The Crimson Dawn

Chapter 12

The next morning, Aydin woke to the sound of Barrett banging on the doors down the hallway, his booming voice echoing through the tavern.

“Rise and shine, folks! We’ve got work to do! These beasts aren’t gonna slay themselves!”

Aydin groaned and rubbed his eyes, the remnants of his dreams fading. He could still see flashes of Stella’s face, hear her laugh, feel the pull of emotions he couldn’t quite shake. But there was no time to dwell on it. They had a mission to complete.

He dressed quickly, strapping on his gear and double-checking his Iron Shooter. By the time he reached the common room, the group was gathered around a map on one of the large tables. Ari stood at the center, pointing to a dense forest just beyond the city walls.

“These aren’t your average beasts,” Ari began, her voice calm but serious. “Pixies might look small and harmless, but they’re cunning, cruel, and they like to play with their prey. They’re magical, so traditional weapons won’t work unless they’re enchanted.”

“Great,” Derick muttered, leaning back in his chair. “More magic nonsense. Why can’t we just fight something straightforward? A troll, maybe?”

“Because trolls don’t fetch as much gold,” Barrett said, grinning as he hefted his massive axe onto his shoulder. “Besides, pixies aren’t that bad. Just don’t let them get in your head.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Raphael interjected, his tone cautious. “They’re tricksters. They’ll use illusions and lure you into traps. We’ll need to stay together and stay focused.”

Ari nodded. “Exactly. The last group that went after these pixies didn’t make it back. Their remains were found scattered, as if they’d been toying with them for sport.”

Stella, who had been sharpening her daggers in the corner, looked up. “So, we’re dealing with sadistic little pests. Lovely. Do we know anything else about them? Weaknesses?”

“They don’t like fire,” Ari said, her fiery red hair catching the light as she spoke. “But that won’t kill them. They’re vulnerable to silver and iron, but only if it’s been blessed or infused with magic.”

Aydin glanced at his weapon, thinking about how he could prepare. “What about luring them out? Do we know what they’re drawn to?”

“Shiny objects,” Ari replied. “Gold, jewelry, even polished metal. They’re greedy and vain, so we can use that to our advantage. But don’t underestimate them. They’re fast and deadly when cornered.”

Barrett chuckled. “Sounds like a fun time to me.”

“Fun isn’t the word I’d use,” Gedeon muttered, his gaze flicking to Stella. “We’ll need to keep our wits about us. Especially you, Stella.”

She rolled her eyes. “I can handle myself, Gedeon. You don’t need to babysit me.”

The tension between them was palpable, but Aydin decided not to intervene. Instead, he focused on the task ahead.

“We should move out soon,” Raphael said. “The longer we wait, the more time they have to prepare.”

The group nodded, gathering their weapons and supplies. As they headed out, Ari pulled Aydin aside.

“I’ll enchant your Iron Shooter,” she said, her voice soft. “It won’t hold magic for long, but it should be enough to get the job done.”

Aydin nodded, grateful. “Thanks, Ari.”

With their weapons ready and a plan in place, the group left the tavern and made their way to the forest. The air grew colder and heavier as they approached the dense trees, and an eerie silence settled over them.

The group arrived at the clearing where the pixies had been last spotted. The forest here was thick, the trees twisted and gnarled, their branches reaching like skeletal fingers toward the sky. An unnatural stillness hung in the air, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves in the faint breeze.

“Stay close,” Raphael cautioned, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “They could be anywhere.”

The group fanned out, searching for clues. Ari knelt near a cluster of mushrooms glowing faintly in the dim light. Stella examined scratches on a tree, her brow furrowed in concentration. Aydin kept his Iron Shooter ready, scanning the shadows.

Derick, however, froze as he heard something faint—a whisper, soft and beckoning.

“Frederick…”

The name sent a chill down his spine. He hadn’t heard it in years.

“Frederick…” the whisper came again, delicate and sweet, like a childhood memory carried on the wind.

Derick’s breath hitched. His heart pounded as the voice continued, growing louder, more familiar. He turned away from the group, moving toward the sound.

It wasn’t just a voice. Images began to form in the air before him—his home in Zearax, the grand halls of the royal palace, his father’s stern yet proud face. Then, another image: Lily, his younger sister, sitting on the throne, her face pale and burdened with the weight of responsibility.

“Frederick,” the voice whispered again, this time tinged with sorrow. “Why did you leave us?”

Derick stumbled forward, his hand reaching out as if to touch the vision of his sister. His mind was flooded with guilt and memories—his decision to abandon his family, the arguments with his father, the day he left without looking back.

The voice grew louder, more insistent, pulling him deeper into the trance.

“You were supposed to protect us, Frederick. You were supposed to lead. Now she bears the weight alone.”

Tears pricked his eyes as the images shifted, showing Lily struggling under the pressures of rulership, the kingdom falling into disarray.

“Frederick!”

The voice sharpened, turning accusatory. The images around him twisted, becoming darker and more menacing. His sister’s face morphed into one of anger and betrayal, her eyes glaring at him as shadows enveloped her.

“Why did you leave me?”

Derick staggered, his breath shallow. He barely noticed the faint giggles in the distance, the telltale sign of pixies weaving their illusions.

“Derick!” Stella’s voice rang out suddenly, cutting through the fog. “Derick, wake the f**k up!”

A sharp slap stung his cheek, snapping him out of the trance. He gasped and looked around wildly, his surroundings coming back into focus.

The clearing was in chaos. The group was under attack.

A few pixies darted through the air, their forms shimmering with an eerie, otherworldly glow. Their delicate, butterfly-like wings flitted rapidly, and their mischievous grins revealed sharp teeth.

Aydin fired his Iron Shooter, and with a loud crack, one of the pixies let out a shriek and fell to the ground, writhing before disintegrating into ash.

Barrett swung his axe, but the remaining pixies were too fast, dodging his strikes with ease.

“They’re too quick!” Barrett growled.

Stella leapt into the fray, her daggers flashing as she attempted to corner one of the pixies. Meanwhile, Ari was muttering incantations, her hands glowing as she prepared a spell.

“Derick!” Raphael shouted, blocking a darting pixie with his shield. “Snap out of it and fight!”

Derick shook off the lingering haze of the illusion, grabbing his sword. He charged toward the closest pixie, narrowly dodging its claws as it swooped at him.

“We need to pin them down!” Ari shouted, releasing her spell. A burst of fiery light erupted from her hands, forcing the pixies to scatter.

Aydin reloaded his Iron Shooter, his eyes narrowing as he tracked the movements of the second pixie. “I’ve got it,” he muttered to himself, taking aim.

With another deafening crack, the second pixie was hit. It let out a high-pitched scream before dissolving into ash like the first.

The last pixie hissed, its face contorting with rage. It dove toward Stella, who braced herself with her daggers raised.

“Not today!” Barrett roared, throwing his axe. It spun through the air, grazing the pixie and knocking it off course.

“Finish it!” Raphael yelled.

Stella seized the moment, leaping onto the pixie and driving her dagger into its chest. The creature screeched one final time before it crumbled into dust.

The clearing fell silent, save for the heavy breathing of the group.

Derick stood still, his sword in hand, his mind reeling from the illusion he’d just escaped. Stella walked up to him, her brow furrowed.

“You okay?” she asked, wiping blood from her blade.

He nodded slowly, not trusting himself to speak.

“Good,” Stella said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Because we’ve still got more work to do.”