Landre stood by the inn window. Karth's scenery reminded her of Elnor—the same view she'd had from her own room. But memories of home felt distant after what they'd witnessed.
"Another village gone," Landre spoke quietly.
"There was nothing we could have done," Imelda responded, while reviewing her notes. She continued, "From what we gathered, something from the mine had slowly been infecting the villagers, until that day, they all turned overnight."
They could hear Sarvin's movement right outside the closed door, guarding. Vigilant—a constant reminder of the danger they faced.
"What should we do?" Imelda asked, looking up from her parchment.
Landre walked away from the window and sat on the inn's bed. The mattress creaked beneath her weight. Her shoulders felt heavy with responsibility, with the knowledge of what they'd seen.
"We should report to the nearby church today, asking for help and return to Snowhaven as soon as possible."
"I shall bring the report right away. Sarvin will stay here as usual," Imelda nodded, gathering her materials.
They heard Sarvin's muffled voice from outside the room, he seemed to be asking someone.
"—Whose is it from?"
"A messenger has arrived, carrying a sealed letter. It's from Lona," someone's voice said. "For Saint's eyes only."
Sarvin opened the door with a letter in his hand and entered the room.
He handed over the letter with a small bow. After closing the door, Landre examined the sealed parchment, noticing an unfamiliar insignia pressed into the wax.
"Eliander's house?" Landre murmured, tracing the emblem with her fingertip.
"High Priest Eliander from Morya's sect?" Imelda leaned closer, peering at the seal with narrowed eyes. "Why would they—"
Landre broke the seal and unfolded the parchment, her eyes immediately drawn to the first line. Her breath caught in her throat.
Lan-neechan. I wish I could give you this message in person, but I hope this letter finds you in safety.
Only one person called her that. Vel. Her little brother's handwriting stared back at her, bringing both comfort and concern. How had he known where to find her? And why was he using the Eliander house seal?
I was curious about your assignment regarding the 'strange illness' from the north village. Couldn't help but hear some rumors. It seems that my sister has gotten into another problem bigger than herself.
Landre's fingers tightened around the edges of the parchment. Typical Vel, always worrying about her when she should be the one protecting him. But something in his tone made her heart beat faster—he knew something.
As much as I want to write about many things, I don't want to make the letter too long.
Alukah is the name of the creature. A mythical creature that has only been mentioned in Jules's ancient texts.
Landre felt her blood run cold. The name resonated within her like a distant bell, something she should recognize but couldn't quite place. Jules's ancient texts—those were rare scriptures, accessible only to the highest church scholars. How could Vel possibly know about them?
She glanced up at Imelda, who was watching her face with growing concern.
"What is it, Saint Landre? You've gone pale."
Landre's hand trembled slightly as she continued reading. Each word from Vel carried implications she didn't want to consider—how much danger he'd put himself in to find this information, and how much worse the situation must be than she'd thought.
"Sarvin, Imelda—come closer. You need to hear this," Landre called, her voice steadier than she felt.
Sarvin stepped away from the door while Imelda moved beside Landre on the bed. The crusader's armor clinked softly as he positioned himself at attention.
"Alukah is a creature of the night," Landre read aloud, her finger tracing each word carefully. "A winged monster that flies out at night, hunting for prey. They don't consume their prey right away, instead biting them. Once bitten, it can slowly drain their life force as it rests in its nest."
Imelda gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "The villagers—"
"If confronted," Landre continued, "it's best to fight them in its nest during daytime. If you fight them outside at night, it could escape easily or fly freely, making the fight a lot harder."
Sarvin's brow furrowed. "How does your brother know such specific details about a creature scarcely mentioned in Church records?"
Landre shook her head slightly, uncertain herself, but continued reading.
"It's weak against Light and Fire elements. Once weakened enough, it would switch to offensive, revealing its core where all life force has been stolen."
Her fingers tightened around the parchment. This aligned with her own affinity—Light. Perhaps this was why she had been sent.
"But Lan-neechan, be extremely vigilant. I'm afraid this one has been tainted by the void, an increasing occurrence that has happened lately. Voidtainted creatures evolve. There could be unexpected things. Be careful even if you think you've defeated it."
The void. That darkness she had felt once before, the same presence she had sensed at Snowhaven. Landre felt a chill run down her spine.
"Alukah never herds its victims—they would crumble away in a few days. But if it's keeping them alive, the void must have different plans for them."
"I will find a way to reach you as soon as the tournament ends."
Landre lowered the letter, noticing the small fishing hook symbol drawn in the corner—their childhood signal, a reminder of days spent by the river in Elnor. Only Vel would know to include that.
Sarvin stepped forward, his expression skeptical. "Is the letter trustworthy?"
"Yes," she replied with quiet certainty. "The source is beyond question."
Landre folded the letter carefully. A childhood memory flashed. Even then, he'd possessed knowledge beyond his years.
"I would trust him with my life."
She didn't elaborate further, and neither Sarvin nor Imelda pressed her. Their years together had built a foundation of trust that required no explanation.
Landre rose from the bed, her mind organizing the information. The pieces aligned too perfectly to dismiss—the withered villagers, the abandoned mine, the presence she'd sensed. Vel's warning filled gaps in their understanding that even the Church's records couldn't provide.
Divine Providence worked in mysterious ways; perhaps Shizka herself had guided his hand, for him to come close with such knowledge.
"We must adjust our approach," she said, pacing slowly across the wooden floorboards. The weight of her Saint's robes felt heavier than usual against her shoulders.
She paused at the window, watching morning light spread across the square. What they had witnessed at Snowhaven—those vacant eyes, those withered bodies still moving—haunted her dreams.
"What we encountered there exceeded our capability to confront. Even with this new knowledge, three individuals cannot hope to prevail against such a force."
This would be no longer just church business. If the creature was keeping villagers alive, it meant there was still hope for them.
"We must request assistance from the Royal and the Guild," Landre decided, turning to face her companions.
Sarvin's expression tightened, his hand instinctively moving to rest on his sword hilt. Imelda's quill stopped mid-stroke.
"The Church might view that as... problematic," she said, her tone diplomatic despite her evident concern. "Requesting assistance from other factions could be interpreted as an admission of inadequacy."
Landre stared at Imelda, feeling the weight of her attendant's words. The politics of it all—always the politics. Sometimes Landre wondered if the Church remembered their true purpose was to serve the people, not their own interests.
"This matter transcends factional consideration," Landre said, her voice finding that calm, authoritative tone she'd cultivated over years. "People's lives depend on us acting now, not on preserving appearances."
How many more villages would fall while the Church worried about appearances?
"We must act fast. If what the letter says is true, this creature isn't just hunting—it's building an army. The infection could spread before we know it."
Sarvin shifted his weight, armor clinking softly. His loyalty to the Church warred visibly with his devotion to Landre's safety.
"What shall we call this endeavor in the official records?" Imelda asked, her quill poised above fresh parchment. "An expedition? An inquisition? An extermination quest?"
Landre turned from the window, her decision made. The mantle of Saint settled more firmly on her shoulders.
"First, we send out a report to the High Priest, informing them of the situation and our intention." Her voice grew stronger with each word. "Then I'd like to hold a hearing. I will request the assistance myself if the High Priests hesitate."
In that moment, Landre fully returned to her role as Saint—not the careful political figure the Church had molded, but the protector she'd always wanted to be. She just wanted to safeguard people without navigating politics.
Sarvin and Imelda nodded with utmost respect, ready to follow their duty.
Landre took a last glance at the letter with a slight smile, tucking it carefully into her robes. Vel had always been there when she needed him most.
She straightened her shoulders and moved toward the door.