After Rafael's request, one of the guards suddenly broke into laughter. "Well, I'll be damned," he said, pointing. "It's you—the bounty hunter."
Rafael gave a small nod, neither confirming nor denying it. The guard's expression shifted, the humour draining from his face. "I'm sure you've heard already… the crook you brought in escaped."
"So I heard," Rafael replied evenly. The guard pushed himself to his feet. "Figures. So—you're here for another bounty, huh?" He gestured for Rafael to follow and walked toward the far wall, where dozens of wanted posters were nailed in crooked rows.
"By the way," the guard added over his shoulder, glancing back, "why do you always hide your face like that?" He pointed at Rafael's hood. "For my own good," Rafael said flatly. "Don't worry about it." The guard chuckled once and didn't press the issue.
"Take your pick," he said, sweeping a hand across the wall. "Bounties are ranked by stars. The higher the stars, the higher the pay—and the higher the risk. One star's small fry. Five stars?" He whistled. "Monsters."
Rafael studied the posters carefully. Faces stared back at him—scarred, twisted, desperate. Rewards varied wildly.
I'm not doing this for the money, he thought. But it won't hurt to earn a little something from this either.
His gaze stopped on a four-star notice. The man in the sketch wore a grotesque grin, eyes too wide, hair long and unkempt. Something about the smile made Rafael's skin crawl. The reward beneath the image read: 17,000 silver coins—far more than Malrek's bounty.
"I'll take this one," Rafael said, tearing the poster free. The guard raised an eyebrow. "Four stars, huh? Bold choice. Bring him in alive if you can—we want him locked away." Rafael gave no reply and turned to leave.
Outside, in an alley across the street, Malrek was waiting. Rafael held up the poster. Malrek's eyes widened. "We're gonna be rich."
"How do we find him, though?" Malrek asked.
"The guard said he's holed up near the Darkwood Forest," Rafael answered. "Apparently, even the guards are afraid to go near him." Malrek's grin faded. "What's he wanted for?" Rafael folded the poster slowly. "Mass murder."
The two approached the forest's edge.
Rafael's eyes were sharp, scanning every shadow and broken branch for movement. Malrek, in contrast, walked with his hands behind his head, whistling cheerfully as if they were out for a stroll.
That ended the moment they stepped beneath the trees.
They took a deep breath and crossed into the forest.
After only a short distance, the air changed. The sounds of the outside world faded, replaced by an unnatural silence that pressed in from all sides. Even Rafael—normally calm, unshaken—felt something twist in his chest.
In his past life, very few things had ever frightened him. He had reached a point where fear itself felt like a distant memory.
Now it returned. He felt watched. Small. Exposed. Like a rat trapped in a cage.
The forest was pitch-black, saved only by the full moon hanging above, its pale light barely piercing the thick canopy. Shadows stretched and warped between the trees. Malrek stopped whistling. His hands trembled at his sides. "Rafael… maybe we can turn back," he whispered.
"It's too late," Rafael replied, his voice steady despite the unease creeping through him. "We're already here. We finish this." Before he could say another word, the ground vanished beneath their feet. They fell into a hole. They plunged into darkness, slamming hard into the bottom of a pitfall trap. Pain exploded through Rafael's body, and his vision went black.
When he woke, his head throbbed. He blinked and saw Malrek scrambling around the walls of the deep pit, searching for a way out. "How long was I out?" Rafael asked, pushing himself upright. "A few minutes," Malrek replied. "I thought you were dead for a second."
They both looked up. The pit was deep—far deeper than it had seemed from above. The walls were jagged and damp, carved deliberately to make escape difficult.
"Let's climb," Rafael said.
It wasn't easy, but they managed. Malrek climbed out first, bracing himself as he reached down to haul Rafael up. When Rafael finally stood on solid ground again, his stomach twisted.
I fell for a pitfall trap, he thought grimly.
They moved on—slower now. Careful.
Malrek began whistling again, a strange, deliberate tune. Rafael noticed it but said nothing.
Then it happened—a faint click. Malrek froze. Too late. He had already set off the trip wire. A barrage of arrows exploded from the trees, flying from all directions. Rafael dove behind a trunk as arrows sliced past him. Pain flared—one grazed his leg, another tore across his back.
Malrek threw himself behind a massive boulder. The storm ended as suddenly as it began. Rafael rushed to Malrek's side and saw an arrow buried in his leg.
"Hold still."
Malrek didn't scream. He didn't even curse.
Rafael snapped the shaft and yanked the arrow free, tearing his own shirt to bind the wound. The bleeding slowed.
"We should turn back," Rafael said quietly.
Malrek met his eyes. "Your mother doesn't have time. We've come this far, why would we give up now?" Rafael clenched his jaw. "…You're right. Are you OK to keep going?" "Don't worry about me, it'll take more than an arrow to take me out," Malrek said.
They stood and pressed on. Every step made Rafael's unease deepen. Something about this forest was wrong. They soon reached a massive tree. Carved into its bark were crude words:
(The further you go, the darker it becomes.)
They read it in silence. Malrek forced a weak grin. "Real welcoming place." They passed the tree and continued downhill until a cave came into view at the base of a hill. Dark blood stains on the walls of the cave marked its entrance.
Rafael drew a knife. Malrek tightened his grip on his machete. As they prepared to enter, a warped, crippling laugh echoed from deep within the cave. It crawled up Rafael's spine.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Rafael hardened his expression and stepped forward. He rushed into the darkness. Malrek followed, slower, his breath shallow. The cave swallowed them whole.