Novelette: The Shattered Song

The air in the sacred groves of the satyrs hummed with unease. Pyrasos, the elder warrior, sat cross-legged beneath the spreading branches of the Eldertree in Oresth. His gnarled fingers traced the intricate carvings of a wooden totem in his lap. It depicted Akoiti, the satyrs’ god, whose song was said to keep chaos at bay. Pyrasos had spent countless days in the solace of these rituals, praying that his harmony would return to his people. But today, his prayers felt hollow, swallowed by the rising storm he had sensed for weeks.
“Pyrasos,” called out a voice, breaking the silence. He looked up, seeing Xanthis approach as she carried a bag of scrolls and a lute on her back. She was always a fiery contrast to his weariness, though lately her optimism seemed rather dim.
“It’s happened again,” she said, sitting beside him. Her fingers worryingly tugged at the hem of her tunic. “The sacred spring at Karyon was desecrated last night. They- they found markings. Certainly not characters we would ever carve as Thitosipsans,” she muttered nervously, her eyes darting between him and the ground.
Pyrasos closed his eyes with a sigh. Definitely not the first time he’s heard such a report, as for weeks, many holy sites across Thitosips had been defiled. Even worse, whispers of treachery had begun to ripple through the villages. Accusations flew like arrows in the dark, sharp and baseless, yet leaving wounds that festered.
“Another blasphemous incident? Any idea what it says this time?”
Xanthis unrolled a piece of parchment from her bag. The symbols appeared to be logographic, though jagged and unnatural. They were the script of Lord Lynç, God of the elves. Pyrasos felt his body tense as he recognised the script, from the war he fought in oh so long ago.
“Our work isn’t finished,” he translated in a murmur, eyebrows furrowing.
Xanthis’ ears perked up as she heard a commotion going on in the nearby village, Oresth, and she turned to face in that direction. Unable to hear it, Pyrasos trusted her judgement and looked in the same direction. The two promptly walked into the heart of the village, standing at a clearing as the heated argument went down.
“You dare accuse us of heresy?” Bellowed a satyr. “Our grove had suffered just like yours! Perhaps it’s you who’s harbouring traitors!”
The taller satyr scoffed. “You think I would defile Syrinth’s grove? Only one who’s lost their soul to Lynç would speak such blasphemy.”
The crowd murmured, the distrust palpable and only getting worse because of the elders’ argument.
Pyrasos stepped forward, raising his staff to command attention. “Enough!” He shouted. “This is what Lynç wants- to see our brothers and sisters tearing each other apart. We cannot let his poison kill what’s left of our ancient society.”
It seemed like for a moment, his words quelled the fear in the crowd. Xanthis could still sense the tension though, and gripped her lute, wondering if perhaps some ancient classics may help the crowd further. But, before she could speak, a cry rang out.
“Traitor!” Someone shouted. The crowd turned to face the source. A young elf had been dragged into the clearing, his arms gripped tightly by two villagers. His terrified, wide eyes darted face to face, tearing up slightly.
Orlin was merely a boy, though the accusation came flying at him as if he were an adult fully aware of his crimes. He stammered and whimpered out protests as he was forced on his knees. One of the satyrs holding him down presented a dagger to the elders, its blade inscribed with the same characters Xanthis showed Pyrasos earlier.
“Were found this hidden in his hut,” he said, his voice trembling. “He’s a servant of Lynç!”
Gasps and muttering rippled through the crowd. Pyrasos stepped forward, his expression unreadable as he read the inscription on the blade. He then turned to face Orlin. “Where did you get this?”
“I, I don’t know! I don’t recognise it,” he stammered, his chin twitching as he sobbed. “Please believe me, someone must’ve planted it there! You all know I came here without the amulet of Lynç, I swear on my soul that I’m innocent!”
Xanthis’ heart ached at the boy’s pleas. He sounded genuine, though the crowd was already laced with skepticism as they burned to each other.
Pyrasos raised his staff again. “We will not condemn someone without proper evidence- much less a young boy such as Orlin! Until we learn the truth, Orlin will remain under guard as-“
He was cut off by a sudden stone that had been flung, and struck Orlin in the shoulder. He cried out, and the crowd erupted into chaos. Villagers shouted accusations and hurled blows, Pyrasos was stunned by the utter cruelty of the people he thought he knew. Has Lynç’s influence already infected their village?
The violence was quelled after several satyrs were taken away, bruised and bleeding. Pyrasos and Xanthis both tended to the wounded, their hearts heavy as now paranoia hung over Oresth like a dark cloud.
As the night drew on, Xanthis retreated with Pyrasos to his hut to regroup. She sat cross-legged by the heath, her lute resting beside her. She was pale, whatever what was left of her optimism was completely gone.
“They don’t trust each other,” she said quietly. “How are we to stop Lynç if he’s already broken us from within?”
Pyrasos didn’t answer immediately as he sat, staring into the flames. His mind was racing over the events of today. He thought about what Orlin said, how he didn’t have an amulet when he immigrated here.
“We start by finding the truth,” he finally said. “That boy- Orlin. I believe him when he said he didn’t have an amulet. Hell, everyone should, we checked the belongings of all elven refugees. Something about what he said has me thinking, though. What if Lynç is able to mind control the elves without the use of the amulets? If he’s truly possessed, we must find a way to free him. And if he’s innocent, we must prove it before more blood is spilled.”
Xanthis nodded, though cautious about the potential journey ahead. “What about the others? The villages are on the brink of war.”
“Give them something to rally behind,” Pyrasos said. “You have a natural gift, Xanthis. As a Druid, you can create amazing songs that inspire us. You know of a few ancient songs that remind us of who we are. Use it, please. Remind our people of the unity we faced under holy Akoiti.”
Hope seemed to ignite in her eyes once more. “And what about you? What will you do?”
Pyrasos gripped his staff tightly. “I will uncover the poison. Lynç no doubt has sent hidden agents, and I will uncover them all.”

The following days were full of tension. Pyrasos worked endlessly without sleep to investigate the defilement of the holy sites, and uncover the truth about Orlin’s supposed treachery. He visited sacred sites, studying the markings and speaking to witnesses. Each step brought him closer to understanding Lynç’s strategy- but also closer to the grim realisation that the sleeper agents were more widespread than he had feared.
With renewed fervour, Xanthis poured her heart into her music, performing in the centre of the village every morning and evening, creating new songs in the hipped off rallying the village folk. Her songs told the tales about the resilience of the satyrs, especially with their numerous encounters with the elves and Lynç himself. How they managed to survive the cataclysmic apocalypse bright on by Lady Merthicz. Some villagers listened- their spirits momentarily lifted as they joined in and provided back up music even. But some turned away, their minds still plagued with paranoia.
And just as this were looking hopeful, the unthinkable happened. One of the village elders was found dead, his throat slit. Words were carved into the wood of his hut- the same damn jagged characters that marked the defiled groves. Panic swept through Oresth like wildfire, fingers pointing in every direction, and accusations turned to violence.
Pyrasos and Xanthis worked desperately to keep the peace, but upon finding out it was a satyr who committed the act, the two realised they were up against a cacophony of fear. They were on the verge of tearing themselves apart.
As the sun set on another day of turmoil, Pyrasos stood at the edge of the village, looking out at the darkened forest. More of Lynç’s agents lurked in there somewhere, just waiting to come out and drive in the final nail in the coffin. He clenched his fists, full of renewed resolve despite his weariness.
“Lynç thinks he can break us. But I won’t let him,” he muttered.
“We’ll stop him, and free everyone possessed by him. Together,” Xanthis joined in, her lute slung across her back. “This recent incident is only proof that he can control others without the use of a talisman, which means he needs to be stopped permanently.”
“Agreed. This is going to be difficult,” he groaned, rubbing his temples.
“In these dark times, just living is difficult. But we’ll find a way. We always have.”
Pyrasos shot her a soft smile, thankful for her unwavering optimism.
“What do we do now?”
“We’ll visit other villages, investigate them. See if we can’t figure out any new information. I say we start heading out west, and make our way towards Pegasus Haven. I have the feeling that with any luck, there’ll be something holy there waiting to help us. Maybe even holy Akoiti himself.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she says with a smile. “Maybe we’ll even get some useful insight from the dark elves. They should be in our area of Thaogo at this point in the year.”
Pyrasos nodded. “I like the sound of that. Maybe we can see about getting one to join us. Their magical abilities are unrivalled.”
And so the two spent the next day packing for their journey, making sure to carefully choose what they needed, especially food wise as they really didn’t have much money to their names.
The next day dawned slowly, the pale light filtering through the worn shutters of their small cottage as Pyrasos and Xanthis prepared for the journey ahead. The air inside was thick with the mingled scents of dried herbs, leather, and the faint, earthy tang of damp wood- a humble home that now felt too small to contain the gravity of their mission.
They worked in focused silence, each lost in thought about the uncertainties that lay ahead. Their belongings were meager, and every choice felt weighty, as though the success of their journey depended on each item they packed. Pyrasos, ever pragmatic, knelt beside a battered canvas satchel, inspecting tools and supplies with a meticulous eye. His weathered hands lingered over a flint and steel, a small tin of salve, and a coil of rope that had seen years of use. “We can’t afford to forget anything useful,” he murmured, more to himself than to Xanthis.
Xanthis, perched cross-legged on the floor nearby, had her own pile of essentials spread before her. She rolled her eyes as Pyrasos scrutinized his selections. “You’re acting like we’re preparing for a siege,” she teased lightly, though her voice carried an undercurrent of anxiety. Her lute sat beside her, polished and strung, the one item she couldn’t leave behind. To her, it was more than an instrument- it was a weapon against despair, a bridge to the hearts of their people. She gently tucked it into its leather case, padding it with a scarf to protect it from the rigors of the road.
When it came to food, the challenges of their impoverished state became starkly clear. The pantry was almost bare, holding little more than a handful of dried berries, a few strips of salted meat, and a small sack of cracked grain. Pyrasos sighed as he counted out their provisions, his brow furrowed. “This won’t last us long,” he admitted. “We’ll have to forage and trade as we go.”
Xanthis joined him, crouching beside the meager supplies. “Foraging I can do,” she said with forced cheerfulness. “And if we pass through any villages, I’ll sing for our supper if I have to.”
Pyrasos glanced at her, a faint smile breaking through his otherwise somber expression. “Your songs may buy us more than my old war stories ever could.” He patted her shoulder affectionately, but his gaze drifted to the window, where the forest loomed in the distance. Even as he tried to focus on their preparations, the weight of what lay ahead pressed heavily on his mind.
They packed deliberately, layering their modest belongings in two worn packs. Pyrasos ensured they included their cloaks, sturdy enough to keep out the forest’s chill, and a waterskin for each of them, though they would need to refill them at streams along the way. Xanthis insisted on bringing a small pouch of colorful ribbons and beads, a seemingly frivolous addition, but one that she swore could lift spirits or barter for small favors.
As the day wore on, the atmosphere in the cottage grew heavier. Every item tucked away into their packs seemed to emphasize how little they had and how far they had to go. By evening, the room was almost bare, the hearth cold, and the once-familiar space now felt foreign- a reminder that this was no longer their home. It was only a starting point, a memory they would carry as they ventured into an uncertain future. Pyrasos hoped they would one day return, but he had a horrid feeling in his gut this may be his last journey.
When their preparations were finally complete, they sat together in the dim light of a single candle. Pyrasos ran a hand over his rough horns, his thoughts unspoken, while Xanthis plucked a few quiet notes on her lute, the melody a fragile echo of the comfort they sought.

The next day came by quicker than the two hoped for. They grabbed their belongings as they set off, no one to wave them goodbye as they walked into the deep woods.
They walked for what seemed like hours, no signs of life except for the distant chirping of birds and the occasional squirrel running up trees.
It didn’t take long for them to pass by many ruins of the old kingdom. Odd looking structures Pyrasos imagined were once cozy homes to thousands, now merely broken apart and forgotten. Pyrasos imagined what life must’ve been like back then, but even he wasn’t that old to know. But just as they were about to leave the ruins behind them, Pyrasos noticed a group of people moving about.
Xanthis noticed him watching like a hawk. “What do you see?” She asked in a hushed tone.
He seemed to relax after a minute of consideration. “Dark elf nomads. Maybe they can give us some information,” he said as the two approached the group.
The tallest of the group, towering over the satyrs noticed them approaching and faced them with a smile. “Merry met, fellow travellers. I hope your days are filled with great luck. I understand many of your villages have been plagued by the will of Lynç,” he said, the last part in a sorrowful tone.
Pyrasos gave a soft smile. “Merry met to you as well. Unfortunately our village, Oresth, has been hit by a spree of desecration by his agents. We’re journeying out to hopefully get some answers and put a stop to it.”
“We all wish you the best of luck on your mission and shall pray for your safe return and success. We don’t have much knowledge to share unfortunately, but we did just pass through a village who’s also been attacked. Just follow the road west, and take the path to the right at the first fork.”
“Thank you kindly for your well wishes. We pray to holy Akoiti that you all find what you’re looking for. Safe travels to you,” Pyrasos said before beginning to walk off. Xanthis waved goodbye as she followed.
The tallest elf smiled, waving goodbye in return.
The two traveled as instructed, following the road west until they reached the first fork, and went down the right path until they came across the first village they found. Pyrasos was shocked to hear all the commotion going on from within, watching as satyr fight other satyr. The two eyed each other as they approached the village, walking directly into the eye of the storm.
People shouted at each other, friends turning on one another as paranoia ruled like a villainous king. Pyrasos grimaced, raising his staff. “Enough!” He shouted, his voice booming loud enough to reach to the next village over. “Is this what holy Akoiti would want? To see us all at each other’s throats? Can’t you see this is the work of that blasphemous god Lynç?”
One elder stepped forward. “Akoiti is dead!” She snapped. “We’ve prayed day in and day out, on our knees ‘til we were sore, begging for salvation from Lynç. Instead, all we got was a dead leader and half of our rations missing because of those damn elves we tried to show kindness to. Hells, even some of our own kin joined in on the theft, pleading loyalty to Lynç!”
“Akoiti is not dead you heretic, you know just as well as I that Lynç is power-hungry and will stop at nothing to dominate other gods,” Pyrasos hissed, glaring daggers. “We can’t always rely on the gods to handle our dirty work, sometimes we need to fight ourselves.”
“Our village is mostly old people, stranger. How are we supposed to stand against Lynç and his army?”
“We have magic for a reason. The gods gave it to us so we may fend for ourselves in times of need. Look, our village has been struck by Lynç recently, and we’re on our way to stop him. Maybe we can help each other out,” Xanthis said in a calm tone.
“We don’t have anything to give you, we’ll be lucky if we survive the winter,” the elder murmured, rubbing her forehead.
“We don’t want resources,” Pyrasos clarified, “we want information. Please, tell us everything that’s happened to you. In return we’ll work to make sure you get your supplies back and justice is brought to your leader.”
She sighed, thinking for a second before nodding. “It started a few months ago. It started with small things, like notes written in their language. None of us could read it so we weren’t sure what to think of it. Then the elves started showing up, begging for refuge. We let them in because they publicly denounced Lynç and everything he stood for. They were nice at first, so we didn’t think anything of it when our temples and groves started being defiled. More of those inscriptions were found, and the elves were able to translate them, basically stating that we needed to convert or we’d regret it.
But we refused, and so little things started being misplaced- mostly tools and the like. After a while of that the elves started becoming aggressive. Even some satyrs joined in in antagonising us, and it wasn’t until one elf publicly murdered a young boy that we realised they were all bad news. Our leader had no choice but to banish them. I, don’t really remember the exact details of that confrontation- it was all a big blur. I do remember that many of the younger satyr tried to argue to let them stay, the leader refused, and so he was. Killed,” she murmured the last part. “He died a week ago. Since then they’ve been returning just to steal our resources. And now, we’ve got people accusing each other of treason.”
“Anything happen specifically that led to the accusations?” Xanthis asked.
“The young satyr going missing. People think it must be one of our elders that’s secretly working with Lynç.”
“I see,” Pyrasos said, pondering for a minute. “Well in our situation, we’ve got a young boy, a satyr who’s been accused of working with Lynç. My running theory is that Lynç is possessing them to do his bidding.”
The elderly woman looked at him in shock. “That’s horrible! Doing that to a young boy? But if Lynç is possessing just anyone- how, how do we protect ourselves from his influence?” She stuttered.
“That I’m not sure of just yet. But I promise you, we’re going to bring an end to this. If you don’t mind us staying for the night, we can try waiting for them to come back to steal and we can track them down for you,” Pyrasos offered.
She hummed in thought before hesitantly nodding. “Alright. I have a spare bedroom you can stay in. I just wish we could do something about this crowd,” she said, exhausted.
“Leave that to me,” Xanthis said with a smile, pulling out her lute.
“Oh how nice! A bard. We haven’t had any travelling bards here in ages. I was beginning to think the profession died out.”
Xanthis chuckled. “Good thing I’m here, then. Everyone needs a good song- especially one to remind our people of who we are,” she said before walking into the centre of the crowds. People quieted as they saw her walking. “Can I have your attention please? I know these are hard times, but we have to remember to be resilient in the face of danger,” she began to pluck the strings on her lute as she talked. “We’re better than this. But it’s alright, because we’re going to fix this! Together,” she said, then beginning to sing:
“When the winds howl fierce and cruel,
And the skies grow dark with strife,
We remember the roots that bind us,
Through every storm of life.
For we are the children of forest and stone,
Our hearts beat wild, our spirits our own.
Through fire and shadow, through ash and despair,
The satyrs endure, for we’ve always been there.
When invaders marched with steel and flame,
We danced through the trees unseen,
With horns held high and hearts aflame,
We fought to keep our lands serene.
For we are the children of forest and stone,
Our hearts beat wild, our spirits our own.
Through fire and shadow, through ash and despair,
The satyrs endure, for we’ve always been there.
Let them try to break our bonds,
Let them scatter our kin apart.
The roots run deep, the song is strong,
Akoiti’s song lives in our heart.
For we are the children of forest and stone,
Our hearts beat wild, our spirits our own.
Through fire and shadow, through ash and despair,
The satyrs endure, for we’ve always been there.
Yes, we’ll always be there.”
A wave of applause erupted from the gathered satyrs as the final lingered. Hands clapped in rhythm, hooves stamped against the earth, and voices rose in a chorus of cheers. The tension that had hung over the village seemed, for a brief moment, to lift, replaced by a shared sense of hope and pride.
Xanthis straightened, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath, a faint flush coloring her cheeks. She gazed out at the crowd, her eyes softening at the sight of their uplifted faces. Bowing low with a graceful sweep of her arm, she offered a warm, genuine smile.
"Thank you," she said, her voice carrying just enough to be heard above the applause. As she rose from her bow, the cheers grew louder, some of the younger satyrs shouting her name in admiration. Even Pyrasos, standing at the edge of the clearing, allowed himself a small, approving nod, the weight of his usual stoicism momentarily eased by her success.

Hours pass and it eventually becomes night. Xanthis was relaxing on the bed while Pyrasos was watching through the blinds for any signs of the elves. He seemed rather extra on edge this night, wondering just how he was going to pull this off. Sneaking would probably work best. Avoid a confrontation and find the source straight up. As he thought, he felt chills run down his spine, and the looked out the window to see satyr sneaking out of the village with a bag. Bingo.
“Time to go,” Pyrasos said, and Xanthis stood as they walked out of the house.
The two snuck up quietly, leaving some distance between them so as to avoid being caught. Xanthis was caught off guard by the way the trees began to looked blackened and gnarled.
The forest was a graveyard.
Trees that were once vibrant stood as charred, lifeless husks. The air was thick with the stench of corruption, and an oppressive silence g filled the air where birds chirping would usually play. Pyrasos and Xanthis stepped cautiously, their boots dirtied by the ashen ground. Pyrasos led the way, using his staff to dimly light the way, just yet with that the sleeper agents wouldn’t notice them. Xanthis’ heart pounded in her chest as she stumbled.


“We must be close, the ash is thickening like crazy. Stay alert,” he warned Xanthis. The temple lay just beyond the ridge, hidden deep in the burnt grove.
Xanthis nodded, swallowing hard. While she’d seen some of the corruption up close, this level of practically demonic influence was harrowing to see. It wasn’t just destruction here- it was a perversion of life itself.
The temple finally came into view. Once a place of revered beauty, was now left unrecognisable. The carved stone pillars were cracked and covered in dark, pulsating veins. The great statue of Akoiti that had stood at the temple’s heart was defaced, its serene visage gouged away to leave a gaping, jagged void. A sickly green light emanated from the center of the ruin, casting grotesque shadows on the walls.
Xanthis inhaled sharply. “Wha- what have they done?”
Pyrasos gripped his staff tightly, as if threatening to snap it in half. “Defiled it. Lynç turned this sacred ground into a conduit for his will. We have to stop it.”
The two moved towards the inner sanctum, their steps show and deliberate. The source of the green light became clear as they approached: a jagged, otherworldly relic rested on a makeshift altar. Its surface was black and glossy, etched with characters that glowed faintly with sinister energy. The artefact radiated a palpable malevolence, and Xanthis felt her stomach churn just looking at it.
“What is it?” She whispered.
Pyrasos studied it for a minute. “I- I’m not sure. I’ve never seen anything like it. It looks like obsidian. Maybe- maybe is the heart of Aeldrithius?” He stammered.
Xanthis’ eyes widened. “That can’t be. It- it was destroyed during the apocalypse! There’s tales about it being shattered into millions of pieces.”
“Maybe it’s corrupted like this because it was shattered. Twisted and used for evil- it would explain a lot,” Pyrasos murmured, his tone heavy. “Lynç must have bound his essence to this shard- serving as a beacon to project his will into the minds of others.”
Xanthis’ thoughts raced. “So then- it really is just possession. Sleeper agents? It, it all starts here..”
Pyrasos nodded grimly. “And as long as it remains, it’ll only grow stronger.”
As they echoed the relic, voices echoed from deeper within the temple. Pyrasos squinted, motioning for Xanthis to follow, and they snuck up to the source of the sound, careful to stay in the shadows. They found themselves in a dimly lit chamber where a group of satyr and elves stood around a map spray out on a stone table. At the centre was Archon Deltharos.
Xanthis gasped. “Not- not Deltharos.. He’s supposed to be the most respected elder!” A jolt of disbelief shot through her. Deltharos was supposed to be a pillar of wisdom. To see him in this desecrated temple…
“Deltharos,” Pyrasos whispered, both in a furious and sorrowful tone.
Xanthis turned to him, her eyes wide. “How can someone so holy and devout fall prey to the likes of Lynç?”
“I don’t know, but the fact he’s so well respected makes him very dangerous,” Pyrasos murmured angrily. “If Lynç possessed him, he’s the perfect agent to sow division. Satyrs will follow him without question.”
As they listened, Deltharos spoke to the gathered satyrs, his tone calm but cold, and his eyes glazed over. “The villages are breaking apart, just as Lynç desires. Soon, they will turn on one another completely, and the satyr lands will be ours to reshape. But first, we must ensure this temple’s power spreads. The next site must be prepared.”
One of the satyrs, younger and more hesitant, raised a hand. “Archon, what of the food we’ve been taking from the village? If the elders investigate-”
“They won’t,” Deltharos interrupted sharply. “Pyrasos is there, playing the hero as usual. Let him believe his actions matter. By the time he realizes the truth, it will be too late.”
Xanthis’s fists clenched, her nails digging into her palms. The village they spoke of must be the one Pyrasos had pledged to help. And now, to hear Deltharos dismiss his efforts so cruelly- it was almost too much to bear.
As the possessed people prepared to leave, Pyrasos and Xanthis retreated back to the sanctum. Their minds raced, but there was no time for hesitation.
“We have to destroy the relic,” Xanthis said, her voice firm despite her trembling hands. “If it’s the source of Lynç’s power, we can end this here and now.”
Pyrasos hesitated, his brow furrowed in thought. “Destroying it may sever Lynç’s hold on this temple, but it won’t end his influence completely. The other temples will remain corrupted, and the sleeper agents will still be active.”
“Then what do we do?” Xanthis asked, her voice rising in frustration. “We can’t just leave it here!”
Pyrasos placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We’ll dismantle the altar and take the relic with us. If we can get it to the druids of Syrinth’s Grove, they may know how to neutralize its power without unleashing its wrath.”
“And Deltharos?” Xanthis asked, her gaze flicking back toward the chamber where the Archon had spoken.
Pyrasos’s jaw tightened. “We’ll expose him. If the people know the truth, his influence will crumble. But we must tread carefully. If we act too soon, we risk making him a martyr.”
Xanthis nodded, though a storm of emotions churned within her. She wanted to confront Deltharos, to demand answers, to force him to see the harm he was causing. But she trusted Pyrasos’ wisdom, even if it meant swallowing her anger for now.
Pyrasos worked quickly, carving protective runes into the altar to suppress the relic’s energy. Xanthis kept watch, her ears straining for any sign of the agents returning. The oppressive energy of the temple seemed to press in on them, as though Lynç himself were aware of their presence and growing restless.
At last, Pyrasos wrapped the relic in a thick cloth, securing it in a sturdy satchel. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice low but urgent.
They retraced their steps through the corrupted forest, their every movement shrouded in silence. But as they neared the edge of the desecrated zone, a chilling howl echoed through the trees. Xanthis froze, her heart pounding.
“Selveros,” Pyrasos muttered. “They’ve sensed the relic.”
“Can we fight them?” Xanthis asked, gripping her lute as though it might serve as a weapon.
Pyrasos shook his head. “Not here. They’re too strong in Lynç’s domain. Run.”
The two satyrs sprinted through the forest, their hooves kicking up ash and debris. Shadows flickered in the corners of their vision, and the air grew colder with every step. The howls grew louder, closer, until Xanthis felt as though they were breathing down her neck.
But then, as suddenly as it had begun, the oppressive presence lifted. They burst into the uncorrupted part of the forest, the vibrant green of the trees a welcome sight. Pyrasos slowed, breathing heavily, and glanced over his shoulder. The selveros had not followed.
“They can’t leave the corrupted zone,” he said, though his tone was wary. “For now, we’re safe.”
Xanthis nodded, her legs trembling with exhaustion. She looked back toward the blackened forest, her heart heavy. The temple was only the beginning, she knew. Lynç’s influence was spreading, and the battle to stop him was far from over.

The two rested at a tavern far away from the corrupted temple. They were exhausted, but hungry, so they decided to get some food before retiring for the night. Pyrasos and Xanthis both lit up as their food was brought to the table, and began to immediately dig in.
“So where you folks coming from?” The owner asked, pleading a hand on his hip.
“Oresth,” Xanthis answered, taking a bite out of her juniper bark.
“Oresth? That’s all the way out east! You two must be exhausted. Mine me asking what brings you both out here?”
“Oh uh, we have family in Pegasus Haven we need to see. My grandmother is sick, you see,” Pyrasos mentioned as he ate his tea leaves.
“Ah, I see. Well I give you my prayers that she returns to full health. Enjoy your food,” he said with a smile before walking off.
Xanthis nodded a thanks as she ate, but paused upon seeing someone letting in the corner of the tavern. It wasn’t dim, so she could clearly see he was dazed, and just, sat there even though his food was waiting for him. Pyrasos noticed her staring, and looked in her direction. The both of them got bad vibes from him. He suddenly stood up and turned, prompting the two to look away as the stranger began talking quietly to random people. Pyrasos watched carefully as he did, noticing that the people he was talking to seemed to fall into a trance. His eyes widened.
“Xanthis- I think this tavern is full of sleeper agents,” he whispered.
“I see what you mean. We’ll have to tread carefully,” she responded, before suddenly that stranger approached her.
He leaned into her, whispering in her ear. His mouth moved, but only static came out. She widened her eyes as she dug her nails into the table, eyeing down Pyrasos as a plea for help.
He took his cue to gently move the stranger away from Xanthis. He simply moved along to the next guest. He then faced Xanthis who looked dazed, swaying lightly. He snapped his fingers in front of her, grabbing her attention.
“Hey- are you okay? What did he say to you?” Pyrasos asked.
“I…” She trailed off, shaking her head as everything came back into focus again. “He wasn’t saying anything. At least I don’t think he was… He, it was just, garbled nonsense. I could almost make out something he was trying to say, but it sounded malevolent. We need to leave. Now,” she said quietly.
Looking at her in concern, he nodded as the two grabbed their belongings and bursted out the tavern doors, making a run for it as they headed west.
“That must be how they create new sleeper agents!” Xanthis cried out, huffing as she ran. “I swear it felt like listening to Lynç’s essence.”
“Utterly demonic,” Pyrasos hissed. “We’ll have to a Druid to purify you just to be safe.”
Before she could respond, she heard the door of the tavern slam open, and the handful of possessed satyrs spilled out, their movements unnervingly synchronised.
“They’re not giving up,” Xanthis said breathlessly, her strength returning with every step.
“They won’t stop until they have the relic,” Pyrasos replied, his voice grim. “And us, if they can manage it.”
The two ran through the narrow streets of Eldwyn, their hooves pounding against the cobblestones. The village was eerily quiet, the usual bustle of evening life replaced by an oppressive stillness. Pyrasos realized with a sinking feeling that the influence of Lynç was already here, spreading like a plague.
They kept running until they reached the edge of the village, where a large copse provided cover. Pyrasos led her deeper into the forest, before they came out to a small clearing. They finally paused to catch their breath.
Xanthis shivered. “The feeling of being possessed isn’t fun whatsoever. I can hear the relic calling to me now. We have to destroy it,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute. “We can’t let this continue.”
Pyrasos’ expression was somber. “Destroying it isn’t as simple as you think. It’s imbued with divine energy. It would unleash a wave of raw, unbridled power. Anyone near it when it happens…”
He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Xanthis understood.
Xanthis straightened, determination hardening her features. “Then we take it somewhere where that power can be contained. Somewhere sacred.”
Pyrasos nodded. “Pegasus Haven.”
The name carried a weight of reverence. Pegasus Haven was a mountain sanctuary, a place where the satyrs believed divine power still lingered. It was said that the mountains themselves were blessed by the pegasus that helped create the world when it was still a alicorn, merged with the unicorn, imbuing it with strength to ward off darkness. If there was any hope of neutralising the relic’s power safely, it lay there.
“It won’t be easy,” Pyrasos said. “Lynç’s forces will come for us with everything they have. And we’ll need time to prepare the mountain for the ritual.”
Xanthis hesitated, sensing the unspoken weight in his words. “You’re thinking of staying behind,” she said quietly.
Pyrasos met her gaze, his expression resolute. “They’ll never stop chasing us, Xanthis. Not while the relic is still in our hands. Someone has to distract them—lead them away.”
“No,” Xanthis said immediately, her voice rising. “You can’t. We’ll find another way.”
“There is no other way,” Pyrasos said firmly. “You’re the only one who can carry the relic to Pegasus Haven. I’ve trained you for this. The people need a future, Xanthis- and that future is you.”
Tears welled in Xanthis’s eyes, but she fought to keep them from falling. “You’ve done enough, Pyrasos. You’ve given everything for our people. Why does it always have to be you?”
“Because I’m the one who can do it,” he said simply. “I’ve lived my life, Xanthis. I’ve fought my wars. This is my final battle, and I’ll fight it gladly if it means giving you a chance to save us.”
“But what if I’m not strong enough? What if I succumb to its power?”
“You’ll be fine. Just remember the training I gave you in magic.”
Xanthis clenched her fists, the weight of his words crushing her. She wanted to argue, to demand that he stay with her, but deep down, she knew he was right.
“Promise me,” she said, her voice trembling. “Promise me you’ll find a way back.”
Pyrasos smiled faintly, though the sadness in his eyes was unmistakable. “I promise to fight until my last breath. That’s all I can give.”
The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight pierced the forest canopy, Pyrasos and Xanthis stood at the edge of the clearing. Pyrasos handed her the satchel containing the relic, his hands lingering for a moment as though reluctant to let it go.
“Follow the trail north west,” he instructed. “It’ll lead you to the base of the mountain. Once you reach Pegasus Haven, find the high altar and the Druids who own it. The ritual must be completed there.”
Xanthis nodded, her jaw set with determination. “And you?”
Pyrasos adjusted his staff, his expression calm and focused. “I’ll lead them south, toward the river. With any luck, they’ll think I have the relic and follow.”
Xanthis stepped forward and embraced him tightly. For a moment, Pyrasos stood still, then slowly wrapped his arms around her.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”
When they parted, Pyrasos gave her one final nod. “Go. And don’t look back.”
Xanthis hesitated, her heart screaming for her to stay, but she turned and ran. The sound of her hooves faded into the distance, leaving Pyrasos alone in the clearing.
He adjusted his grip on his staff, his expression hardening. In the distance, the faint glow of Lynç’s forces grew brighter, closing in like a storm.
“This is where it ends,” Pyrasos muttered to himself, his voice steady. “For holy Akoiti, for my people… and for her.”
With a deep breath, he stepped forward to meet them.
The group approached Pyrasos rather quickly, ready to take him down. He sighed, stretching. “Let’s see if you can keep up,” he said before running south, and the group of possessed satyrs followed.
Xanthis huffed as she ran, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, each step a battle against the burning in her legs. The forest around her blurred into streaks of green and brown, the rhythm of her hooves pounding against the earth barely keeping pace with the frantic beating of her heart. She clutched the satchel tightly against her chest, the relic within seeming to grow heavier with every mile, as though it were resisting her journey to Pegasus Haven. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself harder, knowing she still had at least another hour to go before reaching the sanctuary where hope- and the fate of her people- awaited.

The forest thinned as Xanthis reached the base of Pegasus Haven, its towering peak shrouded in mist. The path before her was steep, littered with jagged stones and tangled roots, as if the mountain itself sought to test her resolve. Her legs trembled with exhaustion, and her chest burned with every ragged breath, but she pressed on, driven by the desperate knowledge that the relic’s power had to be stopped. The satchel seemed to weigh her down like an anchor, each step harder than the last.
Finally, as her body screamed for rest, Xanthis stumbled to a halt near a moss-covered boulder. She dropped to her knees, clutching at the ground for support, the satchel falling heavily beside her. Her vision swam, and the faint hum of the relic grew louder, filling her ears like the droning of a distant, malevolent choir.
“Just… a moment,” she whispered to herself, her voice shaking. She leaned back against the boulder, her strength utterly spent. But as she closed her eyes, the whispers began again.
They were soft at first, like a breeze through leaves, but they grew insistent, coiling around her thoughts like a serpent. Rest, Xanthis, the voice murmured, its tone soothing and seductive. You’ve done enough. Let it end here.
Xanthis’s grip on reality began to falter. The weight of her journey, the endless running, and the knowledge of Pyrasos’s sacrifice pressed down on her, making the promise of rest seem almost merciful. Her hand inched toward the satchel, as though guided by some unseen force. The relic’s whispers deepened, weaving through her mind with sinister intent. Images of peace, of warmth, of being free of her burdens, filled her thoughts, pushing aside the urgency of her mission.
“No,” she gasped, shaking her head violently. “This… isn’t real.”
But the relic’s hold tightened. The whispers became louder, overlapping voices now, all urging her to surrender. Her limbs grew heavy, her will weakening as she fought to cling to herself. Tears welled in her eyes as doubt seeped into her heart. What’s the point? the voice hissed, venomous and persuasive. You’re just one satyr. What can you do against the will of a god?
Xanthis’s fingers brushed the edge of the satchel, the relic’s dark energy surging through her like a jolt of electricity. Pain wracked her body, but it was laced with an intoxicating promise of release. She clenched her teeth, her mind a battlefield of voices- her own, and those of the relic.
In her desperation, she fumbled for her lute, the familiar shape grounding her. Her trembling fingers found the strings, and she strummed a discordant note, her voice rising in a shaky song. The melody was broken, but it was hers- a reminder of who she was.
“I am Xanthis,” she whispered fiercely, her voice gaining strength. “And I am not yours.”
The whispers faltered, their grip loosening as her song grew louder, more defiant. The relic pulsed angrily within the satchel, but she clutched her lute tightly, pouring her will into the music. Finally, with a guttural cry, she shoved the satchel away from her and collapsed back against the boulder, gasping for air.
The whispers faded, but the struggle had left her drained, her body trembling and soaked with sweat. She stared up at the mountain, its peak hidden in mist, and steeled herself. There could be no more hesitation. Pegasus Haven was close, and she had to reach it before Lynç’s influence consumed her completely.
Xanthis’ legs felt like lead as she ascended the narrow, winding trail to Pegasus Haven. Her hooves scraped against loose stones, her breaths sharp in the cold, thin air. She had no idea how long she had been climbing, only that the relic’s whispers had grown softer but no less persistent, a constant, sinister hum that seemed to resonate with the mountain itself. She gripped the satchel tightly, as though holding it any looser would let the relic slip away and doom her people entirely.
The path opened up to a plateau, revealing the entrance to Pegasus Haven. Xanthis had imagined this moment countless times during her journey: a majestic sanctuary untouched by Lynç’s corruption, a place where divine light would shine and Akoiti’s presence could be felt. But what stood before her was a mockery of those hopes.
The sacred mountain was desecrated. The carved stone archways leading into the sanctuary were cracked and covered in the same jagged characters she had seen at the other desecrated sites. The air reeked of decay, and a faint green glow seeped from the cracks in the earth. The once-glorious temple at the summit, a beacon of hope for the satyr people, now radiated Lynç’s foul influence.
Xanthis dropped to her knees, overwhelmed by despair. “No… no, no, no,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “This was supposed to be the answer. The last place he couldn’t touch…” Her hands trembled as she clutched her lute, the only thing that had kept her anchored through this ordeal.
But now, the mountain itself seemed to mock her. She was alone, and the sacred power she had hoped to find was gone.
Despite the overwhelming darkness, Xanthis refused to give in completely. She forced herself to her feet, her mind racing. If the mountain’s divine power was gone, perhaps a remnant of it remained, hidden beneath the corruption. She gripped her lute tightly, stepping forward with hesitant but determined strides.
Reaching the center of the plateau, she knelt and placed the relic on the ground, the satchel’s fabric singed from the artifact’s foul energy. The whispers grew louder now, almost jubilant, as if sensing its victory.
Xanthis closed her eyes, her hands trembling as she plucked the lute’s strings. The melody that emerged was soft at first, a fragile echo of the satyrs’ oldest hymns, the songs that had once united their people. Her voice wavered, raw with exhaustion and grief, but she poured every ounce of her spirit into the song.
“O Akoiti, hear me,” she sang, her voice cracking but resolute. “Your children are lost. Your lands are broken. But your light remains within us… even now.”
The air around her seemed to shift, the oppressive weight of Lynç’s corruption faltering for the briefest moment. A faint shimmer appeared in the air before her, and Xanthis’s heart leapt. From the shimmer emerged a figure- vague and ethereal, its form barely holding together. It was Akoiti, or what remained of his presence on this mountain. The satyr gpd’s features were fragmented, his voice distant, but his power still carried a hint of the divine.
“Child,” Akoiti’s voice whispered, strained and faint. “Your heart burns brightly… but my strength is all but gone. The apocalypse sapped my power.”
“No!” Xanthis cried, tears streaming down her face. “We can fight this. Together! Just tell me what to do!”
Akoiti’s form flickered, his light dimming. “The relic… it must be destroyed. But its end will come at great cost…”
Before Akoiti could finish, the shimmer of his presence vanished, consumed by the green glow of Lynç’s corruption. Xanthis reached out as if to grasp the fading light, but it was gone.
The ground trembled, and Xanthis whirled to find herself surrounded. Emerging from the shadows of the plateau were the Druids of Pegasus Haven, or what was left of them. Once revered protectors of the mountain’s sacred power, they were now grotesque caricatures of their former selves. Their bodies were marked with jagged characters, their eyes glazed over as if lost permanently daydreaming.
Xanthis grabbed her lute, preparing to defend herself, but the druids moved with terrifying precision. One reached out, and a vine-like tendril wrapped around her wrist, pulling her lute away. Another knocked her to the ground, pinning her.
“Let go of me!” she shouted, struggling against their grip. But her strength was no match for their unnatural power.
The rest of the Druids stepped forward, their mouths dropping low as that same static noise rang out loudly. The noise filled the air, grating against Xanthis’ ears. She cried out, trying to cover her ears, but the druids forced her hands away.
The relic’s whispers grew louder, merging with the discordant hum, overwhelming her senses. Her vision blurred, and her thoughts became fragmented, as if her mind were being shattered into pieces.
“Submit,” the whispers urged, drowning out her own voice. “There is no hope. There is only Lynç.”
Xanthis’s resistance faltered. She felt her will slipping away, her thoughts no longer her own. The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was the satchel containing the relic being carried away, its green glow pulsating triumphantly.

Far to the south, Pyrasos stood alone in a clearing, his staff gripped tightly in his hands. The sounds of Lynç’s forces- possessed satyrs and elves, and shadowy selveros- grew louder as they closed in. He had led them here, far from Pegasus Haven, to buy Xanthis time to complete the ritual.
His body ached with the weight of his years and the countless battles he had fought, but his spirit remained unbroken. “Come, then!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the trees. “If you want the relic, you’ll have to take it from me!”
The first wave of Lynç’s forces descended upon him. Pyrasos fought with the ferocity of a warrior who had nothing left to lose, his staff glowing with protective runes. He struck down one enemy after another, his movements a blur of precision and power. But for every foe he defeated, more took their place.
A shadowy selveros lunged at him, its claws raking across his side. Pyrasos staggered but refused to fall, driving his staff into the creature and banishing it with a burst of light. Blood seeped from his wounds, but he fought on, his defiance unwavering.
Eventually, the sheer number of enemies overwhelmed him. A blow to his back sent him to his knees, and a clawed hand knocked his staff from his grasp. As Lynç’s forces closed in, Pyrasos raised his head, his gaze fierce and unyielding.
“You may take my life,” he said, his voice steady. “But you will never take my people’s spirit.”
With those final words, Pyrasos fell, his body collapsing to the ground. The forces of Lynç howled in victory, but their triumph was hollow. Pyrasos’s sacrifice had not been in vain; his actions had weakened Lynç’s hold, buying precious time for Xanthis to complete her mission- if she could.
Back at Pegasus Haven, Xanthis stood motionless, her eyes glazed over heavily, marking her as one of Lynç’s agents. The corrupted Druids had succeeded in fully possessing her, erasing her resistance and binding her will to the relic. She stood as a puppet, a vessel for Lynç’s power, as the relic’s glow grew brighter, its influence spreading further across the satyr lands.
The last remnants of Akoiti’s power faded, extinguished by Lynç’s corruption. The sacred mountain, once a symbol of hope, was now a beacon of despair.