Elder Rorahn gathers the villagers and explains Marlene’s findings. That there is something disturbing in the granary that stinks of that same mold that surprises everyone again for a second day.

  Before Rorahn finishes, Honep moves through the crowd. “So what is this disturbing sight the widow claims to have seen?”

  Marlene doesn’t mention my name, as I asked. She looks at me now. Her expression towards me has changed since last night. She no longer sees me as a helpless child.

  She opens her mouth to speak, but Rorahn holds up his hand. “I’ve already walked to the granary and seen it for myself.” He takes a step, wobbling with his cane. “I sense a presence there, amongst the mold and rot that fills the building. Something alive and aware, connected to the mold we are finding, but I’m uncertain how.”

  “Then we will kill the monster, whatever it is,” says Honep. He turns to Taren and another hunter, Orlen. “We’ll finish by noon and still have time for an afternoon hunt.”

  Taren trails the two adult hunters as they break from the crowd and walk towards the edge of the village. I follow.

  Once we’re out of sight of the villagers, Taren stops and turns to face me. He says nothing as Honep and Orlen continue on, and he watches them until they are out of sight.

  “You can’t join us, Sevorn,” he says. “I won’t embarrass you in front of Honep, but I will if you keep following. You aren’t a hunter. Go keep Denet and Raimi out of trouble.”

  I must look like the other children to him, though he’s only three years my senior, from what I understand of my age. “And if someone gets injured?” I ask.

  Taren rubs his jaw. “We can handle ourselves. Wait outside the granary. I’m sure you won’t be the only one.”

  “Please,” I say. I need to be ?part of the solution. If I’m bringing this upon the villagers, I must be the one to purge it.

  Honep calls for Taren in the distance. Taren turns and shouts for them to wait, then fixes a hard stare on me. “You listen to what I say, not Honep. No being a hero.”

  I nod. Then he turns and runs. I shadow him. We both reach Honep, who scowls when he sees me with my bow. His mouth opens, but then Orlen taps his shoulder and we all see other villagers approaching.

  With a huff, Honep stomps towards the granary and the rest of us follow. The door is unlocked. Orlen yanks on it and we are overwhelmed by the stench from inside.

  With the door fully open, I can see stacks of grain along one wall and a hayloft filled to the brim. All the hay is discolored, and the bags of grain stained black.

  Orlen enters first. He reaches the middle of the building and looks around. Then he prods one of the rotted bags of grain with the end of his bow. The bag bursts, and Orlen drops his bow in surprise as he leaps away. The bow falls to the ground, covered in grey-green spores from the bag.

  Honep has his bow out, as does Taren. I arm myself as well, nocking an arrow in anticipation.

  Orlen retreats from his spore-covered bow, where a creeping discoloration appears before our eyes: the spores are eating the wood. The bowstring snaps next, slashing another rotten bag, which spews another batch of spores.

  Honep releases an arrow, which bursts a bag of grain. “Take out the bags first,” he says.

  Taren and I join Honep in bursting spore-filled bags, one after another. Soon a greenish mist of spores obscure our vision as they slowly float to the ground.

  Orlen stands beside us, dagger drawn, waiting to see the result of our barrage.

  Honep holds up a fist for us to stop. “Don’t waste your arrows. Wait until we have a clear shot—”

  A vine, as sickly green as the spores, lashes out from nowhere and snags Orlen’s leg. The man cries out as he’s ripped from where he stands and pulled into the spores, deeper into the granary.

  Honep curses, then a vial materializes in his hand and he slams it on the ground.

  A gale of wind knocks me off my feet and tosses me into the granary. The closest spores disintegrate—the rest blow to the far corners of the room.

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  Before us, on the deep side of the building, grows a bulbous plant with thick green vines, its body touching the granary ceiling. One vine dangles Orlen in the air.

  Rotspore Bulb - Level 14

  I land halfway towards the monstrous plant.

  Taren looses a single arrow, piercing the vine that holds Orlen. The hunter drops near me, his body blistered with black spots. I need to reach him.

  “Don’t be a hero, Sevorn,” Taren calls out.

  I hesitate long enough for Taren to rush past me. Another vine lashes out at him, but he leaps over it and lands next to Orlen. The man stirs, and Taren helps him stand.

  Another vine slashes out, but Taren’s feet glow and the lash bounces off ?him.

  I snatch my bow from the ground and shoot at the bulb. Honep unleashes a triple arrow barrage from behind him, each piercing the monster. The Rotspore Bulb screeches, sounding like a chorus of creaking doors.

  Orlen reaches me and I pause long enough to [Leech Grip] from my pocket moss to heal the hunter's spotted skin.

  With renewed strength, Orlen turns and charges the Rotspore Bulb, throwing his knife and drawing another out in one motion.

  Another barrage of arrows come from Honep, and Taren launches his lightning strike. The bulb reels. Its vines swing erratically.

  I nock another arrow, despite how weak I am, but don’t have time to loose it.

  The erratic dance of vines comes down to sweep the granary floor, catching everyone but Taren. The vines rip us from our feet and slam us into opposing walls.

  Taren’s glow fades. Whatever protection his [Skill] affords him ends.

  A vine swings at Taren and he ducks. The vine stops by me and I latch onto it. I flare [Leech Grip] and the vine withers.

  Seeing how weak the vines are invigorates me. Taren continues to dodge, but he cannot stand long enough to launch his lightning arrow. Orlen’s out of knives. Honep leaps to the side too slowly and a vine wraps around him.

  I drop my bow and snatch my knife. I leap forward and sink it into the vine closest to me, with [Leech Grip] for good measure. Then another. I’m burning through my mana, but vines are disappearing. Soon Honep drops from a withered vine and can launch another barrage.

  But the bulb has intentions for Taren and will not relent. And it must recognizes me as a threat as well, because two vines whip out and knock me into the air. I hit the ground hard. I cannot breathe and something breaks.

  I reach into my pocket for moss and healing, but find nothing. I see the half-drained lump of moss ten feet away.

  Another vine reaches for me, but Orlen jumps on it, wrestling it away.

  Honep appears at my side, holding out a small vial. He won’t look at me, but grunts, “take it already, kid.”

  I take the vial and Honep rejoins the fray.

  There’s vitality in this vial, I can sense it. I open it and drink. My bones knit and I stand again, my stamina and mana restored.

  Honep runs out of arrows, so he pulls out a long serrated dagger and charges. Orlen joins him.

  Taren cannot dodge anymore, his stamina spent. A vine crashes into him and his bow flings from his hands.

  I rush forward, feeling a sense of power within me, not of skill, but of unity. I join the two hunters as we leap over where Taren lays and careen into the Rotspore Bulb.

  Honep slashes at the monster, scoring a deep gash of bubbly-green. Orlen’s fist glows as he slams it against the creature. The bulb falls backward, cracking the granary wall behind it.

  I charge in beside the others. I jab both fists into the wound Honep made, surrounding my hands and arms in the plant-flesh.

  I flare [Leech Grip], disregarding the rush of pain that courses through me as I push every drop of mana through my [Skill].

  [Leech Grip] has reached Level 6.

  The Rotspore Bulb freezes in place, restrained by my [Leech Grip], but only for a second, and my mana depletes. Vitality bursts at the seams within me.

  Taren needs no more time than this. He stands behind us, arrow pulled way back, glowing and sparking before he releases it.

  The explosion of lightning throws the rest of us back. I crash into the wall and the overwhelming vitality within me rushes to heal. The strain lessens, but I’m still overloaded with vitality.

  You have reached Level 4.

  All that remains of the Rotspore Bulb is a mass of black sludge, which melts into the floorboards and vanishes.

  I rush over to Honep and Orlen, healing them both until my extra vitality is gone.

  The four of us look at one another. Honep no longer sneers at me. Orlen thanks me. Taren’s still unhappy with my antics, but can’t say I was in the wrong.

  When we leave the granary, the gathered villagers cheer.

  Honep takes in the praise and seems to be back to his old self. Taren walks off without regarding the gathering. Maybe Honep’s grandstanding bothers him, since he’s clearly the strongest of our group.

  Father Edrine arrives with words of praise, then orders the doors of the granary sealed again. “We must bind whatever has caused this rot and prevent it from returning.”

  Strong runestones circle the whole granary, donated by Edrine.

  As everyone disperses, I hear words of fear for our upcoming winter, with so much of the harvest rotted away, but many are too joyful at our victory to worry.

  ~ ~ ~

  When night comes, I activate [Detect Decay] again. Most of the mold and decay has been eliminated. The village is quiet once again. I expect I will sleep easy.

  But I’m wrong. A pulse like thunder hits me, jolting me from my bed of hay. It does not spawn rot, like the one before, but the pulse feels the same.

  I don’t need a raven to tell me there is more to come.