The ravens are coming

May 30th

As expected, we found ourselves in a valley again. Then there would probably be another one, and another one, and another one. How much longer? (...)

June 4th

(...) The landscape changed. Even though we were heading north (Haldik checks with some strange device with pointers, and the magician nods) and climbing higher and higher into the mountains, somehow deciduous trees have reappeared, replacing the pine trees. (...) Things aren't as good as we expected; supplies are running out quickly, and we're having serious hunting problems. The game seems to be hiding well in this dark and dense forest.

June 5th

(...) One soldier didn't return from the hunt. Everyone is frightened and therefore unanimous. We're going back.

June 6th

Everything happened so quickly. They attacked us instantly, in great force. It seemed as if the entire forest came alive and rushed at us. Hugo fell, torn to pieces. I don't know how long I'll be able to hide in that tree. The soldiers are hacking at the enemy like madmen, but the furious beasts from hell don't give them a chance. We will die. All I can do is finish my notes. Meneros is hurling lightning bolts, felling monster after monster. He's just shouted a spell, and one of the attackers, despite the warm morning, has turned into an icicle. It looks incredible, but it's not enough. One of the wild, furry men notices me. He jumps onto the lowest branch. He's coming for me...

* * *

Rennar belched softly and handed the jug to the soldier sitting next to him. Fully fed, he watched with pleasure as the men devoured his supplies. He suspected that, despite his youth, this would be the best transaction of his life. Sure, all this food cost an astronomical sum, but the position of mayor was worth it. Even in a remote area like Temhun. The merchant happily added a few bottles of wine to the order, for which the soldiers were incredibly grateful. More haunches of meat sizzled loudly, roasting over the fire.

Rennar glanced lazily around the camp. Six dozen men were feasting at the edge of the forest. Here, in this clearing, even the narrow paths they often had to navigate were lost in the forest depths. The beaten tracks had long since been forgotten. A few days ago, they had passed the last of the villages where they had been generously welcomed; now, all that lay ahead was virgin forest. Therefore, tonight was the last evening spent together by the entire company. The next day, Captain Aldem and his cavalry would turn back—the cavalry couldn't possibly be forcing their way through the forest. Hurz would accompany them, and of course Rennar, who had already toiled and expended enough to deserve the handsome remuneration that the promised position surely entailed. Mayorship, even in a small town, is an excellent start to a career for a resourceful young merchant.

Aldem was perhaps even more delighted to be back. Throughout the evening, he told anyone who would listen about his wonderful wife, who was now in labor and waiting to finally give him the child he longed for. If it was a son, he would be named Lambert, after the legendary Lambert the One-Armed. If it was a daughter, as the healers and midwives predicted, Aldem would be no less happy and would soon try for a male heir.

The rest were equally merry, and loud laughter rang out every now and then. Some were pleased to be returning, others intoxicated by the abundance of wine that had to be consumed that evening, for surely no one would be carrying such a burden on their backs.

Only one person was not overcome by the general mirth. Young Hurz was furious at being sent home just as the most exciting part was beginning. His father, Hurimm, the Royal Huntsman, was adamant, however. They had enough hunters not to endanger the youngster.

The men drank, laughed, talked, and sang. The fire was large enough that, even without stoking it, it began to die down before sunrise. A few hours later, after breakfast, Aldem gathered the merchant, the young tracker, and the loose ponies, and rode off at the head of his company. The rest continued their journey on foot.

* * *

May 27th

We rested in the valley for two whole days. We were delighted by the abundance of game and the beautiful, crystal-clear river, flowing from a crevice on one side and disappearing beneath the rocks to the north. There must have been more than enough animals there, even predators, because at night we heard strange noises. Soothed by the hunters and confident in the strength of our weapons, we slept peacefully under the watchful eye of the sentries. (...)

May 28th

(...) Looking through my notes, I noticed that my chronicle looked strange. Pathetic descriptions, which the Count would probably have wanted, are interwoven with personal observations. I note with dismay that for many of the remarks included here, I could have been flogged, if not worse. I'll edit my notes when I get home. (...)

May 29th

We lost both hunters today. Simply put: they went out hunting, as every morning, and didn't return. We waited until evening, tried to search for them, but the valley is too large. We didn't see a trace. (...) Hugo is torn between them, calling them traitors. Angus also thinks they've deserted. Old Meneros remains silent; something is troubling him; he doesn't seem to quite believe it. I, too, do. I'm already very frightened. I don't think anyone has ever ventured this far north. Who knows what awaits us there (...) It was decided to move on cautiously tomorrow – we have plenty of supplies, and we can also try hunting. (...) It's terribly uncomfortable writing by the light of the fire. (...)

* * *

The journey was tedious and monotonous. They descended into a wooded valley, then climbed the hill that bordered it. Rarely did they find a clearing in the dense forest. Even more rarely did they find a river or even a stream in the forest wilderness, and when they did, the wizard ordered them to watch out for nymphs.

On the third day after the group's separation, one of the hunters was wounded when the group disturbed a bear's lair. A single swipe of the furious female's paw was enough to knock the man to the ground. Moments later, the entire weight of the several hundred-kilogram bear collapsed on the man's legs, shattering bones. Help quickly arrived with axes and spears, dragging the animal away from the wounded man, where it was stabbed and butchered. After that, they didn't need to hunt for several days – meat was plentiful. Throughout the night, the mage sat beside the wounded ranger, muttering incantations and brewing herbal decoctions. The man was lucky, as one leg was only bruised, but the other would limp for the rest of his life. The wound significantly delayed their march.

After a few days, a low, steep, and barren mountain range suddenly crossed their path. The men were by no means relieved to emerge from the stifling thicket, for they were now exposed directly to the blazing rays of the sun. It took them three days to trudge to the summit, by which time their supplies had dwindled considerably, as hunting game in the mountains was no easy feat. The view from the summit surprised them. They had expected only high, barren mountains, merging into the mighty peaks of the White Mountains, but instead they faced another forested valley, this time truly vast, and even further on, low hills. Some soldiers grumbled that this was a road to nowhere, but the captain firmly ordered them to march forward. The way down the gentle, grassy slopes was easier.

* * *

May 16

(...) The fate of a chronicler is a difficult one. I curse old Warvick thrice for sending me on this mad expedition. Two hunters-trackers, ten soldiers led by Captain Angus, the young lordling Hugo, the old magician Meneros, and the scholar Haldik. And me – an extra mouth to feed, which, by the way, I've often been given to understand literally. Lately, I've been doing better. Five days ago, we arrived at a small village nestled on a hillside – the last one to the north, as the inhabitants swore. The isolated peasants were delighted to see us. And when Meneros let off a few fireworks over their fields, muttering something about the blessing of the gods and a bountiful harvest, the villagers went wild with joy. The whole company laughed their heads off, now at their ignorance, now at the magician's sleight of hand, clearly done for show, and by no means indicative of any great skill. But, getting back to me, it was then that I gained the team's respect. The grateful peasants, after long deliberations, rolled a barrel of fine mead from one of the houses – assuring them, of course, that it was the only one they had. What funny faces those mighty soldiers, tough men, wore as their scrawny scribe drank it away! I especially liked the captain, just before he collapsed, staring at me with unseeing eyes as I raised another toast to him. (...)

May 23rd

Since yesterday, we've been climbing the slopes of a massive ridge that blocked our path. It looked like it would take a few more days to get around it, so they decided to go over the top. We're certainly stocked with supplies, and the hunters are doing a great job, but why tempt fate?

May 24th

Today we reached the summit. The view from the top left us astonished. At our feet stretched a large, green valley, several miles wide and a dozen miles long, similar to the one we had first traversed. It was surrounded on three sides by the ridges of the range we had just entered, while opposite us it was enclosed by gentle hills, heralding further valleys. (...) Far ahead, as at the beginning of the journey, were the White Mountains. It seemed we had not come any closer to them.

May 25

Haldik is a mysterious and strange man. In this, he resembles his master and a bit of Meneros. Besides, it was thanks to the cunning Pittheus (may the devil take him!) that we find ourselves here. He fooled Count Warvick, with Meneros' approval, and convinced him that an expedition should be sent to the White Mountains for the advancement of science, expansion, and strengthening of the kingdom. And all that nonsense. And the senile lord allowed himself to be persuaded and even sent his son along for the ride. It's good that at least Hugo—it's a smaller loss than if Manfred were to die in those wilds. The cunning Pittheus himself, evading a whole host of old age ailments, "heartbreakingly" refused to participate in the expedition, sending his apprentice Haldik—a disagreeable grump who was supposedly responsible for ensuring the expedition's scientific nature.

* * *

"What do you think, Magus?" the captain asked the man standing next to him.

The wizard was a portly, if not enormous, man in the prime of life. His hair was long, streaked with gray, but his closely trimmed beard was still jet black. He wore green trousers, a white shirt with rolled sleeves, and a leather vest. He wore a large gray cloak with a hood like a cape, fastened only by a clasp at the neck. A casual observer would surely have mistaken him for an ordinary hunter, especially because of the bow and quiver carried on his back, but a more trained eye would have noticed the staff he held in his hand—a long wooden one, made of fancifully twisted red-brown wood, an unmistakable sign of membership in the mage caste.

"As good a place as any. We can spend the night here," the wizard replied, unbuckling his weapon, placing his staff on the ground, and settling himself comfortably in the grass. He wrapped the cloak tightly around himself, and after a moment, a loud snoring could be heard.

The captain shrugged and gestured with his hand. Within moments, the entire clearing was strewn with people relaxing. Although there was still some time left until sunset, there was no point in pushing further into the forest once they found a spacious and comfortable clearing. The hunters dropped their packs, checked their weapons, and were about to set off into the forest to hunt when one of them suddenly shouted,

"Look! Up there!" the man pointed to one of the trees on the edge of the clearing. Among the lush green leaves in the canopy, something gleamed clearly, reflecting the red rays of the setting sun. Without waiting for the others to react, the ranger who had noticed the phenomenon was up in a few quick movements. A moment later, with surprising agility for such a large man, he jumped to the ground. In his hand was a leather bag fastened with a large silver clasp.

"It was hooked high in the branches," he said, handing it to the Huntsman.

Hurimm accepted it wordlessly and immediately headed for the sleeping mage. Everyone got up from the ground, curious about the find.

"Arothis!" the Huntsman leaned over the mage, but the latter only snored even louder. "Arothis!" Hurimm yelled directly into the man's ear.

The mage opened first one eye, then the other, and finally his mouth, from which a torrent of curses poured out, the likes of which a South Seas sailor would be proud. When the Huntsman explained the matter to the sleepy mage, Arothis wordlessly took the bag from him, unzipped it in one movement, and removed a small booklet. After making sure that was the only contents, he set the bag aside and opened the booklet.

"A diary..." he murmured, clearly intrigued. "Listen...

"

April 25th

The preparations were complete, and this morning our small expedition set out into the unknown. (...)

May 2nd

We entered another green valley. It looks just like all the previous ones: not very deep, elongated, several hundred meters high, and very green at this time of year. Moreover, the trees growing here are coniferous, so they will shimmer with green even under a white blanket of snow. A stream flows down the eastern slope – the first we've encountered since setting out. It's a perfect opportunity to replenish our water supplies, as the stream beckons with its crystalline clarity. (...) The sun, rising higher in the sky each day, must have really taken its toll on one of the soldiers, because he suggested a longer stop and a refreshing bath. Now he'll be serving as cook for a week. (...)

May 6th

I'm beginning to suspect that Captain Angus wasn't the best choice to command this expedition. A rigorous, meticulous man. From the whispers I've heard around the campfire, I gather he's more than disliked by his soldiers. (...) He may be the highest ranking, has the most experience, and so on, but in reality, he won't go against young Warvick's wishes – he's too afraid of his father. (...) A nasty, arrogant little lord. Why didn't the earl send his firstborn, Manfred? Angus is officially in command, his master, whom he dare not oppose, is Hugo Warvick, but we all know all too well that old Meneros is leading the expedition. I once heard an argument about which route to take (of course, we're still heading north, but it was a matter of detail), when the old man, choosing his words skillfully, seemingly agreeing with young Hugo, finally got his way. The cunning beast gives him a particularly wicked look from under those bushy eyebrows. A hundred-mouthed rumor in the earl's castle is that he's no magician, but a conjurer and a cunning politician who has insinuated himself into our lord's favor.

May 10th

We've clearly crossed a certain line and entered the higher reaches of the mountains. Lush forests are gone, now dominated by isolated groves and dwarf pine. Bare earth increasingly peeks through the grass. Although summer is still ahead of us, the heat has ceased to oppress us. I don't know if it's a temporary change in weather or the effect of the altitude. (...) And far ahead of us, the highest peaks still gleam white.

* * *

"What do you think, mage?

" "You're repeating yourself, Captain," Arothis smiled and blew a smoke ring.

The other men sitting around the fire were also smoking pipes. Besides the mage and the captain, there was also the Huntsman, and the aged Nemuel – a scholar of many sciences and a trusted advisor to the king.

"It's simple, Count Warvick had the same idea as our gracious lord and also sent an expedition to the White Mountains. Except he was faster, not by much, by about two months."

"And he didn't come out of it well," the captain grumbled. "From this journal, it appears they were all killed.

" "Probably all of them, though we can't say for sure, as the record breaks off. But before we consider their fate, let's start from the beginning." The huntsman turned to Nemuel. "Why didn't we know anything about this expedition?

" "Our expedition was planned for a long time; it was chance that we set off now, quite unexpectedly, to be honest." The old man cleared his throat and spat into the fire. "The count could have learned of this plan and launched an expedition himself. If he had managed to find anything interesting here first, the king not only couldn't punish him, but would have been forced to reward him, strengthening the Warvicks' already strong position. This would have given Manfred, as he would likely soon succeed his elderly father, an excellent political position. And perhaps we would finally have another change of ruling dynasty." This one held for a really long time...

The captain's eyes widened in astonishment at hearing such openly spoken words that would normally be considered treason. The others, however, only smiled faintly. So the captain, being an experienced and cautious man, didn't comment on the speech.

"But we know the expedition failed – Warvick's younger son is dead. The earl himself is dying on his deathbed," Hurimm broke the silence. "So, since everything is clear on this matter, let's consider what happened to our predecessors.

" "I believe the term 'beasts from hell' is a gross exaggeration, dictated by the writer's fear...

" "Exactly." Arothis interrupted the scholar. "In my opinion, we should turn our attention to the 'forest people'; they will likely be the real attackers. Possibly werewolves, or simply wild animals – we have experienced the wrath of bears ourselves."

"And I think so. An attack by the forest dwellers could easily be explained, for example, by cutting down the wrong kind of firewood.

" "Oh yes!" the mage raised his voice theatrically. "Dryads can be exceptionally vicious and vengeful. And dangerous.

" "And what do we do?" the captain asked.

"Nothing." Arothis shrugged. "With the Grand Huntsman with us, we don't have to worry about the forest dwellers. At least I could communicate with the dryads.

" "They also had a wizard in their party," Nemuel pointed out.

"That's true." The mage frowned. "Meneros was old and more inclined to devote himself to politics than to the magical arts, but he was still a powerful wizard. That's truly puzzling..."

The conversation ended there. The men finished their pipes and joined the others, who had long since fallen asleep. The captain only instructed the sentries posted around the clearing not to venture into the forest. The campfires burned with a lazy flame…

* * *

When Arothis opened his eyes, only a single, dying fire remained. Aside from the faint flicker, the only light was the moon peeking out from behind the clouds. The mage wasn't sure what had woken him, but he raised his head and looked around in the darkness. The camp was plunged into sleep. Only the silhouette of a sentry stood out against the forest. One sentry? Where were the rest? The mage

thought. "Alarm!" he yelled, leaping to his feet.

He grabbed a nearby staff and aimed it at the nearest extinguished campfire, which instantly caught fire and blazed to full brightness. Two more followed. The fire illuminating the clearing revealed a horrifying scene. Several bodies, those sleeping most heavily on the edge, as well as three sentries, lay torn and drenched in blood. Dead. Three beasts loomed over them. Black werewolves with powerfully muscled, almost hump-shaped necks and forepaws tipped with long claws. The hind legs had larger feet and were positioned differently than those of ordinary canines, allowing the beasts to partially walk on them as if on legs and attack with their "hands." Their elongated jaws held two rows of razor-sharp fangs, both above and below.

At first, the great, hairy bodies cowered at the light, but then, realizing they had lost the advantage of surprise, they rushed toward the mage. Meanwhile, the warriors had already awakened, and although they knew nothing more than that someone was shouting an alarm, they instinctively grabbed their weapons.

The fastest of the werewolves was the first to fall. As he leaped at the mage, the latter quickly moved away, sending the beast tumbling into the fire behind him. The mage made a gesture, and fire shot high and to the sides, scorching the monster with amplified force. Arothis spun to face another opponent, but the monster, poised to spring, collapsed to the ground with a split skull. Once again, the belief that an axe is a deadly weapon in the hands of an experienced hunter was confirmed, and not just in hand-to-hand combat. Before being slain, the last beast managed to rake the face of one of the soldiers with its claws and bite off the hand holding a sword from another.

The humans were not given a moment's respite as more monsters leaped from the dark forest into the circle of light.

"Cover me!" Arothis shouted. The mage leaned on his staff with both hands and closed his eyes, concentrating.

A moment later, the soldiers stared in horror as the wizard collapsed to the ground like a log…

* * *

Arothis awoke to find Nemuel and Hurimm leaning toward him.

"What happened?" he asked, groping around until he found his staff.

"Four more beasts appeared," the Huntsman replied, handing him a canteen. "We managed, but we lost three men. Earlier, six died while we slept. What about you?

" "I tried to make contact," Arothis took a deep drink of water. "With them, with the werewolves, with the dryads, with the forest... With whatever was attacking us. Unfortunately, to no avail. I recoiled as if from a wall. Whatever drives them is powerful and mad with rage, pain, or... I don't know...

" "I thought so," the ranger agreed. "I was going to do it myself, but I sensed a great hatred emanating from these beasts and hesitated." And then you beat me to it.

Arothis groaned, rising from the ground and surveying the clearing in the morning light. Six werewolf corpses lay heaped in a heap – one missing, charred in the fire. Nearby, in a neat row, lay nine bodies of soldiers, stripped of all things that might now be of more use to the living. The scholar Nemuel, seeing that the mage had recovered, left to help the other wounded groaning in pain. Arothis, after taking another drink of water, handed over his canteen and also joined in tending to the suffering. After tending the wounded and eating a little, they began to consider their next course of action.

"We must turn back," muttered one of the hunters. "This forest clearly doesn't want visitors."

No one really needed to add anything to that comment. When they set out on the expedition, they had, of course, expected danger and losses, but now it was clear that continuing the mission was pointless. In a single night, they had lost a quarter of their force, and judging by the discovered journal, that wasn't all the attacking force could muster. The king would have to accept that the White Mountains were inaccessible and would remain an unsolved mystery. At least for now.

"Perhaps we should at least bury these poor souls," the captain suggested.

"There's no time for that," the wizard countered. "We have to spend the next night in the open as well. A few miles from here is the hill we crossed yesterday. Its summit is devoid of trees. We'll get there and think about what to do next.

" "Ha! A soldier's fate is hard even in death. I especially pity that brat Alan. He escaped the bear, but a wolf came and claimed his prey..."

The party quickly gathered themselves and began their return journey.

* * *

They had been trudging through the forest for several hours when suddenly Hurimm, who had been walking a few meters ahead, halted their march. Arothis immediately approached the ranger and stopped dead in his tracks, seeing what had stopped them.

A few steps ahead of them stood a woman of extraordinary beauty. Long, straight hair flowed over her shoulders, and a captivating face with sharp, regular features gleamed white, like those of marble statues of goddesses. She wore a flowing, yet completely opaque, long green dress that folded in folds on the ground. Her hair was also green, as were her large, deep eyes.

A dryad, Arothis thought, breaking free from the spell, but she resembled a water nymph. Behind him, the mage heard the voices of delighted soldiers, but fortunately none of them moved. Only Hurimm, spreading his arms wide in a friendly gesture, took a step toward the woman, looking her straight in the eyes. The dryad returned the gaze, so that they now stood facing each other, the woman and the man, sizing each other up, oblivious to anything but themselves. Hurimm didn't even seem to notice that where he stood, the grass had suddenly grown taller, and the plants growing there had lengthened, entwining the Huntsman's legs.

"What the hell is going on?" Arothis heard the captain whisper nearby, terrified, yet filled with delight and desire. The commander held his ground bravely, and despite the spell cast on the men, he seemed to be thinking clearly. "Do something, mage!

" "It's not my magic; I could do more harm than good," the wizard replied quietly. "Nothing bad is happening yet. Stand still and observe."

The pair, standing opposite each other, froze motionless. A strange test of strength, willpower, or perhaps simply communication, seemed to last for hours. Meanwhile, nature on the small patch of land around the Huntsman had gone wild. The grass was already waist-high, and the flexible stems of flowers climbed ever higher around him, entwining his torso and binding his hands. Soon, only his head peeked out from the green thicket. Suddenly,

the mage shouted something incomprehensible and pointed his staff at the girl in green. Lightning shot from the staff in that direction, but when the smoke cleared, it turned out the dryad was gone, and the bolt had struck a tree. The mage was already at Hurimm's side, freeing him from his plant prison. A moment later, several people, the quickest to break free from his trance, rushed to his aid.

"I couldn't..." the Huntsman said weakly. "I couldn't communicate with her." It opened only for a moment, and then all I felt was hatred...

"Quickly, the hill isn't far away," the mage ordered once the hunter had been disentangled.

Although the forest looked peaceful, everyone instinctively sensed something was wrong and eagerly followed the mage. They hadn't gone more than a few dozen meters when it became clear that the mage's fears were justified. The forest came alive. In several places, werewolves and ordinary large wolves leaped out of the thicket at once, attacking the group. Some soldiers, preparing for battle, suddenly felt unable to move because their feet were tangled in tree roots and the undergrowth. From above, from the branches hanging on the advancing men, covered in thick hair, began to jump down, revealing nothing human about them except their name and similar stature. Somewhere nearby, a loud bear roared. Several more answered.

"To the hill, there we have a chance to defend ourselves!" "—shouted the mage, occasionally showering one of the attackers with lightning bolts or fireballs.

The soldiers tried to obey the mage's command and not engage in combat, but ran forward. Few, however, could follow Arothis, as half the party fell at the very beginning of the attack, and the rest struggled to break through the crowd of enemies several times larger. The mage tried his best, sending magical projectiles around him, but it did little good, except to make the attackers avoid him, focusing on the soldiers. When the mage realized the fight was turning into a swift rout, he continued running, only checking occasionally to see if anyone was following him. Three people ran out of the forest onto the hill. Arothis led the way, followed by Hurimm, who was supporting a wounded man. The commotion in the forest subsided; the screams of murdered men could no longer be heard. A moment later, silence fell over the valley. The hunter lowered the wounded soldier to the ground, trying to ease his suffering. Meanwhile, the wizard, for the second time in twenty-four hours ,

folded his hands on his magical staff and concentrated intensely.

The High Mage was sitting in his chamber, leafing through a thick book over breakfast, when he suddenly felt someone trying to communicate with him. He put down the fruit he was about to bite, settled comfortably in his chair, relaxed, and...

"Greetings, Arothis!

" "Our expedition ended in complete disaster. The White Mountains are far ahead, but we've found ourselves in a forest whose inhabitants are exceptionally hostile towards us. We were attacked by werewolves, wild men, and animals. We also encountered a dryad, but neither I nor the Royal Huntsman were able to communicate with them.

" "I understand," the chairman of the Mages' Chapter was very matter-of-fact. "Did you manage to escape? Should the Council consider another expedition to these areas? Is there an immediate danger?

" "No, I don't think so. We simply entered their territory; I suspect that's why they attacked us. And their rage and determination... These are still virgin territories; we can't even imagine the forces that might inhabit them." And we don't know that much about the ancient forest dwellers. As for me, I think I should be able to escape..."

The High Mage flinched as the contact suddenly broke. He sat motionless for a moment, but then calmed down and finished his breakfast. It's normal for a hand to burn when you stick it in the fire—but since Arothis claims it shouldn't spread, there's no problem. And if he couldn't escape... This wouldn't be the first time a mage has died in the king's service.

* * *

At first, Arothis didn't know what had broken the contact, but after a moment, he realized it must have been Hurimm's desperate cry for help. The hunter was now struggling to fend off the attacks of two large werewolves. One arm hung limply. Using the axe held in the other, he tried to retreat, but his wounded leg, torn apart by the teeth of one of the beasts, prevented him.

The wizard furiously shouted a powerful spell, known only to a few, and both monsters suddenly burst with a bang, showering the clearing and the rescued hunter with torrents of blood and scraps of flesh.

"Thank you, Arothis. Quick, let's escape.

" "Yes, let's escape..." The wizard looked first at the torn body of the soldier lying on the ground, whom the hunter had previously been supporting, then at the limping Hurim, who was struggling to move forward. Finally, at more beasts emerging from the forest. It was clear the Huntsman would not be able to escape. Without hesitation, the wizard made a gesture with his hand, and the man collapsed to the ground. He looked as if he had lost consciousness, but his chest no longer rose with his breathing.

Arothis stared at the body of Hurimm, whom he had grown fond of during this expedition, for a moment, then began to walk briskly down the hill. He had taken only a few steps when a strange scratching sound came from behind him, stopping him. He turned and froze in horror. The hairs on the back of the mage's neck stood on end as he watched the Huntsman's body rise from the ground. Nearby, the decaying corpse of a soldier clumsily tried to do the same. A little further behind them, at the edge of the forest, stood a figure in dark robes, a wide hood shading his face.

The mage shook off his astonishment and with a single decisive gesture, flung the corpses approaching him aside.

"Now I know what so terrified the forest's inhabitants," the mage muttered, pointing his staff at the necromancer standing beneath the trees.

The mage didn't have time to use his staff because at that very moment, his dark robe fell away, and a pitch-black raven flew from beneath it, soaring high into the sky. Arothis quickly unslung his bow from his back, pulled an arrow from his quiver, and in one fluid motion, drew and then released the string. The stories that he had triumphantly entered the contest with the Huntsmen, wielding the bow better than many of them. High above, a piercing cry rang out, and the raven with a pierced wing began its descent with increasing speed.

Shading his eyes from the sun, Arothis watched the falling bird when suddenly he felt a searing pain through his entire body. He stared in surprise at the blade protruding from his chest. He struggled to his feet and turned toward the Huntsman, who held the bloody weapon. The mage looked into his friend's dead eyes and collapsed to the ground.

The necromancer in raven form had already fallen to the ground. The newly resurrected undead calmly plunged his sword into the fallen mage once more, then, without waiting for the man to stop crawling and expire, approached the bird thrashing in the grass. He gently lifted it from the ground and walked to the edge of the forest, where the green-haired dryad was waiting. Above her head, several other ravens perched on a tree branch. The woman carefully picked up the wounded bird, cradled it to her chest, and plunged into the forest. The undead followed her.

The birds on the branch, cocking their heads comically, watched the snarling, blood-spitting man, who with feeble movements was still trying to remove the firmly embedded blade from his chest. A moment later, with a loud flutter of wings, the ravens rose from the tree, heading towards the dying mage.