stern, their armor showing signs of the recent conflict. There were carriages and carts laden with supplies, or perhaps the wounded. The station was humming with a palpable tension, a command center operating under duress.

  She wanted to look for the two guards from that night, hoping that the camaraderie would help with the extraction of information. On the night of the skirmish in the square, she knew she hadn’t been seen but thought that sharing that fact might be of use.

  With this scene unfolding before her, she knew that finding those specific guards would prove more challenging than it might be worth. She pressed on.

  “Good morrow officer,” she began, her voice soft and even. She wanted to convey that she meant no harm in her approach. ‘I was hoping to inquire about some of your colleagues, two guards I assisted at the main gate. I merely wish to ensure their well-being.”

  The guard, a burly man with a scar bisecting his left eyebrow, barely spared her a glance. His eyes, though weary, were sharp and suspicious. “Everyone’s well-being is my concern right now civilian,” he grunted his hand resting on the hilt of his swords. “Unless you’ve official business, or an emergency to report, move along. We’ve little time for idle chatter, especially given the state of the city. The watch is stretched thin, and every soul here has duties far more pressing than tracking down individual patrols.” He turned his attention back to the street, effectively dismissing her.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Receding away from the guard station she gave pause to her actions, spending the time to reflect on that interaction. Fighting an internal battle between the urge to scream at the guard or just give up entirely, she sighed.

  “Well, that was to be expected. Can’t say I blame them. I’ll go back to the site of the attack and see if I can see any tracks from the bugs I fought that night.”

  Returning to the ravaged site of the main gate took some time as she traveled away from the main hub of the guard’s post. Unsurprisingly, she found the scene largely unchanged. Gruesome remains of the chitinous creatures still lie scatted, their bodies slowly beginning to attract scavengers. She began her careful search among the pulverized stone and scorched earth, her eyes looking for any disturbance in the debris that might indicate a path.

  After a few moments, the faintest outlines of something unusual caught her eye: deep, irregular gouges in the hardened earth, unlike any animal tracks she’d seen. They suggest a heavy, multi-limbed gait, consistent with the horrors she had faced. The tracks lead away from the gate, not deeper into the city, but beyond the walls, pointing towards the expanse of the Shroudwood that borders the city’s northwestern edge. The trail is faint in places, but undeniably there, a direct path leading out into the untamed wilderness.

  “Wherever this eventually lead, I’m going to need some help for this. I’ll do a small investigation and come back for help when I know more.”

  Names, contacts, and unlikely allies filled her mind. Silvana the fence, who owed her a favor for a ‘retrieval’ job that saved him from nasty business with the city guard. He’s got ears everywhere and might know a capable hand. Their loyalty usually comes with a price, however.

  Or perhaps Mheris, a gruff but skilled tracker who often lurked around the

  city’s underbelly picking up odd jobs that take her beyond the walls. She’s a loner but fiercely practical. She operated in the fringes, much like Tennebris, and might possess the unique skills needed for a journey into the deep.

  “The promise of coin or an interesting hunt may be enough to sway her.”

  Her thoughts then turned back to the tracks, leading relentlessly back into the Shroudwood. If she were to follow them now, the city’s walls would be soon behind her. The sun was still high in the sky, though starting its slow arc towards the west as she considered her options.

  Finding Mheris would involve navigating the city’s labyrinthine underbelly. It would mean delving deep into the district still reeling from the attacks, where shadows are deeper and eyes are sharper. Even if Tennebris found her quickly, convincing the pragmatic tracker to join her would take time and compelling arguments. Inevitably, she would demand coin, something Tennebris simply didn’t have.

  The trail was fresh enough that further delay might see it fade, or the creatures would begin to gain significant distance. She questioned whether it was simply her anxieties speaking, or her survival instincts. Either way, waiting to gather forces was out of the question.

  “Onward and upward.” She declared to herself, steeling her resolve.

  She wanted to trace the tracks silently but also wanted to remain hidden. She didn’t know if the city had dispatched anyone to start tracking these creatures. If that was the case, running into the city’s hired investigators could get dangerous for a meddlesome urchin such as herself. Alternatively, and equally troubling, would be getting ambushed by the very creatures she was hunting. She silently passed through the shattered gates, the city’s mournful cries fading behind her as she stepped onto the overgrown path leading into the Shroudwood.

  The air immediately shifted, growing cooler and smelling of damp earth and ancient trees. Sunlight struggled to pierce the dense canopy as the sunlight began to fade away from its high-noon position. Casting the forest floor into a spotted perpetual twilight, the grotesque tracks of chitinous horrors were surprisingly clear here. The insects had passed through here, their limbs leaving impressions on the soft soil, crushing the undergrowth beneath it.

  She moved with practiced stealth and ease. Hopping and dashing she danced from shadow to shadow, her ballet speaking volumes of her history and experiences, each footfall placed with careful practice. Her senses were stretched to their limits in this strange environment, far more used to the sounds of the city, she wasn’t sure what to be on alert for. Her senses- at first, were overwhelmed with the barrage of sensory input. Every rustle of a leaf, snapping of a twig, chirping of a bird, far-off sounds of wildlife. All of it set her hair on edge in this alien environment. The universe, it seemed to Tennebris, was making one thing clear: she was a visitor here and needed to tread carefully.

  As she continued tracking these creatures, she started to learn things about them based on the patterns they had left behind. The spacing between each imprint was the same across all the tracks. There were no strange, or long gaits. They moved with a terrifying directness, leaving behind a trail of broken branches, and disturbed earth. After an hour or so of diligent tracking, the signs of life grew fresher, until she came to a small clearing that had been shrouded by thick bramble.

  The ground had been churned here and several of the monstrous creatures lay dead, their bodies torn apart not by weapons, but by something else. This isn’t where they came from, this is where they were stopped.

  “I’m getting the impression that they didn’t attack the city but were fleeing and merely ran into it.”

  She knelt closer to the bodies to ascertain what may have caused it, the ripe smell of the decaying insect’s exoskeleton stinging at her nose. She felt a certain heightened level of danger in this area, dissimilar to the sense that overcame her upon entering the forest. This felt as though she had walked into something else’s home as an unwanted guest. Her survival instincts that she didn’t belong, that she shouldn’t be here. She was vulnerable in the open air of the clearing, losing the protection that the dense canopy’s shadows had lent her.

  She meticulously swept her gaze across the tableau, these wounds were unlike anything she had seen in the city before, or even at the city gate. They weren’t the clean cuts of a sword, or blunt impacts of a hammer. They were deep, ragged gashes that seem to have been inflicted by immense claws or talons, tearing through the tough chitin like parchment. Some of the creatures had their limbs sheared from their torsos, while others bore signs of powerful crushing blows, as if caught in a giant vice. There were even scorch marks on a few of them, along with a strange viscous goo that coated some of the bodies, seeping slowly into the forest floor.

  Whatever killed these creatures, was not only immensely powerful, but also possessed several potent attack forms. It even had some form of magical element to it, whether it was defensive, offensive, or both were unknown. This was certainly not a simple predator; this was something far more formidable, an apex predator in this ancient and mysterious forest.

  Diabli sometimes, depending on the purity of their bloodline, had magical tricks they were capable of. If a child Diabli was seen starting fires, it was said that they were close enough to the roots of the ancestral line, that they would have certain innate magical talents. As they fostered these talents from childhood they innately learned how to ignite or snuff small fires.

  Similarily, Tennebris had learned how to cast Pyromancy at the age of 2, she was aware of this trick. A simple input of magic into The Loom, a snap of a finger, and Tennebris could set fire to large swaths of flammable objects. Unfortunately, she never had anyone to guide her talents, so Pyroturgy was the only spell she knew how to use.

  Snap

  Tennebris snapped her fingers, intending to ignite the goo, to see if her theory was correct. Assuming it was flammable and would erupt in flames, she wasn’t disconcerted by her experiment. Diabli were all fire resistant due to their unique skin. The goo, betraying this theory, began to pop, sizzle and steam. It was clearly being super-heated by her spell but hadn’t ignited. It was caustic, certainly, but also not flammable. As the reaction ended, it left a black scorch mark behind, identifying itself as the same scorch marks left behind on the insect’s exoskeleton.

  “Now, where did you come from?” she asked the vengeful predator, who she knew wouldn’t answer. Something ancient, magical, and powerful was behind this. There were several questions to be asked here.

  What stirred it from its slumber,? What sent it on a rampage? What led it this far into the Shroudwood that it would disturb a nest into rushing into Havenreach? Tennebris had a need for answers, and thus began tracking the apex predator instead, to find out where it had come from.

  She began her dance again; tracking, hiding, and dodging unseen forces. Following this behemoth to its point of origin until she was stopped in her tracks, making a startling realization. The canopy had begun wildly shooting higher into the sky, the understory sprouting long, reaching branches. The forest floor itself where it had previously been dense foliage and fallen leaves, was now replaced by even denser foliage. Even the light seemed to want to run away from this place.

  “The Shrouded Hollow.” She said ominously to herself, no longer contain her survival instincts. It was time to turn back. She was in over her head.

  Tennebris began her methodical retreat to Havenreach. Back to a place that didn’t send shooting pangs of realization that there was a reason she stuck to rogue work. It was what she knew, it was what she was good at. And then she remembered. She remembered the old woman, the groups of terrified people, the memory of her scavenging an overturned breadcart. There were people- scared people who needed someone to do something for a change.

  Her retreat, previously fueled by the need to survive, fear, and anxiety, was now replaced by her intent to get back to Havenreach. She needed to find this beast, but before she did, she was going to need help. She couldn’t do this alone. Realistically she was only left with one question: “How am I going to pay them?”