The group kept traveling, boots crunching through the snow, but as they did, an odd feeling pressed against the air. Himmel slowed to a halt, his instincts sharpening like drawn steel."Something is watching us," he murmured. "Like a pack of them."
Their eyes widened. They all knew they were never truly alone in these lands, but this—this felt intimate. Predatory. The wind carried a silence too heavy to be natural. Their trek became more cautious, every step deliberate, every breath visible in the chill.
The path funneled them into a narrow valley. Sheer walls of rock rose on both sides, streaked with ice and shadow. It was a place meant for ambush—one way forward, none back. But luck—or perhaps mercy—offered a small solace: an indent along the cliff face, a shallow alcove capped with rock. Not much shelter from the storm, but enough.
Himmel crouched, sparks flying as he struck stone to steel. Soon a frail fire shivered to life, its orange glow painting trembling shapes across their faces. They huddled close, wrapped in cloaks stiff with frost.
"Are they still following us?" Recon asked quietly, his hand hovering near his bowstring.
Himmel turned a skewer of meat over the fire, grease sizzling. "Yup. And they aren't animals. I'm cooking level-three rhino meat—anything wild would've come for it already."
Beside him, Gumbo whimpered, eyes fixed on the roasting flesh."Don't you worry, Gumbo," Texan said, softening his tone. "We got other stuff." He fed the little rhino strips of hare meat and bits of smoked jerky, rubbing its small horn with a thumb.
Recon tightened his grip on his bow, the wood creaking. "So, are we just gonna ignore the guys following us?"
Himmel's voice was calm, controlled. "We won't fight unless we have to. They're probably another party—just making sure we're not a threat." He took a bite of the gamey meat, the taste smoky and tough. "We'll sleep in our usual two-hour shifts. Make sure they don't try anything."
The group ate in silence, the fire's warmth soaking into their bones. Himmel took first watch, sitting apart with his back to the flame. The valley stretched endlessly before him—white, silent, unforgiving. He looked up at the stars glinting through snow clouds and whispered to himself, "Where is the Lotus? Why my heirloom? Dad's probably expanded the village by now… I might even have a little brother."
Night fell away into gray morning. They packed up and moved deeper through the valley, hoping it would lead all the way to the coast. Only one more mountain stood between them and open land.
But the feeling didn't leave. It grew sharper. Heavier. The air thickened until Himmel could almost taste the hostility.
"Fuck—their bloodlust is leaking," he hissed. "Would you guys rather fight here or turn around?" His hand slid to his sword.
"We can take 'em," Texan said confidently, cracking his knuckles.
"Yeah, I'm down." Recon's bow was already in his hands, an arrow notched.
Himmel scanned the snow around them. The landscape was open, barren, perfect for enemies to hide beneath the drifts. He had no idea where they were, but instinct screamed direction. He pointed and shouted, "I know you're hiding! Come out and fight!"
The moment his voice echoed through the valley, snow erupted."They knew where we were! GET THEM!"
In an instant, thirty armed men burst from the drifts, their armor glinting like shards of metal. Nets whistled through the air—dozens at once—wrapping the trio in a tangle of ropes and weights. Himmel's sword clattered away; Recon's arrows spilled. Green smoke hissed from three small canisters rolling to their feet.
"Fuck," Himmel muttered, eyes blurring. The gas crawled into his lungs, heavy and sweet. One by one, their bodies went slack.
Himmel awoke to the sound of dripping water and the ache of iron. He blinked into dim light. Cold stone surrounded him, and iron bars gleamed before his face. The air smelled of rust and damp moss. A narrow corridor separated him from another cell—inside sat a woman, motionless. He reached for his axe, but his hand met nothing but rough cloth. His weapons—gone.
"Recon? Texan? Are you here?" Himmel whispered.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm here," Texan's voice groaned out from a cell further down.
A thud followed. "Fuck—that hurt," Recon grunted. He'd tried ramming the bars.
"Damn… we're really stuck in here," Texan sighed, lying flat against the cold floor.
"Excuse me," Himmel said, turning toward the woman in the cell across from him. Her lips were cracked, her face scarred, but her eyes—human eyes—still carried a spark of fight. "Do you know where we are?"
"In the side of a mountain," she said dully. "And we're basically dead." Her voice was calm, the hopeless kind of calm.
Recon cut in, "So how long y'all been in here?"
Another voice answered from deeper within the shadows, high-pitched but kind, though her eyes were hollow. "About a month. For a while we were used for service, and they fed us. But three days ago, my leader down there broke one of them. Since then, we've only been given water."
Himmel looked again at the first woman—massive, broad-shouldered, easily larger than him. Her muscles were carved deep, even now after starvation. Her will hadn't cracked; her defiance burned quietly in her posture.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor—steady, dragging. "Hey, who allowed you all to speak so much?" The guard's voice cut through the dark. His blade scraped the bars as he passed, metal screaming against metal.
Texan noticed the man's face in the torchlight—kinder than the others, hesitant. He decided to gamble. "Hey there," he said softly. "Look, we're really weak. Can't you just let us out? We promise to forget this place and leave."
The guard hesitated, his kind expression clouded with fear. "No. You can't leave. You're a siren, he's a beastman, and that orc there…" He nodded toward Himmel. "…he's the most terrifying of all."
"Look, really, just let us leave and we'll never come back," Texan pressed, his voice lilting, melodic—his siren charm seeping into the air like warm honey.
The guard blinked hard, then turned away. "That won't work on me. I've been trained to resist sirens. Sorry. You'll starve here and die." He walked off, settling into his distant watch post.
Silence followed, broken only by the wind howling faintly through cracks in the stone.
"If we're gonna die," Himmel said with a dry smile, "Texan, can you sing us some tunes?" He lay back, strangely calm, the faint glow of the torches flickering across his eyes.
Texan frowned, but nodded. Then he began to sing.
"I thought I heard the old man say:Leave her, Johnny, leave her.Tomorrow you will get your pay,and it's time for us to leave her.
Leave her, Johnny, leave her,Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her,For the voyage is long and the winds don't blow,And it's time for us to leave her...*"
His voice filled the chamber—melancholy, echoing off stone, weaving through bars. The women hummed softly; even Recon, curled up against the wall, stilled. Himmel closed his eyes, listening.
Days passed. Seven of them. The songs changed. His voice grew weaker, the verses slower, each word heavier with sorrow.
"I dreamed a dream the other night,Lowlands, lowlands away, me John...My love, she came, dressed all in white,Lowlands away...
I dreamed my love came in my sleep,Lowlands, lowlands away, me John—hey—Her cheeks were wet, her eyes did weep,Lowlands awa... coughcough..."
His last verse trembled, fading into silence.
Then came shouting. Not from the prisoners—but outside. The sound of metal clashing. Orders screamed.
Himmel's eyes darted to the large woman. Just as he suspected, her eyes glowed brighter now—vivid gold burning through the gloom. Something was happening.