A sliver of morning light, sharp and cool, pierced the small window of Delores's guest room, nudging her awake. She blinked, the events of the previous day, Grok's defeat, the unexpected barony, Rael's planned ritual, replaying in her mind like a vivid, slightly overwhelming dream. For a moment, lying there in the comfortable bed Oleg had provided, it all felt surreal.
With a sigh, she pushed herself up. Duty, however unexpectedly acquired, called. As she began her morning routine; washing her face, attempting to tame her perpetually rebellious red hair into neat braids, her gaze fell upon the leather-bound book with the gilded 'V' resting on the nightstand. She'd been too exhausted the night before to really process writing in it, let alone expect anything from it. But now, a strange compulsion drew her to it. She picked it up, the old leather cool beneath her fingertips. Idly, almost without thinking, she opened it to the page where she had poured out her anxieties and questions the night before, perhaps just wanting to reread her own words, to see if the daylight brought any fresh perspective to her worries.
Her breath hitched. The page wasn't as she'd left it. Her own familiar, slightly hurried script, detailing her confusion and the weight of her new title, was gone. Vanished without a trace, as if the ink had simply evaporated. In its place, written in an elegant, flowing hand with ink that seemed to shimmer faintly even in the dim morning light, were new words:
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Baroness Delores. Thank you for stepping up so heroically against those river-foulers. Such initiative is… refreshing. Do be careful with that flame-walker you intend to investigate; force shouldn't be necessary if approached with understanding. Good luck, Val."
Delores stared at the page, her heart hammering against her ribs. Val? Who was Val? How could they possibly know what she'd written, what she was planning? How could words appear in a book she'd found in a dead bandit's tent? A shiver, not entirely unpleasant, ran down her spine. This wasn't just an empty journal; it was something else entirely. Something… magical. And responsive. Her mind raced. Should she write back? Ask who "Val" was? But what would she say? And how did this even work? The mystery of the book deepened, adding another layer of intrigue to her already complicated situation. She reread the message: "force shouldn't be necessary if approached with understanding." Was that advice? A warning? A clue?
Hesitantly, she reached for the quill, then paused. No. Not now. There wasn't time, and she needed to think. She carefully closed the book, a strange mix of excitement and trepidation swirling within her. For a moment, she considered taking it with her on their hunt for the flame-walker, but then decided against it. It felt too important, too mysterious, to risk on a potentially dangerous expedition. It would be safer here, locked away in her room. She would revisit it, try to communicate again, when they returned. If they returned.
Pushing the enigma of the talking book to the back of her mind, Delores finished dressing, strapping on her reinforced battle dress. She tucked her focusing stone into its pouch and made sure her hurdy-gurdy was secure. Today, practical concerns took precedence.
She found Barin and Rael already in the main room with Oleg, gathered around the table where a simple breakfast of porridge, dried fruit, and Oleg's strong chicory coffee was laid out. Barin was, as usual, attacking his food with gusto. Rael, however, looked pale and drawn, dark circles under his golden eyes, but there was a spark of focused intensity about him.
"Morning, Baroness," Oleg greeted warmly. "Rael here has been up most of the night with his… preparations."
Delores looked at Rael with concern. "Did it work? Were you able to find anything about this flame-walker?"
Rael nodded slowly, taking a fortifying sip of coffee. "Indeed, Baroness," he said, his voice quiet but tinged with success. "The ritual was… taxing. But fruitful."
Rael took another sip of the hot coffee before continuing, his golden eyes focused intently on Delores. "The ritual I performed last night, Baroness, was a divination of sympathetic resonance, specifically attuned to aberrant manifestations of elemental fire magic within this region." He spoke with the precise, slightly detached air of a scholar presenting a thesis. "Essentially, it has created an arcane 'beacon' within my own senses. Should any significant, unnatural source of fire-based magic operate within a radius of… say, half a day's journey, I should be able to perceive its general direction and approximate distance. It won't give me a precise pinpoint, but it will guide us true."
He paused, rubbing his temples lightly. "I tested the resonance just before dawn, after a few hours of… meditative recovery. There is indeed a presence. Faint, but distinct. A strong, fluctuating signature of fire magic, located roughly… I would estimate a seven-hour walk from here, deep within the heart of the Whispering Woods to the north-east. Much further than the bandit camp was."
Delores nodded, impressed. "So, you can lead us right to it?"
"To its vicinity, yes," Rael confirmed. "The closer we get, the stronger the resonance should become."
Barin, who had been listening with a mixture of confusion and impatience while shoveling porridge into his mouth, slammed his spoon down. "Seven hours, eh? And then what? Do we bring a cage for this 'flame-walker'? Or am I gonna be mountin' its head on yer wall, Oleg, next to that nice deer antler rack ye got?" He grinned ferociously, clearly relishing the thought of another hunt.
Oleg chuckled awkwardly, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Ah, much as I appreciate the sentiment of protecting the valley, Master Strongsunder, I think I'd prefer my walls remain free of monstrous heads for the time being, thank you. A bit much for the décor."
Delores rolled her eyes at Barin's bluntness, though a small smile played on her lips. "Barin, we're not going in with the intention of immediate violence. We don't even know what this 'flame-walker' is. It could be a scared animal, a lost elemental, or something else entirely. The bandits called it a 'beast' and said it was causing them problems – that doesn't automatically make it our enemy." She looked at her companions pointedly. "Our first reaction will be observation, and if possible, communication. We need to assess if it's truly a threat to Oleg, to the valley, or just misunderstood."
Oleg nodded approvingly. "Wisely spoken, Baroness. Understanding before action. That's a good principle for any leader."
Rael also inclined his head. "Akrion teaches that all entities possess a nature, a place within the balance. To destroy without understanding is to invite further imbalance. I concur; assessment is paramount."
Barin grumbled under his breath, something about "pointy-eared talk" and "things that burn usually need bashin'," but he didn't argue further. He scooped up another large spoonful of porridge. "Fine. We look first. But if it tries to set my beard on fire, all bets are off."
Delores smirked. "Fair enough, Barin. Just try not to provoke it into doing so." She turned back to Rael. "Alright. Once we're finished here, lead the way. Let's go see what kind of fiery mystery awaits us in the Whispering Woods."
Another half hour passed in the comfortable rhythm of breakfast and light, if somewhat preoccupied, conversation. Delores found herself asking Oleg more about the valley, its history, the types of game that roamed the woods, the best fishing spots on the Green River. Barin offered surprisingly knowledgeable, if blunt, commentary on local predators, gleaned from his patrols. Rael remained mostly quiet, but Delores noticed him listening intently, occasionally asking Oleg a precise, almost academic question about the local flora or soil composition, his golden eyes bright with an almost imperceptible curiosity.
Finally, with the last of the porridge eaten and the chicory coffee drained, it was time to depart. Oleg walked them to the farmhouse door, his expression a mixture of gratitude and genuine concern.
"Be safe out there, all of you," he said, placing a fatherly hand on Delores's shoulder for a moment. "The woods can be treacherous, and this fire creature sounds like no ordinary beast. Come back in one piece, you hear?"
Barin, surprisingly, offered Oleg a rough but respectful salute. "Will do, old man. You keep yerself safe too. And keep that stew pot warm for our return."
Oleg chuckled. "Always, Master Strongsunder. Always."
Once outside in the bright morning air, Delores turned to Rael. "Ready to lead on, then? Point us towards this fiery mystery."
Rael nodded, his usual awkwardness giving way to a focused intensity. He unclasped the heavy tome from his belt and opened it, flipping through several pages until he reached one that was clearly new. Delores leaned closer, intrigued. Unlike the other pages filled with neat script and diagrams, this one was covered in a complex array of swirling, unfamiliar symbols that pulsed with a faint, internal light. They seemed less like writing and more like a captured constellation of arcane energy. As Rael hovered his free hand over the page, the symbols began to glow more brightly, the light shifting from pearlescent white to a deep, fiery amber. He closed his eyes, his lips moving in a silent incantation, his brow furrowed in concentration. Delores felt a subtle shift in the air around him, a thrum of power that made the hairs on her arms stand on end.
After several seconds, Rael's eyes snapped open. For a fleeting instant, Delores saw not his usual solid gold irises, but orbs of burning, fiery red. The unsettling crimson faded as quickly as it appeared, his eyes returning to their normal hue, though they now held a sharper, more distant focus. He closed the tome with a decisive snap and re-holstered it securely at his side.
"The creature remains in the same general vicinity as my pre-dawn reading," Rael announced, his voice steady, carrying a new note of authority. "However," he paused, his gaze turning north-east, towards the depths of the Whispering Woods, "its magical signature is… stronger. More active than it was last night. It is exerting a significantly greater amount of fire-based energy now." He met Delores's eyes. "We should proceed with caution. It may be agitated, or perhaps… hunting."
Without another word, Rael turned and began to walk, taking the faint track that led away from Oleg's homestead and back towards the path that would eventually take them deeper into the Whispering Woods, the same general direction they had taken to reach the bandit camp, though their destination this time lay much further within the forest's embrace. Delores exchanged a quick, meaningful glance with Barin, then they both fell into step behind the tiefling cleric, their earlier lightness replaced by a more focused anticipation. The hunt had begun.
Several hours passed as the trio retraced their steps, then pushed beyond the point where the bandit camp had stood. The Green River, now flowing beside them with a visibly healthier current since Barin had dismantled Grok's crude dam, was a reassuring presence. Delores made a mental note to thank Barin again; his direct action had already yielded tangible results for the valley.
As they neared the familiar, if now somewhat desolate, clearing where Grok's palisade had been, Rael raised a hand, signaling a halt. He leaned against a tree, breathing a little more heavily than usual, though he tried to mask it.
"A brief rest, if you please, Baroness," he requested, his voice quiet. "Maintaining the arcane beacon requires consistent focus."
"Of course, Rael," Delores agreed immediately, concerned. "Don't overexert yourself. We're in no rush."
While Rael sat, eyes closed in meditation, pulling out his tome to seemingly refresh the glowing page of symbols, Barin began to wander the perimeter of the old campsite, his gaze sharp and appraising. He kicked at a charred log, then bent down to examine one of the larger trees near the riverbank, his brow furrowing.
Delores walked over to Rael. "Are you sure you're alright? That spell… it looks draining."
Rael opened his eyes, offering her a small, tired smile. "I am well, Baroness. The initial attunement was the most taxing. Now, it is merely a matter of maintaining the link. I can continue for some time yet."
Satisfied, Delores was about to suggest they move on when Barin called out, his voice a low rumble. "Oy. Musician. Cleric. Come look at this."
They joined him by the large oak he was examining. Dragged deep into the thick bark were four parallel gouges, each as wide as Delores's hand and disturbingly deep. But more peculiar was the area around the claw marks; the wood was blackened, scorched, as if the claws themselves had been wreathed in intense heat.
"Ain't no bear did that," Barin stated grimly, running a gauntleted finger along the edge of a burn. "And no wolf I ever seen. Claws were hot, whatever it was."
Delores felt a shiver trace her spine. "The flame-walker," she whispered.
Rael nodded slowly, his golden eyes fixed on the marks. "The residue of fire magic is strong here. This is recent. Perhaps within the last day."
With a renewed sense of caution, they left the ruined campsite behind and ventured deeper into the Whispering Woods. The trees grew closer together now, their ancient branches forming a dense canopy that filtered the sunlight into an emerald gloom. The air was still, heavy, and the usual sounds of the forest were conspicuously absent. Barin took the lead, his falchion drawn, pointing out more of the strange claw and burn marks as they progressed. They found them on fallen logs, on the faces of moss-covered boulders, and even high up on tree trunks, suggesting a creature of considerable size and agility. Each sign drew them further into the forest's silent, watchful heart.
After what felt like another hour of tense, careful travel, Rael abruptly stopped again, this time with a quick, subtle hand gesture for silence. Delores and Barin froze, their eyes immediately fixed on him. The tiefling leaned down, his head cocked, listening intently not with his ears, but clearly with his arcane senses.
"The resonance," he whispered, his voice barely audible, his eyes glowing faintly with that crimson fire-attuned light. "It is… very close now. Just beyond this thicket of thorns, I believe. The signature drops downward… into some manner of shallow cave or den." He turned to Delores, his expression earnest. "Baroness, if your connection to sorcery is truly innate, as you suspect, you should be able to feel its presence now yourself. Focus. Reach out with your senses."
Delores nodded, her heart beginning to pound. She closed her eyes, pushing away the sounds of the forest, the feel of the damp earth beneath her boots. She tried to replicate what Rael seemed to do, to extend her awareness beyond her physical self, seeking not just sound or sight, but… energy. Fire.
Her hand instinctively drifted towards her pouch, towards the familiar comfort of her focusing stone. But before her fingers could grasp it, something shifted within her mind. A faint warmth, like a distant ember, flickered at the very edge of her consciousness. It wasn't a thought, not a sound, but a sensation. A tiny, distinct spark of heat, of contained fire, not far away. It wasn't painful, wasn't threatening, just… there. Present. Waiting.
She opened her eyes, a slow, astonished smile spreading across her face. She looked up at Rael, who was watching her intently, and gave a small, almost breathless nod.
"I… I can feel it," she whispered, her voice filled with wonder. "It's faint, but… it's there. Like a tiny, warm spark."
Barin stared at the two of them, his scarred face a mask of utter confusion, looking from Delores's beaming expression to Rael's knowing nod and back again. "Feel what? Sparks? Are we talkin' 'bout lightnin' bugs now?"
The words had barely left Barin's mouth, his confused question hanging in the still forest air, when a sound ripped through the quiet – a low, guttural growl, deep and resonant, that seemed to vibrate in their very chests. It started soft, then escalated rapidly in pitch and volume over a terrifying few seconds.
Simultaneously, the dense thicket of thorns Rael had indicated just ahead exploded into a wall of searing orange and red flame. The sudden eruption of heat and light was blinding, forcing Delores, Barin, and Rael to instinctively leap backward, stumbling over roots and uneven ground to put precious distance between themselves and the inferno. The acrid smell of burning leaves and superheated air filled their nostrils.
Delores gasped, shielding her eyes against the glare. Through the flickering heart of the blaze, another deep, rumbling growl sounded, followed by movement. A massive, flaming head poked through the roaring pyre, ears laid flat against its skull, lips peeled back to reveal a terrifying array of sharp, white teeth bared in a furious hiss. Its eyes, vivid and intelligent, the colour of new spring leaves but burning with an inner fire, locked onto the three of them. It was unmistakably a leopard, but one seemingly born of pure flame.
Barin reacted instantly, his hand shooting to the hilt of his falchion, the heavy blade already half-drawn with a familiar, lethal rasp of steel. "By the forge!" he swore, bracing himself.
"Wait!" Delores cried, her voice sharp. She lunged forward, grabbing Barin's heavily armored forearm just as he was about to fully draw his weapon. "Don't attack!"
As she made contact with Barin, she noticed the flame leopard hesitate, its furious hiss softening almost imperceptibly, its burning green eyes flicking towards her small hand on the warrior's arm. It was still tense, still dangerous, but the immediate, lunging aggression seemed to pause.
"Well," Delores said, her voice surprisingly steady despite the hammering of her heart and the intense heat rolling off the burning thicket. "It's not actively trying to eat us. That's a start." Slowly, deliberately, she lowered herself into a slight bow, then crouched low to the ground, making herself as small and non-threatening as possible, her gaze fixed respectfully on the magnificent, fiery creature.
Beside her, Rael, after a moment of hesitation, awkwardly mimicked her posture, sinking into a low crouch, his golden eyes wide with a mixture of fear and intense arcane fascination. Barin, though clearly still on edge, grumbled under his breath but reluctantly let his hand fall from his falchion and hunkered down, his massive frame looking comically out of place in the subservient posture.
The flame leopard watched them, its head tilted slightly, the heat from its body making the air around it shimmer. Then, with a fluid, graceful movement that belied its size, it padded slowly out of the inferno, the flames of the burning thicket parting around it as if acknowledging a master. Delores could now see its full form. It was huge for a leopard, standing nearly four feet at the shoulder, its powerful muscles rippling beneath a coat that wasn't fur, but shimmering, golden light that seemed to flow like liquid fire. Instead of black spots, its pelt was adorned with patches of deeper, ruby-red flame that danced and flickered. Its entire body was wreathed in a light, almost transparent sheen of fire, and its long tail, tipped with a burst of brighter flame, twitched lazily.
The creature came to a stop a few yards from them, the burning thicket now a roaring backdrop. It sat down on its haunches with regal composure, its vivid green eyes never leaving Delores.
Then, it spoke. Its voice was a strange melody of crackling fire and deep purrs, with an odd, rolling accent that put a peculiar emphasis on its 'r' and 's' sounds, making them hiss and drawl.
"And who exact-ly is th-isss lottt?" it inquired, its tone a curious blend of suspicion and regal condescension. "Sssneaking arrround my forrressst... Arrre you herrrre forrr my pelt asss well, like the otherrrrsss?" The final word ended on a distinct, threatening hiss, its fangs briefly glinting.
Barin let out a choked sound. "Oh shit," he muttered under his breath, loud enough for Delores to hear. "The thing can actually speak—"
Delores, without looking away from the flame leopard, sharply jabbed her elbow backward into Barin's armored ribs, eliciting a surprised grunt and cutting off his commentary. She kept her gaze fixed on the magnificent, talking fire beast, her mind racing. This was the "flame-walker." And it was far more than she, or anyone, had bargained for.