The operatives moved with lightning speed, and it wasn't long before reports began filtering in from all directions—but the news they brought was deeply unsettling. According to their findings, the town was completely deserted, not a single trace of human habitation left for years.
How was this possible?
Staring at the dusty, cracked stone statues lining the square, the captain gritted his teeth. He'd never put much stock in the rumors surrounding the Twilight Forest—they sounded too absurd to be true, and no one had ever come forward with firsthand accounts, only secondhand tales of "he said, she said." Now, however, he finally understood why no one had been able to uncover the truth about this place. Those who *did* know the truth were probably already dead, their voices silenced forever.
Damn it all!
The captain shook his head, forcing himself to snap out of his daze. He suddenly realized that his mind was being clouded by an indescribable influence. Under normal circumstances, even when faced with the unexpected, he would have maintained a shred of hope. Men like them were trained to master their emotions, to stay calm and collected no matter what. But now, he could feel a deep-seated fear—one he'd long buried—being slowly dragged to the surface by an invisible force.
What the hell is happening?
Panic began to creep into the captain's heart. He'd always been supremely confident in his own mental fortitude, but now that confidence was turning against him. An ordinary person would have dismissed this as nothing more than a trick of the mind, a sign that they were feeling a little jumpier than usual. But he couldn't afford that luxury. He knew his own mind too well, could sense the presence of that outside influence with crystal clarity—and that realization was what scared him the most. Everything he'd ever been taught told him that emotions were born from within, that no external force could manipulate them.
But now, there was no denying it: some unknown power was trying to pry open the iron cage of his mind, to set free the emotions he'd locked away for good!
Humans feared nothing more than the unknown. And though these men were trained to face any danger, they'd never been taught how to defend against an attack on their own minds.
How do you fight an enemy you can't even see?
"Stay calm. *Stay calm*…" the captain muttered to himself, clenching his fists tightly and taking several deep, steadying breaths. Gradually, he felt his racing heart slow down. And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the invisible force that had been trying to invade his mind vanished without a trace, as if it had never existed at all.
Was it all just an illusion?
The captain frowned, taking another deep breath—but he could sense nothing out of the ordinary. No invisible hands, no whispers in the dark, nothing.
Whether it was real or just my imagination, one thing's for sure: a strong mind is the best defense.
With that reassuring thought, the captain felt a little more at ease. He turned to his men and barked out a new order.
"The town is empty. Move out—we're heading for the castle!"
The path leading up to the castle was rough and overgrown, the stone steps cracked and choked with weeds. Every inch of it screamed abandonment, nothing like the thriving stronghold the intel had described. Even these seasoned spies had to admit that this place looked like it had been left to rot for decades, if not longer—not a single sign of life anywhere.
And yet, their orders had painted a completely different picture. According to the reports, there should have been a thriving city here, built seemingly overnight, home to nearly a thousand residents. These were intelligence gathered from multiple sources—they should have been accurate.
The operatives exchanged confused glances, a sense of unease settling over them. It was like being told by everyone around you that the moon was definitely round, only to look up and see a triangle hanging in the sky. You wanted to question it, but you didn't know how to put your doubts into words without sounding insane.
When they'd first set out for the Twilight Forest, the men had been fired up and eager to prove themselves. This was a direct mission from General Ashe himself, a chance to show off their skills and cement their reputation as the best of the best. They'd spent the entire journey preparing for every possible contingency, drawing up backup plans for their backup plans, convinced they'd thought of everything. But nothing—not a single one of their scenarios—had prepared them for *this*.
What the hell is going on in this godforsaken place?
And when they finally reached the top of the hill, where the castle loomed ahead, their confusion turned to outright dread.
The mist that had shrouded the castle had lifted completely, revealing its true form—and it was far more terrifying than any of them could have imagined. The massive front gate hung off its hinges, rotting away, riddled with holes and draped in vines glistening with cold dew. Not a single guard stood watch at the walls. The entire castle was pitch-black, every corner filled with thick, swirling mist, so silent you could hear a pin drop.
"Captain… should we retreat?" one of the operatives asked, his voice trembling slightly. He was the first to admit that things had gone horribly wrong.
"Maybe we shouldn't have trusted the intel so blindly. Maybe we should have scouted the area during the day first, come up with a proper plan… This is just too weird. There's no one here—*no one*! It's a ghost town!"
"He's right…" another man muttered, nodding in agreement.
"But we've come this far…" a third argued, though his voice lacked conviction.
As the men began to mutter among themselves, their initial confidence fading fast, the captain felt a surge of frustration. These men were supposed to be the best of the best—elite spies trained to thrive in the face of the unknown. But seeing the dilapidated, abandoned town and castle had shaken them to their core. They were here to gather intelligence, not to play hero. Survival was their first priority—retreating in the face of overwhelming odds wasn't cowardice, it was common sense.
"…Fine."
The captain stared at the rotting castle gate for a long moment, his expression a mixture of frustration and resignation. He'd wanted nothing more than to storm inside and uncover the truth, but now, he knew it was a suicide mission. Pressing on would be foolish.
But just as he made his decision, disaster struck.
The men had only just turned to leave when a startled cry rang out from behind them. They spun around instantly, drawing their weapons and leaping back into a defensive stance—but all they saw was a blur of movement, a shadow too fast to make out, darting back into the castle's dark entrance. The rotting wooden gate creaked loudly and crashed to the ground with a resounding *thud*—if it hadn't been for that noise, they would have sworn it was just their imagination.
"What was that? What the hell was that thing?!" one of the operatives shouted, his voice cracking with fear.
"Wait—where's Kyle? Has anyone seen Kyle?!" another man yelled, scanning the group frantically.
That's when they realized the truth: one of their own was missing.
A wave of panic swept over the men, and they stumbled back even further, putting more distance between themselves and the castle's entrance. They stared at the dark, gaping doorway as if it were the maw of some ancient, hungry beast, ready to swallow them whole.
A soft, cold breeze rustled through the trees.
The mist began to swirl, like the tide coming in.
The men glanced around nervously—and their blood turned to ice.
"Where's Vedran?! He was right next to me a second ago! He's gone too!"
"What the hell is this place?! Is it cursed?!"
This time, there was no hiding their terror. The operatives abandoned all pretense of stealth, huddling together in a tight circle, backs pressed against each other, weapons held out in front of them, ready to strike at anything that moved. They knew they were making a lot of noise—but right now, noise was the least of their worries. They'd rather alert every enemy within a mile than be picked off one by one by whatever was lurking in the mist.
"We're leaving. *Now*!" the captain roared, his voice cutting through the chaos. He was angry at his men for panicking, but he couldn't blame them—not really. Even he was starting to feel the cold grip of fear clawing at his insides. These were trained soldiers, not scared children—they shouldn't be this easy to rattle. But there was no time to dwell on that now. Survival came first.
"Split into teams of three. Watch each other's backs. Report anything—*anything*—the second you see it. Do you understand me?!"
"Yes, Captain!" the men replied, their voices shaky but determined.
They quickly formed small groups and began to run down the hill as fast as their legs could carry them, desperate to put as much distance between themselves and the castle as possible.
The mist swirled around them, thick and suffocating. The forest was still dead silent, but now, the silence felt *menacing*, like the calm before a tsunami. Every rustle of a leaf, every creak of a branch, sent a shiver down their spines.
The path down the hill wasn't long, but right now, it felt like an eternity. The mist obscured their vision completely, leaving them blind. They could only rely on the faint moonlight filtering through the fog and the feel of the rough stone path beneath their feet to guide them. The captain's two remaining teammates stayed close by his side, one watching their left flank, the other their right, scanning the mist for any sign of danger.
And then, the captain skidded to a sudden halt.
There, in the middle of the path, partially hidden by the mist, lay a body.
A very familiar body.
The clothes were the same as theirs—this was one of their men. The captain remembered seeing him just a few minutes ago, alive and well. But now, he was nothing more than a dried, desiccated husk, his once-strong body shrunken and gaunt, skin clinging tightly to his bones. He looked like he'd been dead for months.
The captain dropped to his knees, examining the corpse closely. There were no wounds, no signs of a struggle—nothing. He had no idea what could have turned a healthy man into a mummy in the span of minutes.
This is impossible. The intel didn't mention *anything* like this. It didn't even hint at the danger we'd be facing here!
The captain gritted his teeth in frustration and stood up, forcing himself to keep moving. But with every step he took, his heart grew colder and colder.
The mist began to clear, and the town came into view once more. But this time, it was different. This time, there was a strange, sickening "life" to it.
And when the captain saw what lay ahead, his heart sank to the bottom of his stomach.
The town square was littered with bodies.
Dozens of them.
Dried, shrunken husks, lying crumpled on the ground or hanging from the rooftops, their bodies torn apart, black, viscous blood dripping from the ragged wounds.
These weren't strangers.
They were his men. Every single one of them.
By the Holy Light…
The captain's body began to shake uncontrollably, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead. He couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. These were his best operatives—elite spies trained to handle any situation. Even if they'd walked into an ambush, they shouldn't have been slaughtered so easily. It was impossible!
"Let's get out of here! We have to run—*now*!" the captain screamed, spinning around to urge his remaining men forward.
But there was no response.
He turned around—and froze.
He was completely alone.
His two teammates were gone, vanished without a trace, swallowed up by the mist.
"By the Holy Light…" the captain whispered, his voice barely audible.
Terror finally overwhelmed him, and he stumbled backward, his eyes darting wildly from one empty building to the next. Every shadow looked like a monster waiting to strike, every creak of a floorboard a death knell.
I have to leave. I have to get out of here. I have to run—*now*! Turn around! Run!
A cold wind blew past him, sending a shiver down his spine. He felt something wet and sticky on the back of his neck, like sweat—but then, he realized it wasn't sweat at all.
Soft, sinewy tentacles snaked around his neck from behind, splitting into two, covering his mouth and nose in an instant, cutting off his scream before it could escape his lips. The tentacles pulled him backward, dragging him into the thick, swirling mist.
The mist churned for a moment, then fell silent once more.
No trace of the captain remained.
The forest was quiet again.
"Master, is it over?"
Charlotte watched as Blake sank back into his chair, a faint smile playing on her lips as she asked the question.
"For now," Blake replied, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He twirled the ring on his finger absentmindedly, his eyes fixed on the ethereal image floating in the air before him—an image that showed the empty, mist-shrouded town and the bodies of the operatives scattered across the square.
**Barrier of the Forgotten**: A veil woven from the essence of death and souls, designed to lure the unwary and ensnare those who dare to trespass. It whispers to the living, drawing them toward the edge of the abyss, waiting to devour any who stray from the path. Only those who respect the rules and walk with a guide shall pass unharmed. Unwelcome guests, however, shall be granted no such mercy—they shall be invited in… and never allowed to leave.
This was one of the defensive systems granted to him by the Source Core. The elven nature barrier was useful for early warnings, but it wasn't strong enough to hold off a determined attack. And with the City of Heroes' walls undermanned and unguarded in his absence, it wouldn't be able to stop anyone who really wanted to get in. So before leaving for the fortress, Blake had asked the Source Core to activate this new barrier—a barrier of necrotic mist that would merge with the natural fog of the Twilight Forest, devouring any intruders foolish enough to enter after dark. That was why he'd imposed the strict curfew, forbidding anyone from venturing outside after midnight. The barrier would remain active from dusk till dawn, when the first rays of sunlight would dispel the mist and lift the veil.
The moment the operatives had entered the forest, Blake had sensed their presence through the Source Core. If they'd stayed on the main road and acted like ordinary travelers, he would have ignored them. But they'd chosen to sneak through the forest, bypassing the nature barrier—their suspicious behavior had marked them as intruders the second they stepped foot in his domain.
"Whoever they were, it's clear they didn't learn how to be proper guests," Blake said, his smirk widening.
"Indeed, Master," Charlotte nodded in agreement, her eyes glinting with amusement.
"Shall I inform the others, Master? I'm sure they'll want to know what happened. Should we investigate where these intruders came from? Find out who sent them?"
"No need," Blake waved a hand dismissively, cutting her off.
"Everything is proceeding exactly as I planned. There's no need to change anything—if something important comes up, they'll send word to you. As for these unwelcome guests… let them rot. There's no need to waste our time or energy on them."
Blake fell silent for a moment, his gaze drifting away from the image in the air, as if lost in thought. Then, he turned to Charlotte, his expression softening slightly.
"Speaking of which, you've all been working nonstop since we arrived at the fortress. Why don't we take a break tomorrow? Go for a walk around the fortress, explore a little. There's nothing to do here right now—it's been dreadfully boring. The truce between the Sith Empire and Oult is about to expire, and once it does, we'll be swamped with work. So… before the storm hits, I think we all deserve a little downtime."