It was clear the situation called for a mage of the highest possible caliber. Ailn’s first instinct had proven false: he’d guessed the contents of the obsidian jar had the strongest effect on individuals with strong holy aura or mana.

  Given Renea’s severe reaction, that clearly wasn’t the case. Her experiment also seemed to rule out reincarnators having a natural resistance to the shadowy substance—unless that resistance required having current possession of jeweled eyes.

  Hence, Conrad’s daughter was their next best bet; if she couldn’t provide any new insight herself, she’d still act as another useful test.

  “...If you fear for your daughter’s safety, Count Fleuve, then I won’t force your hand,” Ailn said.

  “I certainly do worry,” Conrad admitted. Sitting down, he slumped forward, burying his head in both hands. “Yet she’s an adult—and a mage far more capable than I ever was. It’s just...”

  For an uncomfortably long time, he let the words rest on the top of his tongue.

  “Safi is strange,” Conrad finally said.

  Renea’s face flickered—first with annoyance, then hurt. “Strangeness isn’t a sin, Count Fleuve. Nor is it an indictment of guilt.”

  “Of course not. You’re entirely correct,” Conrad replied. “I have no desire to cast aspersions against my daughter. But there are disquieting rumors that surround her, and even I find her behavior… difficult to understand.”

  He raised his head out of his hands, but even as he spoke, one hand still subconsciously covered his mouth.

  “There is an old legend in Sussuro, of a creature in the waters that even the naiads are afraid of,” Conrad said. “It is, so the tale goes, a shadow that moves upon the water and drowns sailors, weeping all the while.”

  “... Over the years, I’ve heard numerous testimonies alleging that my daughter was seen talking to just such a creature,” Conrad added gloomily. “Safi thrice a week visits Aakdrift, a district that’s been abandoned for two centuries thus, returning only late into the evening just before the new day.”

  Conrad’s expression turned complicated, a mix of skepticism and self-doubt. “It would not be such an issue, except…of the few historical accounts that exist, the brunt of them blame the malevolence of this creature for the district’s abandonment.”

  “Did you ever confront her about it?” Ailn asked.

  “...I did,” Conrad said, his tone uneasy. “Needless to say nothing seemed to come of our conversations.”

  He faced Ailn. “Torn between my duties as a count, and my affection as a father, I have let it be —as nothing has come of it. For the most part.” Conrad paused, turning his face away again. “As more and more rumors have spread, there are those who’ve gone seeking to catch the count’s daughter in the act of conspiring with evil.”

  He took a deep breath.

  “I’ve heard many strange tales,” Conrad whispered anxiously. “Some have said it is as if she… vanishes, spirited away into the woods and streams for hours and hours at a time. Some have seen themselves thwarted more than violently… nearly drowned.”

  “Do… you believe in your daughter?” Renea asked, biting her lip.

  “I do,” Conrad said, meeting Renea’s gaze directly. “Safi is kind. Ever since she was a child she has been. She’s just been misunderstood.”

  “Then why can’t you two talk?” Renea asked quietly. “Maybe she has… things she wishes she could say.”

  “Safi refuses to speak to me about it,” Conrad said. He smiled rather bitterly. “No… that doesn’t quite cover it.”

  The count’s eyes grew misty as he took a shaky breath. “We’ve barely shared a word in years.”

  The ground was damp, and the leaves were lush. They were lucky it was spring—if it had been autumn, Ailn doubted they’d have been able to tail anyone without the crunch of dead leaves giving them away.

  Hidden behind the shade and profile of a wide beech tree, Ailn silently kept his eyes on their quarry. The terrain was deceptively uneven, with sudden slopes and hidden ditches beneath brush, but Safi, walking fifty meters ahead, moved through it effortlessly.

  Behind him, Renea struggled. She had a talent for finding crunchy twigs to step on. Fortunately, Safi seemed to have an oblivious personality, and didn’t pay much mind.

  Was she free spirited or just an airhead? Safi’s attire wasn’t exactly suited for forest or wetlands. Without even a traveling cloak, her prairie dress dragged across wet ground, snagging on reeds and low branches. Safi didn’t seem to care that she was ruining her dress—probably the reason rumors about her activities in Aakdrift were so persistent.

  It wasn’t hard to imagine her giving herself away every time she returned to the estate, dress tattered and muddy, broadcasting exactly where she’d been.

  Renea, for all the trouble she was having—she’d just managed to tangle herself in a thorn bush—was at least dressed sensibly: tunic, breeches, and boots.

  “I wish—ugh!” Renea whined when she’d managed to prick her finger. Then her hands flew to her mouth, when she realized just how loud she’d been.

  Safi, walking just ahead, paused mid-step. Her head tilted slightly, listening.

  Then she resumed her walk. Once Ailn felt she’d made enough distance, he nodded to Renea to keep moving.

  “I just wish we could speak to her…” Renea said.

  “This world hasn’t given me much reason to trust anyone who ‘talks to shadows,’” Ailn said. Noticing Renea’s sullen silence, he softened slightly. “...We’ll talk to her once we see what’s going on.”

  “Alright.”

  Her breathing was getting pretty ragged. Renea had started to get self-conscious about her noise level, and was concentrating too hard on keeping her steps light on tricky terrain; she was even trying to follow Ailn’s exact path.

  “You know, you could have just let me check it out,” Ailn said, keeping his voice appropriately low. “Do we need to turn back?”

  “Turn back? No!” Renea’s eyes scrunched in frustration. “Do you not… want me here?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  Nearly slipping, she yelped before grabbing onto Ailn’s trench coat to steady herself. Letting out a relieved sigh, her gaze flitted up to Safi who was getting further away, and she anxiously tugged on the sleeve she caught. The two slightly hastened their tailing.

  “It’s painful for parent and child not to understand each other,” Renea said. Her voice was quiet, not just with caution, but regret. “I often wished for it…”

  The whole thing was definitely odd. Apparently Safi was notoriously quiet—so quiet, some even swore she couldn’t speak. The mages in Count Fleuve’s retinue all said the same thing: she’d always just smile back wordlessly.

  Said smile, though, was enough to dispel most everyone’s frustration. The little he’d seen of it had captivated even Ailn. That only made him more hesitant to approach.

  It could be ruby eyes. Even if it was, though, that didn’t explain why she wouldn't talk.

  “Maybe it’s like the little mermaid…?” Ailn muttered. With everything else he’d seen from this world, something like that didn’t seem too out of place. “Her dad’s at least heard her voice, though…”

  Speaking of tragic heroines, he glanced at the floundering Renea. By now, she’d abandoned any attempt at situational awareness, her focus narrowing entirely to where she placed her feet.

  Sunset was approaching, and nature’s night chorus began to stir in earnest—crickets chirping, frogs croaking. With the fading light and louder ambiance, they could relax a bit: the forest would provide ample cover for Renea’s fumbling.

  “Looks like this side channel’s flow used to—” Ailn started speaking at a normal level.

  “Shh!” Renea shushed him very earnestly, whispering very loudly. “We don’t wanna get caught!”

  “...The side channel used to flow right through this spot,” Ailn said, calmly lowering his voice a few decibels to indulge her. “There are some pier pilings she’s passing by up ahead.”

  He put some pressure into his right foot. The ground was growing softer, and past the ruined piers Ailn thought he could make out Safi’s feet actively sinking into mud. Reeds swayed in the distance, marking where stagnant water had eroded off from the side channel.

  “So, she’s meeting an evil water spirit in some forgotten backwater?” Ailn muttered.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “W-we don’t know that it’s evil,” Renea stammered, rising to Safi’s defense. “Or—or that she’s meeting anything.” She bit her lip. “Whatever’s going on, maybe we can help…”

  Suddenly, Ailn froze in place. “Renea. Don’t move,” he whispered.

  “What?” Renea stiffened up.

  “Shh.” He didn’t say anything. “Let’s go around.”

  In response to his ambiguous directions—Renea’s overabundance of caution meant she took it a little too literally and didn’t properly raise her gaze—she held her breath, trying to sidle sidewards.

  With her breath forcibly stilled and anxiety pulsing through her, Renea betrayed herself. She hiccuped, and revealed her fear to a predator that relished in dominance.

  It was a heron.

  Ailn groaned as it started flying toward Renea. She shrieked when she realized what was happening.

  A few meters ahead, he’d seen the heron staring down an egret to make sure the lesser bird knew its place. But Renea made for an even larger target to stoke its ego, and the heron was more than happy to make sure she also knew her place.

  Striking at her wildly with its beak to teach her—pecking order, indeed—the heron squawked in rapture.

  Trying to get away, Renea fell flat on her face; she covered her head, trying to quiet her painful yelps. “Ow! Stop it!”

  Her plea just seemed to worsen the heron’s bad attitude.

  Ailn walked up, carefully timing the heron’s strike to grab it by the neck. For a moment, he held it fast against his body while it thrashed. “Get lost,” he hissed. Then he raised his voice sharply to a territorial bark. “Out!”

  The bird went limp, and Ailn made the mistake of trusting it—tossing it as far as he could into the marsh.

  A quarter second later it came soaring back. Its takeoff had been obscured by the reeds and it shot right towards Ailn’s face.

  “Are you—!” His reflexes were just good enough to catch it at the last moment. All he could do was let out an angry chuckle. “You really think you’re a bird of prey, huh?”

  Ailn walked right up to the water’s edge and dunked the whole heron in while it flapped indignantly. Then, grip still firm on its neck, he growled menacingly into its ear. “Leave.”

  Wet and angry, the heron let out a theatrical ‘krawwww!’ as it took off, as if warning Ailn that this wasn’t over.

  He held a hand out to Renea, whose eyes were watery and baleful. “I-I used to triumph over ten foot shadow beasts… just by opening my palm.”

  “...Just to be clear, you remember that wasn’t actually you, right?”

  “If—if only Sophie were here—” Renea fumed pitifully.

  “Yeah, yeah, Sophie would have beat up the heron. We need to hurry or we might lose Safi,” Ailn said.

  Renea just nodded glumly.

  As luck would have it, Safi hadn’t gone far—just to where the side channel’s erosion had left a middling oxbow pond.

  With the height of the reeds, they would have had a hard time finding her. They might never have, if not for the fact that, surprisingly, she was speaking rather loudly. The count’s daughter wasn’t mute after all.

  Not only was her voice loud, it was animated. Angry even? They were still too far to make out exactly what she was saying.

  ‘...perfect…right amount of suffering… what do you think?’

  Ailn and Renea gave each other uncomfortable looks.

  ‘...duke… cage a girl up… or cage him up!’

  Ailn’s brows furrowed.

  ‘...Lady Renea… flags…die first…’’

  Renea stiffened and paled.

  ‘...time…alpha...just waiting… omega come along…’

  “Alpha and Omega?” Ailn muttered to himself. “Is it… some kind of cult?” Then he made a face. “Has Ceric rubbed off on me?”

  As Safi’s breathless tirade poured on, Ailn realized he was hearing something else: the oxbow pond itself. There were bubbling sighs and gurgling growls, as if it were cooing in agreement. Now and then there was a loud and percussive splash, a sound almost like the angry outward leap of a fish.

  “...W-what is she talking about…?” Renea whispered.

  “I don’t know.”

  Just as Ailn was debating whether to get closer, however, he heard a woman’s voice. His pulse quickened.

  It was coming from behind them. And it wasn’t Safi’s—the voice was slightly deeper, the tone more cutting.

  “Who goes there?” the woman called out to them.

  Should they respond? Whoever it was, Ailn couldn’t recognize them. Nothing he’d heard had led them to believe this area was off-limits, even if it was abandoned.

  There was a chance, then, that she had malicious intentions. She could be a criminal. Or something worse. What if she was colluding with Safi?

  Suddenly, murky and cold marsh water splashed all over Renea, who gasped.

  For a moment, she stood there in shock. Her pupils slowly narrowed. She started trembling, and Ailn had a strong feeling it wasn’t just from being cold. “Are you… kidding me…?!”

  “What is your business wandering around here?” the woman with Kylian demanded. “A little strange to consort in an abandoned district, no?”

  “...Lady Renea?” Kylian’s voice could be heard. What was he doing here?

  Uh oh. Renea had a look on her face Ailn hadn’t seen since the inquisition. Somehow, realizing Kylian was there too seemed to have made her madder. Or maybe it emboldened her. Whatever the case, she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

  “What the hell’s your problem?!” Renea yelled. “Are we not allowed to be here? Do you own the woods?”

  “Renea, you’re getting way too lou—” Ailn tried to stop her.

  “You’re as bad as the stupid heron!” she stomped her foot down in the mud. “Screw you!”

  Then, as if the situation couldn’t get any worse, Ailn suddenly heard Safi’s surprised and wary voice.

  “W-who followed me?!” Safi shouted.

  About an hour before Kylian and Naomi ran into Ailn and Renea, the knight and mage were shoring up their investigation of Aakdrift.

  Before its abandonment, Aakdrift enjoyed modest prosperity. Nestled along a narrow side channel of the Sussurokawa, it offered lower tariffs and a scenic route. Thus, it was a popular draw for the smaller boats that could navigate its waters, and the steady trade allowed residents to savor a life of quiet, easy success.

  Two centuries post-abandonment, all that was left of the district were scattered ruins of stone buildings, and iron anchors, half-buried in dirt, which hinted at the original course of the channel.

  “I suppose this would have been… the mill?” Kylian thought out loud, as he studied a historical map.

  “I do not believe so,” Naomi said, as she shook her head. “The diversion of the water has misled you. This, I believe, would have been the trading post.”

  Kylian glanced at the building’s remains, noting the considerable height of what remained. “A trading post this large for a channel this modest?”

  “I have read Aakdrift was quite popular with the smugglers,” Naomi replied. “The officials of this district lived well beyond their natural dispensation, if you catch my drift.”

  The day had been long, but dusk was soon at hand. Naomi still seemed quite convinced of the futility of their endeavor, but the occasional wrinkle of amusement in her eyes suggested so long as the going was active she was content.

  There wasn’t much use in continuing once night fell. They’d managed to roughly confirm the map’s extant landmarks, and document the shifts in the channel’s course.

  On a lark Kylian walked up to the side channel, taking a moment to gaze at the water itself.

  Where they were, even slight bends in the channel had buildups of silt. The flow slowed and chugged at points, far too sluggish and shallow to convey trade certainly.

  “I suppose this is why the district was abandoned,” Kylian said.

  “Sensible people should believe so, yes,” Naomi said, folding her arms loosely. One hand against her elbow, and the other tapping her chin gently, she seemed to be appraising Kylian the way he appraised the river.

  “...At any rate, I appreciate the help you’ve given, Naomi,” Kylian said. “With any luck, Ailn and Lady Renea have managed to glean something of worth from their visit to the Areygni manor.”

  “Your duke has been sightseeing, Sir Kylian,” Naomi said, wrinkling her nose. “How can you be so intelligent and yet so gullible?”

  “Perhaps I am a fool,” Kylian shrugged. “It seems to me you’re as cynical as he is.”

  “...Who?”

  “The young duke you appear to dislike so much.”

  Naomi’s lips pressed together, a trace of tension in her cheeks threatening to become a scowl. Kylian wondered if, between Naomi and Ailn, like had somehow recognized like—not so much in personality as in the intuitive manner in which their mind operated.

  Giving the final annotated map another once-over, Kylian nodded to Naomi, both of them mounting their horses to return to the estate.

  The evening cold brought with it pensive moods, and the last violet hues of the day painted themselves on the water. Across the way, a section of the channel that had diverted over the years had formed an oxbow pond—a spiral of stagnant water, connected to the channel only by marsh and reeds.

  The effect was rather eerie, like a purple ribbon with a ghostly glow.

  Both of them, atop their horses, came to a sudden stop.

  They’d caught the sound of quiet mumbling coming from the reeds, closer to where they were. But deeper in, right at the spiral’s center, there was the sound of someone chattering away quite loudly.

  Kylian put his hand to his sword hilt, and Naomi manipulated a swirl of water into the air threateningly.

  “Who goes there?” Naomi called out.

  Whoever was hiding in the marsh managed to quiet themselves till there was no sound except the wind passing through the reeds.

  Quite pettily, Naomi surged the swirl of water straight into the reeds. A high-pitched gasp wailed out. “Are you… kidding me…?!”

  “What is your business wandering around here?” Naomi demanded. “A little strange to consort in an abandoned district, no?”

  “...Lady Renea?” Kylian asked, recognizing the voice. He had an inkling Ailn was there in the marsh with her, too. The two of them always turned up in the oddest places, like a pair of traveling mice.

  “What the hell’s your problem?!” Renea whined angrily from the reeds. “Are we not allowed to be here? Do you own the woods?”

  “Renea, you’re getting way too lou—” Ailn’s voice could be heard trying to pacify her.

  “You’re as bad as the stupid heron!” she cried out in a fit. Then she shouted particularly loudly. “Screw you!”

  It echoed through the woods and across the way. Soon enough, Kylian realized, the loud chattering they’d been hearing further up ahead had stopped.

  “W-who followed me?!” Someone shouted from deeper into the oxbow pond.

  “...Lady Fleuve?” Naomi asked, stunned.

  A mass of water began to rise from the pond, reflecting the by-now dark blue sky, surging towards them without warning. As it didn’t actually travel along the ground, the water didn’t absorb into the soil—extending the range it could carry them indefinitely.

  The wave knocked the riders off their horses; the horses, nearly pulled into the current, kicked free and managed to break away without slipping, immediately bolting into the dark.

  Kylian manifested his holy aura in a vain attempt to disperse the water, while Naomi tried to seize control of the flow.

  Neither managed to do anything, and all four of them were pulled into the surging water.

  They must have traveled half a kilometer, dragged painfully through reeds and brush, before the water finally ceased its movement all at once, dropping them unceremoniously onto the earth before raining down on them in a miserable sprinkle.

  “Doesn’t…cough… feel good, does it?” Renea asked, glaring at Naomi.