“Now, a rogue Faye making a mess in the mortal world wasn't something we Wardens raised an eyebrow at. However, when the land suffers, the Faye reflects it. Balance is of the utmost importance, and something was upsetting that balance for a reason I didn't want to think about. Like I said before, Wardens keep the balance, and something was disturbing that. My plan did involve me upsetting that balance, but only for a short while. In the grander scheme of things, balance would be restored. At least that was the hope.

  “As I walked in the rain, my mind drifted to dark thoughts. Thoughts of what could possibly be going on. I had a loose idea, but I didn't know for a fact. As my mind wandered, my feet led me back out of town and to the top of the hill. In front of me sat the moonstone and the overgrown woods.

  “‘Well, woodwalk probably means woods,’ grumbling aloud, the chill in the air grew colder as I proceeded deeper into the woods. My feet passed overgrown roots of narrowed trees. Their arms reached down, trying to scrape my face in the wind. The place was steaming with old magic, the kind of magic that teaches the trees and gives them true names. These woods were old, and I needed to hurry. Wandering deeper, I became vaguely aware that I was being followed. As I continued, that feeling only grew hotter in my chest. I drew nearer to a dilapidated stone structure in what I figured was the heart of these woods. I decided then it was there I needed to be.

  “After a moment, I came to the edge of a canopy. There, I was greeted with the remains of the outer wall of what seemed to be some sort of watchman’s post. Turning, I brandished my sword, revealing its nakedness in the dim gray light. The sword's name is Dusk: a long blade that thinned and blackened toward its tip. I waited a half breath before I spoke.

  “‘I am not some wandering peasant fool, and I'm not untrained. If you plan to take me down, you will not have an easy time making a meal out of me.’

  “The birdsong in the surrounding area stopped, and the wind died down. The forest grew unnaturally still, but no response came.

  “As I turned my back to continue forward, the wind picked up around me, and I heard power being spoken into the air. Not as if someone was speaking from a distance, but rather the voice hummed all around me like the wind itself. It filled the space with its desire, and the forest obeyed its will. Narrow human-like creatures, dripping with shadow, began a slow and macabre journey toward me.

  “In the gray light, I saw their vine-covered husks of past humans who had died in these woods. Their mouths and eyes were empty, with shadowy vapor pouring out of them. They moaned; the sound was the same as the wind.

  “Now, in my defense, for all the wonder and power the summer mantle provides me, I've had to redirect the majority of its focus on the curse the armor produced. This forced me to rely on my daring and finesse. In short, I saw more than five enemies, and I ran. My feet pounded against the wet earth, heading deeper into the dilapidated stone structure. I heard one of them gaining on me and jumping toward me.

  “I took a sharp turn into what used to be a hallway. Spinning on my heel, I kept my sword in front. My best chance was the minor choke point. The first one stumbled into the hallway and moaned. Then, it lunged at me, unnaturally fast.

  “Dusk sang as I thrusted once at the creature. It struck the creature's chest, arresting its momentum. I was rusty, but I knew I did not have any time, flicking the blade a few more times. It danced across its body up through its face, dismembering it completely. I was not quick enough; the second one was already on the heels of the first one and raked its wooden claws across my chest. The plus side of having this armor that won't remove itself is the permanent protection. Sparks colored the world for a moment as the attack ricocheted off.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “Stumbling backward, I found my footing and kicked the second one through the wall, stabilizing myself on the back swing. This was some powerful will that was able to fill all the space between and animate the wind, forcing it to puppet the echoes of the dead. Another one rounded the corner and jumped, scrambling around me like a spider. Once on my back, it bit down on my pauldron. I heard the sound of its jaw breaking as it tried to rip through the armor. Grabbing it from behind, I threw it on the stone floor in front of me just before another one tackled me to the ground. The floor gave way from the force of our weight. It and I, and I'm sure a few others, fell into the darkness beneath.

  “We fell for a breath or two, and then I felt a hard crunch. I lay prone on the floor staring up, afraid to move until I realized the hollow men broke my fall. As I got up, the light above illuminated the darkness. My mind raced with the narrowing possibilities of who would be able to do something like this. It couldn't be just a simple ‘seek and destroy’ evil Faye. It had to be a big and strong evil Faye.

  “The air was still and quiet here. As I struggled to think, I noticed the creatures around me didn't rise. Probably because the wind wasn't present here in the underground, so the spell lost its effects. Falling over a few times, I finally was able to extricate myself from their shambled bodies. I drew in a breath and took in the space. I filled the tip of my sword with the Summer Warden's power and held the blade aloft to illuminate the room further. It came to life in the dim glow. It was stone and held large, circular wooden barrels. I was in some sort of wine cellar.

  “Walking over to one of the barrels, I turned a spout and poured some out into my hand to taste it. It wasn't wine, it was old barley mead. Almost completely distilled alcohol at this point. I kept the tip of my blade far away from the barrels.

  “I scanned for an exit, and my eyes landed on some stairs at the end of the cellar leading up. Moving cautiously, I made my way up the wooden steps, opened the hatch, and peeked out slightly.

  “A quick glance revealed a hallway connecting to an old pantry. Slinking my way out, I walked into what seemed to be a kitchen, and at the other end, another hallway. Moving forward, I noticed old, molded carpet still lined the walkway, while dilapidated stone walls tried to keep the freezing wind at bay. Rain still poured down, leaking only a few drops from the roof. This place was old and well built, but had no true identity in its bones. Everyone who had ever cared for it was gone. All its stories and memories were leaking out of it. In a few more decades, this place would be nothing more than a pile of rubble; utterly forgotten.

  “I played back the information I had. Something old and powerful summoned the wind and bent it to its will. It's not like the Winter Warden to send minions; however, I also haven't seen him in a few hundred years. If anything, it was just poor sportsmanship. Screaming broke me from my thoughts.

  “Skulking around corners, I passed a few more stone hallways and was met with an open archway where a door should have been. Stretched out in front of me was what used to be a courtyard, now claimed completely by wildlife. An old birch tree loomed over a gruesome scene.

  “Bloody symbols were carved into the tree while bodies hung from its branches with their chests ripped open. These bodies looked butchered in the same way the hollow men were. At the base of the tree was a man in dark blue armor with stag antlers adorned as horns on his helmet. Fox fur wrapped around his neck, once gray, now bloody and matted. The tall, imposing figure was faced away from me, holding a man by his ribs. I heard the sound of snapping bones and flesh being ripped from his body. A word was spoken, and one of the branches leaned down and gripped the body by its neck, pulling it up to join the rest. The man was still conscious for a few more seconds while the tree choked the life out of him.

  “The Stagman turned away from the altar and faced the doorway where I stood, my mouth agape. His piercing eyes bore into me wildly, with a steely, cool white hatred. His fists were full of the bowels of the now-dead villager. Blood caked his arms up to his elbows. He turned and placed a series of organs on the stone table and began to arrange them ritualistically. I hardly recognized him. It was the Winter Warden. The level of dark magic he was dabbling in wasn’t something I wanted to find out about. Now that I saw it, I couldn’t help but freeze in stunned silence.