Luckborn

Otter staggered back a step, still clutching his side where the mosquito had pierced him. The pain was sharp but manageable. But when he looked up and saw Erin, his breath caught.

She was pale. Too pale. Blood soaked through the collar of her shirt, the fabric torn where the thing had struck. She pressed a hand to the wound, her knuckles white, eyes unfocused.

"Erin—"

"I'm fine," she said automatically, but her voice was thin.

"No, you're not." Otter crossed the space between them in three strides and steadied her as she sagged slightly against a tree. "You're barely standing."

She blinked hard. "It's not… that bad. I've had worse."

He didn't believe her for a second. By the look of it, she had one foot in the grave already.

Sage stepped forward, hands already glowing with gentle golden light. "Hold still."

She placed her palm lightly on Erin's shoulder. The warmth of divine energy spread through the injured girl, stitching torn flesh and sealing ruptured vessels. Erin exhaled slowly, the tension in her body easing as color returned to her cheeks.

Sage turned next to Otter. "You too."

"I'm fine," he said—but winced as he shifted.

"Exactly."

She laid a hand on his side, and the ache dulled almost instantly. Otter let out a quiet breath and nodded his thanks.

"My mana is almost dry," Sage told them, glancing at the bodies of the dead insects. "We will need to be more careful. We don't know what else is waiting deeper in."

"Let's hope it's not more of those," Milo muttered.

Jasper, blade still in hand, looked out toward the mists ahead. "We should move. The noise might attract something bigger."

Otter gave Erin a final glance, his hand lingering a moment near hers before he turned to retrieve his pack.

They were alive. No one was lost.

But the Halverik Marsh had made its first move. And Otter had the sinking feeling it wouldn't be its last.

***

The group pressed on.

The marsh closed in once more, heavier now, oppressive in its grip. The sun had passed its zenith, but the relief it might've offered was smothered by thick humidity. Sweat clung to everything—skin, fabric, leather. Their clothes stuck to them, packs sagged with moisture, and even their boots seemed to groan under the weight of the swamp's breath.

What passed for a trail had all but vanished. It degraded into half-submerged causeways strangled by vines and obscured by algae. Fallen trees barred their path like toppled sentinels, forcing awkward detours. Pools of standing water stretched across the route—some ankle-deep, others far more deceptive. Jasper misjudged one and nearly lost his boot to the muck.

"This place hates us," he growled, yanking his foot free with a wet shlorp.

"No," Milo panted, swiping sweat from his brow. "It hates me specifically. The rest of you are just innocent bystanders."

Even Sage looked worn, her usually rigid posture wilted beneath the weight of heat and fatigue.

Erin moved quietly now, conserving energy with every step. Otter stayed close, offering her a hand over tangled roots or unstable crossings. Neither spoke. They didn't need to.

By midafternoon, Otter's shoulders throbbed from the constant drag of his pack. The leather straps bit into his skin, slick with sweat. Every step sunk into the mud, tugged at his knees, wore at his balance. His legs felt like dead weight.

They paused for water beneath the sagging branches of a cypress. The mist hung low, filtering the light into a hazy amber.

Otter tapped the side of his wrisplay. The interface flickered to life with a low hum.

You have gained 15 XP.

He stared.

Fifteen? That was it? After fighting for their lives against bloodthirsty winged monsters?

His brow furrowed. He recalled the numbers—3,000 XP needed to reach Level 3.

This was going to take forever.

He swiped the interface away and adjusted his pack with a grimace. Fighting might give XP, but at this rate, it was going to be a long, painful grind. Erin had nearly died for a miserable 15 XP. There had to be a better way.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

He just had to figure out what it was.

They walked on in silence, senses taut, weapons loosely gripped. No one wanted another ambush. Not from mosquitoes. Not from swamp rats. Not from Kaosborn. Not from anything.

Their pace slowed. The terrain worsened—sinking logs, invisible sinkholes, and sludge thick enough to swallow ankles. Shadows stretched long and thin. Beams of late-afternoon sunlight pierced the mist like dying embers, but the marsh didn't loosen its grip. If anything, it clung tighter.

Otter's boots squelched with every step, long past the point of discomfort. Still, he said nothing. None of them did. They were too close now.

It was just before dusk when the outpost came into view.

Perched on a low rise of stone and tangled roots, three stilted buildings emerged from the mist—wooden walls gray with damp, thatched roofs heavy with moisture. A narrow plank walkway linked the structures like beads on a string. One watchtower rose slightly taller, its silhouette barely visible through the haze.

The Halverik Outpost.

But something was off.

Otter noticed it first—not by sight, but by smell.

The air lacked the familiar aromas of the outpost—no scent of smoldering wood, no sizzling of cooking meals, no odor of lubricating oils or the metallic tang of forged iron. The usual human-made scents were conspicuously absent.

They slowed as one, boots crunching softer now.

Otter strained his ears.

No voices. No hammering or chatter. No dogs barking. Not even the creak of rope or the squeal of rusted hinges.

Just the marsh.

"Where is everyone?" Milo whispered.

No one answered.

Erin raised a hand, signaling them to halt. Her face was calm, but her posture had turned rigid.

Jasper's grip tightened on his sword.

Otter's fingers slipped instinctively to the hilt of his rapier. His chest felt hollow, his gut cold.

They had reached the outpost.

But something was deeply, unmistakably wrong.

The team fanned out, weapons in hand, as they approached the stilted outpost. The catwalk creaked beneath their boots, the wood slick from the lingering humidity. Otter's eyes darted from building to building, noting the small details.

A lantern hung beside the door of the main hut. The wick had been trimmed, waiting to be lit for the night.

"Where is everyone?" Milo whispered again, voice strained.

No one answered.

Erin pushed open the main hut door, her bow raised. The hinges gave a reluctant groan.

Inside, the space was dim and still. A pot sat on the small hearth, congealed stew stuck to the bottom. Cups and tin bowls rested on a nearby table—some half-full, some empty.

Otter stepped inside behind her and immediately noticed the boots by the door. Four pairs. Some muddy, some not. A few cloaks hung from pegs on the wall, and one bunk was neatly made. The others were not.

"They left in a hurry," Erin said quietly, crouching beside one of the untucked bunks. "No signs of struggle."

Sage moved to the hearth, passing a table where a half-played game of cards had been left midhand. "Whatever happened, it was recent."

Milo stepped toward the corner, eyes drawn to a crystal mounted in its sconce. He reached up and gently touched it, frowning. "This is a communication crystal."

"A what?" asked Otter.

"A device used to communicate over long distances. They're difficult to make and very expensive. Usually, they come in pairs or sets. I'm betting this one is paired with one at the guild in Brighthaven."

"Kaos?" Otter asked.

"Take a look at this," called Jasper, holding up a bound leather book from the adjacent desk. He handed it to Otter, who opened it carefully.

The handwriting was clean and orderly. The entries tracked routine activity—supply deliveries, a bogling scare, a minor foot injury. Then came the final one, scrawled in a quicker hand.

10:23 – Distress signal received via comm crystal. Location near Myrrh Fen. No response on secondary ping.

Dispatching team to investigate.

Leaving wards active. Will return before dusk.

Otter looked up. "They left earlier today."

"And haven't come back," Sage finished.

"Lots of reasons for that," said Jasper. "No need to think the worst. Maybe they found somebody hurt and couldn't make it back in time."

"I can't believe they'd all abandon the outpost," said Otter. "Wouldn't it make sense to leave one person behind in case they needed to send for help?"

"Maybe they did," offered Milo, his voice uneasy.

"Then where is that guy?" asked Sage.

"Keep looking," ordered Otter. "We must have missed something."

Milo continued reading through the logbook while Jasper and Sage turned their attention to the bunks. Otter and Erin slipped back outside to search the other buildings.

The next closest structure was narrower than the first and leaning heavily to the side, as if two of the supports had sunk deeper into the muck than the others. A flock of midges rose from beneath the catwalk and buzzed around Otter's ears before drifting off, repelled by the lingering spellshield from Milo's Bug Ward.

Otter tried the latch. It wasn't locked. Inside were crates of dried rations, lengths of rope, lantern oil, bundles of tinder, and a water barrel with the lid sitting slightly askew. Everything seemed in order—nothing ransacked, nothing removed in a panic.

Erin stepped around him to get a better look. She cast her gaze around the room and said, "I think someone was in here recently."

"How can you tell?"

"Look over there." She pointed to the water barrel. "Somebody opened that and didn't put the lid back on correctly. That's a big no-no out here. Last thing you want to do is taint your water supply. That tells me whoever did it was in a hurry or wasn't as experienced as they should be."

"The guy they left behind?"

"Maybe."

They moved to the third building. It was bigger than the supply shed, but not as big as the main hut. It seemed to be a workshop, with various tools hanging on pegs, a workbench, several nets hanging on the walls, and other assorted implements that Otter didn't recognize. Again, nothing looked out of place.

They rejoined the others back in the main building, but they hadn't found anything either.

"What do we do now?" asked Jasper.

"Milo, take another look at that crystal. See if you can figure out how it works. Maybe we can get a message back to Brighthaven. Jasper, you come with me. We'll head up to the tower to see what we can see. Erin, do you think you can figure out which direction our missing guild members went?"

She nodded an affirmative, and they went back outside. Erin began to search for tracks. Jasper and Milo climbed to the top of the tower. It only gave them ten feet of elevation, but as soon as they reached the top, they were met with a slight breeze. Well, maybe calling it a breeze was a bit too generous, thought Otter, but at least the air was moving up there.

It was too dark to see much by this point in the evening, even from a vantage point. Everything was muted grays and darker grays. They could barely make out Erin moving about at ground level. But if someone approached with a light, like one of the missing Adventurers, they could probably see that a good distance off.

After a few minutes, Erin returned and said she'd found something. "The main team went north, northwest. Their tracks are as plain as day. But then I found a different set of tracks. Smaller. Only one set. It didn't follow the others. Not exactly. They went due north."

"Okay. That's something. Let's see if Milo's come up with anything. Then we'll figure out a plan."