Rhaine rode into River Hallow with two assistants at her side. Behind them, a contingent of soldiers halted at the town’s outskirts, waiting for orders. She pulled her cloak tighter against the evening chill, her sharp gaze scanning the settlement.
"Brother Orion is expecting me," she said to a nearby messenger. "Inform him that Lady Rhaine has arrived on behalf of the Church."
The messenger nodded and hurried toward the modest stone chapel at the town’s heart. Within minutes, Orion emerged, flanked by Father Lucas. Their robes swayed in the breeze as they approached, their faces unreadable in the fading light.
"I trust your journey was uneventful, Lady Rhaine," Orion greeted, his voice smooth yet measured. He gestured toward the heart of the settlement. "We’ve secured lodging for you and your attendants. The barracks for your men are still under construction, but we’re making progress."
Rhaine dismounted, the leather reins firm in her grip. "The road was safe enough," she replied. "Thank you for the preparations." She turned to one of her assistants. "Gather the soldiers with woodworking experience—we’ll lend our hands to the effort. Our hosts have shown us hospitality; we will return it in kind."
As the assistant moved to relay the order, Rhaine turned back to Orion. Her tone lowered, edged with intent. "Is there somewhere we can speak in private?"
13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIciGMswJ92
Father Lucas stepped forward, his expression calm but purposeful. "We’ve established a headquarters inside the reception hall of the church. You may speak freely there."
Rhaine inclined her head in acknowledgment. Without further delay, Father Lucas led the way.
As they entered, the soft glow of candlelight flickered across the stone walls. Before Rhaine could request privacy, Father Lucas excused himself. "With your leave, I must attend to the townspeople. The arrival of troops will stir concerns—I must ease their minds."
Rhaine barely spared him a glance as he departed, her focus shifting to Orion.
He lingered by the door, hesitating before speaking. "Have we done something wrong?" His voice was careful, but there was an undercurrent of unease. Had they somehow offended the Church?
Rhaine turned to face him fully, her expression unreadable. Then, she shook her head. "Heavens no. You’ve done wonders here." A pause, then her tone sharpened. "Before I left Trandell, I was given new orders. We are not to confront the Usher, Marcus. Our priority has changed."
Orion frowned. "Changed? To what?"
"We are to locate a man named Tyler Langston. He is of vital importance." Her voice held a steel edge. "And he must be dealt with first."
13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡa0JmW89bs9
Brother Orion nodded, though uncertainty lingered in his eyes. "What is his importance?"
Rhaine exhaled and took a seat at the worn wooden table, exhaustion pressing against her shoulders. "He’s the one who started all of this. If we can find him, we can end this once and for all." The weight of the journey clung to her, the road taking its toll. And yet, the work ahead was even more daunting.
Orion listened, but unease stirred within him. There was something off about the Church’s shift in focus. "And what of Marcus?" he pressed. "If we receive word of his movements—what are we to do?"
Before Rhaine could answer, he added, "And what if Marcus kills more people? What does the Church expect us to do then?"
The question gnawed at her. It had haunted her throughout the entire trip. She had been eager for this assignment, but even she had her doubts about the Church’s decree. Still, she wanted to maintain transparency with Orion.
"This will be difficult to hear," she admitted, watching him carefully, "but our orders are clear: we are not to engage Marcus under any circumstances."
Orion’s jaw tightened, his expression unreadable. "And if Marcus comes here?" His voice was measured, but there was steel beneath it. "Does the Church expect us to abandon these people? To let them die?"
Rhaine’s patience thinned. "Say we intervene," she snapped, frustration creeping into her tone. "Say we find Marcus Obsidian before we find Tyler. We destroy him, and there goes our chance." She leaned forward, her gaze piercing. "We could hunt a million Ushers, and countless lives would be lost just in the search alone."
Her voice softened then, the anger giving way to something else—regret, perhaps. "Or, we do as the Church commands. There will be losses. I won’t lie to you, Orion. I am sorry, but the Church has spoken… at any cost."
A heavy silence fell between them.
Orion took a slow breath, forcing himself to nod. "I understand. I will do as the Church and as you say." But deep inside, doubt curled in his chest like a smoldering ember.
The Church was wrong. He could feel it.
13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3ELjfHbBGo
13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGTG9CQMvqH
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfK6LxwsOPv
The playful sounds of children's laughter echoed through the forest, an eerie contrast to the desperate footfalls of John and Estella Lancaster as they fled. The Crimson Mist, a swirling mass of red, darted through the trees, relentlessly pursuing them. Marcus led the charge, the children following close behind, their laughter growing louder as they closed the distance.
"Come back! We want to play!" the children’s voices called out in unison, as though taunting the adults, unaware of the terror they were spreading. Their small hands reached out, fingers brushing the air as they playfully swiped at Estella’s hair.
"Get away from me!" Estella screamed, her heart pounding in her chest. She twisted and turned, trying desperately to shake them off, but the children always seemed to be right behind her, just out of reach. The Crimson Mist moved with them, ever so close, ever so hungry.
John Lancaster sprinted in the opposite direction of his wife, trying to put distance between them. But Marcus was relentless, his pace unyielding, his eyes focused with unnatural intensity. The thrill of the chase was a drug, an intoxicating sensation that Marcus had learned to crave. He could feel John’s fear as it radiated off of him. The fear gave him strength, made the hunt all the more exhilarating.
“I swear it was all that vampire’s idea!” John screamed over his shoulder, his voice breaking with panic. “We were under his control!”
Marcus didn't hear him, the thrill of the hunt clouding his thoughts. The words meant nothing to him. They were just noise. The children’s laughter, now eerie and distorted, filled his senses, driving him forward with even more fervor.
Desperate, John tossed a bag of coins onto the ground, hoping against hope that the offer would be enough to spare his life. “That’s what he paid us for the kids!” he shouted. The words were meant to beg for mercy, but Marcus didn’t care. To him, it was just another plea, another weakness, and he felt no compassion. In the end, the coins were just another game.
The chase continued, the distance between predator and prey shrinking with every breath.
13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrMYWvC4eyW
Estella stood frozen, her breath coming in ragged gasps, the Crimson Mist surrounding her in an impenetrable fog. Her heart pounded in her chest, every instinct screaming for her to run, but she was paralyzed by fear. The children’s voices echoed, soft and twisted, as they circled her.
"What's wrong? Don’t you want a hug goodbye?" they taunted, their voices dripping with innocence and malice.
Tears welled in Estella’s eyes, her desperation making her voice tremble. "Please, I’m sorry. I see that I was wrong! I can make things..." she pleaded, her words breaking off in terror as the children closed in around her.
Before she could finish her sentence, the children lunged, their small hands turning into vicious claws. With a sickening tearing sound, they ripped into her flesh. Estella’s screams filled the air, but the laughter of the children drowned it out, echoing through the forest like some twisted lullaby.
The Crimson Mist swirled around her, lifting her off the ground as the children continued their assault. Estella’s body was torn apart, her flesh shredded by the tiny claws that dug into her like knives. Her blood stained the air, mixing with the sounds of agony and laughter, until finally, when they were done, only her bare skeleton remained, suspended in the mist.
The laughter faded, and the Crimson Mist dispersed, leaving the remains of Estella Lancaster behind.
John Lancaster stumbled, looking over his shoulder to see if the children—or Marcus—were still pursuing him. As he did, his foot caught on a tree stump, and he fell to the ground with a painful grunt. Gritting his teeth, he scrambled to his feet, but the forest around him was eerily silent. No children, no Marcus. He was alone. He allowed himself a brief moment of relief before the pain hit him like a tidal wave.
A green vapor billowed from his chest, seeping out like smoke from a dying fire. His vision blurred as his flesh began to decay before his very eyes. The fear clawed at his insides, and his heart raced as he looked down at the spreading rot. The air smelled foul, thick with the stench of death.
Marcus stood behind him, his sword still dripping with John’s blood. The once-silenced killer now spoke with chilling finality as he drew the blade from John's back." You are going to the worst place imaginable. And it is still too good for you." The sword shifted back to its true form, cold and gleaming with death. Marcus turned, his expression unreadable, and walked away from the crumpled body of John Lancaster, heading back to his children. The thought of what he had done, how he murdered the people of Dren, the children. Deep down inside, Marcus knew he was going to meet the Lancasters again when this was all over. Marcus thought of the innocent blood that stained his hands, he realized something, that it was no coincidence that he found the Orphanage. The children there were innocent, they were killed by monsters as well. Marcus felt a morbid connection to the children.
"Thank you, Father!" the children chirped, their voices filled with a strange innocence as they greeted him.
The Crimson Mist, ever watchful, hovered in the same spot where John and Estella had split apart. The children’s playful voices floated through the mist as they ran toward Marcus, their eyes alight with excitement. "Now, with these bad people gone, we are able to help you!" they exclaimed in unison.
Marcus stopped, his hand instinctively reaching for them. They surrounded him, their tiny arms wrapping around him in a childlike hug. For a fleeting moment, Marcus allowed himself to hold them close. They felt warm, real, almost like the embrace of his son, Conner. The truth of who they were—their twisted, monstrous nature—was irrelevant in that instant.
For a brief, precious moment, Marcus felt the presence of love again. The ache of loss that had haunted him for so long faded, just a little. Even if it was a fleeting illusion, it was enough. For this one moment, the children reminded him of what he had lost, and for the first time in ages, Marcus allowed himself to remember the tenderness of a father’s love.
13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ25l8x7P6i
13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhWmYCUy9s8
Behind the attention of Marcus and the Children, two robed figures hid in the shadowed tree line, watching in stunned silence as the brutality unfolded before them. Neither had been prepared for the vicious carnage. They huddled together behind a large tree, their breath shallow with fear.
One figure’s voice trembled as he whispered to the other, the words weighed down by a palpable dread. "Return to Brother Orion. Tell him we found Marcus Obsidian. He's not alone, and he’s heading towards the town of Stennor."
The urgency of the message cut through the thick air, pushing the second figure into immediate action. Without another word, he turned and sprinted toward River Hallow, his footfalls heavy with the knowledge of what was to come.
ns18.222.193.130da2
