A tide of pitchfork-wielding villagers “escorted” their reluctant leader—Aelina—toward the Elder’s courtyard. Her loyal henchmen dragged the Elder behind them. Soon the Elder stood up, brushed off his robes, and trudged ahead under Fro’s menacing glare.

They descended into the cellar and lit the torches on the walls. Half the space was crammed with food.

“You’ll find nothing here,” the Elder snarled. “If you come up empty-handed, none of you leave alive. Witch, serve me well enough, and I might let you live—*ah!*”

Fro slammed the pommel of his sword against the back of the Elder’s head. “Shut your mouth, swine!”

The villagers behind him surged forward, pitchforks raised.

“You fraud!” shrieked an auntie, her voice thick with venom toward anyone too beautiful. “This is just an ordinary cellar—nothing here!”

Indeed, nothing was hidden. Only food filled the space. Aelina glanced sideways at the crowd. Beyond their anger and fear, she saw exactly what she wanted: raw hunger for the abundant provisions. Many villagers were gaunt, their bodies withered from labor, yet they’d fattened one pig. Aelina would make them see it.

“Mortal eyes cannot perceive zones of evil ritual,” Aelina declared. She raised the wolf-head amulet hanging from her necklace and paced slowly along the cellar walls.

At the first wall, the amulet remained still.

At the second, it did not stir.

At the third, it trembled slightly.

The Walrus-Mustache Elder exhaled sharply. “You’ve slandered me! Kill these two—”

“Silence!”

Aelina cut him off. She now stood before the fourth wall. The wolf-head amulet shuddered violently in her hand. Blue light, wreathed in silver mist, swirled around her as she raised the Molecular Reconstructor. She chanted with feigned solemnity: “O Celestial Deity, lower Your benevolent scepter. By the radiance of its Blood-Tear Stone, grant me eyes to unveil the tracks of evil.”

The words were nonsense. The tone, pure theater.

Villagers gaped. The auntie’s legs buckled; she collapsed to the floor, trembling. “Celestial Deity preserve me!”

An uncle’s jaw hung open, a fly crawling into his mouth unnoticed.

“Here!” Aelina pointed the Molecular Reconstructor at the wall. “Disperse, devil’s illusion!”

Blue light dissolved the stone, revealing a suffocating space. Crimson flooded the eyes—a smooth stone floor slick with blood, etched with a sinister hexagram. At its center lay a rotting silver-white ox skull. Before the magic circle stood a horned idol, unmistakably malevolent. Nearby, a stone slab displayed grotesque offerings: putrid eyeballs, hearts, kidneys.

“This—this isn’t mine! I know nothing of this!” the Elder cried.

Aelina snorted. She strode to the slab, the trembling amulet guiding her to a book. The Silverhaired Maiden lifted it and read aloud:

*“Today, my son’s rabid dog killed several more. He gave me their hearts and livers to offer the Devil Lord. Their enslaved souls will hasten the ritual…”*

*“The Demon Hunter nearly destroyed the Wraith. I worked so hard to turn Bella’s sister into one. Luckily, I tricked the village dogs into killing him in the name of the Celestial Deity. Ha! They obey like faithful hounds…”*

*“…A holy woman with an Elf Knight visited today. The Devil Lord fears her. I must eliminate her. But she’s so beautiful… The ritual nears completion anyway. Let them kill my son—fewer to share the glory. Once I sacrifice the village’s last ninety souls to the Devil Lord, I shall do as I please…”*

As Aelina read, the Walrus-Mustache Elder shrank into himself, his terror curling him like an earthworm.

“No! I didn’t write this!”

Aelina showed the cover—emblazoned with the Elder’s name.

“No one writes their name so large on a cover! You forged it!”

Aelina handed the book to a servant. “Who here recognizes the handwriting of this devil-consorting criminal?”

“I—I taught the Elder to write as a child,” quavered an old man, supported by others. One glance at the pages made him cry out, “The handwriting is identical! He wrote this himself!”

“No! No! I know nothing!” The Elder collapsed to his knees, sobbing. “It’s your witchcraft! You said you could create anything!”

“How dare this criminal deny his guilt!” Aelina jabbed a finger at his sweaty, greasy face. “Every prophecy fulfilled! A devil’s ritual in his cellar! His own diary as proof! The evidence is irrefutable!”

“No, I—”

Before the Elder could finish, the burly auntie swung her fist. *Thwack!* It connected with his skull. “My son died because of you!” Tears streamed down her face as she grabbed his robe and delivered a practiced kick to his crotch. “They left only half his body for the wild dogs! Give me back my son!”

Such expert technique—surely honed on a husband.

“Restrain her, Fro.”

Fro raised his sword again. “Release him! Don’t kill the swine yet!”

“Quiet, everyone!” Aelina soothed the crowd. “This devil-consorting criminal will receive a fair trial.”

The Walrus-Mustache Elder realized his life now hung on Aelina’s next words. Truth no longer mattered.

He crawled toward her on his knees, hands outstretched. “Spare me! I’ll give you anything! I have a hidden chamber—family treasures! Spare me, and I’ll tell you where!”

“Filth! Don’t touch my boot!” Aelina’s hard sole struck his forehead. He fell backward, his trousers tenting obscenely. *Disgusting ape*, she thought.

Aelina waved her hand. “Bind this pig! We take him outside for sentencing!”

The crowd surged forward.

“Bind the swine!”

“Tighten the ropes!”

“Stop kicking! Make way—I get the next kick!”

Soon, villagers hoisted the Elder onto a pole like a slaughtered hog, carrying their former leader to the platform.

Aelina stood before the village idol, staff in hand, one foot planted on the platform. The crowd watched her—a stranger delivering justice—with fearful hope.

The Silverhaired Maiden glanced down at the Walrus-Mustache Elder. His trousers still bulged.

“The evidence is clear,” she announced. “I sentence you for the crime of warlockry and consorting with devils. Death is your punishment—and a necessary step to break this evil ritual.”

“Breaking it is simple,” Aelina continued, pointing at the shivering, soaked Elder. “Bind him to a wooden frame. Pile wood beneath him. Fire will purge his evil. Burn him to ashes. Then, slash the magic circle on the cellar floor with dry grass and shatter the devil’s idol.”

“No!!!”

The bruised Elder howled at the sky. Villagers seized him eagerly. His raw, pig-like screams echoed through the village as they tied him to a post. Their rope skills were clumsy compared to their stone-throwing expertise—he was wrapped like a cocoon. Bella slipped into the crowd, hurling stones with a face twisted by hate. “Die! Die! Die!”

Fro turned to Aelina, who watched her handiwork with folded arms. His voice was tight with worry. “Aelina… burning him to break the ritual feels cruel. Isn’t there another way?”

“Why?”

“The children… it’s not right for them to see this.” He glanced at Bella, who was now piling firewood at the Elder’s feet.

“I didn’t ask that. I asked why you believe this devil’s ritual even exists.”

“Huh?” Fro stared at her, bewildered. “It’s not real?”

…

*What? The Golden Fur actually believes in devils?*

Aelina paused. “I shouldn’t expect comprehension from you. I’ll explain later.” She addressed several villagers. “The Elder hoarded evil artifacts. Follow me to search his home.”

“At once, kind lady!”

“Fro, come with me to confiscate his house.”

“One moment.” Fro darted toward the furious crowd. They’d stacked dry grass around the “beloved” Elder, ready to light the pyre. Bella shouted curses with the mob. Fro pushed through, lifted her up. She struggled instinctively—then turned.

“Fro?” Recognizing him, Bella relaxed against his chest.

The Elf studied her young face. Childhood innocence stained with venom and cruelty. Her cheeks were flushed. Seeing Fro, her eyes slowly cleared.

“Come with me.” Fro carried her away.

“But Fro… I want to watch the sentencing.”

“Children shouldn’t see this.”

“I’m not a child.” Bella’s voice hardened. “I watched my sister’s sentencing.”

Fro froze. His arms loosened. Bella dropped to the ground and ran back to the crowd. Torches fell. Flames roared skyward. Fro turned. Firelight painted the mob in shades of gray. He watched Bella vanish into their shadowy ranks, merging with the frenzy.

“Fro.” Aelina called his name.

“Coming.”

He ran to her. Her face held a quiet sorrow. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I… can’t explain it.”

“You witnessed a tragedy,” Aelina said softly. “Seeing Bella—so like a little sister, so bright—become as blindly cruel as those villagers. Especially when you realize you can’t stop it. That’s why you grieve.”

“…Yes.”

“So come. We confiscate the Elder’s house. Officially: we search for evil artifacts to destroy.” Aelina gestured. “Bring the cart. You’ll carry much today.”