Their efforts to gather information in Balta had proven fruitless. Though Calman had expected as much, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. Establishing a clear lead would have been a welcome stroke of luck—something to counterbalance the growing burden of traveling with Thespis. The boy’s arrogance and constant need for attention had worn Calman's patience razor thin, and their mission had only begun.

  To buy himself a moment’s peace, Calman had paid a plain-faced barmaid to entertain Thespis for the evening. The plan backfired spectacularly. After less than an hour of enduring Thespis’s self-aggrandizing stories and relentless condescension, the girl had returned half the coin and stormed off. Not wanting good money to go to waste, Calman had spent the remainder of the night with her himself. To his mild surprise, he’d found the experience quite pleasant.

  As they prepared to leave Balta, Calman’s mind was again troubled by the realization that this was only the beginning of what could be a long trip.

  Their next destination was a tiny, unnamed village halfway to Cabal, tucked into the hills north of the main road. The village didn’t appear on any map Calman had seen, and its obscurity only deepened his unease.

  Thespis saw their mission as an opportunity to assert authority he neither earned nor deserved.

  “Junas!” the boy barked imperiously, waving a dismissive hand. “Fetch and prepare the horses. Quick, now!”

  Though the order was meant to demean, Junas leaped at the chance to escape Thespis’s endless prattle. Calman caught the subtle smirk on Junas’s face as he walked away.

  Sela had been less fortunate. For two days, Thespis had latched onto her, forcing her to endure his ceaseless monologues and increasingly transparent attempts at charm. Calman had noticed her temper fraying and knew she wouldn't hold out much longer.

  Only last night, Thespis had knocked on her door three separate times. Though she'd dismissed him each time with polite firmness, Calman later spotted her slipping out a side door, seeking refuge from his relentless advances. Thespis, oblivious as ever, had finally retired to his room, muttering something about her “needing time to appreciate true greatness.”

  Calman resolved to intervene before things deteriorated further. If Sela snapped—and that was only a matter of time—it would jeopardize her standing in Astiria. Thespis’s vindictiveness would ensure she never received another worthy assignment. Calman had no intention of letting the boy’s inflated ego ruin her promising career.

  The following morning, Thespis arrived at the stables half an hour late, smiling smugly and waving his hand with exaggerated authority.

  “Good, you’ve all arrived early,” he declared, ignoring the glares exchanged among the group. “That’s the type of initiative I like to see in my team.”

  No one responded though Calman caught Sela’s subtle eye-roll.

  “All right,” Thespis continued, unfolding a map he couldn’t interpret. “Are we prepared to depart? Calman, you’ll lead the way. I'm having a devil of a time finding our turnoff. I'd hate to overshoot it and accidentally end up in Cabal.”

  “Aye,” Calman replied, voice neutral. “I’ll find it.”

  “Excellent. Sela, please remain close to me. Should we encounter brigands or any trouble along the road, I’ll need you at my side—for your safety, of course.”

  “Of course, Thespis,” Sela said sweetly. “I’ll stay right behind you.”

  Calman hid his smirk. Sela possessed a rare gift for cloaking contempt beneath a veil of deference. He was grateful he’d brought her along; her patience and sharp wit would be invaluable in the days ahead.

  Calman gave the signal with a curt nod, and the group set off eastward along the road toward Cabal.

  As they settled into a steady rhythm, the oppressive weight of Thespis’s presence loomed over them like a gathering storm. Calman gritted his teeth, silently vowing to complete this mission without throttling the insufferable boy—or at least, getting caught.

  The forest grew darker as dusk settled over the wagon’s resting place. The skeletal remains of its broken frame cast long shadows against the crimson-streaked sky. Calman knelt beside the wagon's rear, studying the damage to the undercarriage. Something about the break in the axle seemed wrong, though he couldn’t put his finger on what.

  Junas crouched next to him, his gaze shifting between the damaged wood and the fading light. “The hopper’s empty. A few boxes with rotted goods, but nothing like the one we’re after. If Rugr and the girl were here, they’ve moved on.”

  Calman frowned. In the mission report, Rugr had mentioned a delay to the ship’s captain, and a broken wagon axle would explain that. Rugr had likely continued to Balta, holding the vessel while arranging new transport. Rugr had paid the captain in full, convincing Calman that Rugr had no intention of returning. Markus’s daughter was a different story. Would Rugr have left her alone to guard the box? That seemed unlikely. But now, almost a month later, her trail had grown cold.

  “They could’ve hidden it,” Junas said, breaking Calman’s thoughts. “Buried it nearby. There’s no way to know without wasting days searching every patch of ground.”

  Calman grunted in agreement, rising from his crouch and dusting off his hands. "No point guessing. Let’s finish scouting the area and move on to the village."

  Thespis and Sela returned from their search in the woods. Sela looked grim, her shoulders tense. "Nothing," she said. "No signs of activity."

  Thespis, however, looked pleased with himself.

  "On the contrary," he said, brushing past her. "We found a perfect spot to camp. It offers a clear view of the wagon, which is ideal for keeping watch. Rugr would have surely discovered it had they remained in the area. Since the area shows no signs of disturbance, I conclude they did not stay in the area for long."

  Sela gave a small sigh of irritation, but Calman stared at Thespis. The boy’s arrogance was grating, but he wasn’t wrong. A skilled tracker might avoid such obvious spots, but the girl might not have been as cautious as Rugr.

  Thespis smiled, basking in his self-proclaimed brilliance. “You see, Sela,” he continued, his tone condescending, “sometimes what’s not there tells us more than what is.”

  Calman fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Very insightful, Thespis," he said. "Your studies have served you well."

  “Of course they have,” Thespis smirked, buffing his nails against the coarse fabric of his cloak. “It’s one of my many natural gifts.”

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  Sela muttered something under her breath, and Junas coughed to cover what might have been a laugh. Thespis remained unaware, too absorbed in inspecting his nails for imagined dirt.

  Calman turned toward the path. “We’re losing light. Let’s get moving before—”

  “Actually,” Thespis interrupted, “we shall stay here for the night. I’m famished; after all, we found the perfect spot. Junas, see to the horses and fetch my bags. Sela, start a small fire. The air has grown quite chilly.”

  Junas shot Calman a look—a mix of disbelief and frustration. “You know it’s going to rain tonight?”

  Calman could feel the moisture in the air, the quiet promise of a downpour. Still, he glanced skyward, the darkening clouds confirming Junas’s warning. “Thespis, staying here is—”

  “Not up for debate,” Thespis cut in, his tone haughty. “This is a decision made for the group’s benefit. Unless, of course, you think you could find a better spot?”

  Calman clenched his jaw, the weight of leadership and responsibility pulling at him. But arguing with the boy was a waste of energy—and daylight. He exhaled and said, “Junas, see to the horses. Sela, skip the fire. We’re better off without the light.”

  Thespis’s lip curled, but he said nothing, turning instead to dig through his pack for a cloak. Sela rolled her eyes behind his back and gave Calman a nod of understanding.

  The group began to settle in for the night, but unease crept along the edges of Calman’s thoughts. The forest's silence wasn’t the natural quiet of evening—it was heavier, oppressive. He glanced around, scanning the treeline. Something about the stillness felt wrong.

  In the fading light, the broken wagon stood like a monument to his frustration. Calman’s gaze lingered on the damaged axle, his mind turning over the puzzle again. Was it indeed an accident? Or had it been sabotage?

  He looked toward the trees again, his instincts prickling.

  Above them, the first drops of rain began to fall.

  The Arraku moved forward with predatory silence, its long, spindly legs flexing at unnatural angles, rising and lowering without a whisper. Each motion was fluid and precise, every joint working in perfect harmony. The sharp tips of its legs touched the ground so delicately that the creature seemed weightless, leaving no trace of its passage.

  Fine, bristly hairs sheathed each leg, twitching subtly, sensing even the faintest vibrations in the air and earth. These soft sensory hairs brushed against leaves and soil, moving in seamless harmony with their surroundings, betraying nothing of their owner’s lethal intent.

  Arraku hunted their prey with uncanny grace, slipping through shadows—a master of stealth. When ready, they burst into sudden, lethal speed, legs snapping forward like loaded springs, closing the gap between shadow and prey in a heartbeat.

  Its curved, scythe-like fangs folded snugly beneath powerful mandibles when not in use. Each fang was serrated and honed to razor-sharp perfection, designed to slice deep into flesh and ensure steady blood flow. Thick amber venom seeped from their hollow tips; its cruelty matched only by its effectiveness. A numbing chill spread from the wound, seizing muscles, clouding the victim’s mind, and leaving them helpless as the toxin worked inexorably toward the heart.

  For larger prey, the Arraku deployed its prehensile stinger, hidden beneath glossy, chitinous plates at the base of its abdomen. These plates shifted with a faint rasp, like a blade drawn from its sheath, revealing the segmented appendage. The stinger was a barbed, iridescent needle, its surface glistening with venom. Upon piercing flesh, this venom overwhelmed nerves, amplifying pain to unbearable heights. As the stinger withdrew, its barbs tore through tissue, leaving jagged, agonizing wounds—often the last sensation the victim ever experienced.

  An Arraku shared a telepathic link amongst its cluster, an intricate network of signals rich with emotion and instinct. Their shared 'vocabulary' consisted of simple commands or identifications, each word overloaded, carrying layered, shifting meanings depending on the context. This connection allowed them to act in unity, their movements and attacks coordinated with deadly precision. A surge of anticipation would ripple through the link, signaling the moment to strike.

  Within the nest, the Spider Queen amplified their telepathic bond. Her will resonated through the network like an unrelenting tide. Her commands were absolute, impossible to resist, and suffused with the immense power of her dark presence. Outside the nest, her influence waned, but a tenuous connection could be maintained when a cluster of Arraku focused together.

  Connection meant everything to an Arraku—clan and community above all. When isolated, cut off from the nest's telepathic web, the silence became unbearable. Without the comfort of its communal bond, the creature descended into "spider madness," a state marked by profound lethargy and deep despair. Gradually, it would lose all motivation, its movements becoming sluggish until it finally collapsed, legs folded beneath its body in a twisted imitation of rest, surrendering to a slow and solitary death.

  As the Arraku moved closer, the clutter cried in unison, Demana.

  Thespis and Sela worked together to build a makeshift shelter against the relentless rain. Their efforts were hurried, but the structure would stand.

  As Calman and Junas fashioned their own, Junas's scowl deepened. His sour mood was on display, an unspoken complaint against Thespis’s idiocy and the downpour that fell from the brooding sky.

  For Thespis, the dreary evening’s circumstances aligned in his favor. The rain's chill drove everyone to seek closer quarters. Calman had forbidden the warmth of a fire, and Sela—beautiful, elusive Sela—was now within arm's reach under their shared shelter. It was an ideal opportunity to press his affections. She had never outright refused him, only deflecting his advances with practiced ease. Tonight, that would change. He would present his intentions, simple and plain, refusing to let her sidestep them again.

  As the rain intensified, Junas rose, muttering curses under his breath. "The wagon's hopper will give better shelter than this," he spat, his frustration evident.

  Calman nodded in tacit agreement, but before Junas stormed off down the incline toward the wagon, Calman caught Sela's gaze. There was something unspoken but deliberate in their exchange—a glance Thespis understood but dismissed as irrelevant.

  The sharp crack of splintering wood joined Junas's curses as he tossed the remaining crates from the wagon. Then, an abrupt silence, leaving only the monotonous hiss of the rain.

  "I'm going to check on Junas," Calman said, tightening his cloak.

  His eyes bore into Thespis as he added with measured weight, "I'll be right back."

  Thespis smirked. Fate seemed to favor him tonight. With both men gone, he was finally alone with Sela.

  He frowned with disappointment when Calman’s voice carried back through the rain.

  “What the hell?”

  His words and tone made Sela stiffen. She left the shelter without hesitation to stand at Calman’s side. Annoyed, Thespis followed, grumbling about imbeciles and rain as he approached the incline where the others had gathered.

  “What’s so damn important that I have to stand in the—” His complaint died in his throat as his eyes fell on Junas.

  Junas stood at the center of the dim clearing, a grotesque puppet suspended by an unseen force. His feet sank into the mud at unnatural angles, toes twisted and splayed as if crushed beneath a great weight. His knees buckled inward, trembling beneath a lifeless frame that sagged unevenly. One shoulder drooped lower than the other, its arm hanging limp, while the opposite limb swung loose from its socket.

  Rain slicked his face, giving his pale skin the waxy sheen of death. His head tilted at an awkward angle, barely supported by the fragile connection of his neck, rolling in slow, uneven movements that defied any illusion of life. His slack jaw hung open, rainwater trickling from his lips, and his eyes—empty, sightless eyes—staring into an abyss known only to the dead.

  Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the macabre scene in stark relief. For an instant, Junas’s lifeless form seemed animated, his limbs jerking and twitching as though attempting movement. Each raindrop that dripped from his chin marked a grim rhythm, a steady, macabre metronome punctuating the eerie silence. Another bolt struck, and for a moment, the illusion returned, Junas’s head snapping forward with a wet, sickening thud as his chin struck his chest. His body jolted grotesquely beneath the force. Yet he did not fall. Something unseen held him upright, forcing his lifeless form into a disturbing parody of defiance against gravity and death.

  Visible behind Junas, illuminated only in brief flashes, loomed a deeper shadow—vast, oppressive, and terrifyingly alive. It shifted with each burst of lightning, revealing the barest glint of something sharp and unnatural, too sinister to belong to anything human. The air thickened, heavy and oppressive, as if the very storm recoiled in horror from the monstrosity hidden behind its dead puppet.

  Calman's hand went to his sword. "Get your weapons," he ordered, his voice low and commanding.

  When Sela turned to push Thespis back toward the shelter, she found only empty space—he was already gone.

  Through the rain came the sound of thrashing branches and panicked footfalls as Thespis fled, abandoning them without a word.

  Calman and Sela exchanged a grim look. Whatever had done this to Junas still lurked unseen—and now they would have to face it alone.