Jeremiah crouched low at the meadow's eastern edge, the cool damp of the loam seeping through his boots. The air carried a faint sweetness from the berry bushes scattered across the field, but beneath it lingered a sharper tang of ash and char, remnants of the Candlewicks' fires. A pale haze drifted close to the ground, stirred now and again by the faintest breeze, and the copper leaves of the distant tree gleamed like coins under the moon.

For a moment, he hesitated, then, with careful fingers, drew another talisman free of his satchel. Moonlight slid across the slip, catching on the faint shimmer of ink etched into the bark-paper. At first glance, the calligram looked like a simple sprawl of briars, every line curling inward until the whole was a thorn-choked snarl. Yet the longer his eyes lingered, the more his heart raced — like the feeling one might get looking into a pitch-black room. The shadows thickened, lines twisting into unsettling shapes, until he swore he saw eyes peering through the thicket. Narrow, patient, and unblinking, watching him from the dark between the leaves.

The paper's weight felt wrong for something so small, its surface faintly cool against his skin, as though the ink itself carried the chill of a predator's breath.

—✦—

Hunter's Camouflage

Rank: G

Keywords: Stealth, Survival, Defensive

Description:

"Blend into the tangled green, and vanish from prying eyes."

The user's appearance subtly shifts, blurring colors and outlines to match the surrounding foliage, bark, or shadows. For up to one hour, the user gains greatly improved stealth in natural or overgrown environments, leaving behind almost no scent or tracks. Sudden movement or loud noise may break the effect early.

Uses: 1

Requirements: Must be used outdoors or in a location with moderate vegetation.

Cost: 7

—✦—

Jeremiah paused, thumb brushing the edge of the talisman. Hunter's Camouflage was cheap compared to some of the other talismans, but it was also only one use. Between his beetle hunts and the Ashen Blessing talismans, he'd already committed a small fortune tonight. Was it worth spending even more?

His gaze drifted past the paper to the meadow beyond. Branches sagged under the clustered shapes of the Candlewicks, wings tucked tight, heads buried beneath white and crimson feathers. From this distance, they looked harmless, almost serene — like nothing more than oversized songbirds at roost. Yet Jeremiah knew better. One wrong step, one snapped twig or misplaced breath, and those same shadows would erupt into a dozen blazing torches descending on him before he could blink.

His jaw tightened. The risk wasn't worth the hesitation.

Gotta spend money to make money, as they say, he thought to himself.

Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he pushed intent into the slip.

The talisman dissolved in his hand, ash and ink scattering into his skin like liquid shadow. Jeremiah straightened as the effect settled over him. His shoulders tucked in without conscious thought, chin dipping just slightly, every joint aligned toward silence. His breathing shifted, shallower, measured to match the hush of night. Even his weight rolled differently across his feet, so that when he moved, he sank into the loam without sound.

With a deep breath, he moved forward.

Each step carried him deeper into the meadow, and with every stride, his body found the right path without needing to think. His heel angled away from dry twigs; his foot fell across moss instead of brittle leaves. Branches that might have snagged a sleeve seemed to draw back just slightly, shadows angling to fold over his outline. Where before the meadow had felt like a stage where every motion might be caught in the spotlight, now it felt like a cloak thrown across his shoulders.

It should have been reassuring.

But the crawling started almost immediately.

From the first bush he slipped past, Jeremiah felt them — faint tickles against his wrist, a prickle along his forearm, tiny bodies tumbling from the branches and leaves. He clenched his jaw, forcing his stride to remain steady as his skin crawled in earnest. Half a dozen times he nearly reached for the Ashen Blessings, itching to burn the mites away before they found their way beneath his collar. Each time, he stopped himself.

Not yet.

He needed to wait until Hazel and Billy were ready.

His throat worked in a dry swallow, the motion loud in his own ears. The air pressed heavy against his skin, thick with the berry-sweet reek of the Cocktail bushes. This close, with dozens clustered around him, the scent clung like a haze. It whispered at the edge of his nerves with the easy touch of a friend, urging him to relax. It would have been almost pleasant… if Jeremiah hadn't known better. Here, now, that sweetness was a trap. A lull, softening the edges of his vigilance when he could least afford it. He ground his teeth and shook the haze from his mind, forcing his thoughts back into focus.

In the tree, shapes shifted in the dark as birds tucked into nests, their pale wings hunched tightly around their bodies. Every shadow looked like a head lifting, every flicker like an eye catching his movement. Jeremiah's hand hovered near his satchel more than once, fingers brushing the folded slips inside like a warding charm.

But each step carried him closer, and soon he was in position.

It wasn't long after that when his HUD pulsed.

Hazel's text flickered across the top of his vision:

In position.

Almost at the same time, his bond gave a ripple — bright and eager. Billy's presence swelled against his thoughts, pressing warmth and anticipation through the tether they shared. Jeremiah closed his eyes, let the pulse settle through him, and exhaled.

They were ready.

He shifted the strap of his satchel, adjusted his stance, and touched his fingertips to the edge of the nearest talisman. For just a moment longer, he stood still, listening to the rasp of leaves in the night breeze, the muted crackle of mites skittering in branches above, and the distant beat of wings as the flock stirred in uneasy dreams.

Then Jeremiah nodded once, sharp and decisive.

Showtime.

Jeremiah slid the first talisman free. He whispered intent into the black-inked calligram, and the slip unraveled like smoldering parchment. Ash coiled upward from his palms in a slow spiral, curling along his wrists before sinking into his skin. The drifting motes fused into two rings around his pinkies, ash-colored bands delicate as smoke. Their lines carried the suggestion of signet rings, but at the edges blurred into the shifting whorls of a drifting cloud.

Jeremiah spread his fingers and drew a steady breath, focusing. The tattoos answered with a faint, steady thrum. One band glowed like the ember of a dying hearth, pulsing once before it cracked apart and faded. Ash poured from the sky in that same instant, falling in a gentle rain that whispered across the meadow. The flakes settled into his hair and shoulders, dusting the loam beneath his boots before melting into a fine gray coat.

The relief hit instantly. Jeremiah shivered, and the gentle dusting of ash fell away from him, carrying with it tiny red specks that fell to the earth, unmoving. He dragged his fingers down the side of his neck, exhaling in something close to a laugh as the crawling sensation melted away. Even the air tasted clearer, scrubbed of the berry-honey haze that had dulled the edges of his thoughts. What lingered instead was the smell of wood smoke: faint, soothing, like a hearth after rain.

He grinned and reached into the nearest Cocktail bush. Ash rained down across the foliage, and hundreds of mites tumbled free, lifeless. Jeremiah's grin widened even further.

He straightened and glanced across the meadow. Some distance away, where the starlight barely licked the branches, he could just make out two more patches of drifting ash. A triangle of cleansing circles, their edges widening, overlapping.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

Jeremiah nodded once, tight and certain, then pressed deeper into the meadow.

——————————————————

An hour later, Jeremiah's shirt clung damp to his back under his uniform, his hair crusted with ash that stuck in streaks of sweat. The talismans had dwindled to a fraction, but the meadow — at least where they had passed — felt… lighter, somehow.

A soft pulse tugged through the bond. Jeremiah slowed, then turned, and a familiar shape drifted into view. Billy's bubble bobbed out of the gloom, glowing faintly under starlight. At first, Jeremiah felt relief… then his lips twitched.

The kraken's armor was nearly opaque with clinging ash, the bubble so clouded it looked like a drifting ball of stone. From inside, Billy popped his head out through the gray, squinting at the world beyond. With a flick, he ducked back inside, paddled forward, then popped out again to check his path. The process repeated, a rhythm of peek-and-duck, until Jeremiah bit down on a laugh and failed.

He clapped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking. "You look like a chimney sweep," he managed between muffled chuckles. Through the bond, irritation prickled — sharp and indignant — but beneath it was a pulse of embarrassed warmth.

"Alright, alright," Jeremiah said, raising both hands in surrender. "I'm sorry. Really. Here, let me help."

He dug into his pack and pulled free the broad-shouldered canteen. At once, Billy's mood brightened. Jeremiah twisted the cap loose, holding the container steady as the water rose in thin, gleaming streams. They arced upward and into the bubble, pushing the ashen water out in sluggish rivulets that pattered onto the loam below. Billy swirled eagerly in the fresh supply, tentacles flicking as the grime slowly bled away.

"Better?" Jeremiah asked, grinning despite himself. Billy bobbed once in emphatic approval, sending droplets scattering across Jeremiah's sleeve.

"Better what?"

Hazel's voice drifted from the shadows, sly amusement curling at the edges. She stepped into the ash-dusted clearing, copper hair catching starlight, her tail flicking idly behind her. Her golden eyes slid to the dripping puddle at Jeremiah's feet, then to Billy's gleaming, freshly rinsed bubble. One brow arched.

Jeremiah scratched the back of his neck, still smirking. "It seems Billy's armor didn't recognize the ash from the talisman as a contaminant." He shrugged. "It makes sense in hindsight. The ash is less than harmful, but I don't think Billy appreciated it much."

Hazel snorted, teeth flashing in an amused grin. She shook herself in a long, rippling stretch, and ash fell from her fur in clumps, peppered with dead mites that hit the soil with tiny clicks. "Well. Harmless or not, I'll give you this — the talismans work."

Jeremiah capped the canteen once Billy's dome cleared to a steady blue shimmer. He straightened, wiping gray smudges from his palms, and glanced between the two of them. "Glad to hear it. How'd it go on your side?"

Hazel rolled her shoulders, wings giving a lazy twitch. "Clean enough. No flare-ups, no angry bonfire birds swooping at my head." Her grin tilted sharply as she flicked one last clump of ash from her ear. "Almost disappointing, really."

"Don't tempt fate," Jeremiah muttered, but the curve of his mouth betrayed him. He exhaled and glanced at the meadow beyond, its starlit grasses carrying only the faintest shimmer of mites now. "All right. That's one problem down."

Hazel tilted her head, golden eyes catching the faint glow of Billy's dome. "Then the question is… what's next?"

Jeremiah's eyes drifted toward the great tree rising at the meadow's center, its copper leaves whispering faintly in the wind. In the starlight, the vast canopy looked almost tranquil, like a living crown hammered from molten bronze. But he knew better. Every branch sagged beneath white-feathered bodies, wings tucked in tight, crimson throats pressed to breast, and all of them crawling with mites. Even their nests — woven tangles of twigs and ash-dark fibers — were tainted.

His breath left in a tight stream, lips flattening. "We've got to tackle the tree next."

Hazel, crouched a few paces away, turned her head, one ear flicking at his tone. Her golden eyes narrowed, reflecting faint starlight as she studied him. "Even after all this?" She swept her hand toward the meadow behind them — strips of loam still covered with ash, the faint glimmer of gray dust settling across cleared bushes. "Half a night's work, talismans burned, sweat dripping off your chin — now you're telling me you want to march into the torch pile itself?"

Jeremiah didn't flinch from the copper crown looming overhead, "If we don't, the infestation will never break. The birds will just infect the plants again." His jaw tightened, voice flat with resolve.

Hazel's tail flicked once, lazy on the surface but edged with tension. Her gaze sharpened, ears angling forward. "And how exactly do you think you're going to manage that? One talisman won't cleanse the whole tree, and unless you can suddenly fly, the second you try climbing it, you'll be lit up like kindling."

"I—"

The bond jolted bright before he could finish. Jeremiah's head whipped around just in time to see Billy bobbing forward, eager light spilling from his mantle. The little kraken zipped across the meadow, tentacles splayed wide, ash still crusting his armor in streaks.

Jeremiah's stomach dropped. "Billy — no!" He lunged after him, voice sharp enough to cut the night. Panic surged down the bond, but it crashed uselessly against the kraken's bubbling excitement. Jeremiah felt it even as his boots dug into the loam — a familiar warmth, a recklessness and intoxicating push to just do it.

His heart stuttered. The berries.

Of course. Billy's body was younger, smaller, and more sensitive. The mood-brightening haze that had tugged at Jeremiah's focus must have burned hotter in the kraken's blood, stripping away inhibition and sharpening his drive.

"Billy, stop!" Jeremiah's voice cracked. The kraken didn't falter. His bubble sailed through the meadow, weaving between berry bushes, and arrowed straight toward the base of the colossal tree.

Jeremiah ran harder, lungs tearing, but he was too far. Too slow.

Billy's bubble rose high into the air until he was even with the bottom of the tree's crest, and pressed a talisman against the bubble's edge. The slip flared, veins of ash spreading like cracks in glass. A heartbeat later, silvery motes spilled into the air, cascading down in a soft, whispering rain. The ash settled across roots, leaves, and branches, blanketing the tree in cleansing gray.

Jeremiah skidded to a stop, and for an instant, hope flared. The crawling hush of mites slackened. The stench of rot and berry-sweet haze lifted, sharper, cleaner. Jeremiah's stride faltered, breath catching —

Then wings rustled.

Jeremiah's blood ran cold.

A flicker of orange lit the branches above. Then another. And another.

Flames licked to life on wingtips and tails, tiny embers at first, then brightening to full torchlight. Dozens of golden eyes snapped open in the dark, catching starlight like polished metal. The Candlewicks stirred, and the night filled with the crackle of fire.

Jeremiah paled. "No—" He sprinted the last few steps to Billy's side. His hand whipped forward, and the Big Book of Beasts materialized. He ripped it open. Light surged, and with a wordless tug down the bond, Billy vanished inside in a pulse of ink and paper.

He snapped the book shut, spun on his heel—

"Run," he hissed at Hazel.

For half a heartbeat, she only blinked at him, startled. Then her grin flashed, sharp and feral.

The meadow exploded into fire.

A female Candlewick shrieked, a column of flame spearing down from her tail. Jeremiah dove, heat blistering the air where he'd stood a moment before. Fire licked across his sleeve, singeing the thickened leather of his uniform, but holding. He rolled to his feet and sprinted. Branches clawed at his arms as he plunged into the treeline, Hazel's laugh trailing behind him like wildfire.

Behind him, flaming males swooped through the canopy, their bodies glowing like comets. Fireballs rained from above, each one hissing as it struck moss and loam. Jeremiah ducked and wove, every nerve screaming as heat licked the edges of his vision. His lungs burned, his F-Grade stats straining to keep pace with survival.

A fireball struck a trunk to his left, detonating in sparks. Bark blasted outward, pelting his shoulder. He stumbled, nearly fell, but shoved forward, boots pounding the earth. His breath tore ragged in his throat, and still the forest blazed with flickers of orange, wings beating, shrieks splitting the dark.

He didn't know how long he ran. Seconds stretched into minutes, and then into eternity. His body blurred, reaction and instinct carrying him where thought couldn't.

Slowly, the shrieks faded. The crackling of fire dimmed. And the forest darkened around him. Occasionally, he would see flaming wings flicker through the branches out of the corner of his eye. But with each passing moment, they become less frequent and seemed further away.

Until finally, silence.

Even then, Jeremiah didn't dare stop. His legs carried him forward, heedless, each stride fueled by terror's fading edge. His chest heaved, heart hammering until he thought it might split apart. Shadows pressed close, the forest endless—

And then he burst through the treeline.

Jeremiah staggered to a halt, gasping. Moonlight spilled over a clearing he knew all too well. There stood the weathered cabin, crooked porch steps and all, where he'd first entered the Testing Grounds.

"How?" He stared, chest heaving, sweat and ash streaking his face.

"Are you surprised?"

Hazel's voice was cheerful, amused. She slipped out from behind the cabin, looking no worse for wear, tail swaying lazily. "Like I said, the Wyrd Wilds always bring you where you're meant to go." She winked, sharp and cheeky.

Jeremiah glared at her, but couldn't muster words. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the grass, lungs dragging for air.

Time slid by in silence, broken only by the distant night chorus. At last, Hazel tilted her head, golden eyes glinting. "So. What next?"

Jeremiah pushed himself upright, groaning, and scrubbed ash from his face. "What's next?" he echoed. He forced himself to his feet, swaying slightly. "Now I go home."

For the first time since he'd met her, Hazel frowned. The expression tugged her features sharp, incredulous. "What? Giving up after one failure? I expected more from you."

Jeremiah laughed hoarsely, shaking his head. "I'm not giving up. This was never going to be a one-night project. Not with an infestation like that. Besides—" he pointed toward the moon cresting higher, pale light spilling over the clearing, "—it's late. And I've got a shop to look after."

Hazel folded her arms, tail curling idly. "So you'll come back tomorrow?"

"Over the next few nights," Jeremiah confirmed, brushing ash and grass from his uniform. "We'll get the infestation down to something manageable. That should make the flock less aggressive. Once it does, I can start during the day. Get their attention. They're smart birds. With any luck, they'll put two and two together and start to trust me."

Hazel snorted, a flicker of sharp amusement in her eyes. "Sounds like a lot of 'whens' and 'ifs.' You sure it's worth all that effort for something that might not even work out how you hope?"

Jeremiah paused, gaze tilting back toward the shadowed forest. His jaw set. "It's not just about the mission. If I don't do this, the infestation isn't going to just 'get better'. Eventually that meadow is going to be uninhabitable. If the flock doesn't collapse before that."

Hazel's grin returned, sly and satisfied. "Tomorrow, then".

"Tomorrow," Jeremiah echoed with a nod.

Hazel winked, then melted into the shadows of the clearing.

Jeremiah watched where she had vanished for a moment before chuckling and shaking his head. He then turned and walked back through the portal into the quiet warmth of his shop.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.