The eastern territories were different from the Dreadmarch.
No overt corruption. No twisted landscape. Just subtle wrongness—shadows that moved independently, temperature variations that defied natural patterns, local wildlife behaving strangely.
"It's like the land is being... rewritten," Lia observed, her detection runes glowing. "Not destroyed, transformed. Into something that appears normal but operates on different rules."
"Dangerous?" Valdris asked.
"Unknown. But definitely not natural."
They'd been investigating for three days, following reports of isolated incidents. Farmers finding livestock behaving oddly. Travelers experiencing time distortions. Minor magical anomalies that individually meant nothing but collectively suggested pattern.
Yuki was scouting ahead when she returned with urgent news. "Village ahead. Something wrong with it. People move, speak, function normally. But they're not... real. Empty somehow."
The team approached cautiously.
Yuki was right. The village appeared normal—maybe thirty residents going about daily activities. But watching them revealed inconsistencies. Movements too synchronized. Conversations that repeated in subtle patterns. No one actually accomplished anything, just mimicked activity.
"They're constructs," Lia determined. "Shadow magic shaped to appear human. Sophisticated work—whoever made these understands consciousness at deep level."
"Who made them?" Ronan asked. "Marcus is dead. His organization scattered. Who has capability for this?"
"Unknown," Lia said. "But it's not cultist work. The signature is different. Older somehow. Like it's using techniques from before the Shadow War."
They explored carefully. The constructs didn't attack—didn't even acknowledge the intruders' presence. Just continued their empty routines.
At the village center, they found the source. A crystalline structure, similar to what had held the Shadow Lord but smaller. Shadow energy flowing from it, animating the constructs, transforming the environment.
"Someone's testing," Kaelen realized. "Experimenting with controlled corruption. Using isolated village as laboratory."
"For what purpose?" Valdris asked.
Before anyone could answer, a voice spoke from the shadows. Female, cultured, amused.
"Curious, aren't you? Breaking into my workspace, examining my research. Rude, but I suppose forgivable given the circumstances."
A figure materialized. Woman, maybe thirty, wearing robes that suggested scholar rather than combatant. But her eyes held power, and shadow energy responded to her presence like trained animal.
"I'm Seraphine," she said. Not Seraphina with blade—different person. "And you're trespassing in my field study. Please leave before I'm forced to be inhospitable."
"You're conducting illegal shadow magic experimentation," Valdris challenged. "Creating false humans. Corrupting settled territories. That warrants investigation, not polite departure."
"Illegal implies laws I've agreed to follow," Seraphine replied. "I haven't. And corrupting is such harsh language—I prefer transforming. Making things more efficient, more optimal. These constructs are superior to humans in every meaningful metric."
"Except consciousness," Kaelen said. "They're empty shells."
"Consciousness is overrated," Seraphine countered. "Causes suffering, conflict, inefficiency. My constructs are happy because they don't know they're not real. That's mercy, not cruelty."
She moved closer, studying Kaelen with interest. "You're the hybrid. The one who wielded five blades. Fascinating work, that. Crude methodology—I'd never risk my consciousness so recklessly—but impressive results."
"You're researcher," Lia realized. "Not cultist, not Shadow Lord loyalist. Just scholar pursuing knowledge regardless of ethics."
"Ethics are social constructs," Seraphine said dismissively. "Useful for civilization, irrelevant for advancing understanding. I study what interests me. Currently, that's consciousness replication and environmental transformation. This village is data collection."
"The people who lived here," Ronan said carefully. "Where are they?"
"Incorporated into the constructs. Their patterns, memories, behaviors—all preserved. Just without the messy consciousness component. They live on, in a sense. Better version of themselves."
"You killed them," Ronan accused.
"I transformed them," Seraphine corrected. "Semantics, I suppose. But the distinction matters to me."
She raised her hand, and the constructs stopped their routines. Turned toward the intruders. Dozens of empty faces, moving in perfect unison.
"Now then," Seraphine said pleasantly. "I've been hospitable. Explained my work. Even tolerated accusations. But you're still here. That suggests hostile intent. So here's your choice: leave peacefully, or become research subjects. I'm genuinely uncertain which I'd prefer."
"We can't let you continue this," Valdris said.
"Can't?" Seraphine laughed. "Can't? You're five people against my entire laboratory. Every construct, every shadow-structure, every transformed element of this environment responds to my direction. You're outmatched."
"We've faced worse odds," Kaelen said.
"Have you? Against someone who's spent decades perfecting shadow manipulation? Who's studied every technique from the original war? Who's specifically prepared for confrontation with hybrid wielders because I knew you'd eventually investigate?" Seraphine smiled. "I think you overestimate your capabilities."
She attacked. Not directly—through environment. The ground became liquid shadow. The air solidified. The constructs moved with coordinated precision, dozens of them attacking simultaneously.
Kaelen fought through them, but they reformed instantly. Yuki's blade passed through without causing damage. Valdris's tactics couldn't counter enemies that weren't actually alive.
"Fall back!" Valdris ordered. "This isn't winning fight!"
They retreated, fighting through waves of constructs. Seraphine watched with clinical interest, occasionally adjusting her creatures' behavior like conductor directing orchestra.
They escaped the village. Regrouped a mile away.
"That was disaster," Valdris said. "We accomplished nothing except confirming threat is real and powerful."
"And intelligent," Lia added. "Seraphine's no mindless cultist. She's dangerous specifically because she's rational, educated, and completely amoral. That's worse than fanaticism."
"What's her goal?" Ronan asked. "If she's not trying to release the Shadow Lord, not building army—what's the endgame?"
"Knowledge," Kaelen said. "She's experimenting purely to understand. Making shadow magic into science instead of mysticism. That's... actually brilliant. Also horrifying. But brilliant."
"Can we stop her?" Valdris asked.
"Not with five people," Kaelen admitted. "She's fortified that village too well. We'd need army."
"Then we get army," Valdris decided. "Report to Isabella, get reinforcements, return with overwhelming force."
They began the journey back to civilization.
But Kaelen couldn't stop thinking about Seraphine. Her casual competence. Her complete lack of ethical constraints. Her genuine fascination with shadow magic as academic discipline.
She was what Marcus could have been, if Marcus had cared about knowledge more than revolution.
Maybe more dangerous because of it.
And something she'd said bothered him. "Prepared for hybrid wielders." As if she'd known Kaelen would come. As if she'd been waiting.
This wasn't random encounter. This was deliberate.
But why? What did Seraphine actually want?
Those questions wouldn't be answered today.
But they'd need answering soon.
Because if history taught anything, it was that brilliant, amoral researchers pursuing forbidden knowledge always eventually caused catastrophes.
They just took longer to detonate than outright villains.
And those slow detonations were often worse than immediate explosions.
Tomorrow, they'd report. Get reinforcements. Plan assault.
Tonight, they could just survive and regroup.
It wasn't victory. But it was progress.
For now, that was enough.