As dawn broke, the stone roads of Aldenora were shrouded in morning mist.
The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, but three shadows had already entered the city.
Velmorian, Korrin, and Nyla...
Three different beings, walking the same path of fate.
Velmorian’s steps were steady.
Korrin’s, as always, carried a light, sarcastic grace—yet remained alert.
Nyla walked a bit further behind.
Her eyes scanned the streets, reading the expressions on people’s faces.
And those expressions…
Had changed.
Where once the elderly walked with fearful, hurried steps, now they sat in small squares and chatted freely.
There were whispers on the street corners—but not of fear.
Of curiosity, and joy.
“Did you hear? Hogen is dead.”
“Whoever did it… did the right thing.”
“Finally, someone brought justice...”
“They say no one will be threatened in the marketplace anymore.”
Velmorian paused as he overheard the words.
From a window, a child leaned out and shouted to his friends:
“Mom isn’t scared to open her stall anymore!”
Velmorian lowered his gaze.
For the first time, he could feel the echoes of what he had done—not through words, but through sight.
Korrin, sensing his silence, tapped his shoulder.
“You hear that?” he said softly.
“Sometimes the darkness inside you becomes someone else’s light.”
Velmorian didn’t respond, but his eyes were full of meaning.
The road ahead remained cloaked in shadow—but for the first time…
It felt like flowers were blooming beneath their feet.
By the time they reached the city center, the inns had opened and the scent of fresh bread drifted from the bakeries.
Just a few streets away, a man was shouting while reading from a flyer:
“Hogen Found Dead!
The identity of the attacker behind the nighttime raid remains unknown, but the people rejoice!”
Nyla, upon hearing this, smiled faintly.
“Strange, isn’t it? Sometimes one death... means hundreds of breaths find peace.”
Velmorian narrowed his eyes.
“Some deaths are silent. But their echoes last a lifetime.”
Korrin shoved his hands into his pockets and looked up at the sky.
“So… does that mean we’ve earned breakfast now?”
The Howling Badger Inn was as lively as ever.
Tankards clinked, laughter echoed off the ceiling beams.
But at the table tucked away in the back corner, only one person was truly laughing.
Korrin was telling another story.
His hands gestured wildly, sometimes raising his voice, sometimes slapping the table.
“So then the guy turns to me and says, ‘You had five men!’
And I go, ‘Which one didn’t you count?’ Because I didn’t even know three of them myself!”
He laughed at his own joke, clearly enjoying it.
Nyla gave a faint smile. One hand held a cup of mulled wine, the other a pouch of herbs.
She looked focused, yet her eyes occasionally drifted toward Velmorian.
Velmorian, however…
He wasn’t really there.
His gaze was fixed somewhere between his drink and the wooden table.
But in his mind, he was seated at another table.
With himself. And the parchment.
“Should I tell them?
I’m not alone anymore… but this path still rests on my shoulders.
Would Korrin trust me? Would he care?
Nyla… her eyes say so much, yet she reveals nothing.”
He slowly reached inside his shirt,
Fingers brushing against the hidden pocket where the parchment rested.
Its warmth felt different now.
As if it, too, wanted something.
“They’re carrying me.
But can they carry this secret as well?”
Korrin tossed out another line, let out another laugh.
But then he paused.
He had noticed Velmorian’s silence.
“Hey… is this place boring, or is life just that depressing?” he asked with a grin.
Velmorian looked up.
His eyes settled on the faces at the table.
He hesitated.
Then, without a word, he reached for the parchment.
Korrin’s eyes narrowed with curiosity.
“What is it? Some secret treasure map? Let me guess… the X is a trap, right?”
Velmorian lifted his gaze.
There was no sarcasm or hesitation on his face this time.
Only weight—
As if a decision had risen from deep within his soul.
“It’s not a map.
It’s a list.
And by the time I understood what it was… it was already too late.”
He slowly pulled the parchment out and spread it on the table.
Korrin’s grin faded.
Nyla’s eyes narrowed.
“After every death…
A new name appears on the parchment,” Velmorian said, his voice low but firm.
“I don’t choose them. But I’m asked to kill them.”
A stillness settled over the table.
Korrin let out a brief laugh, but this time it was forced.
“So what… it’s like some kind of death list? A prophecy of who’s gonna die next?”
Velmorian shook his head.
“No, it’s not a prophecy. At first, the names seemed predetermined.
But then they changed.
The first name had nothing to do with me…
But the second… never mind.
The truth is, the names appear whether or not I’m connected to them.”
Nyla didn’t reach for the parchment,
But her eyes never left it.
“And you… you follow it without question?”
Velmorian exhaled slowly.
“I question every name.
Every death…
But in the end, they all bring me to the same place.
And if I’m walking this road with you—
You deserve to know.”
Korrin locked eyes with him.
His expression was unusually serious.
“Secrets don’t carry well on long roads, my friend.
But honesty—honesty’s a shield made of stone.
Let’s see if your shoulders can bear its weight.”
Nyla was quiet for a moment.
Then, in a soft, almost playful voice, she said,
“So… how far are you into your little death list, Aldenora’s savior-slash-serial killer?”
Velmorian averted his gaze.
The answer was simple.
But everything behind it was not.
“Hogen was the third.
Forget the first two.
The fourth is next.”
Nyla’s eyes widened slightly.
“So you killed Hogen… just because his name was on that parchment?”
Velmorian’s voice dropped low.
“No. His blood… it was bound to be spilled.
The parchment just told me when.”
A heavy silence settled over the table.
Nyla took a sip of her wine.
The thought on her face was as faint and precise as the stain on the rim of her cup.
The inn remained loud and bustling.
But their table… it stood alone in its stillness.
The parchment lay pale, cold, and quiet.
But then…
That familiar, unsettling stir began again.
Letters appeared, one after another.
The first letter: L
Then A
Then the others fell into place:
Laedra Linn
Velmorian looked at the name.
His brow furrowed slightly.
The name meant nothing to him.
“I don’t know her,” he said plainly.
But at that moment…
Nyla’s breath caught.
She set down her cup—too quickly.
The glass clinked sharply against the wood.
“What… did you say?” she whispered.
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Velmorian turned to her.
“This name—Laedra Linn. Do you know her?”
Nyla didn’t speak at first.
Her gaze was locked on the parchment.
Her lips moved, but no sound came.
Then, finally, a voice:
“Know her?
Of course I know her.
Because of her…
I lost everything.”
Korrin raised an eyebrow.
“Who is she?”
Nyla’s voice lacked its usual mockery.
It was sharp. Clean.
“Laedra Linn… is a shapechanger.
One of those who take more than just faces—
voice, walk, mannerisms—everything.
The people think she’s a healer, a wise woman, a savior.
But I…
I know what she really is.”
Velmorian narrowed his eyes.
“What did she do to you?”
Nyla looked away.
But her voice tremble.
“She tricked me.
Stole my knowledge.
My alchemy formulas, my special mixtures...
And then she branded me ‘dangerous’ and got me cast out of the guild.
But I found things—things I can’t even speak of—trailing behind her.
People still think she’s some kind of saint.
But she’s not.
She’s a parasite.”
Silence fell over the table.
Korrin stayed quiet for a while.
Then slowly turned toward Velmorian.
“So this is… revenge, Nyla?
Or do you really think this name didn’t show up by accident?”
Nyla looked at Velmorian.
There was a fire in her eyes, not new—old. A scar lit up with memory.
“I don’t know.
But if this parchment truly seeks balance...
Then Laedra Linn’s time has come.”
Korrin listened carefully, then turned his gaze to the parchment.
After a long pause, he looked at Velmorian again.
“So killing her… is it the will of the parchment?
Or Nyla’s desire?
Which weighs more?”
Velmorian didn’t answer.
His eyes scanned the folds of the parchment as if searching for something that might still change his mind.
But the writing was already complete.
Laedra Linn.
The name remained.
Not just written on paper, but etched deep into his conscience.
“I don’t know,” he finally said.
“But this time… we have to be careful.
If she’s truly what Nyla says she is… it’s our responsibility to find out.”
Korrin nodded.
His smile carried no sarcasm—just weary acceptance.
“Then we start digging.
But careful. In this city, everyone looks innocent.”
Nyla didn’t speak.
But her eyes were sharp. Her voice, faint:
“I’ll try to find her location.”
—
By the time Aldenora was still yawning in the early morning haze,
Velmorian and Korrin were already on the move.
Nyla had parted ways, deciding to gather information through her own channels.
But Velmorian had his doubts about that solitary search.
Still… he said nothing.
Korrin was, as usual, half-joking, half-focused.
But this time, his laughter was sparse.
The name Laedra Linn had planted a seed of doubt in him as well.
<hr>
First Stop: The Orphanage District
A small building surrounded by old stone walls.
Children were playing out front, while a woman cleaned windows and kept a watchful eye.
Velmorian approached and offered a polite nod.
“This was Laedra Linn’s place, wasn’t it?”
The woman lowered her head.
“Yes… we’re still standing because of her.”
“Have you seen her recently?”
She hesitated.
“She comes at night sometimes. Quietly in, quietly out.
But the children always know she’s been here—
Because in the morning, they find toys on their pillows.”
Meanwhile, Korrin was speaking to a small girl.
Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
“Last night… I saw one Laedra.
But then… there was another one.
And both of them looked at me.”
Korrin’s brows furrowed.
“Two of them?”
The girl nodded.
“One was outside the window… the other was inside.”
Velmorian and Korrin exchanged a glance.
<hr>
Second Stop: The Market Square
An old vendor arranging soaps among bundles of dried herbs spoke up:
“Laedra?
She’s a good woman.
But… on some nights, someone walks the back alleys of the market.
We hear the footsteps, but… there’s no shadow.”
Korrin whispered,
“A person who walks without a shadow is either not real… or hiding from reality.”
<hr>
Third Stop: The Seamstress
“Last month, a child from the orphanage disappeared.
No one says anything but…
One of the children said, ‘Flying Teddy came and took me into my dream.’”
Velmorian froze.
Korrin leaned in slightly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The woman shrugged.
“There are figures... from the children’s dream worlds.
Laedra sometimes turns into them.
Apparently… sometimes into more than that.”
<hr>
As the sun set, the two regrouped.
Plenty of information—no answers.
The sun had retreated from the rooftops, shadows had grown long.
Velmorian and Korrin returned to the inn’s back courtyard, where they had agreed to meet.
But Nyla… wasn’t there.
At first, Korrin just shrugged.
“Maybe she’s still out digging. She’ll be here soon.”
But hours passed.
The air turned chilly.
Street lanterns flickered on.
A sense of unease grew in Velmorian’s chest.
Even Korrin had stopped smiling.
The two began circling the city again.
They checked streets Nyla might prefer, inns, alchemist stalls, spice shops…
But there was no trace of her.
No one had seen her.
No one had heard of her.
Then…
As they walked down a narrow street, a woman and a little girl caught their eye.
The woman’s eyes were tearful—but smiling.
The little girl skipped beside her with a bouquet of wildflowers in her hand.
Korrin gave a polite nod.
“Out for a lovely evening walk?”
The woman stopped, her expression glowing with grateful surprise.
“Yes… thanks to Laedra.”
Velmorian instantly tensed.
“What did you say? Laedra?”
The woman nodded.
“My daughter… she had been burning with fever for weeks.
No healer could help.
But Laedra Linn… she gave her just a few drops of something.
And… look,” she said, brushing the girl’s cheek,
“She’s smiling. For the first time.”
Korrin glanced at Velmorian, then turned back to the woman.
“Where is Laedra’s cottage?”
The woman didn’t hesitate.
“Just outside the city. At the end of the old stone road.
Up a hill.
Red roof, dried herbs hanging out front.
You can’t miss it.”
Velmorian gave a slow nod.
“Thank you.”
The two slowly stepped back.
Their steps were heavy, but steady.
The evening blue had taken hold of the forest.
The stone road had given way to dirt, then to moss-covered steps...
With every step, the shadows grew denser,
and Velmorian’s dagger pulsed as if following the rhythm of his heart.
Korrin brushed a yellow ribbon dangling from a bush.
“This is the place,” he said. “The child’s mother mentioned it. Dried herbs... red roof... this is it.”
The cottage was silent.
The door closed, but a faint light bled through the window.
As Velmorian stepped closer,
a crackling sound came from behind.
A muffled noise...
And then a scream not meant to be heard:
“NYLA!”
Velmorian’s hand instinctively reached for his dagger.
Korrin instantly projected an illusion—footsteps from another direction.
The two darted to the side door of the cottage.
Inside, the scene was far from what they expected.
Nyla lay on the floor.
Claw marks across her arms, her eyes filled with fury and shock.
And across from her...
Laedra Linn.
But not in her usual form.
She had taken the shape of a massive panther—
Midnight-black, with muscles rippling under her fur,
Emerald green eyes,
and silver-streaked sheen.
A low growl rumbled from her throat—
not just physical, but laced with magic.
The panther readied for another strike at Nyla when Velmorian intervened.
Korrin cast another illusion to distract, but the beast didn’t flinch—
it was too smart.
From the ground, Nyla rasped,
“The dagger... use the dagger! Or she’ll take us all one by one!”
Velmorian hesitated.
But in that moment, the panther lunged.
In a final reflex, Velmorian drew the dagger and
thrust upward beneath the beast.
A shriek echoed—
but it didn’t belong to the panther alone.
It held the terror of a human,
the rage of a creature,
and the heartbreak of a woman.
When Velmorian drove the dagger into the panther’s body,
there was no explosion.
No blood sprayed.
Only… time stopped.
His pupils dilated. His breath froze.
The world disappeared.
In its place… came memories.
Velmorian was no longer seeing through his own eyes—
but through Laedra’s.
One morning…
A small child, hands trembling, dropped a piece of bread.
Laedra knelt, meeting his gaze.
“How about apple pie today instead of bread?” she said.
The child’s eyes lit up with joy.
Another scene:
A cold winter night.
Laedra sat beside a feverish child in the orphanage.
In her hands were healing herbs...
But her face was that of another woman.
The child didn’t know who she truly was—
But he wasn’t afraid.
Because she always looked like someone she trusted.
Then, another figure…
Late at night, under a streetlamp, Laedra was speaking with a man.
The man was frightened—Laedra had discovered a crime he’d committed in the past.
But she didn’t threaten him with the knowledge.
She simply remained silent…
And by morning, the man had vanished.
No one ever found a trace of him again.
Then…
A woman’s voice:
“She got me expelled from the guild! She stole all my alchemical formulas!”
It was Nyla’s voice.
But that moment… wasn’t present in Laedra’s memory.
Instead, there was a shapeshifter quietly looking through Nyla’s notebook.
But her expression was one of pain.
As if stealing Nyla’s formulas was not a pleasure, but a necessity.
A duty.
Nyla had been developing forbidden rituals to enter the Temple of the Dead—
spells that were frowned upon by the guild.
So her formulas were destroyed.
And the one who took them… did so to preserve something darker.
In the midst of the memories, Velmorian was torn.
Laedra did not seem like a malicious soul.
But neither was she honest.
She protected people.
But she used their most vulnerable moments.
She helped the innocent.
But she had long forgotten her own true face.
The visions slowly faded.
Only one thing remained—
a whisper:
“You cannot be our heir if you do not know whom you’ve killed.”
Velmorian opened his eyes.
The dagger was still in his hand.
The panther’s eyes had dimmed.
But they held no pain.
Slowly, Velmorian stood.
His hands still trembled.
The final shadow shimmer on the blade faded away.
He looked down—
The panther’s body lay still, Laedra’s last form now no more than a silhouette.
Korrin approached in silence.
His eyes were friendly, but questioning.
“What did you see?” he asked.
Velmorian lifted his gaze.
There was conflict in his eyes—anger, regret, emptiness...
But most of all, weariness.
“I can’t quite tell what was right or wrong anymore,” he said quietly.
“But I know this much—
she didn’t deserve to die.
At least... not like this.”
Korrin fell silent for a moment.
Then his eyes scanned the room.
“Where’s Nyla?” he asked.
No answer.
Because at that moment, Velmorian realized it too.
Nyla was gone.
The back door was slightly ajar.
She had slipped away like a shadow.
Velmorian cursed silently—
At Nyla.
At himself.