The light the man shot into the sky arcs back down, shining upon Sylas and Hawryn's path. It shifts from bright white to dying red as it impacts the ground, spreading its light across the snow.

Liliana and Loren arrive at the horses at the same time as Hawryn and Sylas. The red light dies down, plunging them into the darkness of the clouded moons. The horses are restless, pulling on their leads, trying to tear them from the tree trunks.

A wolf howl echoes from the south. More answer from the north and the east. The gates to the fort rise with metallic echoes.

Loren yanks Sylas' horse's reins free and pushes them into Sylas' hand. "Don't stop, and don't look back!"

The horses rear as another howl answers from the trees. Liliana runs her hand along her horse's head before mounting; the beast calms down. Her eyes flick to Sylas. "Stay in the middle."

They tear away from the bushes in a spray of snow. The horses' hooves drum over the ground.

A horn echoes from behind them. Shadows peel off the tree line as they join the road where the horses can gallop. Arrows hiss and thud into bark. Liliana's horse screams and bolts; Hawryn's rears, lashing at the air.

Hawryn drives his heels into the horse's stomach, but the beast falls to the side and over him.

Sylas' horse slows down, bobbing his head from side to side. He falls, throwing off Sylas. Arrows stick out of the animal's rear, dripping clear liquid from their shafts.

As he rolls to his feet, Sylas hears a whistle rushing at him. He throws himself to the side, avoiding the arrow. It came from a rider circling him, moving behind trees. Sylas cannot see them in the dark but hears the steps of their mount, clawing at the roots it walks on.

Another set of clawed, rushing steps comes from the road, straight at Sylas. The faint moons' light glints off a spear tip leveled at Sylas' legs.

Sylas draws his sword and lowers himself. His heart hammers in his ears; his hands sweat on the handle of his blade; his entire body shivers. He thrusts at the spear and pushes it aside. His blade bites into the rider as their mount, a wolf, passes Sylas.

The small humanoid skewered by Sylas' blade lets go of its spear. It writhes at the sword, unable to reach Sylas with its small arms. The clouds let through some of the silver moon's light, revealing it to be a goblin, its eyes red with tears and its mouth foaming.

The sight calms Sylas. He expected to be chased by brigands or deserters. Instead, he finds himself against a monster who has no reason nor strength.

Sylas hears a bowstring tensing behind him and throws the monster in that direction. It falls short and rolls on the ground, unwinding its guts as it does. The arrow whistles past Sylas, entirely missing him. He grabs the spear from the ground and throws it at the shadow that shot at him. A thud and a cry tell him he hit.

The wolf of the first goblin Sylas killed growls as it approaches.

Sylas lowers himself, sword leveled at the beast, ready to cut it when it lunges at him.

The wolf snaps to the side and grabs the gutted goblin with its maw. It runs off into the forest. The other, crying goblin screams as it suffers the same fate from its own mount.

Sylas runs back up the road to where he saw Hawryn fall. He finds him struggling to get away from under his unconscious horse.

A dead goblin, his ankle and neck slashed open, lies next to Hawryn. Another claws his way away from him, his bulbous stomach cut open.

"You need to go," Hawryn groans through gritted teeth. He tries to push his horse away, but the beast doesn't move.

Sylas drops his sword next to him and places his shoulder against the horse. With a burst of Strengthening, he rolls the comatose animal away, freeing Hawryn's lower half. "They got my horse; can you run?"

"I think," Hawryn confirms. He accepts Sylas' helping hand and is pulled to his feet. A broken arrow shaft protrudes from his side. He looks at it and stumbles slightly, taken by the poison. "We need to get you to safety. I'll need some time and calm to deal with that; you should go."

"Are you insane?" Sylas asks. He grabs Hawryn under the shoulder and walks him off the road, towards trenches carved by the weather. The walls of dirt around them are held by tree roots that overshoot into a ledge, casting deep shadows onto them.

Hawryn lowers himself to sit against the trench wall. He pries a handful of leaves from one of his satchels and mouths them. He restrains himself from puking, holding back his stomach as he chews. "Our footprints will be easy to follow in the snow. There is a river south; you walk in it and get back to town. I'll catch up as soon as I can."

"I'm not leaving you here," Sylas says, watching the direction they came from.

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Hawryn grabs Sylas' armor with his weak grip, trying to get him closer. "Listen; you have to go. If you die, it will be all our heads."

"What?" Sylas mumbles. He grabs Hawryn's wrist by reflex, forcing the man to let go of him.

"Fuck it. I don't know what she was thinking to allow you to come here," Hawryn curses. He yanks the arrow out of his body and presses his hand over the wound. The pain makes his voice gravelly. "You were never supposed to know. The regent sent you here because his enemies were planning to get you killed. The man who put us in this situation is one of them. Erlys, Storis, Walf, and I got orders to protect you. And if you die, we'll follow you, probably some of the kids too."

"Why?" Sylas asks. He snaps his head upward as he hears a cracking bramble echoing in the forest.

Hawryn spits out the chewed remains of the leaves and mouths a handful of round red berries. He whispers, "In a few years, you might be the strongest man in the country with that fucking talent. They don't want him to have you at his service when that happens."

"And telling me all this when we were attacked didn't cross your minds?" Sylas asks, anger rising. If he had known, they could have avoided this situation. If he had known, he would have pushed to retreat south, to a safe city. But then, the town would have been left in danger. He forgets his anger, realizing that they need to warn Balmwood. Knowing they are discovered, the goblins and their masters might rush their plans.

Undecipherable voices reach them from where they came from, hushed and frenetic.

"We need to get away from here; it's too close to the horses," Hawryn says. He pushes himself to his feet, letting go of his now-coagulated wound.

Sylas slides back under Hawryn's arm to support his weight. The man's breath is uneven and pained. They exit the trench where dirt gives way to stone. Jagged rocks rise from the snow, covering the cliff upon which the fort stands in the northeast.

From behind them, the voices swell. Shrill laughter and snarls scrape at Sylas' nerves. He can almost picture them. He imagines the tiny silhouettes hunched over, staring through the darkness with their yellow eyes. It makes him shiver as every shadow becomes a potential monster. He also hears the rustling of water further down the slope.

"We're close," Hawryn says. He points towards the water noise. His eyes turn bright green, and he stops. "They are watching it. Three archers."

Sylas nods at the bow strapped over his chest. "Can you shoot them?"

"I never used your bow," Hawryn denies. "And I'm not sure I have the strength right now. I'll distract them, and you make your way back to town."

"Stop. We are both going to escape," Sylas cuts. He needs to get into Hawryn's mind that sacrificing himself isn't an option. "There are at least fifteen kilometers between here and Balmwood. I'm not you; it'd be a miracle if I didn't get lost."

From behind, a horn tears through the silence. It rolls out of the mud trench to reach Hawryn and Sylas.

"Up," Hawryn hisses. He drags himself through the uneven, rocky ground of the slope, placing his feet where the snow failed to settle.

Sylas imitates Hawryn's steps, trying to leave as little trace as possible. They reach a cavern and move inside. It reeks of moist air and mushroom spores and seems to go deep. But Sylas doesn't notice any animal stench.

Hawryn looks outside with his ability. He moves back inside, motioning for Sylas to go deeper. "They are spreading. Two of them are climbing towards us."

Both place themselves behind rocks, hiding from the entrance. Sylas presses his back to the wall, his breath shallow.

From the entrance, Sylas hears bare feet crunching over ice. They sniff. One hisses a string of fast, high-pitched words. The other answers with a laugh that sounds like it's choking on snot. It taps something metallic on the entrance's ground and barks back.

The first goblin enters the cavern while the second remains at the entrance.

Sylas dares not breathe. His heartbeat feels loud enough to betray them.

Hawryn tightens his grip on his dagger. The faint glow of his eyes vanishes.

The goblin shuffles deeper into the cave, stopping every few steps to sniff the air. It reaches them and freezes. It turns its head toward Sylas, staring at him.

Hawryn's hand grabs the goblin's neck, and he thrusts his dagger through the monster's back and into its heart. He looks towards the entrance and commands, "Get the other one."

Sylas leaps out of his hiding spot and runs at the other goblin. It screeches, leveling a spear at Sylas. Righteous Edge reaches further than the goblin weapon and pierces its chest without risking Sylas' hand. Sylas grabs the corpse by the head and drags it back inside.

Hawryn joins Sylas at the entrance and triggers back his ability to scan outside. They stay silent for a long minute until Hawryn says, "They didn't hear us."

Sylas notices a brand ironed into the neck of the goblin he holds. It is a single glyph he doesn't know the meaning of. "What now?"

"If their leaders are as smart as they seem to be, they'll realize these two are missing. We can't stay here." Hawryn notices the mark as Sylas turns the goblin for him to see. "Right now, they are between us and Balmwood. We need to go over the cliff and turn back in a large arc. It will take us a few hours, but it's the safest route."

Sylas nods as he drops his victim. By now, Liliana and Loren must be on their way to the town. They need to join them before Liliana decides to come back for him. She hasn't seen the numbers the enemy has; it would be a bloodbath if they fought.

"You leveled up," the system announces, startling Sylas.

They start up the slope, still avoiding leaving footprints in the icy snow. The air grows colder as the night deepens, until snow begins to fall. It is light, but it will cover what little trace they left of their passage.

They're halfway across the ridge when a scream cuts through the night. It isn't a goblin's shriek. It is sharp, pained, desperate, and feminine. The sound echoes off the fort and the cliffs.

Sylas freezes mid-step. The sound lodges deep in his chest like a blade.

Another scream follows, shorter this time, choked off. Then silence.

Sylas stares at the fort. His stomach twists. He can picture her, surrounded, trapped, maybe wounded. "They captured Liliana."

"We don't know that," Hawryn warns.

"There is no one else it could be," Sylas retorts.

Hawryn exhales, grimacing as he leans on a rock for support. "Then she's behind walls crawling with goblins and more. You go there, and you'll die."

Sylas' hand trembles until he places it around Righteous Edge's handle. "If I had trusted her, she wouldn't be. It's my fault."

Hawryn curses under his breath. "You can't save her alone."

Sylas doesn't answer. His gaze remains fixed on the fort. The clouded moons' light casts shadows that play with his mind. He thinks he sees something move – a figure dragged by two smaller shapes. He scans the fort, its broken walls and collapsed towers. From here he can have a sense of the movements inside. A dozen creatures patrol the walls. "The regent ordered you to protect me? I'm going to get her back. I guess you'll have to help me."

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