Morning came slowly. Ludwig had not moved all night. When the light finally pierced the forest's darkness, he struck the rear of the cart.
The coach stepped out at once, opening the cart's door and unlatching the windows.
"Paul," Ludwig called, unlocking the manacle around the man's wrist. Paul did not stir.
"He slept late, inquisitor," the coach said, reattaching the horses to the cart.
Ludwig watched him work. "I'll be inside."
He stepped into the cart quietly so as to not wake Paul. Ludwig took his usual seat by the window, his boots brushing the door as Paul lay slumped across from him, breathing evenly.
The cart lurched forward. Paul shifted, muttering under his breath, but did not wake.
They were passing through Obsidionreach—Ludwig's least favored forest. Strange things were said to happen here. Even at midday, the light struggled to reach the ground, and when it did, it was slowly siphoned away by the obsidian rocks.
Still, Obsidian Reach was meant to be protected land. A refuge for wildlife.
Ludwig had seen what poachers did to rare creatures. He did not dwell on it. His hand tightened briefly against the leather of his glove as he looked out into the trees.
The stillness of the forest was unsettling. They had been on the road for hours, and Ludwig had expected to pass at least one caravan—especially at this time of year.
The cart came to an abrupt halt.
Paul lurched forward, nearly striking the seat ahead of him, before Ludwig caught him by the collar and shoved him back.
"What's wrong?" Ludwig asked as he stepped down from the cart, already pulling off his gloves.
"The horses, inquisitor," the coach said quickly. He moved to their heads, murmuring as he tried to calm them.
Paul followed more cautiously. "What… what happened?"
"They stopped," the coach said, running a hand along one horse's neck. "I don't know why."
Ludwig circled the cart, his gaze sweeping the tree line. His eyes lingered on the obsidian rocks jutting along the forest floor—too sharp, too dark against the soil.
"Do you smell that?" Paul asked, glancing about.
Ludwig did not answer.
"What smell?" the coach asked once the horses had calmed somewhat. "You mean the ozone? That's just the inquisitor."
"No," Paul said, staring toward a jagged obsidian rock to his left. "It's coming from there."
Ludwig stepped in front of him, raising a hand. "Stay here."
He moved past the cart and approached the rock, his steps measured. The smell grew stronger as he drew closer—sharp and metallic, clinging to the air.
The ground around the stone was disturbed. Scored. Something had been dragged away.
Ludwig crouched, brushing aside loose soil with his gloved hand.
Blood. Dark and viscous.
He brought his fingers to his nose. "It does smell… pungent."
The trail led deeper into the forest. Ludwig glanced back at Paul and the coach.
"Shouldn't you check if someone is hurt?" Paul asked as Ludwig turned away.
"Something, not someone," Ludwig said as he passed him. "From the trail, it was large."
He stepped into the cart and retrieved his compass before returning to the road's edge.
"Poachers?" the coach asked.
Paul looked again at the trail, then swallowed. "Isn't Obsidionreach supposed to be poacher-free?"
"I'm not certain it was poachers," Ludwig said, studying the direction of the drag marks as he moved toward them. "It could have been a horse."
He stepped closer to the trail and opened his compass.
"You two stay here." Ludwig glanced at Paul. "It would serve you well not to try anything."
"What? Wait." Paul took a step after him. "You can't just leave us here. It's not safe."
Ludwig followed the trail without looking back. He removed his gloves as he moved deeper into the forest.
The obsidian stones grew more frequent the farther he went, jutting from the ground like broken glass. What little light remained was swallowed between them.
The trail ended at a jagged rock.
Ludwig approached carefully. The obsidian caught the light and smothered it, the glow fading the closer he drew, as if the stone itself refused to reflect it. Caught on its edge was a small tuft of fur.
Black.
He paused.
A sound reached him—thin, strained, nearly lost beneath the creak of trees shifting in the wind.
He turned toward it.
There it was again. A weak, uneven mew.
The forest darkened until the shapes ahead blurred together. Ludwig opened his compass. Its glow spilled outward, pale but steady.
The light revealed a massive shadow cat lying across the forest floor.
It was dead.
Dark blood pooled beneath its massive body, soaking into the soil.
The sound came again.
From beneath it.
Ludwig stepped closer—and stumbled.
He looked down.
A corpse lay half-buried beneath the brush. A man, his face split open by a clean slash. One eye was missing. The other hung loose in its socket, glassy and unfocused.
Ludwig steadied the compass light and swept it wider.
More bodies emerged from the dark. Too many. Some were pinned where they had fallen, jagged obsidian spikes driven clean through flesh and bone. Others lay twisted around broken weapons scattered at their sides.
"Poachers," Ludwig said, the word heavy with contempt.
He turned back to the shadow cat and crouched beside it. Carefully, he reached beneath its cooling body.
His fingers closed around something small.
He drew out a shadow kitten, slick with its mother's blood, trembling weakly in his hands.
Shadow cats never left their partners—except during childbirth. The mother hunted alone then, seeking the largest prey she could bring back. At least, that was what Ludwig remembered from Hugo's lectures.
"They must have ambushed it," he said quietly.
The kitten mewed again—thin, strained. Ludwig adjusted his grip, one hand shielding it from the chill air. It trembled against his chest, then latched clumsily onto his thumb, suckling weakly.
Ludwig stilled.
The forest had gone too quiet.
He lifted his head, scanning the darkness beyond the compass's dim glow. The obsidian stones seemed closer now, crowding in, swallowing what little light remained. Somewhere deeper in the trees, something shifted—slow, deliberate.
Ludwig's jaw tightened.
If the father lived, it would come.
He glanced down at the kitten. Leaving it here would follow the law. But law would not stop poachers if they returned.
The ground vibrated—faint, but unmistakable.
Ludwig made his choice.
He drew the kitten close, turned, and moved back the way he had come, every step measured, every sense sharp for the strike he knew might follow.
He did not look back.