The rain had turned the marsh paths to rivers. By dawn, the sky was bruised purple, a storm threatening to crack it open. Liora's cloak clung to her shoulders as she and Corren slipped out of the village unseen. The soldiers had set up watchposts along the western trail, their torches like tiny orange thorns in the mist. No one noticed the two figures leaving by the old healer's path—a trail long forgotten except by those born in the marsh.
They walked in silence at first, the only sounds the sucking of mud beneath their boots and the low murmur of wind through the reeds. Corren's face was hard as stone. He carried his spear in one hand, his other occasionally touching the amulet at his chest—a habit Liora had noticed grew worse whenever danger lay ahead.
"You don't have to come," she said softly. "If Branek catches us, it won't just be questions."
Corren's mouth quirked in something between a grimace and a smile. "I'm not letting you walk into the marsh alone. And besides…" His eyes lifted to the horizon, where the mists grew thicker. "…we both heard her warning. If there's something worse out there than the Beast, I want to know what it is."
Liora didn't argue. Her thoughts returned to Maren's voice—hoarse, desperate—They're coming. Not the Beast. Them.
She couldn't shake the feeling that whatever "they" were, they had been waiting all this time, like shadows beneath still water.
The deeper they went, the more the air seemed to change. It grew colder, denser. The marsh smelled not of rot but of something older—like stone and bone soaked in rain. Strange carvings marked the trees: spirals within spirals, cut deep into bark long since petrified.
"Have you ever seen those before?" Liora asked.
Corren shook his head. "These trees are older than the village. No one comes this far. Not anymore."
They passed beneath a low arch of woven branches. Liora felt a prickle across her skin, as if she had stepped through an unseen veil. The mist thickened into a milky curtain. Then, suddenly, the ground beneath them changed from mud to packed earth—smooth and deliberate.
They had reached a clearing. At its center lay a circle of massive stones, each etched with runes. But it wasn't the stones that froze Liora's breath. It was what lay within the circle.
Dozens of pale shapes arranged in a spiral—bones. Animal bones, mostly. But among them were longer femurs, curved ribs, fragments of skulls too large for deer and too delicate for beasts. Human bones. Their surfaces were polished clean, as though something had licked them dry.
Corren swore under his breath.
"This is no shrine," Liora whispered. "It's a calling ground."
As if to confirm it, a low hum filled the air. The runes on the stones began to glow faintly, one by one, like the first sparks of a fire.
A movement at the edge of the clearing caught Corren's eye. "There!" he hissed, raising his spear.
Liora spun around just in time to see shapes emerging from the fog—not animals, not quite human. Their bodies were lean and wrong, limbs jointed strangely, eyes like smooth black stones. There were five of them at first, then more, slipping soundlessly between the trees. Their skin shimmered faintly, as though the mist itself had taken form.
"They've been here the whole time," Liora breathed. "Waiting."
The creatures spread around the circle, their movements coordinated, deliberate. One lifted its head and let out a sound—not a roar or shriek, but a deep, vibrating clicking that echoed in their chests. The glow of the runes pulsed brighter in answer.
"Liora—back!" Corren shouted, stepping between her and the nearest creature. It lunged. His spear thrust forward, catching it in the side. Instead of bleeding, it released a cloud of grey vapor and twisted away, moving with a jerking, insectile speed.
Liora grabbed a broken branch and scrawled runes into the earth—old symbols her mother had taught her, wards against spirits. She whispered under her breath, voice steady despite the racing of her heart.
The creatures flinched as she finished the last mark. A ring of faint light circled her and Corren, like a lantern in fog.
But they didn't retreat.
"They're not attacking all at once," Corren muttered. "They're waiting for something."
Liora's eyes went to the stone circle. The humming had grown into a low chant-like rhythm. The bones in the spiral were vibrating. Something was coming through.
A sudden gust tore through the clearing, and the creatures knelt, their heads lowered. The runes blazed like fire. A figure emerged within the circle—not formed, but shaped by the swirling mist. It was tall, robed in shadows, its face a blur of shifting lines. A voice like cracking ice spoke in a language Liora didn't know, but its meaning burned in her mind: The seal is weakening.
She stumbled back, clutching her temples. Corren caught her.
"They're not here to kill us," she gasped. "They're here to break something open."
The shadow raised an arm. The bones in the spiral shot upward, swirling like leaves caught in a cyclone. The air was filled with a piercing whistle, like thousands of flutes playing at once.
Then—a scream.
Not from Liora. Not from Corren.
From the forest.
The Beast burst into the clearing like a storm given flesh, her form half-human, half-monster. Her claws tore into one of the creatures, scattering mist and bone. Her eyes—Maren's eyes—locked briefly onto Liora's.
The shadow turned toward her. "You cannot keep it closed forever," the voice boomed.
The Beast roared back, a sound that made the stones tremble.
The creatures lunged, not at Liora or Corren, but at the Beast. They swarmed her, clawing, biting, their misty bodies tangling with hers. She fought like something ancient and feral, her claws cutting through their smoky forms, but they reformed almost instantly.
"Corren!" Liora shouted. "If they finish the ritual—"
"I know!" he yelled, plunging his spear into the glowing runes at the circle's edge. Sparks erupted where wood met stone. Liora ran to the opposite side and began scratching counter-runes into the dirt, chanting the old words as loudly as she could.
The shadow figure raised both arms. The stones cracked. The air split like fabric being torn.
And then—
A blinding light burst from the center. The creatures howled, not in pain, but in triumph. The spiral of bones shattered outward, and something huge stirred beneath the earth, something older than Beast, older than curse.
The shadow figure faded, but its voice lingered: The seal is broken. The night will remember.
The mist collapsed. The creatures melted away. Liora found herself on her knees in the mud, ears ringing. Corren stumbled toward her, blood on his forehead.
The Beast stood at the circle's center, chest heaving, claws dripping with mist. For a moment, the monstrous mask slipped, and Maren's face stared out—exhausted, terrified.
Then she turned and fled into the marsh.
"Liora," Corren rasped. "What did we just wake up?"
She looked at the cracked stones, the ruined spiral, the faint tremor in the ground beneath them.
"Not wake up," she whispered. "Let loose."
The first raindrops began to fall.
And in the distance, something answered the storm with a sound that made the marsh itself shudder.