Rolling hills rose and dipped, their flanks crawling with rat swarms like shifting shadows.

On a flat knoll, a few tents huddled like pale shells. Seven or eight Purification Knights had swept the snow clean and sat by a crackling fire, voices weaving through the smoke.

“This Dark Deity Lucimia is vile,” a knight said, anger burning like sparks. “She slaughtered Purification Knights and civilians, abducted Executive Desty, even bewitched her. Now she’s colluding with the Dark Deity Nirael to wipe out the Bannubi Empire. Outrageous.”

“Agreed,” another knight answered, steady as stone. “The Empire and our kingdom clash often, but on this, we should stand together.”

“These rats are a real nightmare,” the third knight muttered, disgust like grit in his throat. “They don’t die, they split and breed without end.” He picked up a twig, kissed it to the fire, then flipped it toward the nearby swarm. He blew a breath, and magic fanned the flames like a sudden wind.

The rats caught fire, little torchlets scurrying. They didn’t fear it; they split and multiplied like boiling water. He drew back the fire element, spread his hands, and grimaced. “See? Sickening.”

“Tsk, tsk.” The fourth knight shook his head, tongue clicking like pebbles. “Good thing the Church gave us Purifying Light.”

He patted the lantern at his hip, a sun trapped in glass. “With this glow, they don’t dare approach.”

“Yeah,” the fifth knight said, nodding like a falling leaf.

“True,” the sixth warned, eyes a thin blade. “Even with lanterns, the swarm circles and watches. Keep your lanterns on at all times.”

The others nodded, agreement like a ripple through reeds.

After a while, the first knight stood. Duty settled like iron. “Rest’s over. Back to posts.”

The knights spread out, each taking his slice of darkness, hunting for a clue to Lucimia.

A small head peeked from behind the tents, a shadow parting snow. Lucimia showed half her face, crouched low.

Unease pricked like thorns. She feared her hair would trail across the ground when she tilted her head, so she cradled the lower half of her long hair, a river gathered in two arms, and watched in silence.

Her gaze flowed to the lanterns on their belts, little suns swallowing night.

“That must be their card against the swarm,” she whispered, breath a moth. “They called it Purifying Light.”

She had no firm plan, a hollow beating like a drum in her chest. She couldn’t sit and wait for doom; she needed to move, even if her steps were small.

Whether gathering intel or finding the Cross, she had to do the necessary. Maybe finishing those would pry open a way out; fate was a fog no one could read.

She kept Invisibility Magic active, a veil like water glass, to avoid the rats. She slipped within the halos of the soldiers’ lanterns, borrowing their glow to carve safe corridors.

Desty followed behind, quiet as snow, adding no chaos.

A worry knotted tight. Nat wanted to drain her energy dry. She couldn’t escape, but could she blunt the drain, even a little?

She could cut down the number of knights, or make Nat lose her trail like a scent washed by rain.

Then, facing the Magic Array or the barrier at the end, she might have a sliver of hope. She hated betting on thin odds, but a thin strand was still a lifeline.

Problems rose like reeds again. Reducing knights was easy—strike from shadow. But how to evade Nat’s Magic Eye?

Invisibility Magic couldn’t stop that gaze, a needle under silk. Using Devouring Authority to blur the concept of being seen would be cleansed by their Purification, like ink washed from stone.

She still couldn’t find the Cross. She’d spend a little energy to Devour the memories of imperial soldiers in the dense forest, see if a map lived in their minds.

Or ambush Lev and Devour his memories, hunting the Cross’s location in his skull like a buried star.

“Mm… for now, that’s the plan,” she decided, resolve chilling like night air. Reduce knight numbers. Move to the dense forest. Devour soldiers’ memories. Try to draw out Lev and Devour his memories. All the while, beware the Magic Eye.

She told Desty. Support warmed like a hand at her back.

“You’re smart. Your call.”

“…Okay.”

Lucimia narrowed her focus, eyes gliding toward the soldiers. Their reliance on lanterns was heavy, an anchor on the belt. She could break the lanterns and let the rats tear in.

Another thought flickered—steal a lantern and carry a sun of her own. She let it die in two heartbeats, fearing a hidden tracking mark like a hook in the light.

This camp held seven knights, each guarding a slice of horizon.

If she broke just one lantern, the rest would react like hawks. Best to snuff all seven at once, draw the swarm like a tide.

And rat attacks took time. Better to lure them closer, set the stage near the black flood.

Crouched, she narrowed her eyes at swarm and steel, sketching a simple plan in her chest, a map inked in shadow.

Knight A—let’s call him that—held his lantern and paced near shrubs, eyes sweeping like brooms.

The rat swarm peeled away from the lantern’s glow, then pooled back when he drifted away.

He noticed the dance. He stepped forward; the swarm opened a path like parting reeds. He stepped back; they gathered like rain in a gutter.

“Kinda fun,” he murmured, lips curved like a cat’s. He paced, watching them try to bite him and fail, and took petty joy in it.

Suddenly, a rustle shivered through the grass, dry as paper. The swarm left him and poured toward the shrub like spilled ink.

A heartbeat later, they stalled, aimless again, or twisted back to stare at him, eyes like pinpricks.

“Hm?” Knight A tensed, lantern steady as a buoy. He headed for the shrub, his other hand locking hard on his sword hilt.

“Was someone in there? Who? Is that Dark Deity Lucimia?” He swallowed, fear cold as iron water. He bragged about punishment, but he knew his steel couldn’t match a Dark Deity.

He edged closer, eyes nailed to the grass. He slid his blade free with a whisper and nudged the clump with the flat.

Whoosh!

He snapped the shrub aside and stared. No Lucimia. Just a small magic hound, trapped and devoured by the swarm, bones like chalk.

“Ha. Couldn’t chew me, so they fed elsewhere,” he exhaled, laugh thin as glass. “Scared me. Thought it was Lucimia.”

He wiped cold sweat from his brow, a chill bead breaking. He turned to leave.

An ice spike hissed in from behind and smashed the lantern in his hand.

Crack!

Glass sang sharp as frost splintering. The swarm’s chittering flooded his ears, squeaks like rain on tin.

His eyes widened, round as moons.