Looking to the left, a short-haired girl sits stiffly in her seat, clearly uncomfortable.

  Looking to the right, a young man in knight’s armour with a dark green cloak sits upright, posture rigid.

  At the centre, a middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed moustache smiles at Finn. “Mr Tess, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Please, have a seat.”

  Standing beside Finn, Emily, who led him up to the third floor, gestures to his chair. Once he sits, she bows to the guests before returning to her duties.

  “I’m Lord Edran Vale, Warden of Mistwood. And this gentleman here is Theodore Brooks, our promising Knight Lieutenant from Osemond.”

  Finn inclines his head slightly. “Warden. Lieutenant. I’ll be blunt. I’m not one for formalities. Why have you called Risa and me here?”

  Edran’s smile doesn’t waver. “I appreciate a man who gets straight to the point.” He gestures towards Theodore. “The Knight Lieutenant was at the scene. He’ll explain.”

  Theodore clears his throat. “Mr Tess, Ms Risa, we’ve asked you here regarding the massacre outside the entrance.”

  “We’ve inspected the magic barrier, and it’s intact. That’s why the predators never breached it. However… something doesn’t add up.”

  He pauses, then continues. “First, why did a pack of predators gather at the border of a human settlement? Was it a mere coincidence? Or was something luring them?”

  “Second, who, or what, killed them? Could a high-ranking mage or swordsman have passed through and taken care of the threat for us? Or… did one or more of the predators turn on the others? We don’t have an answer yet, but if you have any insights, we’d like to hear them.”

  Finn leans back slightly, unfazed. “What does this have to do with us? I’m not good with guessing, mind explaining?”

  Lord Edran Vale folds his hands together. “Mr Tess, I imagine you and Ms Risa are wondering why we summoned you. It’s because of the questions Ms Risa asked Emily earlier.”

  Finn isn’t surprised. The moment Emily mentioned Risa was meeting the warden, he already had his suspicions.

  Edran presses on. “We don’t understand this anomaly, and we can’t afford to overlook any possible clues. That’s why we’re taking every lead seriously.”

  “We hope you and Risa can share more about the shadowy figures you encountered. The more we know, the better we can protect the town.”

  Finn frowns. “You’ve never heard of them before?”

  Theodore shakes his head. “That’s exactly why we need your help… to piece together what we’re missing.”

  Finn glances at Risa, then exhales. “We’ll tell you what we know. But just so we’re clear—we used masking spells and activated a masking stone the moment we left the Labyrinth of the Unknown.”

  “We were careful. Always checking if we were being followed,” Finn says plainly. “We did everything we could to keep them from tracing us back to Mistwood.”

  Risa nods, silent but firm.

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  “And…” Finn adds, “Even if we wanted to bring them here, we couldn’t. Risa and I—we’re not high-ranking magicians. Their power’s way beyond anything we can control.”

  He lets it hang in the air. No drama. Just the truth. There were no ties to ‘them.’

  Edran listens carefully, then nods. “Understood. Your cooperation is appreciated. Your honesty will save us time and effort in solving this mystery.”

  His words are measured, polite, but noncommittal. He isn’t making any promises.

  Finn expected as much. They wouldn’t be easily convinced. And he certainly wouldn’t be getting any reassurances from them—not yet.

  He quickly recounts how he met Inky, describing its overwhelming strength in subduing predators inside the Labyrinth of the Unknown. But he deliberately omits certain details: Plushie’s ability to store items and absorb magic. He doesn’t want to complicate things. Besides, he still believes that Inky and Plushie are innocent.

  His story inevitably brings up Lucille’s team, but that doesn’t concern him. Patrick is already dead. The only magic he demonstrated in front of them was at best on a Scribe or Wizard level—nothing too alarming.

  The warden and the knight lieutenant listen intently, without interrupting. Once Finn finishes, they exchange thoughtful looks.

  “The black smoke… if it’s that strong, how did we not notice it before?” Theodore murmurs.

  “If even A-rank predators couldn’t put a scratch on it, we need to be on high alert,” Edran says grimly.

  “Thank you, Mr Tess. We appreciate your cooperation, and we apologise for the sudden summons. I imagine you and Ms Risa have had a long day. You should rest.”

  Finn catches the unspoken message. They need to discuss their next steps without him and Risa present.

  Taking the cue, he stands and bows slightly. “Understood. Thank you for listening. If you ever need my help, you can find me in the inn.”

  Better that they come to him—rather than Risa.

  Throughout the meeting, Risa barely spoke, letting Finn handle the conversation. It’s only once they step out of the guild that she finally speaks up.

  “Whew. When the Warden asked to see me, I thought I was in serious trouble.”

  Finn shrugs. “We were going to ask about Inky and Plushie anyway. Might as well get answers from the highest authority in town.”

  Risa lets out a breath, visibly relieved. “Thanks, Finn. I was starting to worry I’d stirred up more trouble just by asking around.”

  “It’s nothing,” he says with a confident smile. “Just keep working on your magic. You’ve got The Academy’s recommendation to prep for—leave the rest to me.”

  Her eyes light up. “Got it! I won’t let you down! Let’s meet again tomorrow afternoon? Training ground?”

  He nods. “See you then.”

  —

  A few days earlier.

  Somewhere deep in the predator-ridden labyrinth, a strange black smoke drifts silently through the air. Floating next to it… a dog plushie.

  On the cold stone floor, ten sticks lie in a row, each one struck through.

  The swirling darkness seems… lifeless. As if unsure of what to do next.

  Plushie’s button eyes gleam. It shudders, then spits out an object. A photograph.

  In the picture, a family of three smiles at the camera. The father was a dark-haired knight. The mother, elegantly dressed, was holding a small boy who looked no older than seven or eight.

  A captured moment of happiness.

  Inky holds the photo, studying it. It doesn’t understand what a ‘photo’ is. But something about it is… captivating.

  A heavy silence lingers.

  Then, Plushie’s stubby paw lifts, pointing at the boy.

  Inky doesn’t understand. Plushie usually just floats beside it. But sometimes… it ‘asks.’ And when it does, Inky obeys.

  It scans the faces—the father, the mother, and then… the boy. Plushie’s paw remains fixed on him.

  “Finn… Risa…”

  “Clock… ten sticks…”

  “Where…?”

  Silence. The edges of the two stick figures are blurred against the ground.

  “Human…”

  ……

  “Predator…”

  ……

  “Human…”