Wyford was about average height for a man and a solid build with an easy smile that seemed to come naturally to him. His eyes were brown, framed by thick eyebrows that almost looked like they were bristled, and his chin had a little more scruff than a clean shave. Beneath his eyes were circles, faint but obvious enough to see when one knew where to look.

Despite his appearance, the man smiled through it all as he vigorously shook Tyrus and Igneal's hands.

"It's really good to see you again, Tyrus, Lord Igneal! I never thought I'd run into you here. Small world, huh?"

Fiona cleared her throat and looked the man up and down. 'You said your name is Wyford. Are you the same guy Tyrus and my brother teamed up with in the Wasteful Wetlands?"

"Oh? They've spoken to you about me? I'm flattered that a beauty such as yourself remembered me. Has Tyrus told you how I heroically vanquished any and all creatures that dared threaten the group?"

"I heard you were more of a jokester than a hero," Fiona said flatly.

"A jokester, leader, and a fighter more like it."

Fiona kept her arms crossed, unimpressed. "Right. You put up this contract. What exactly are we dealing with?"

Wyford's grin faded as he sat back down, motioning for them to join him. "It's bad. Worse than the contract lets on." His fingers tapped anxiously against the wooden table. "I wrote it vaguely on purpose. If I said outright that Lindell accepts the disappearances, no one would touch it."

"You're saying the village is complicit?" Grant asked, his expression hardening.

Wyford sighed. "Complicit, resigned—take your pick. All that matters is that they don't fight it. Recently, every month, the forest takes one person, sometimes two or three, and the villagers treat it like clockwork. Some say it's a god demanding tribute. Others think it's a curse. Either way, they've convinced themselves that resisting will only make things worse."

Fiona clenched her jaw, the very idea making her stomach twist. "And no one's tried to stop it?"

"Not anymore," Wyford muttered. His gaze darkened as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe they did once and found out quickly they were out of their league. Now they just accept it. They send people off like it's some divine will, and that's that. No search parties. No rescue attempts. Just silence."

Tyrus furrowed his brow, his tail flicking anxiously behind him. "That's horrible."

Wyford let out a dry laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Tell me about it. That's why Mitha and I thought we could change things. Thought we could be seen as heroes for saving the denizens of Lindell. We were wrong."

"You two went in alone?" Grant asked.

Wyford nodded. "We figured if we could track down whatever's causing this, maybe we could put a stop to it. But the deeper we went, the worse it got. The forest… it messes with you. Whispers everywhere. Voices that sound familiar. Things moving in the shadows but never quite there when you turn to look. Then one moment, Mitha just… vanished. No scream, no struggle. One second she was there, and the next, she was gone."

"And this sister you speak of in the contract... Is it Mitha?" Igneal said out of the blue.

Tyrus gasped. "Mitha is your sister?" His eyes darted between Wyford and the contract, as if trying to piece something together. "I thought… but you don't look alike at all."

Wyford huffed a laugh. "That's because we're not related by blood. I'm the adopted one. But trust me, she's my sister in every way that matters. We've been together since we were babies. Doesn't matter if we didn't come from the same womb."

"Never came up," Wyford said, some of his charm slipping back, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "We thought we could handle it, you know? We came back home after becoming explorers, feeling like we could take on anything. We survived the monthly exam, fought lizardmen, beasts… hell, we thought we were ready. Turns out, we weren't."

No one spoke. The weight of his words hung over them like a thick fog.

"I don't know what's in that forest," Wyford continued, voice lower now. "But it took Mitha, and I made it out safely. As an unblessed, I know this is out of my league. I know I can't do this alone. That's why I put up the contract."

Igneal spoke first. "Why seek the Explorer Guild for assistance? Would sending out a distress signal or a letter to the Imperial Court work?"

Wyford shook his head and said, "Feel free to send those messages, but don't expect a response. Lindell is a faraway city southwest of the Wasteful Wetlands, near the border of the Shaire Kingdom. Even if they were informed, I doubt the Emperor would intervene. We are not a top concern for them. If any help was on the way, they would arrive too late to save Mitha. And my city certainly won't lend me a hand."

"So you turned to the guild," Igneal said. "Because of your weakness, you failed to save her. You were foolish enough to go into the forest alone, knowing full well of your strength, so now you turn to others for help. What happened to the Wyford in the Wasteful Wetlands I have seen cut down men and beast alike?"

Fiona was ready to open her mouth and shut him up herself, but Wyford raised a hand.

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"You're not wrong to think that, Lord Igneal. Compared to you sorcerers, I know I'm weak. I should've known beforehand we might be biting off more than we could chew, especially in a world where all sorts of nasty creatures are prowling around Dharmere. I'm the reason why Mitha is missing. So the least I can do is make sure I do this right this time. If I have to swallow my pride to do so, then so be it. Would you not do the same for your own siblings?"

A twitch formed at the corner of Igneal's eye, and he took a sneaky glance in Fiona's direction. Fiona locked eyes with her brother, and he stared back. Their exchange only lasted for a fleeting moment before Igneal looked away.

Grant cleared his throat and took the initiative. "You said the Whispering Forest is near Lindell, correct? It'd be best to leave now before we lose more daylight. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can figure out what we're up against."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Fiona said, standing up. "We leave as soon as we're stocked up."

"Thank you, truly," Wyford said. "Especially you, Lord Igneal. I did not think someone of your status would be willing to help us out again. Underneath that tough guy exterior, you're a really nice guy, you know that?"

Reo snickered at first, though it soon shifted into groans as he clutched his back and rubbed it. "Please, no more jokes. Even laughing hurts. Fiona, are you sure you can't use Restoration to heal me up?"

Fiona rolled her eyes and walked over to Reo. Muttering 'Restoration', a golden light shined, encasing his body in a gentle glow for a few moments before fading. Reo stood up and flexed, his bones popping as he stretched.

"I feel like I've been put back together, which is amazing for my back," Reo said, rotating his shoulder. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to sleep when your body is hurting all over?"

"Yeah, yeah, poor you," Fiona said quickly. "We need to find transportation, and a fast one at that."

Wyford smiled as he rose. "I already have that covered. Just grab what you need and meet me back here. I'll be waiting. And once again, I thank you."

Fiona placed a soft hand on the man's shoulder. "We might be a bronze party on the younger side, but we are capable of getting shit done. We'll do everything in our power to save your sister."

"I don't doubt that in the least," Wyford said when Fiona let go.

With that, Fiona and her friends left, heading off to gather what they needed for the trip.

***

By the time everyone returned with packs full and weapons ready, the sun had almost reached its zenith. Wyford stood near the entrance of the inn, speaking with a stocky man who was loading crates onto a large, covered wagon. There were two such wagons, each pulled by feathered, black-coated creatures standing on two legs, their harnesses well-maintained despite the dust of the road.

Wyford turned as they approached. "We're all set. Driver's name is Bonrith. He's willing to take us to Lindell, no questions asked. I tagged along with him on the way here in exchange for my excellent services as a guard. Despite being Askelian, he's a merchant from the Shaire Kingdom, if you haven't already guessed."

The man named Bonrith placed one final crate into a wagon, which made a loud thud that nearly echoed through the street. He turned toward them, dusting his hands off as he walked over to the group.

"Yasaluh, friends of Wyford," the man said.

Bonrith lacked the usual roughness of an Askelian accent. He did, however, carry the other prominent features: a sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and golden tone skin leaning on the darker side. His amber-colored garb was loose, with wide sleeves and a deep collar that showed off a chiseled physique that spoke of hard labor. His head was shaved and wrapped with a sash that matched.

"Yasaluh," Fiona greeted, recognizing the Askelian greeting for 'good fortune upon you.' Bonrith's brows lifted slightly in approval.

"I see you are one of the more respectful Lethians," said Bonrith. "The nobles I do business are always rude with their questions. I am always asked what an Askelian like me is a doing in this line of work," he finished, shaking his head. "As if trade is a business too complicated to handle my my race."

"Some people assume too much."

Bonrith chuckled. "That, they do." He turned toward his wagons, adjusting a strap on one of the crates. "Regardless, it is good coin. And when you are a foreigner in Lethia, you take what you can get."

Wyford clapped him on the back. "And you do damn well for yourself, Bonrith. Best merchant I know who can smuggle a man past a border without so much as a raised eyebrow."

Bonrith shot him a sharp look, but there was amusement behind it. "I am an honest trader, Wyford. Do not put ideas in your friends' heads."

"Right, right. Honest trader who just happens to be very good at avoiding unnecessary delays."

"Speaking of avoiding unnecessary delays, it is about time we set off," Bonrith said. "I am already behind schedule. I am to arrive at the trading post on the southern border tomorrow morning. If we leave now, we should reach the forest by nightfall."

Wyford grinned. "Then we have a long day ahead of us! We can kill some time by getting to know each other. It might be a little cramped, but it beats walking and our weapons can easily be stored in the back. How about we draw straws and see who—"

Wyford's explanation faded away as he realized that everyone had already settled in the two carriages. Reo, Grant, Igneal, and Bonrith rode in the front carriage, while Fiona and Tyrus were in the other. The back carriage was filled with most of the goods, leaving little space in the front.

Fiona pointed at the coach seat. "I assume you know how to drive a wagon, Wyford?"

Wyford sighed dramatically and slinked into the driver's seat. "Of course I do. I've been around long enough to learn a thing or two. But I was hoping for some lively conversation instead of being left up here alone."

"You're not alone," Fiona said, leaning back against the side of the carriage. "You've got the birds."

Wyford let out an exaggerated groan. "Great. My best friends are now a pair of overgrown fowl. What a life."

Bonrith chuckled from the front carriage. "They are trained haethas, not fowl. Smarter than you, too, if I had to guess."

Wyford scoffed. "Well, if they can tell a joke better than me, then I might actually start worrying."

Fiona shot him a disapproving look. "You seem unusually upbeat for someone who just lost his sister in the Whispering Woods. Normally, grief clings to people like a foul odor."

Wyford's grin didn't falter, but something in his eyes shifted just for a fraction of a second. "What can I say? I cope with humor." He stretched his arms, feigning nonchalance. "Crying and wallowing in self pity won't bring her back, only action. Besides, you all agreed to help, didn't you? That means I've got hope. And hope, dear Fiona, is a rare thing these days."

"Whatever you say," Fiona said, crossing her arms and turning her gaze outward.

Bonrith grabbed the reins, giving the feathered creatures a light flick. Wyford did so as well, and the wagons rolled forward. They were stopped at the city's south gate where a pair of armored guards stepped forward, signaling them to halt. One of them, a grizzled man with a thick beard and a dented helmet, gave the caravan a once-over.

Once the merchant provided the paperwork and the explorers displayed their tags, the guards appeared satisfied and waved them off. Wyford waved back as they passed through the gates, sporting a broad smile while admiring the rolling Emerald Hills. The haethas moved at a trotting pace, their steps careful as the wagon wheels crunched on the loose stones and dirt.

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