The sign of Meadows Rise swayed gently in the morning breeze, its hinges creaking. A golden stag stood painted across the weathered wood in elegant, sweeping strokes that caught the early light.
From behind the shuttered windows drifted the muffled clatter of pots, the low murmur of voices, and the steady rhythm of a town already waking to its day.
Meadows Rise was the Central District's pride—a three-storey inn and tavern that felt like a second home to half the town. Even at this hour, activity hummed inside: guests stirring from their rooms, locals grabbing quick meals, and a handful of overnight drinkers nursing their final mugs before heading home.
Kalv pushed through the heavy door at last.
The little bell overhead chimed brightly as warmth washed over him in a thick wave, carrying the rich scents of simmering stew, frothy alcohol, and well-oiled wood that had soaked up years of good company.
Inside, the tavern gleamed with spotless care—barely a speck of dust anywhere, a far cry from the rougher places down in the lower districts.
The wooden beams and tabletops shone from daily polishing, while monster trophies and colourful banners adorned the walls as proud trophies of the tavern's owners. Lanterns hung from walls and rafters, each one cradling a small Luminary Shard that cast a steady amber glow throughout the hall, accompanied by their soft, constant hum of essence.
A few regulars occupied the scattered tables, hunched over early breakfasts or speaking in quiet tones—the tavern's quiet pulse before the real rush began.
"Kalv! There you are!" a cheerful voice rang out.
A young woman hurried over from behind the bar, her amber ponytail bouncing behind her.
She stood just shy of his height, her tavern-maid dress crisp and freshly pressed, the fabric hugging her figure in a way that always made his thoughts scatter.
"Morning, Reen," Kalv replied, flashing her a warm smile. "You're looking… really bright today."
Reen's whole face lit up, her grin so genuine it seemed to pull sunlight into the room with it. She fiddled nervously with the hem of her dress the moment he was near, a habit he had noticed more than once.
They stood there for a moment in that familiar pocket of awkward silence, the kind that always stretched just a little too long between them.
"Um… Kalv, I-I was wondering—since I haven't seen you around much lately… would you maybe—"
Her brave little rush of words faltered as a sharp voice barked up from the open trapdoor cut into the floorboards near the counter.
"Reen, who is it? Bring the guest in—stop lazin' about up there!"
Reen recovered with a quick laugh. "C'mon, Momma will be glad to see you!" She reached out and took his hand, then led him toward the open hatch.
The floorboards creaked under their combined weight. From the cellar below rose violent rattles of wooden barrels and clinking metal tankards—the tavern's well-stocked heart for alcohol and supplies.
Kalv leaned forward, trying to peer into the tavern's depths, but the darkness simply stared back, thick and cool.
"Good morning, Mrs Lasen," he called down politely.
CLUNCK!
BANG!
"Gah! Sod it all! That damn bastard never sorts this bloody storage out properly!" A string of muttered curses followed, mixed with the crash of shifting crates.
Reen and Kalv exchanged a quick, knowing glance. She clasped her hands behind her back and swayed side to side, her grin turning playfully sly. Kalv felt heat rush to his cheeks and quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.
When he glanced back, Mrs Lasen was already halfway out of the hatch, broad-shouldered and beaming at him with that no-nonsense warmth only she could pull off.
A heavy thump announced her full arrival as she hauled herself up. The scent of woodsmoke and rich malt rolled out with her.
Her blonde braid swung across her back, arms thick and powerful like a seasoned blacksmith's, old scars catching the lantern light as she straightened to her full height.
"Kalv! Good to see you, lad! Where've you been hiding yourself these last few days?" she boomed.
"You haven't forgotten this little, lonely, middle-aged woman, have you?" she teased, leaning hard into the words 'middle-aged' with exaggerated drama.
"Ah, no—of course not!" Kalv stammered. "I've just been pulled onto extra guard shifts—"
His explanation vanished as the much taller woman yanked him into a crushing bear hug that lifted his boots clean off the floor. Even years into retirement, she still carried the raw strength of her old adventuring days—the kind that made rowdy drunks think twice before causing trouble.
"Haha, I'm only teasing, love," she chuckled, setting him down with a solid thud.
She leaned in close to his other ear, away from Reen's view. "Now… tell me—when's the wedding, hm?" she whispered, her voice a perfect mix of mischief and genuine curiosity.
"Wha—Mrs Lasen, please don't tease me like that!" Kalv protested, his voice cracking with embarrassment.
"Say, Kalv… were you here just to see… me?" Reen asked softly, pressing her fingertips together in hopeful expectation.
His mind finally snapped back through the flustered haze. "Ah! I completely forgot—Yulan, Kael, and Sun! We were supposed to meet here. Are they in?"
"Ah, those three? They're tucked away in one of the private rooms upstairs. I let them have it since things are still quiet this early. First floor, down the corridor, last door on the right," Mrs Lasen answered with a knowing wink.
"Thank you! I'll—uh—catch you both later!" Kalv blurted, seizing the excuse like a lifeline and hurrying off toward the stairs before the teasing could intensify any further.
The two women watched him go, then turned to each other.
"You'll have to try harder than that, love, or you'll scare the poor boy off for good," Mrs Lasen advised, her tone warm with motherly wisdom.
Reen's shoulders sagged in quiet defeat, a small sigh escaping her.
Behind him, the tavern swelled back into life—mugs clinking, voices rising in easy laughter—while he slipped down the narrow corridor with his pulse still refusing to calm.
—— ❖ —— —— ❖ —— —— ❖ ——
Kalv eased the door open and stepped inside the private room, careful not to let it creak too loudly.
Morning light filtered through the half-closed shutters, slicing the space into warm golden bands and soft shadows. His three companions sat around a low wooden table at the centre, each caught in their own quiet thoughts.
Yulan looked up first.
The natural-born Dawnish man was the oldest of their group by a handful of years. His cream-toned skin, short dark-brown hair, and neatly trimmed light stubble gave him the steady, reliable air of an older brother everyone could count on.
Kael lounged back in his chair, boots casually crossed on the table's edge. Half Dawnish and half Veythari, he wore his jungle-born heritage proudly: sun-bronzed skin, long white braided hair that paired along with his exotic, golden eyes—striking enough to keep the local girls whispering whenever he passed.
Sun sat with perfect posture, the straightest-backed of them all. A full-blooded Seraphel from the Sea Kings' line, she had sleek black hair that framed her delicate, pointed ears and accentuated her quiet, ethereal beauty.
All four were off-duty today, dressed in plain civilian clothes that let them blend into the town without drawing attention.
"Kalv, you took your sweet time! You nearly missed the whole meeting," Yulan said in that familiar elder-brother tone, half scolding, half fond.
Kalv dropped into the last empty seat, still catching his breath.
Kael cocked one eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Ah, spare him, Yulan. The poor sweetheart probably needed extra time to feel someone's warmth after too many lonely patrol nights."
Sun's soft laugh chimed from the comment.
Kalv groaned and buried his face in his hands. "I've had enough teasing for one morning, honestly."
Sun leaned her elbows onto the table, her eyes narrowing with gentle concern. "Kalv, Reen really is a sweet girl. She seems completely taken with you—you shouldn't brush off her feelings so lightly."
Kalv glanced aside, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. "It's not that… It's just… my eyes have already fallen on someone else."
Yulan sighed and shook his head at the familiar romantic tangle threatening to derail their gathering.
"Right. Let's move on to more pressing matters now that we've sorted out Kalv's tragic love life and his completely hopeless crush on the captain."
Kalv shot him a deadpan glare.
Yulan unrolled a well-worn map across the table, weighting the corners down with nearby mugs.
"The captain's been run off her feet this week, stamping out rumours and keeping everyone calm. We've all patrolled with her—we've seen how jittery the whole town's become."
He tapped the parchment firmly, the sound muffled beneath the lantern's steady glow.
"Travellers and traders coming through have been talking about strange groaning in the forests, especially around Tree Grave."
Kael leaned forward, his long white hair sliding over one shoulder. "You mean that thing?"
Yulan nodded once, expression turning serious.
"It's been years since the Gaunturala showed this much activity. If the rumours hold any truth, our borders could be in real trouble—especially if the beast decides Brisden would make a fine new nesting ground."
He exhaled slowly and glanced at Sun. She answered with a calm nod, resting her fingertips lightly on the map's edge.
"During my last shift," she said, voice steady but laced with quiet focus, "witnesses reported the mist growing thicker. Changing colour, too. There's no doubt it's spreading from the Forest of Madness—what the Guild officially calls the Blue Mist Forest."
Her finger traced the forest's jagged outline on the parchment. "People are describing hallucinations now: shapes moving where nothing should be… statues that seem to walk between the trees."
She paused, letting the weight of her words settle.
"The Guild might have to start issuing fresh contracts for full cohorts just to slow the advance—if slowing it is even possible."
A soft sigh escaped her, the burden of the problem visibly pressing on her slender shoulders.
Kalv leaned in closer, eyes bright with curiosity. "Kael, what about that witness who swore she saw an actual demon?"
Kael released a long breath through his nose.
"Her name's Alara—daughter of one of the foresters, an herb gatherer. The council dismissed her as delirious, but I tracked her down myself."
Kalv smirked. "Of course you did."
Kael shot him a quick glare and rubbed his temple. "At first I thought the council was too harsh. But after hearing her story…" He hesitated. "I can't really blame them. She was shaking so hard I thought she might collapse. And the way she described what she saw—it didn't sit right at all."
The other three exchanged uneasy glances. A true demon sighting was not something easily mistaken.
Kael lifted both hands in a helpless shrug.
"She didn't see much. Just a man eating meat beside a burnt-out campsite. Said he looked… wrong. Off. Demonic. He even tried speaking to her. She panicked, hit him with a Gust Palm, squeezed her eyes shut, and ran home screaming 'demon' the whole way."
From the tavern floor below drifted the ordinary clatter of cutlery and a single burst of laughter—everyday life pressing against the walls of their quiet, shadowed room like a reminder that the world outside still turned normally.
Yulan stared down at the map, brows furrowed in thought.
Kalv broke the heavy silence first.
"So you're saying she blasted some harmless hermit just because he looked a bit strange?"
Kael grimaced. "That's the simple explanation, yeah. But there's more to it. She mentioned an ice sculpture near the camp—shaped like a twisted tree. Said something was… moving inside it."
Yulan's head snapped up sharply. "An opening?!"
All three spoke at once, voices overlapping in sudden tension.
Kael nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "Could be. Hard to say for sure. But I'd bet she didn't find a demon—just some poor hermit who crossed paths with the wrong frightened girl."
Kalv sank back in his chair with a long, disappointed exhale.
Here I was thinking something genuinely interesting had happened for once…
A chair slammed hard against the tavern floor downstairs.
Shouting erupted, raw and frantic.
"Demon!"
"It's real!"
All four froze mid-breath.
For a single, stretched second, even the tavern's usual hum seemed to vanish completely.
Then Yulan shoved his chair back with a scrape. "Move."
They were already on their feet when the cries rang out again — louder, wilder, rising through the floorboards like one frantic surge.