Chapter Three: The Vale of Howl
The forest thickened the deeper Qin went. The trees grew taller, too close together, their bark blackened like they'd been scorched by magic long ago. The path he followed was no longer a trail but a feeling—a pulse through the ground, a whisper through the ring on his finger.
He'd been walking for hours when he first sensed her.
It started as the crunch of leaves behind him. Then silence. Then another step—lighter than his, almost playful.
He gripped his staff and spoke without turning. "If you're going to attack, at least try to surprise me."
A chuckle answered.
"That's funny," a woman's voice said. "Because I wasn't trying."
He turned fast—only to find her sitting on a fallen tree, legs crossed, arms resting lazily on her knees like she'd been watching him for a while. She looked to be around his age—maybe a year older—but her golden eyes told a different story. They glinted like she'd seen things that didn't leave people alive to talk about.
She wore a patchy cloak over leather armor, a crescent scar cutting across one eyebrow. Her wild, shoulder-length hair was a tangled mess of dark curls streaked with silver, and despite the tension in the air, she smiled.
"What are you?" Qin asked.
"Rude," she said, pretending to be hurt. "But fine. I'm a werewolf. Don't worry—I'm between bites."
He narrowed his eyes. "You're not from the packs around here."
"Nope. No pack. Never needed one." She hopped down from the tree and started circling him, sniffing. "But you… you're weird."
"Thanks."
"No, really. You smell like magic, fire, and... something else. And you're carrying guilt like it's your only luggage." She stopped in front of him. "So what's your name, Tower-boy?"
"…Qin."
"Cute," she said with a smirk.
He blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I mean the name. And the face. Bit too serious, though. That'll get you eaten out here."
"I'm hunting something," he said, ignoring the jab. "A soul-eater named Umbhrax. I need to find the Vale of Howl."
Her playful demeanor cooled slightly. "You're heading to the Vale? On purpose?"
"Yes."
"Well," she said, stretching like a cat, "guess I'm going with you."
"Why?"
She shrugged. "Because either you're incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, and I'd like to find out which. Plus… you're kinda cute. Why not?"
Qin flushed. "That's not—this isn't a game."
"I know," she said, suddenly serious. "I wouldn't be here if it was."
She offered her hand. "Lyra."
He shook it. Her grip was stronger than it looked.
The forest grew stranger the closer they got to the Vale. Qin could feel the pressure in his skull—like time itself was unraveling around them.
Lyra moved with quiet ease, sniffing the air, occasionally swearing under her breath when it changed directions for no reason. The birds stopped chirping. The wind stopped blowing.
"Something's wrong," she muttered.
"I know."
They came to a crooked tree with a long slash carved down the center. Lyra ran her fingers over it. "This is fresh."
Qin frowned. "I marked that tree an hour ago."
Lyra stared at him. "We're walking in circles?"
"No," he said slowly, turning to look behind them. "We never turned around."
She stepped back. "Qin… I don't like this."
He raised his staff and muttered a detection spell. The runes sparked, then fizzled. The forest blinked—not faded, not shifted—blinked, like someone was flipping through realities too fast.
Then they were back at the same tree again.
Lyra hissed. "It's a loop."
Qin nodded grimly. "Time magic. Advanced. Could be Umbhrax. Could be something older."
They tried walking a different direction. Same result. North, east, south—it didn't matter. They always ended back at the tree.
The sun never moved.
The crow never stopped calling.
And Qin's pulse was getting faster.
They set camp reluctantly, using the same broken stump over and over. Lyra roasted something small over the fire—possibly rabbit, hopefully not cursed.
Qin sat across from her, staring at the flames. "I'm going to break it."
She raised a brow. "The loop?"
He nodded. "I'll anchor a spell to this spot and reverse the temporal tether. If I can pull hard enough, we might snap out of it."
She watched him, golden eyes reflecting the fire. "You really think that thing you're chasing did this?"
"Or something it disturbed."
He began drawing runes into the dirt. Lyra tilted her head.
"You're not just a wizard," she said. "You're something else."
Qin didn't look up. "I know."
"I've seen a lot of mages," she continued. "None of them survived this deep into the Vale. But you… you smell like change."
He looked up now, curious. "What do I smell like?"
"Like the moment before a storm hits. Like fire and fur and something hungry that hasn't woken up yet."
That sent a chill through him.
Before he could answer, the wind picked up—unnatural and howling, though the trees didn't move.
The ground pulsed.
The crow cawed again.
Then—
Snap.
Everything reset.
The fire was whole again.
The rabbit was uncooked.
The tree unmarked.
And Lyra, halfway through a yawn, blinked and said:
"Didn't we already say this?"
Qin's heart stopped.
She remembered.
Qin stared at Lyra.
"You remember?" he asked, heart pounding.
She stood slowly, her senses sharpening. "Yeah. I don't know how. I shouldn't—my kind doesn't usually notice time magic. But this place… it's messing with everything."
Qin looked down at the dirt, now clean and unmarked. The runes he had etched were gone, like they'd never existed. Even the air tasted new.
He took a slow breath. "We're not in a regular loop. We're in a cursed one."
Lyra's jaw tightened. "You think this is Umbhrax again?"
Qin nodded. "Or the ring. Maybe both. Whatever is keeping us here—it doesn't want us to leave. And now it knows I'm trying to break it."
Lyra folded her arms. "You said you could anchor a spell to pull us out, right?"
"I can try," Qin said. "But I need something constant. Something real."
She touched the scar at her brow. "Blood?"
Qin looked up at her, the fire reflecting in both their eyes. "Blood… or soul."
A pause. Then she smiled faintly. "Guess you'll just have to trust me not to bite."
Qin gave the tiniest smile in return.
"For now," he said, "just hold on."
Then he drew the first rune again—this time, burning it into the earth with the tip of his flame-lit staff.