Thorin's First Thundersday of Harvestfall, 1442, Entrance to Gloam-Barrow Den, Myrknar Woods.

Leoric knew they were getting close as soon as he noticed the two dark-furred Full-blood felinae standing sentinel near a conspicuously out-of-place moss-covered archway. Something like that most probably marked the entrance to the dungeon.

Both wore Umbraholme's crescent insignia—a black half-moon curled around a downward-pointing dagger—etched into the chest plates of their fitted leather armour.

The taller of the two was coiled like a spring, her stance wide and bouncing on the balls of her padded feet. She had amber eyes, narrow and twitching, and her twin curved blades—long, narrow with hooked ends—were crossed loosely behind her back.

Leoric thought he recognised the blades as shotels.

The felinae's armour clung to her like a second skin, articulated to stretch and contract with every motion, layered in supple plates of lacquered leather. Tiny loops along her thighs hinted at a climbing kit or trap-pouches, and the way her long tail twitched in anticipation gave her away before her ears ever did: this one was a hunter of motion, not of blood. An acrobat. Elyssia would surely approve of Umbraholme's elites. They were, after all, all about avoiding hits, rather than parrying or blocking them.

In any normal circumstances, Leoric would be right by her side, nodding approvingly—were it not for the one beside her.

The other guard was shorter by a head and far more still. If the acrobat broadcast presence, this one swallowed it. His armour was darker still, almost a matted black, and bore no edge highlights or decorative flourishes. Every seam was sealed, every buckle tucked. His dagger—just one—was held in a high shoulder sheath, its grip wrapped in a strange mottled leather that shifted hues ever so subtly when it caught the light. Not enchanted. Just well-oiled.

A potion belt with a series of pouches hung at their waist, cinched tight with triple clasps. Leoric guessed poisons. A dozen at least. He noted the faint ridge along the guard's vambraces, where a hidden channel might carry toxin to a concealed needle.

An assassin—the other elite guardsmen from the city. Leoric had not been able to get a hold of one to examine their equipment from this close before.

He tried not to stare, but his eyes kept darting to the sheath, the pouch, the boots. No heel, split toe. Heels dug prints and made noise—these would not. The toes were scuffed, though, and that meant grip—climbing grip.

His posture was far too casual for someone supposed to stand watch.

Both guards were already assessing him and Vaelith, Leoric realised. Judging weight, gait, reach. Not in a threatening way. Just... reflexively.

He exhaled slowly. So this was what he had to look forward to.

Vaelith said nothing, but he could feel her eyes on him as he watched the guards. She knew of his interest in the assassin class, which probably explains why she did not complain when his focus drifted away from their conversation.

Leoric wondered how to approach them. He and Vaelith had reached their destination—the entrance to the next dungeon—ahead of the rest of their group.

The archway ahead was crude, yet deliberate—constructed not by nature, but around it. Its mossy stones bowed inward slightly at the top, choked with black lichen and bone-white roots, as if the forest itself were trying to reclaim it. Beyond, a low trail of mist curled out along the forest floor, the air within noticeably colder, as if the place exhaled its own breath.

This was the Gloam-Barrow den.

A sacred site to the people of Umbraholme—part burial ground, part catacomb, part ritual sanctum—carved deep into the roots of Myrknar's old woods. For generations, the Full-blood clans had interred their dead here with rites of silence and shadow, trusting the quiet slumber of the forest to keep their ancestors undisturbed.

According to their quest board notice, something had shifted—the dead no longer slept soundly.

Whispers of undead sightings had grown frequent in recent moons. Wild monsters now roamed past the barrow's threshold, driven by hunger or madness. The deeper cause remained unknown—but it was clear enough to those who guarded the entrance: something had infected the sanctity of the den. And whatever it was, it would not stay contained for long.

Leoric's gaze met Vaelith's amethyst eyes. She offered him a sheepish smile and motioned toward the guards with a nod of her head, her golden fins fluttering lightly.

He nodded in agreement of her silent request for him to take the lead. He decided he should explain why they were loitering here—before either guard decided to get suspicious.

He stepped forward and addressed them in a respectful, steady tone. "Greetings. I'm Leoric Stargazer, and this is Vaelith Dawnscale. We're here to investigate the disturbances within this sacred site."

"Just the two of you?" the acrobat asked, one ear flicking with idle amusement. Her tone was not mocking, exactly—more the dry curiosity of someone who had seen their share of overconfident adventurers come and go. "Not much of a hunting party."

Her twin shotels shifted slightly behind her back as she straightened, giving Vaelith and Leoric a once-over that was both casual and comprehensive.

Leoric managed a half-smile. "Two more are on their way. They'll meet us here. They should arrive shortly."

"Hope you're well-prepared," she said, glancing at the satchel at Vaelith's hips. "No offense meant. But Gloam-Barrow's not a place for children or wet-behind-the-ear adventurers."

Vaelith raised her chin with just enough grace to keep it from being haughty. "We've already handled a similar challenge for the city of Luminara yesterday, and we came here fully supplied. We won't disappoint you."

"Confident, good." That earned a slight tilt of the head. "Glad to hear it."

The assassin had not moved—not even a blink, as far as Leoric could tell. But now, subtly, his gaze shifted. Not directly toward him, but to something nearby. The way one might glance at a shadow that moved.

Leoric hesitated for one second, but decided to risk making conversation. "May I ask," he said carefully, "what exactly has changed inside? We've heard of undead sightings, but the reports are vague. Ritual failures? Break-ins? Something newer?"

The assassin did not answer, but the acrobat blew out a slow breath through her nose. "You're not wrong to ask. Most of what we know is secondhand—we're just here to prevent anything from spilling out. But something's wrong down there. Magic's been sour for weeks. Creatures coming up from burial halls we sealed off decades ago."

"Undead?" Vaelith asked.

"Mostly. That, or maggots and carrion eaters. But the few undead that got this far acted oddly. These didn't rise from grief or curses—they move without purpose. They rise, confused. Like something below's stirring them awake but not giving orders."

"Necromancer?" Leoric offered.

The assassin's voice cut in—quiet, low, but sharp-edged. "Perhaps, although our blood mages and shamans don't seem to think so. They're unable to trace any negative-energy magic. They think it's something else."

There were the first words he had said, and Leoric blinked at the sound of it. Not just what he said, but how. Calm, cutting, precise. Like the edge of a blade drawn in moonlight.

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"That sounds worse," Vaelith said softly.

"Hmm," the acrobat agreed. "That's why Umbraholme called for outside help. We can't send our own down there. Not without—" she stopped herself, as if correcting course. "Not without violating rites that go back generations. But you? You're not from here. You can poke into crypts that are off-limits to us. Lucky you."

Leoric inclined his head. "We'll tread with respect."

"You'd better. The spirits here are less forgiving than I am."

A beat passed. Then the acrobat added, almost conversationally, "If you're here to impress the guilds, this is one way to do it. Survive this place, and someone will take notice."

Leoric caught the flicker of the assassin's gaze, just for a heartbeat. There and gone. As if the statement had been more than idle talk.

He nodded, pulse quickening. "That's… good to know."

The woods rustled with approaching voices and footsteps—two people. The guards shifted slightly, alert but not alarmed. Leoric smiled as his keen ears immediately picked the voices. That was Elyssia and Kaelyn.

"Sounds like our party's here," he said.

"May the spirits guide you in the dark." The acrobat nodded.

A moment later, Kaelyn emerged from the trees, her robes catching on a low branch she batted away with theatrical annoyance. She brushed some strands of blonde hair away from her face, tilting her head when she caught sight of the guards.

"Oh, look at you two," she said, grinning. "If we had known the dress code, I'd have worn something in black leather too."

Elyssia followed close behind, her stride efficient, her eyes already scanning the perimeter. She spared the guards a respectful nod, but kept walking until she reached Leoric and Vaelith.

"Hey. Any trouble getting here?" she asked, already reaching for her armband to double-check their quest status.

"None yet," Leoric said. "We were just getting a debrief."

"Oh? Anything important?" Kaelyn asked, tightening the strap of one of her gloves. "We're loaded with holy water, holy powers and holy arrowheads. This is in the bag, isn't it?"

The acrobat raised an amused eyebrow. "You should be good. Until you fight something that isn't undead."

Kaelyn paused. "Wait, seriously?"

The assassin, still silent, flicked an ear in what might have been irritation, judgment, or both.

Vaelith coughed politely, trying to steer things back on course. "We're cleared to enter, but it sounds like they have no clue about the source of the disturbance. Just a lot of bodies walking without orders, and no trace magic to follow."

"That sounds fun," Elyssia said flatly. "Braindead zombies aren't that much better or worse than plain zombies."

"It sounds wrong," Leoric added. "Something is stirring them, but it's not a spellcaster. No necromantic activity. No commanding presence. Just—"

"Restless dead," Kaelyn finished, her tone suddenly a touch more serious. "Like something nudging things awake unintentionally?"

The assassin's gaze flicked toward her. A longer look this time.

"You're not wrong," he murmured. "That's what our shamans fear, too."

Kaelyn blinked, surprised the quiet one had spoken at all. "Well," she said, recovering with a toss of her hair. "Now I'm worried about what's behind this."

Elyssia turned back to the group. "Alright, everyone ready? Remember your formation?"

"Sure," Vaelith confirmed. "You pull, while Leoric and I support you with traps and knock-backs. Let us know when you plan to stop to tank and fight them. We'll go ham on AoE. Kaelyn keeps us alive as usual."

"About that, Kaelyn—feel free to toss in your nukes when you can," Elyssia said, grinning in the priestess' direction.

Leoric noted the exchange and wondered what kind of devious new plan the two had hatched on the way here.

Vaelith opened the satchel at her hips, pulled out a cinnamon bun and took a small nibble. "Does everyone still have food from yesterday? If not, I cooked a few things earlier."

Leoric nodded. "I'm still good. Haven't gone through it all yet."

He swung his backpack over one shoulder and reached inside, pulling out a piece of salmon wrapped in wax-paper.

"Likewise," Kaelyn said, fishing out a container filled with mushroom stew.

Elyssia kneeled and placed her pack on the ground. "I could use some. Also, we got you some boar haunches on the way here…"

Vaelith grinned, offering Elyssia a small round bundle entirely covered in paper. "You'll have to tell me if it's any good—I tried something new."

The sylvani raised an eyebrow at the fist-sized package. She gently peeled the wrapping off, and her eyes widened in surprise. Leoric peeked over her shoulder. What he saw could only be a hamburger. Meat patty between two slices of bread, tomato, lettuce.

He reasoned the meat must be boar—after all, he gave Vaelith a bunch earlier.

Elyssia grinned happily and took a big bite. She smiled as she chewed it, clearly savouring it.

Leoric tried not to show his envy as he stared disappointedly down at the salmon he was nibbling on. "Well, now I'm jealous of melee classes."

"One more reason for you to switch to assassin when we get level thirty, then," Vaelith said, grinning.

"Assassin?" Elyssia asked between bites.

"Yeah. I've been thinking and talking with Vaelith about it. I've been debating whether it's the right move or not."

"You, bello? As a leather-clad assassin? You can pull off the look. Well, you've got my vote," Kaelyn said while filling her spoon with stew. "If this is even a matter of voting."

"It's not like any of us really have a say in the matter," Elyssia said. "What's the hesitation for?"

"I'm simply not sure if it'd be the right move. You know, for party cohesion—"

"—Don't you mind that," Elyssia interrupted him. "We'll make it work, whatever you end up choosing. Assassin's good. It's more or less a different flavour of ranger, anyhow. Another job that's mostly about preparation and ambushes."

"Told you so," Vaelith said. She took one last bite of her dessert, smiling as she chewed the sugary treat.

Elyssia nodded. She then fished a few small velvet bags out of her pack and passed them along. "Before we go in… I've made a bunch of augment stones for everyone. Throw one of those into each slot on your gear. I can always make more, so please don't be stingy in using them."

Leoric dusted his hands, then accepted the bag she offered. He pulled the string at the top and peered inside. It was filled with a multitude—several dozens—of exquisitely cut, small reddish-orange stones. He lifted one of the stones, catching what little light reached them here.

The interface immediately let him know it would increase his ranged attack power. A minor increase, to be sure. But he checked his gear, and there were more than a dozen empty augment slots, all counted.

"Well, this'll make things even easier," he said.

"I feel like we're going overkill on prep", Vaelith said as she forced a bright blue stone into one of the two empty sockets on the cover of her grimoire.

"Between the two, I'd rather steamroll the place than wipe, personally. I'm okay with over-preparing," Kaelyn said as she examined how the pale yellow stone complemented her pearl earring.

Elyssia watched as everyone kept slotting stones into their items. When Leoric finally applied the last one to his bow, she nodded. "Let's go clear some crypts?"

The priestess gave a little twirl and curtsied toward the guards. "Wish us luck, my leather-clad shadows."

The acrobat gave a lazy two-finger salute. "Try not to die in the first room. I'd prefer not to see your corpse turn into the living dead while you're still in line of sight."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Kaelyn shot back with a grin. "I'm sure it won't come to that, but my corpse would make an amazing zombie."

The acrobat chuckled, stood aside, and with a simple gesture, invited them inside.

Leoric adjusted the straps on his gauntlet and slung his bow into position. Only a small glimmer of daylight filtered through the canopy above them, casting the entrance into long, trembling shadows.

As they stepped inside, a cold mist brushed across his ankles like fingers from the grave.

He took a deep breath and peeked behind him. Once he felt sufficiently far from the guards for private conversation, he tapped Elyssia on the shoulder and signalled for a brief halt.

"I didn't want to talk about it in front of them," he said. "But another player approached me earlier. Another who's transforming. Like us."

Vaelith stepped in beside him. "They formed a group chat. For us to stay in touch. You know, try to figure out what's going on. I have an invite, but I haven't joined yet."

"You trust 'em?" Elyssia asked, looking Leoric in the eyes.

"I think so. He made me one of the group's admins, and he appeared pretty genuine. He let me know what was happening to him before I told him anything about myself. I think it takes a lot of guts to open up to a stranger like that. Oh, and he said he was going to check if this is happening with his party members, too."

"Shit," Elyssia said. "That's one more, then."

"Sounds like you know something we don't," Vaelith said.

"Oh. Yeah. Other than the couple of cases on the news, I'm aware of three, perhaps four more. They're all in the same party, too, so it can't be a coincidence," she answered, frowning.

"How did you hear about these?" Leoric asked.

"Coworker. Kohana—Kaelyn, you remember her from yesterday?—put me in touch with 'em."

"Of course I remember her," Kaelyn said. "Does that mean the cute dracan de hielo knows about your transformation?"

Elyssia nodded slowly. "Yeah. I told her this morning. She actually sounded dejected that it's not happening to her."

"Well, on the matter of who it's happening to or not," Leoric said. "Halvar—that's the player who reached out to me—told me about one of his party members who might be in the same situation as Kaelyn. By that I mean, turning into a female Half-blood felinae. Well, we're assuming she might be transforming… Anyway, her name's Neva in-game…."

"I feel like you're going somewhere with that," Elyssia said.

"Well, she happens to play shifter, too. So, Kaelyn—I thought it'd be a good idea for the two of you to meet and have a chat. You know, since you seem to have so much in common."

Kaelyn seemed to think about it for a few seconds. "We'll see. For now, how about we get some levels?"

Elyssia nodded. "Sounds good. But throw me a few of those invites, Lee. I'll accept one and forward the rest to the others I know about."

The air inside the den thickened as they walked further inside, the ambient light limited to phosphorescent fungi casting pale blue and green light. Moss blanketed every surface.

"Right," Elyssia said, spinning both tonfa free and rolling her shoulders. "Game face. Let's find out what's broken in here."

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