The night spread over Ravensberg, its shadows swallowing the streets.

The city’s rooftops lay silent beneath the veil of darkness, illuminated only by the distant light of the cathedral.

Evan and Sarra had settled on one of the highest points, from where they could see the bright windows of the cathedral gleaming.

A grimace of pain crossed Evan’s face as he settled on the roof, inspecting the gaping wound on his leg. The black blood flowing in his veins had spread around the injury.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Sarra remarked when she saw it. “Demonic blood flowing through a human’s body.”

“Well, I’m not quite human anymore. Not for a long time,” Evan growled in response.

“Oh, the lord is getting melancholic. But don’t let what Rowan did get you down,” Sarra said.

“So you know it’s Rowan’s doing?” the half-demon asked, surprised.

Sarra nodded absentmindedly. “Rowan’s work is quite familiar to me. But I never thought one of his experiments could be a success. But when I heard about you, I knew I had to find you.”

“Experiments? – So I’m just an experiment to you?” Evan asked.

“For Rowan, at least,” she looked deeply into Evan’s eyes. “What do you know about him?”

“Not much,” the half-demon replied. “I’ve spent years searching for answers. I’ve approached various individuals just to gather information about Rowan. But all I have is his name. I’ve hunted various demons, but so far, without success.”

“Demons? – Why did you get distracted from hunting demons?” Sarra asked.

“How else would I gather information if not from my own kind?” Evan retorted.

“Hah!” Sarra laughed briefly and then fell silent, realizing that Evan truly didn’t know what was going on. “Rowan is not a demon.”

“What are you saying?”

“Rowan, like me, is an Eldári. However, he belongs to a radical group that hates humans. For driving our ancestors out of these lands ages ago. To you humans, we may seem like mythical creatures, but your history is closely intertwined with ours. The great continental war between the kingdoms a century ago? – Who do you think was pulling the strings in the background and instigating the kings against each other?”

“You’re kidding me!” Evan objected, but Sarra’s eyes held only seriousness.

“Rowan has been drawn to a very particular and macabre passion. He is known among us as the Doctor.”

“The Doctor?”

“You’re not alone, Evan. Rowan has conducted his experiments on various beings. He crossed wolves with boars, snakes with eagles. You were an attempt to cross a human with a demon. From what I’ve heard, all his experiments in this direction failed, so I was very surprised to hear that the rumors about you were true.”

Evan’s breath caught. Could it really be true?

“But why would he do such a thing?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. My clan and I believe he wants to assemble an army for his group, but his experiments fail every time. But now that you’ve shown yourself so openly, that could be proof for Rowan that he succeeded. Maybe that’s why you weren’t killed in Haren. But I’m not sure. That’s why I didn’t want to leave you alone tonight. If Rowan were to get hold of your blood, it could give him important information on how to use it.”

“I can’t believe all of this,” the half-demon groaned.

“Well, believe it or not. The fact is, we mustn’t act rashly. I tried to dissuade you, but you wouldn’t listen to me. So tonight, you’ll go to the cathedral and find out what awaits us there. Or rather, who awaits us there.”

“Didn’t you say Rowan wants my blood?”

“Exactly. Let his followers believe they can just take it.”

“And what will you do?” Evan’s eyes widened excitedly.

“I’ll keep a low profile. If danger threatens, I’ll intervene immediately. But try to keep control. We don’t want to attract unnecessary attention. Understood?”

Evan nodded as a shadow of determination crossed his face.

Sarra melted back into the night, leaving behind a hint of both trust and uncertainty.

The half-demon stood up. A sharp pain shot through his leg. “Damn it. I hate this.”

“Are you sure it won’t hinder you?” Sarra asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“I’ll manage. It’s annoying, but I’ll survive.”

The two fell silent, staring at the two mighty towers of the cathedral, looming before them like the dark heart of the city. A touch of mystery surrounded the imposing structure.

Sarra, enveloped in an aura of distrust, tore her gaze from the cathedral and turned to Evan. “We should make our way before anyone notices us. The fewer eyes on us, the better.”

Evan nodded in agreement, his gaze briefly flickering to the black wound. The pain pulsed in his leg, but he pushed it aside to focus on the task ahead.

Together, they left the vantage point of the rooftops and crept through the narrow alleys, ready to face the challenges in the cathedral.

The Cathedral of Saint Tristanius towered majestically over the night sky of Ravensberg.

Its tall spires pierced the darkness like sharp needles touching the heavens.

The outer facade presented intricately crafted sculptures and ornaments, surrounded by an air of mystery and spirituality.

The massive oak door, adorned with delicate carvings, opened into a world of silence and devotion.

A shiver ran through the airy hall as Evan crossed the threshold, and the pale light of the candles cast eerie shadows on the walls.

The church pews stretched in rows, as if they were silent witnesses to the countless prayers spoken in this holy hall over time.

Stained glass windows with elaborate scenes from ancient stories let the moonlight fall in shimmering colors on the stone floor.

The Cathedral seemed like a living history book, its pages turned by the reverent hands of believers and devout pilgrims over the centuries.

At the far end of the hall stood an impressive high altar, adorned with gilded embellishments that gleamed in the light of the candles and lanterns.

At the center of the altar stood a life-sized statue of Saint Tristanius, whose expression seemed to convey a mixture of seriousness and divine grace.

In the holy scriptures, it was written that Tristanius was one of the first humans. He sought his place in the empty and barren world before climbing a mountain, where he was kindly received by the gods.

From then on, he journeyed through the lands and proclaimed their words.

The Cathedral of Saint Tristanius breathed history and mystique, and the silence within its walls seemed to reflect the whispers of the centuries.

Evan spotted a figure in a white robe before the altar, kneeling as if in prayer to the gods.

The dark blue and golden embellishments of the robe shimmered in the candlelight, and a touch of holiness surrounded the mysterious figure.

Evan was sure it must be the priest. The head of the church in Ravensberg.

He approached, his eyes fixed on the kneeling priest.

The thought that this might be the informant crossed his mind. However, a priest was a twist he hadn’t expected.

Skeptically, the half-demon scanned the holy building but couldn’t spot anyone else.

Could a priest really be the mastermind behind this mysterious meeting? Doubt crept into him as the priest didn’t respond to any address.

Evan stepped closer, addressing the priest directly, but received no response.

As the half-demon wandered around the figure, he immediately recognized why. A silvered dagger was lodged in their throat.

Blood dripped silently onto the cold stone.

A shiver ran down Evan’s spine.

Death had breached the sacred gates, and the eerie silence of the cathedral was pierced by the certainty that something dark and sinister lurked within this venerable place.

Evan slowly withdrew from the lifeless body of the priest, his thoughts swirling in a whirlwind of confusion and distrust.

The cold stone floor beneath his feet offered him no solace as he sharpened his senses and listened intently.

Suddenly, a malicious laughter echoed from the shadows of the cathedral, reaching his ears.

An ominous duo of laughter, moving back and forth, pierced the gloomy silence, casting an eerie atmosphere in the holy hall.

Evan, seized by an undefined unease, turned his gaze toward the darkness whence the laughter emanated.

A sense of danger surrounded him as he prepared to confront the unknown.

From the murky darkness of the cathedral emerged two figures, like shadows come to life.

The first was a male Eldári, his black, long hair falling upon his shoulders.

His piercing yellow eyes betrayed an unnatural strength as he was clad in heavy leather armor.

In his sturdy hand rested the wooden grip of a morning star, with a spiked metal ball attached to its end.

At his side stood a female Eldári, her hair kept in radiant white, her eyes also marked with the striking yellow hue.

Her thin leather armor indicated that agility and swiftness were the defenses she trusted in.

In both hands, she wielded dangerously curved daggers, glinting in the faint light of the cathedral.

The two strangers approached Evan with a sardonic smile and an aura of danger.

In the cathedral’s silence, only the slow steps of the Eldári echoed.

As Evan faced the two strangers, Sarra took a different path into the cathedral.

Her path led her through a dark chamber in one of the ancient towers, its floor barely secured.

She skillfully balanced over narrow wooden planks, while the room around her was caressed by gentle wind, offering numerous nesting places for local pigeons.

The muted sounds from the altar hall reached her, accompanied by the laughter of the two Eldári, whose presence already permeated the room.

As she caught sight of the candlelight from the hall and prepared to jump over a beam to the entrance of the opposite pulpit, she abruptly stopped.

A strange, unpleasant smell filled her nostrils.

Sarra halted on the beam, peering into the darkness of the room, her senses sharpening as she recognized the danger lurking in the shadows.

She not only sensed the acrid smell of gunpowder in the air but also a hint of a nutty fragrance.

Tension filled the cathedral as Evan faced the male Eldári, his hand on the sword hilt, and the male Eldári with the menacing morning star faced each other.

The atmosphere pulsated with a silent intensity, as if the cathedral itself held its breath.

“So, you’re the half-demon they’re looking for,” remarked the Eldári with a threatening voice. “You don’t look particularly strong, though.”

“Be cautious, Bardok,” his companion retorted, brandishing her daggers menacingly. “He may not look it, but Wenzel warned us about him.”

“Wenzel,” spat the muscular Eldári. “What does he know!”

Bardok tensed his back and took a large step toward Evan.

But with smooth elegance, Sarra, who had previously jumped from the pulpit, landed between the three.

Her entrance seemed like a sudden storm swirling through the hall.

The two Eldári appeared momentarily surprised, but their astonishment quickly turned into grim determination.

“Sarra?” the female Eldári asked, surprised, biting her lip.

“Kyra,” Sarra replied venomously. “I expected nothing less from you, Bardok, you thick-headed brute.”

“Shut your mouth!” he scolded.

Kyra put on a smile and assumed a relaxed posture. “It’s been a long time. But I never expected you to side with this half-demon.”

“I never expected you to join Rowan and his entourage,” Sarra retorted.

She took a step back and lowered her voice as she addressed Evan. “Listen, we have a problem.”

“I see them,” he replied, his sharp gaze shifting between the Eldári.

“I don’t mean that. They’ve planted explosives in the cathedral. I couldn’t find the detonator. But we need to take them down quickly before they blow up the entire building.”

“Are you serious?” Evan asked, agitated, wide-eyed.

Kyra was losing patience. Like a snake, she hissed and thrust one of her daggers forward. “What’s with the whispering? – Here we are.”

Evan and Sarra fell silent, glaring darkly at Kyra and Bardok.

The half-demon spoke up. “If you’re Rowan’s lackeys, then take me to him. If he wants my blood, he can have it without it being spilled.”

Bardok chuckled mischievously. “What does Rowan want with you? He just wants you to leave him alone. That’s what we’re here for!”

With a loud roar, the Eldári charged toward the half-demon, raising the morning star above his head.

In the nick of time, Evan dodged the attack.

With a loud crash, the wood of a bench shattered next to him.

Sarra watched the scene in shock. But she had to react quickly, as Kyra leaped towards her with her weapons drawn.

Swiftly, Sarra drew her daggers and narrowly parried her opponent’s attack.

With a solid kick to the stomach, she managed to push Kyra away.

“You think you’re so clever!” Kyra shouted, straining. “But you’re on the wrong side and you don’t even realize it.”

With fluid movements, Sarra countered Kyra’s attacks.

Her daggers gleamed in the dim candlelight of the cathedral. The metallic clash of blades filled the space, accompanied by the steps of the combatants.

Sarra, with a reckless audacity in her gaze, seemed to gain an advantage for a moment.

Meanwhile, Evan struggled to avoid Bardok’s agile strikes.

The morning star whirled wildly, and although Bardok wore heavy leather armor, he seemed remarkably agile. Each of his attacks was precise and targeted.

The half-demon desperately tried to find an opportunity to counterattack, but Bardok gave him no respite. He continually forced Evan into a defensive position.

The sword of the half-demon swung through the air, but the attacks proved ineffective as the morning star came dangerously close.

Sarra and Kyra continued to whirl through the room, their blades colliding again, sparking in the semidarkness of the cathedral.

The clashing of metal on metal mixed with the threatening steps of the combatants.

“Tell me where Rowan is!” Sarra demanded, parrying a strike.

“Never!” Kyra replied, straining. “I won’t let you thwart his plans!”

Kyra forced Sarra to the ground, but she didn’t seize the opportunity to strike Sarra with her dagger.

With graceful movements, she jumped onto the altar and reached for a flickering candle. With precision, she threw it into the wooden structure of the pulpit.

Sarra watched in paralyzed horror, knowing exactly what would happen.

Only a moment later, a loud bang reverberated throughout the entire cathedral.

Flames licked out from the pulpit, filling the hall with dark smoke.

Leuven sat silently on the driver’s seat of his wagon, gently pulled by Ida.

The mare moved slowly through the nearly deserted streets as the nocturnal calm settled over the city.

Only a few people remained on the streets.

Some were celebrating in the countless taverns of the city, while others were already stumbling homeward.

The day had proven disappointing for Leuven, and the sadness reflected in his face.

Even his finest clothes earned him only a fraction of what he had imagined.

He blew the air out of his puffed-up cheeks. “Oh, Ida, what should we do? – We couldn’t go home. Maybe to the north, by the sea?”

The mare did not reply, continuing to plod along the road.

“Or west,” Leuven countered, twisting his mouth. “Cadeira is said to be beautiful. Vast vineyards, clear lakes and rivers, and the finest delicacies of the continent. Oh, my love, you would surely like it there. I’ve heard so much about the land.”

Then the young man took a deep breath. “But probably all lies.”

Suddenly, a loud bang pierced the nocturnal silence, startling both Leuven and Ida.

Immediately, excited cries filled the air, and people began to look around hectically, their eyes filled with worry and confusion.

Some flinched and covered their ears, while others strained to locate the source of the loud noise.

The mood was filled with sudden unrest as the news quickly spread that the bang had come from the cathedral.

A sense of foreboding filled Leuven’s thoughts. Quickly, they focused on a specific point: Evan.

Without hesitation, Leuven turned to Ida, his faithful companion. “I know what you’re thinking, but maybe he needed our help.”

She replied with a short neigh. This Leuven interpreted as confirmation of his words.

He took the reins firmly in his grasp.

The smoke spread through the cathedral as flames engulfed the banners and ancient, dry pillars.

With elegant leaps over the altar, Kyra was able to evade Sarra’s attacks.

She grinned maliciously and, with a skillful kick, knocked one of the daggers out of her opponent’s hand.

Sarra bared her teeth in anger. “What do you hope to achieve?”

“What do we hope to achieve?” Kyra asked, laughing, glancing around the cathedral. The sight pleased her. “The people should show reverence. They’ve taken everything from us, trampled our history underfoot. Now we fight back!”

“And you believe this is how you’ll achieve your goal?” Sarras face expressed her disbelief.

Kyra smiled with a malevolent face.

Evan still struggled to land a blow on Bardok.

Wildly, the Eldári swung his morning star, knocking over candelabra, smashing benches, but he couldn’t land a hit either.

The half-demon sidestepped, spun in one motion, and swung his sword.

He narrowly missed his opponent.

Evan bit his lip. This fight frustrated him.

A well-placed hit and he could gain the upper hand. But it eluded him. Even his aching leg distracted him, throbbing wildly with every step.

The fire continued to dance through the cathedral, accompanied by smaller explosions caused by additional explosives.

The heat and acrid smoke were taking their toll on Sarra and Evan, but they fought on tenaciously.

Sarra deftly danced between the flames, her daggers gleaming in the dark backdrop. Kyra leaped elegantly from one side to another to evade the attacks.

The battle between the two women was a breathless ballet of strikes and maneuvers.

Meanwhile, Evan struggled to avoid Bardok’s agile strikes.

The morning star whirled wildly, and although Bardok wore heavy leather armor, he seemed remarkably agile. Each of his attacks was precise and targeted.

The half-demon desperately tried to find an opportunity to counterattack, but Bardok gave him no respite. He continually forced Evan into a defensive position.

The sword of the half-demon swung through the air, but the attacks proved ineffective as the morning star came dangerously close.

Sarra and Kyra continued to whirl through the room, their blades colliding again, sparking in the semidarkness of the cathedral.

The clashing of metal on metal mixed with the threatening steps of the combatants.

“Tell me where Rowan is!” Sarra demanded, parrying a strike.

“Never!” Kyra replied, straining. “I won’t let you thwart his plans!”

Kyra forced Sarra to the ground, but she didn’t seize the opportunity to strike Sarra with her dagger.

With graceful movements, she jumped onto the altar and reached for a flickering candle. With precision, she threw it into the wooden structure of the pulpit.

Sarra watched in paralyzed horror, knowing exactly what would happen.

Only a moment later, a loud bang reverberated throughout the entire cathedral.

Flames licked out from the pulpit, filling the hall with dark smoke.

Leuven sat silently on the driver’s seat of his wagon, gently pulled by Ida.

The mare moved slowly through the nearly deserted streets as the nocturnal calm settled over the city.

Only a few people remained on the streets.

Some were celebrating in the countless taverns of the city, while others were already stumbling homeward.

The day had proven disappointing for Leuven, and the sadness reflected in his face.

Even his finest clothes earned him only a fraction of what he had imagined.

He blew the air out of his puffed-up cheeks. “Oh, Ida, what should we do? – We couldn’t go home. Maybe to the north, by the sea?”

The mare did not reply, continuing to plod along the road.

“Or west,” Leuven countered, twisting his mouth. “Cadeira is said to be beautiful. Vast vineyards, clear lakes and rivers, and the finest delicacies of the continent. Oh, my love, you would surely like it there. I’ve heard so much about the land.”

Then the young man took a deep breath. “But probably all lies.”

Suddenly, a loud bang pierced the nocturnal silence, startling both Leuven and Ida.

Immediately, excited cries filled the air, and people began to look around hectically, their eyes filled with worry and confusion.

Some flinched and covered their ears, while others strained to locate the source of the loud noise.

The mood was filled with sudden unrest as the news quickly spread that the bang had come from the cathedral.

A sense of foreboding filled Leuven’s thoughts. Quickly, they focused on a specific point: Evan.

Without hesitation, Leuven turned to Ida, his faithful companion. “I know what you’re thinking, but maybe he needed our help.”

She replied with a short neigh. This Leuven interpreted as confirmation of his words.

He took the reins firmly in his grasp.

The smoke spread through the cathedral as flames engulfed the banners and ancient, dry pillars.

With elegant leaps over the altar, Kyra was able to evade Sarra’s attacks.

She grinned maliciously and, with a skillful kick, knocked one of the daggers out of her opponent’s hand.

Sarra bared her teeth in anger. “What do you hope to achieve?”

“What do we hope to achieve?” Kyra asked, laughing, glancing around the cathedral. The sight pleased her. “The people should show reverence. They’ve taken everything from us, trampled our history underfoot. Now we fight back!”

“And you believe this is how you’ll achieve your goal?” Sarras face expressed her disbelief.

Kyra smiled with a malevolent face.

Evan still struggled to land a blow on Bardok.

Wildly, the Eldári swung his morning star, knocking over candelabra, smashing benches, but he couldn’t land a hit either.

The half-demon sidestepped, spun in one motion, and swung his sword.

He narrowly missed his opponent.

Evan bit his lip. This fight frustrated him.

A well-placed hit and he could gain the upper hand. But it eluded him. Even his aching leg distracted him, throbbing wildly with every step.

The fire continued to dance through the cathedral, accompanied by smaller explosions caused by additional explosives.

The heat and acrid smoke were taking their toll on Sarra and Evan, but they fought on tenaciously.

Sarra deftly danced between the flames, her daggers gleaming in the dark backdrop. Kyra leaped elegantly from one side to another to evade the attacks.

The battle between the two women was a breathless ballet of strikes and maneuvers.

Meanwhile, Evan struggled to avoid Bardok’s agile strikes.

The morning star whirled wildly, and although Bardok wore heavy leather armor, he seemed remarkably agile. Each of his attacks was precise and targeted.

The half-demon desperately tried to find an opportunity to counterattack, but Bardok gave him no respite. He continually forced Evan into a defensive position.

The sword of the half-demon swung through the air, but the attacks proved ineffective as the morning star came dangerously close.

Sarra and Kyra continued to whirl through the room, their blades colliding again, sparking in the semidarkness of the cathedral.

The clashing of metal on metal mixed with the threatening steps of the combatants.

“Tell me where Rowan is!” Sarra demanded, parrying a strike.

“Never!” Kyra replied, straining. “I won’t let you thwart his plans!”

Kyra forced Sarra to the ground, but she didn’t seize the opportunity to strike Sarra with her dagger.

With graceful movements, she jumped onto the altar and reached for a flickering candle. With precision, she threw it into the wooden structure of the pulpit.

Sarra watched in paralyzed horror, knowing exactly what would happen.

Only a moment later, a loud bang reverberated throughout the entire cathedral.

Flames licked out from the pulpit, filling the hall with dark smoke.

!

Leuven sat silently on the driver’s bench of his wagon, gently pulled by Ida.

The mare moved thoughtfully through the nearly deserted streets as the night’s calm settled over the city.

Only a few people remained on the streets.

Some were celebrating in the countless taverns of the city, while others were already swaying their way home.

The day had proved disappointing for Leuven, and the sadness reflected in his face.

Even his best garments brought in only a fraction of what he had envisioned.

He blew the air out of his puffed cheeks. “Oh Ida, what should we do? – We couldn’t go home. Maybe to the north, to the sea?”

The mare did not respond but continued to move sluggishly along the road.

“Or to the west,” Leuven replied, his mouth twisting. “In Cadeira, it is said to be beautiful. Vast vineyards, clear lakes and rivers, and the finest delicacies of the continent. Oh my love, you would surely enjoy that. I have heard so much about the land.”

Then the young man took a deep breath. “But probably all just deceit and lies.”

Suddenly, a loud bang pierced the nocturnal silence, causing both Leuven and Ida to startle.

Excited screams immediately filled the air, and people began to look around frantically, their eyes full of worry and confusion.

Some flinched and covered their ears, while others strained to locate the source of the loud noise.

The atmosphere was filled with sudden unrest as the news quickly spread that the bang had come from the cathedral.

A sense of unease pervaded Leuven’s thoughts. Quickly, they focused on a specific point, Evan.

Without hesitation, Leuven turned to Ida, his faithful companion. “I know what you’re thinking, but perhaps he needed our help.”

She responded with a short neigh. The young merchant took this as confirmation of his words.

He urged the mare on, the wagon rattled, and they hurried in the direction of the uncertain event.

In the crowd, the city guards could be seen rushing excitedly toward the cathedral.

Leuven knew he had to hurry, that much was clear to him.

He firmly took the reins into his grasp.

Smoke spread through the cathedral as flames engulfed the banners and old, dry pillars.

With elegant leaps over the altar, Kyra could dodge Sarra’s attacks.

She grinned maliciously and with a skillful kick, knocked one of the daggers out of her opponent’s hand.

Sarra bared her teeth angrily. “What do you hope to achieve?”

“What do we hope to achieve?” Kyra laughed and looked around the cathedral. The sight pleased her. “The people should show reverence. They have taken everything from us, trampled our history. Now we fight back!”

“And you believe this will accomplish your goal?” Sarra’s face expressed her disbelief.

Kyra only smiled with a malevolent face.

Evan still struggled to land a hit on Bardok.

Wildly, Bardok swung his morning star, knocking over candlesticks, smashing benches, yet he couldn’t land a hit either.

The half-demon dodged to the side, spun in a motion and swung his sword.

He narrowly missed his opponent.

Evan bit his lip. This fight frustrated him.

A precise hit, and he could gain the upper hand. But it was denied him. Even his aching leg distracted him, throbbing wildly with every step.

The fire continued to dance through the cathedral, accompanied by smaller explosions caused by additional explosives.

The heat and the acrid smoke took their toll on Sarra and Evan, but they fought fiercely on.

Sarra skillfully maneuvered between the flames, her daggers flashing in the dim setting. Kyra leaped gracefully from one side to the other to evade the attacks.

The fight between the two women was a breathless ballet of attacks and evasive maneuvers.

Evan, still battling Bardok, felt despair rising within him.

The explosions and the fire not only made the fight more dangerous but also harder to navigate.

Bardok swung his morning star wildly. He narrowly missed Evan’s head.

In that moment, the entrance gate thundered open.

The city guard stormed excitedly into the cathedral, followed by Heidenreich.

The captain of the city guard cast a glance at the chaotic scene, his expression darkening.

Heidenreich, whose stoic demeanor was broken by shock and horror, looked around with wide eyes.

“What in the name of the gods has happened?” Heidenreich exclaimed as he tried to assess the situation.

The city guards tried to contain the flames and restore order, but the extent of the destruction was already too great.

Evan was not distracted by this, unlike Bardok, who cast a surprised look at the newcomers.

The half-demon seized the opportunity, whirled around the Eldári, and struck with his sword.

He narrowly missed his opponent.

With a loud, thunderous noise, his morning star struck the stone floor.

Blood spurted in all directions.

“You bastard!” he cried out, realizing that Evan had severed his right hand.

The two women paused their fight.

Kyra looked horrified at her companion.

“Bardok!” she called out to him.

and then turned grudgingly to Sarra. “If the ravens sing to the bell tolls, then a storm will come from the east.”

With a venomous glance, Kyra threw a candlestick at Sarra and disappeared into the thick smoke.

Sarra pushed the candlestick away. But in the dense fog of black smoke, she could no longer make out the outlines of her enemy.

“If the ravens sing to the bell tolls, then a storm will come from the east.” This was a phrase familiar to her as well.

It hinted at an impending catastrophe, and it would be sacrilegious to use it thoughtlessly.

Some might perceive it as a declaration of war, but this phrase held a deeper meaning. An inevitable event was on the horizon.

The Eldári was snapped out of her thoughts when Evan’s voice reached her ear. “Sarra!”

She shook herself as if awakening from a trance. Her gaze fell on the blazing flames devouring the old wooden beams.

She hurried over to the half-demon, who already had his sword aimed at the next impending threat.

With flashing blade and determined expression, Heidenreich stomped toward them.

“We should get out of here and quickly,” Sarra said frantically.

But Heidenreich’s rough voice echoed through the hall: “Halt! – In the name of Regrat the third, King of Brunen, you are hereby arrested!”

Bardok’s wails interrupted the mood again.

Evan felt disillusioned. Thoughts whirled in his head.

The crossbows of the city guard were aimed at the half-demon and the Eldári, and Heidenreich brandished his sword against them.

The fire continued to spread, wooden beams crashing through the ceiling, and the smoke enveloped them tighter, taking them in a suffocating grip.

“Captain,” one of the city guards spoke up. “We should leave before the cathedral collapses. The fire brigade will take care of extinguishing the fire.”

Heidenreich growled like a wild dog. “If you leave now, I will see it as dereliction of duty.”

The city guard swallowed the thick lump that had formed in his throat.

Heidenreich refused to yield; he couldn’t. He had given his word to the king. There was nothing that would stand above it.

“Evan,” Sarra said urgently. “Now or never.”

Heat flickered on their faces, smoke scratching their throats. Panic rose within them as they gazed at the burning cathedral.

An inferno of red and yellow fire consumed the building, unstoppable and merciless.

Sarra, agile and nimble as a cat, concealed herself in the smoke and leaped onto a pew.

The heat of the flames brought beads of sweat to her forehead, but she didn’t hesitate. With a bold leap, she reached the next pew.

She could barely see her hand in front of her face, let alone the way out of this blazing hell.

Burning wood crashed to the ground, sparks flying in all directions.

A deafening noise filled the cathedral, drowned only by the crackling of the flames and the desperate coughing of those trapped inside.

With each breath, the air grew more toxic, the heat more unbearable.

Evan hesitated, but he had no other choice.

Before him, he saw the enraged Heidenreich, striding directly toward him through the dark mist.

Beside him, a cloud of black smoke. It seemed to be the last resort.

He closed his eyes, trusted his instincts, and followed Sarra.

Surprised by this decision, Heidenreich stopped, looking around, hoping to discern the outlines of his target in the fog.

Desperation drove Evan.

The heat of the fire burned in his lungs, the smoke darkening his vision.

Blindly, he leaped from one pew to the next, hope of rescue fading with each breath.

The flames licked at him, their heat whipping against his face. Panic surged within him, his heart pounding in his chest. Where was the exit? Where was Sarra?

Suddenly, he felt solid ground beneath his feet. He had made it.

He was at the exit. But the joy was short-lived.

The city guard soldiers stood before him and Sarra, crossbows aimed at them.

A crackling wooden beam fell directly behind Evan and Sarra.

It seemed they had no choice but to face the city guard.

Sarra, determined, gracefully leaped forward and landed skillfully in front of the bewildered city guards.

Her daggers gleamed in the flickering light of the flames.

Evan recognized the captain, who had taken the retreat and was stomping toward them.

Heidenreich hesitated for a moment, raising his sword against the half-demon.

It was written all over his face that his thoughts revolved around him. Was it all worth it? Should he chase the half-demon or do everything possible to at least save the remnants of the holiest?

But for Evan, it was clear that Heidenreich was as much a threat as the raging inferno.

He glanced at the city guard soldiers, some of whom were loosening to take aim at him.

“Sarra, stop them!” Evan called through the smoke, as he turned to face Heidenreich again.

The city guards hesitated before being attacked by Sarra.

It was a brief, intense fight between the agile Eldári and the overwhelmed city guards.

With a furious roar, Heidenreich stormed toward Evan, his sword raised high. His decision was made.

This cowardly attack on the cathedral had to be avenged in his eyes.

The swords clashed with a loud bang, sparks flying in all directions.

Evan was surprised by the raw power emanating from Heidenreich.

The two men stood facing each other for a moment, their gazes full of disdain.

Evan skillfully maneuvered around Heidenreich, pushing him against one of the pews.

Now or never, he had only a brief moment to escape.

Evan sprinted toward the exit, illuminated by the flames.

Filled with rage, Heidenreich rushed after him, his sword firmly in hand.

Sarra, who had quickly ended the fight with the city guards, noticed Evan’s escape.

With fluid movements, she pushed two of the city guards aside and followed the half-demon and the enraged captain.

At the other end of the hall, Bardok knelt. He breathed heavily. The smoke had enveloped him like a shroud of death.

He continued to stare at his bleeding stump of an arm. The certainty of his impending death reflected in his eyes.

He cursed the half-demon for his deed. But a gruesome grin suddenly spread across his face.

“Dadan tuley at kotavat!” he shouted, which in Eldárisch meant “Death will soon claim you.”

Amidst wailing curses, Bardok was buried by burning debris.

His grotesque screams merged with the infernal spectacle of fire.

The cathedral, once a place of peace and devotion, had now become a place of calamity and death.

Outside the cathedral, there was bustling activity.

The fire brigade and the brave townspeople worked hand in hand to extinguish the fire.

With simple pumps and buckets full of water and earth, they tried to overcome the flames. But it seemed to be an insurmountable task.

Evan rushed out of the burning inferno, panting and coughing.

His eyes searched for a way through the crowd, while Heidenreich’s furious shouts grew closer.

Suddenly, Evan heard the neighing of a horse and the cursing of a familiar voice.

His gaze darted around, and he recognized Leuven’s wagon, approaching at astonishing speed.

The wagon came to an abrupt halt before him, and a surprised Leuven blinked at the half-demon mischievously.

Panicked, Evan searched the crowd for Sarra but couldn’t find her.

The approaching Heidenreich was getting closer. A quick decision was needed.

He jumped onto the wagon and ordered Leuven to drive.

Stammering, Leuven took the reins firmly in hand, the mare whinnied, and the wagon set off.

Heidenreich could only watch them, breathing heavily, as one of the cathedral’s towers slowly collapsed in the background.

“Fuck!” Heidenreich shouted into the night, letting his sword fall to the ground with a clatter.

He seethed with anger. He had failed.

His angry eyes turned to the cathedral and the extent of the destruction it had suffered that night.

Agitated cries echoed through the crowd. Rabensberg had never experienced such a catastrophe. The symbol of peace and faith had been brutally desecrated.

The last city guards emerged frantically from the inferno.

For Heidenreich, this was the greatest defeat he had ever endured.

________________________

A dense curtain of smoke hung over the city, a somber testimony to the night’s events.

The cathedral, once a symbol of grandeur and faith, was now but a shadow of its former self.

Charred walls reached towards the sky, a mournful monument of destruction.

The residents tirelessly battled the remaining flames.

Under the guidance of the fire brigade and city guard, everyone pitched in, from the humble farmer to the esteemed merchant.

Shovels and buckets were passed around, water poured onto the embers, charred debris cleared away.

It was a race against time and despair.

The grief over the loss of the cathedral ran deep, yet the unity of the city’s populace grew stronger.

In this hour of need, they showed themselves united and determined to overcome the unimaginable.

Exhausted faces, blackened by soot and smoke, reflected the night’s hardships.

Despite the fatigue and pain, the residents did not give up.

In the distance, King Regrat observed the scene from his study.

His gaze fixed on the cathedral shrouded in smoke, his face betrayed anger and disappointment.

The veins on his neck pulsated with rage as he witnessed the tragedy unfold before him.

“This is not just an attack on our faith, it is a declaration of war on the entire kingdom,” he spoke, without taking his eyes off the catastrophe.

Behind him, Heidenreich’s voice rang out. “Your Grace, I bear full responsibility for what has happened.”

Regrat turned abruptly to Heidenreich, scrutinizing him critically. “I agree. It is your responsibility. A demon and three Eldári perpetrate an attack on our sacred cathedral, and the city guard is unable to prevent it.”

The king fell silent briefly, then continued, his gaze sharp upon the captain. “Nothing of this must leak out. It was an accident, do you understand? – A tragedy that we are investigating. Not a word about a demon or the Eldári. That would not reflect well on me.”

“I understand, Your Grace,” Heidenreich replied contritely.

The king grimaced. “I am not pleased with this decision, but after much consideration, I have decided to involve the Guild of Demon Hunters. I did not make this decision lightly, but I cannot allow these monsters to roam freely in my realm. They must be eradicated. As soon as possible.”

Regret clicked his tongue. “Furthermore, I have instructed my intelligence service to further investigate the matter. The activities of the Cardíz at our border, the attack on the cathedral, there must be a connection.”

“Your Grace, do you think the Cardíz are behind this?”

The king glared angrily at the captain. “Ever since that bitch became Empress, we can no longer feel safe. Her predators bare their teeth at the border, and our holiest of places is under attack. I am certain Empress Galina is the source of all evil. I will consult with the Minister of War, and I will consult with the rulers of Brilonia, Cadeira, and Wallau. The entire continent is in danger.”

“Your Grace, if I may express my opinion.”

“You may not,” the king replied angrily. “You should be grateful I do not publicly flog you. I will relieve you of your duty as captain of the city guard.”

“Your Grace, is this your decision?”

“You have shown me that you are not capable of holding this position. We have shown weakness, you have shown weakness. This not only harms the security of the realm but also my reputation.” Regrat’s eyelids began to twitch excitedly. “But I will show mercy.”

Mercy? – For Heidenreich, it felt like a stab in the back. There could be no greater shame for him. But his anger was not directed at the king, no, the culprit was a certain half-demon. The red eyes, that venomous expression, and the black hair, concealed under a dark hood. He saw him clearly before him.

His lips twitched, his face tensed. The captain was deeply immersed in his hatred, before the king’s voice pulled him out of the depths of his thoughts.

“Heidenreich.” King Regrat looked at him critically. “I will need your skills elsewhere.”

The captain looked at him bewilderedly. “You will not dismiss me from my service?”

“You have sworn an oath,” the king began, pausing briefly. “To protect the kingdom and its inhabitants. I still demand this service from you.”

Heidenreich’s heart pounded wildly in his chest. Despite his failure, he would be given another chance to prove his abilities and clear his name. His thoughts cleared as he received his orders.

“Lord Hagen of Dannenbrück is bombarding me with letters. The disappearance of his son worries him greatly, and I will offer him assistance. Find this brat and bring him back to Dannenbrück unharmed. Lord Hagen commands the soldiers at the eastern border. He should attend to his duties and not chase after his son.”

Heidenreich’s blood boiled.

Worse than dismissal, worse than humiliation before the king, was this task: A brat, a spoiled nobleman who had fled – and he was now supposed to find him. His hands clenched into fists. The city needed his presence, his protection, and he was supposed to waste his time chasing after a pampered brat?

Anger and frustration burned in his chest.

With iron self-control, he forced out the words: “Very well, Your Grace.”

It felt like a thousand pinpricks to utter those words.

“Complete this task quickly and this time without much attention,” said the king. “The lord should keep his troops ready and not waste his thoughts on such nonsense. His son’s name is Leuven. Leuven of Dannenbrück. He was last seen leaving the gates of Dannenbrück with a wagon heading west.”

“I will find him,” said Heidenreich, his voice sounding like a growl. “I will not fail, not again.”

The king scrutinized him with a cold gaze. “I hope so. Do your duty. After that, we will discuss how you will serve the kingdom from now on.”

Heidenreich bowed deeply, his anger boiling within him.

He would fulfill this task, yes. But he would do it his own way. And if this Leuven returned home at the end with a healthy dose of humility, then so be it.

With tense muscles, he left the king’s study.

Heidenreich swore to himself that he would use this assignment not only to fulfill it but also for his satisfaction.

___________________

The sun was at its zenith when Evan and Leuven were finally far enough away from Rabensberg to take a break.

Exhausted, they settled down by a small stream that bubbled along cheerfully.

While Evan went hunting for provisions with a growling stomach, Leuven tended to the fire pit.

Collecting wood had become second nature to him by now.

Almost automatically, he kindled a lively fire, its flames eagerly licking upwards.

Leuven squatted on a felled tree trunk, lost in the sight of the fire.

The dancing flames flickering in the breeze hypnotized him.

The spicy scent of smoke rose up, and the comforting warmth chased away the cool morning air.

A feeling of security spread within him.

Evan returned with two rabbits in his hands, which Leuven skillfully prepared over the fire after Evan had prepared them.

The aroma of roasted meat mingled with the smoke of the campfire and the crackling of the flames.

“I must admit, you seem to be a better cook than a merchant,” joked Evan after he had savored a bite of the meal.

“The secret lies in the spices,” Leuven replied proudly. “I followed your advice and sold some of my belongings. In return, I bought new clothes and some provisions. I must admit, this decision was the right one. I simply had to part with those things.”

Evan scrutinized the young man with a probing gaze. “And your green doublet?”

Leuven hesitated.

The green doublet, along with the beige trousers and matching cap, was his favorite combination. He didn’t want to part with it. “I wanted to keep at least these pieces. As a memory.”

Evan smacked his lips and nodded. “As a memory, hmm? Well, at least you listened to me.”

Leuven looked pensive. “And what are your plans now? Have you found what you were looking for?”

Evan set his meal aside thoughtfully. “While I’ve gathered some information, unfortunately, it only adds to my list. I have no clue where to search next.”

“Well, if you’d like, I can continue traveling with you. I’ve decided to head further north, to the coast,” suggested Leuven.

Evan took a thoughtful bite of his meal and chewed slowly. “After the incident in Rabensberg, traveling on foot might not be a wise idea. I’ll accompany you to the coast.”

“Good, Ida will surely be pleased,” the young man replied joyfully, glancing over at the mare grazing leisurely.

“Ida?” Evan asked, puzzled. “You’ve named her Ida?”

Leuven grinned. “Yes, and I don’t care what you say, it’s the perfect name for her.”

Evan chuckled, a rare sight.

“All right,” he said. “I’m glad you settled on a normal name after all those ridiculous ideas.”

Leuven blushed slightly. “Oh, um, well, that’s good then.”

Evan stood up, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and tossed the bones of his meal aside.

The stream continued to murmur peacefully, and the nature around them seemed to have forgotten the strife and chaos of Rabensberg.

The sky was clear, and the sun shone down on them.

“By the way,” Leuven began, almost choking on his food. “You left your luggage in my wagon.”

The half-demon’s eyes widened in alarm.

Like a startled chicken, he leaped to the wagon, pulled aside the tarp, and breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted his travel sack.

In all the excitement and his urgency for answers, Evan had completely forgotten it. But all his belongings were in there. Memories of days gone by, his diary, the list of his enemies, and everything he needed for his journey.

Leuven set down his plate and stood up.

With a mischievous smile, he turned to Evan. “I told you, fate brought us together.”

The half-demon turned abruptly, baring his teeth like a wild wolf. “Stop it! There’s no such thing as fate. I simply forgot my sack because my mind was elsewhere. End of story.”

Leuven shrugged. “All right, if you say so.”

He didn’t want to start another argument. The past few days had drained him of a lot of strength, and he didn’t want to waste the last energy he had on a pointless quarrel.

“We should move on and not waste any time,” Evan finally said, noticing that his words were bouncing off the young man.

He readjusted the wagon’s tarp.

“Now?” protested Leuven. “Can’t we enjoy the peace a little longer?”

Evan shook his head. “No. We need to leave. It wouldn’t be surprising if the king’s men were already on our trail. It’s best to avoid the main roads as well. The less attention we draw, the better.”

Furrows appeared on Leuven’s forehead. “But then it would take us at least twice as long to reach the coast.”

“That may be,” said Evan grimly. “But they will be looking for us.”

“For us? Why would they be looking for us?” Leuven’s eyes widened in shock.

“You helped me escape,” Evan said. “So they’ll be looking for you too. You’re my accomplice.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not your accomplice!” Leuven exclaimed. “I saved you!”

Evan looked at him, pointing his finger. “Firstly, you didn’t save me. I had everything under control. Secondly, the king’s men won’t care why you were there.”

Leuven paled. Panic gripped his throat. “Then what are we waiting for? We need to get out of here!” he blurted out.

He frantically poured sand over the campfire to smother it. The embers hissed and crackled.

Leuven’s hands trembled, driven by the fear that enveloped him like an iron band.

Evan, on the other hand, remained calm.

He nodded curtly. “But there’s no need to panic.” His words were harsh and unapproachable, his expression serious.

The events of the past few days had left their mark; his body was still weakened, his wound on his leg pulsing lightly like a weak heartbeat.

With tense steps, Leuven led Ida to the wagon.

His tension manifested in short, choppy sentences. “Hurry up!” he called out, his voice strained.

Evan cast a brief glance at him, a hint of annoyance in his eyes. “I’m coming.”

The half-demon helped the young merchant hitch the mare to the wagon.

Quickly, Leuven climbed onto the driver’s seat, taking the reins in hand.

Evan, however, leisurely climbed into the wagon through the tarp.

“I’ll need to rest a bit,” he said with a strained voice. “We need to continue as soon as possible, but my leg needs time to heal.”

Leuven nodded silently.

Tension hung over him like a dense fog.

The sounds of nature accompanied them on their flight as the wagon rolled leisurely along the stream.

The rush of water, the chirping of birds, and the soft clattering of hooves on the road formed a harmonious melody.

Inside the wagon, Evan felt the gentle movement and closed his eyes.

The events in Rabensberg and the subsequent escape had taken their toll.

His muscles ached, his head throbbed, and his leg could hardly recover.

Finally, he could release the tension for a moment and let his body rest.

Leuven, sitting on the driver’s seat, let his gaze wander over the peaceful landscape.

The sight of the light blue stream, the gentle meadows, and the dense forest calmed his agitated thoughts.

The sun bathed the landscape in a warm light.

Time seemed to stand still as the two companions continued their journey.