That day in late autumn, the weather was perfect. A light rain had just passed, leaving the forest air crisp and clean, with only a hint of damp earth lingering.

Lofna slipped into the shadowy woods beside the Great Swamp via a narrow hunters’ path.

Luck favored her today. Dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy illuminated a magnificent stag. Its coat gleamed like polished silk, its antlers perfectly symmetrical. Light danced across its flawless fur, shimmering like royal heraldry.

The stag drank leisurely from a forest stream, utterly at peace in what it believed was its perfect moment.

Lofna had never seen such a majestic, beautiful creature. Her eyes lit up.

She crept silently toward it, her hand slowly resting on the hilt of her blade at her waist.

If she activated the rune pendant at her chest—unleashing a burst of speed while swinging her blade to sever its neck—it would be enough to claim that exquisite pelt before the stag could flee.

Furs were highly valuable in Ipoli now. Those two troublesome Holy Knights kept interfering with everyone’s purchases, driving prices sky-high.

Bagging this stag would earn her a fortune.

The thought filled her with glee.

But the stag seemed to sense danger. The instant Lofna lunged forward with her blade, it snapped its head up, leaped away, and bounded dozens of meters deeper into the forest. It hid behind a massive tree, then cautiously peeked out, suspicion in its eyes.

The chance for a one-strike kill was gone—but the hunt wasn’t over yet. The stag hadn’t fled far. She could still catch it.

Lofna tread softly on the spongy earth, trying to circle behind the beast.

But as she drew near, it turned and bolted again.

Undeterred, Lofna pressed on, seeking another opening.

After several such chases, just as she was about to land the killing blow, the stag nimbly vanished into a thicket, disappearing without a trace.

Only then did Lofna realize she’d wandered deep into the forest’s heart. The dark green giants had erased her path. Unfamiliar shrubs and weeds choked the dim forest floor, sending a prickle of panic through her.

It wasn’t *that* dangerous—she’d learned woodcraft from Teacher Charles, after all. She knew tricks for finding direction.

But this time, something was wrong. Even when she hacked at saplings with her alchemical blade, the tree rings showed no discernible pattern. The canopy offered no clue—no side grew denser foliage. Even her compass spun wildly.

As if some uncanny presence had trapped her.

Fear crept in. She circled endlessly, slashing markers into trees, yet found no way out.

Worse, the sun was setting. Shadows deepened beneath the trees.

“This is… over…” Panic tightened her throat. Regret flooded her—why had she chased that stag?

“What should I do? Am I… cursed by a forest monster?” Her mother’s warnings echoed, thickening her despair.

She curled up with her arms around her knees, pulling her cloak tight against the night chill. Fear sharpened her senses. Even the rustle of leaves in the wind made her flinch.

At the peak of her terror, a faint golden glow appeared before her.

Lofna looked up, bewildered. Her eyes reflected countless shimmering orbs—just like the magic Teacher Charles had first shown her.

These twinkling lights, large and small, floated gently around her, arranging themselves into a glowing path that seemed to guide her forward.

Curiosity and hope lifted the cold, exhausted girl to her feet. She followed the luminous trail deeper into the woods.

The orbs grew brighter, denser.

Finally, Lofna reached the end—and saw the being who had conjured this spectacle: a tall woman with deep red hair and eyes, clad in a black gown.

She looked exactly like Lofna, standing amidst the dancing lights, radiant as a goddess.

“Huh?” Lofna gasped. “Who are you? Why do you—”

“You want to ask why I look just like you?” The woman smiled. “That’s not quite right. Look closer—we *do* have differences.”

Lofna rubbed her eyes and stared. This woman was taller, her figure fuller, her skin paler and smoother… like the woman Lofna dreamed of becoming.

“Who… who *are* you?” Lofna’s hand tightened on her blade’s hilt.

The woman’s smile remained warm. “Child, don’t fear. I mean you no harm. I have no true form—I shift to match those who wander here. This is simply the shape of your deepest longing.”

“So… you’re the forest spirit?”

“Hmm… you could say that.” She chuckled softly. “‘Spirit’… a lovely name. But Father God forbids me from deceiving mortals. I am truly a being from the Netherrealm. You mortals more often call me—Fiend.”

“Fiend?!”

The arch-villain of every Ipoli ghost story. The bogeyman priests used to scare believers. The Eternal Church’s sworn enemy of humankind.

Lofna tensed instinctively.

“Ah, I said not to fear.” The woman waved a calming hand. “I know humans despise us. Yet we are no different from angels at our core—we were both born with the Eternal Father. We exist by Heavenly Father’s will, merely fulfilling different duties as He ordained. But humans insist on labeling us. They sort us by how we affect *them*, calling some ‘angels,’ others ‘demons.’”

Lofna didn’t understand this Fiend’s cryptic words.

“Never mind, child. Since you doubt me, I’ll be plain: I never harm humans *unprovoked*. I am a Fiend who trades with mortals. When they wish for something, I grant it within my power—and claim a cherished thing in return.

“I sensed your desperate wish to escape this forest. So I came.” She smiled. “I can grant that wish now.”

Lofna’s guard shot up.

Teacher Charles had told her many stories. One, *The Monkey’s Paw*, had stuck with her.

It taught her that unnatural wishes always demanded terrible prices.

Fate never gave something for nothing. To gain was to lose.

“I don’t trust you,” Lofna shook her head. “You’re a demon luring me. You want some horrible price for granting my wish.”

“True,” the Fiend admitted frankly. “I deal in trades. Wishes *do* cost something. But I’m no cheat. I take only what’s fair. Sending you home? A trivial thing for me. Consider it a gift.

“But…” Her gaze sharpened. “If your wish were to raise the dead, make a man love you, or become an all-powerful hero? *That* would cost far more. And I would claim far more.”

Lofna remained wary.

“Ah, well.” The Fiend sighed regretfully and snapped her fingers.

The orbs around her rearranged, forming a new glowing path that wound through the trees toward the unknown.

“Farewell, child. If you ever wish for something again… seek me out.”

With a graceful bow, the Fiend—who wore Lofna’s face—twirled and vanished into the darkness.

Lofna followed the light-path with suspicion. After a long, winding trek, the trees parted.

Moonlight revealed her familiar village and cottage.

She had escaped the swamp-adjacent woods.

The Fiend had kept her word. No tricks. No betrayal.

After guiding her out, she never returned.

But the encounter left Lofna deeply shaken.

She rushed home and told her mother everything.

Her mother only stared blankly—she’d warned of forest curses to scare Lofna from getting lost or mauled by beasts, not because she believed in “wish-granting demons.”

Others who heard Lofna’s tale merely laughed. They thought she’d gotten lost, stayed out too late, and invented the Fiend to cover her mistake. After all, many in Ipoli had seen real Fiends years ago—one had rampaged through the city a decade past, mindlessly harming hundreds in a single night.

And the preachers always said: Fiends were either mindless monsters or lying tricksters. And always ugly.

How could a Fiend admit her nature, grant wishes, *and* look exactly like Lofna?

Everyone dismissed it as the ramblings of a frightened, lost girl.

But Lofna remembered every detail. She never hunted in that forest again.

Still… what was meant to happen would happen anyway.