Satyr’s Children | Book 1: Siren
The bitter winds of mid winter swept through the streets, stirring up ashes and fallen leaves, yet they could not dispel the stagnant air that hung over the Northwatch, heavy with the smell of burnt debris and tension.
A month had passed since Bert’s murder. As though it had become a new omen of ill fortune, the dais that had once been stained with his blood had never been restored to its former purpose as a statue pedestal. It remained there in hollow silence. Though the blood had been scrubbed away long ago, the unmistakable scent of rust still lingered around it.
“Come on. There’s nothing for us to see.” David took Ali and Triton by the hand, his broad palms encased in metal vambraces.
Ali wrinkled her nose and followed her family into Market Street, once the heart of the frontier city. In only a month, it had become almost unrecognizable. Along both sides of the street, the wooden facades of many shops still bore the charred marks left by the fire magic wielded by the Morningdew guards who had arrived late on the day of the riot. Some windows had been hastily boarded over with rough planks, like pairs of eyes squeezed shut in fear. Artisans were busy repairing the damaged roads and walls, the incessant clanging of their hammers adding another layer of restlessness and unease to the street.
There were few people on Market Street, and most hurried along with their heads down. They deliberately avoided making eye contact with the three fully armed Trailblazers. On the rare occasions when someone did glance their way, there was no warmth nor curiosity like in the past days. Instead, their gazes held a complicated mixture of wariness and fear, along with a trace of cold indifference that made Ali deeply uncomfortable.
A banner bearing the crest of House Morningdew hung from the side of a tall building. Ali knew the design of that crest better than she knew the back of her palms: a rose-colored shield bearing three emerald-green teardrops, with a vertical longsword at its center, its hilt set with a white opal shaped like a dewdrop. A grapevine curled around one side of the blade, while a sheaf of wheat wound around the other.
The white opal symbolized the “morning dew” and the purity, wisdom, and duty of the family to nourish the land under its care. The upright sword represented integrity, honor, and the strength to defend order. The grapevine and wheat were a direct reflection of the estate’s abundance and its wine-making industry. This was what Marcus, Lord of the Northwatch Polaris, believed House Morningdew ought to be: powerful yet righteous, prosperous and bountiful.
But now, across that sumptuous cloth, a huge gash torn by a blade had been crudely stitched back together, impossible to miss.
Ali had always hated this dead, stagnant sense of oppression. She quickly tore her mint-green eyes away from the damaged banner. Beneath it, a squad of Morningdew guards in rose-colored armor marched past on patrol, their footsteps perfectly synchronized, their eyes cold as blades as their gaze raked over every corner of the street.
David tightened his grip on his daughter’s hand. His heavy pauldrons gave off a steady, muffled scrape of metal with every step.
“Ow—Dad!” Ali muttered under her breath, trying to pull her hand free, but her father’s gauntleted hand did not budge an inch. “Hey! It’s not like I’m going to run off or anything…” She wrinkled her nose and shook her reddened wrist, grumbling indignantly.
But before she could finish, she caught sight of her father’s stony, impassive profile and swallowed the rest of her words along with her grievance.
With her free hand, Ali hastily wiped at her face, brushing the dust from the scales on her cheeks with her fingertips. Under the sun, they usually caught the light with a translucent iridescence. Now, however, they seemed to have dimmed along with the gray, desolate city, stripped of every trace of color and blending almost seamlessly into her wheat-toned skin.
She rose onto her toes and peered at her brother from behind their father’s broad shoulders. Triton’s face looked so strange in the shadows that she could barely recognize the boy who was always laughing and squabbling with her over the last piece of candy. The sleeveless shirt and bracers made him look older somehow. He kept his head slightly bowed, silent just like their father, the pair of curved, scimitar-like white horns atop his head unconsciously tipping forward—white like those of their Satyr mother.
“Trit…” Ali tried to call out to him, but the word broke apart on her lips. Suddenly, she smelled something burning. A foul scent with an unnatural sweetness rushed into her nose, making her stomach twist with unease.
Only then did she notice that Triton was standing with his head tilted to one side, staring blankly at the ruins of a spice shop that had been burned down. The shopkeeper was likely dead; otherwise, the place would not have been left here like a corpse strewn across the street. The strange sweetness lingering in the air mingled with waves of charred, acrid smoke, making a nauseating combination.
They made it across the Market Street thick with the lingering scent of death, and turned into a narrow alley leading toward the barrier around the Forbidden Zone. It was quieter here. Even the light seemed to dim abruptly. The graffiti on the walls was no longer the innocent scribbling of children or the careless strokes of teenagers, but blasphemous symbols splattered in crimson paint, accompanied by a few hastily scrawled curses.
The wind blew in from the direction of the Forbidden Zone, carrying with it the damp smell of earth mingled with decay. At the far end of the road, the enormous barrier that shrouded the sky and subtly warped the light was already visible.
David’s steps faltered. He drew the two children a little closer, using his heavily armored body to shield them completely as they walked down the center of the road.
“Dad…” Ali looked up, her voice rough with dryness. “Do you think… this place will ever be the way it was before?”
The moment the words left her mouth, a rush of burning shame spread across her cheeks. It was such a foolish question, the kind only a child who knew nothing of the world could ask. And yet, somewhere deep inside, a small part of her still longed for an answer she could cling to—even if it was a lie told simply to make her feel better.
David did not answer at once. He lifted his head and gazed heavily toward the towering barrier spires ahead, and beyond them, toward the Forbidden Zone that had devoured countless lives.
“The mission has begun. Stay focused.”
His voice was low and firm as he led his children toward that desolate, dangerous borderland—a place that, for all its bleakness, somehow seemed “purer” than the city they had left behind.
Ah. Right. The mission.
Before they had even left home, Ali had already read and reread the confidential briefing delivered personally by the Morningdew guards. By now, she could almost recite every word from memory.
…
Document No.: PLRSRCZ3■■■■■■■
Security Classification: RESTRICTED — MISSION TEAM EYES ONLY
Date of Issue: ■■■.■■.■■
Issuing Authority: Office of Lord Morningdew
Mission Title: Investigation of Anomalous Phenomena — Polaris Forbidden Zone [Stone Church Sector 3]
— MISSION BACKGROUND —
Since ■■■.■■.■■, the Guild and the Office of Lord Morningdew have received repeated reports from multiple Trailblazer parties of sightings of “the late Lord Gilbert Morningdew” within and around [Stone Church Sector 3] (hereafter referred to as the “Target Individual”).
Initial reports were attributed to post-traumatic stress or the psychological contamination commonly encountered within the Forbidden Zone, and witnesses were advised to undergo psychological and medical evaluation.
However, over the past four weeks, the frequency of such reports has continued to increase. Their accounts have also proved remarkably consistent and unusually detailed, making them impossible to explain simply as collective hallucination. Several reports even claim that the witnesses briefly interacted with the Target Individual and were aided by him in escaping life-threatening situations.
Given the unusual and potentially sensitive nature of the matter, a formal investigation into the source of the phenomenon is hereby required.
— MISSION OBJECTIVES —
Primary Objective: Determine the veracity of reports concerning the Target Individual within [Stone Church Sector 3].
Secondary Objective: Should the Target Individual’s presence be confirmed, document his behavioral patterns, physical characteristics, and any information obtainable through interaction.
Final Objective: Determine the cause of the phenomenon, whether it is the result of human conspiracy, anomalous contamination within the Forbidden Zone, an unknown relic effect, or another supernatural phenomenon.
— KNOWN INTELLIGENCE AND ANALYSIS —
Witness Descriptions:
The Target Individual is described as being nearly identical in appearance to Gilbert Morningdew before his death. He wears standard Trailblazer equipment, but his condition is described as deeply anomalous. He displays no apparent hostility and most often appears when witnesses are in life-threatening situations, such as being severely wounded, trapped, or lost. He then provides guidance or assistance before quietly disappearing.
Behavioral Pattern:
The Target Individual appears confused and seemingly unable to understand the fearful reactions of those who encounter him. The manner in which he appears and disappears cannot be explained by any known natural means.
Contradictory Physical Evidence:
Verification authorized by House Morningdew has confirmed that Gilbert Morningdew’s remains remain interred in the family cemetery, ruling out the possibility of physical resurrection.
— POTENTIAL RISKS —
Psychological Risk: The phenomenon may cause severe psychological distress to witnesses, particularly those who knew Gilbert Morningdew personally.
Social Risk: If the information is mishandled, it may trigger widespread panic or a surge of superstition among civilians and Trailblazers, destabilizing the city of Polaris.
Unknown Risk: The true nature of this phenomenon remains undetermined and may involve dangers not yet identified.
— MISSION TEAM —
Designated Team: the Featherflight Party
Core Members: David Featherflight (Team Leader, Shieldbearer); Solin Featherflight (Artificer / Forbidden Zone Scholar)
Authorization:
The team is authorized to determine its own engagement or avoidance strategy according to conditions at the site. Should the Target Individual be confirmed to pose no substantive threat, priority is to be given to intelligence gathering. In the event of hostile activity, the team is authorized to employ all necessary means to ensure its own safety.
— MISSION AREA —
Polaris Forbidden Zone [Stone Church Sector 3] (see attached map).
The area is currently rated “Moderate” in the level of corruption and presents a moderate risk of psychological interference, as well as the presence of active monsters. Appropriate protective measures must be taken.
— REPORTING REQUIREMENTS —
Within 72 hours of mission completion, the team must submit a comprehensive mission report to both the Guild and the Office of Lord Morningdew. The report must include all observation records, attempts at interaction (if any), and analytical conclusions.
All intelligence obtained during the mission is to be treated as strictly confidential.
— SPECIAL NOTICE —
This mission concerns the deceased heir to the lordship and is therefore considered exceptionally sensitive.
The designated team is expected to maintain the highest degree of professionalism and caution. The findings of this investigation are of vital importance—for granting peace to the dead, and truth to the living.
Approving Authority: Marcus Morningdew (Seal of House Morningdew)
Guild Registry Seal: (Seal of the Polaris Branch, Trailblazers’ Guild)
…
Ali’s first guess about the “Bert” described in the report was a mimic—a low-level monster that lured its prey by taking on helpless forms. Yet the intelligence and benevolence displayed by the “Bert” in the reports were worlds apart from the instincts of a creature driven by nothing but the urge to devour. Perhaps it was simply someone who looked remarkably like him?
No. Every witness was adamant that it was him.
And this “Bert” was clearly unaware of the fact that he had already died.
Perhaps ignorance was a kind of mercy, Ali thought gloomily. Even as an outsider, she found herself suffocating whenever she thought back on everything that had happened after Bert’s death.
Only a few days ago, Lord Marcus had announced at a noble banquet that his eldest daughter, Julchen Morningdew, had entered into an engagement with Zhao Yixian, the eldest son of the Zhao family of the distant Yeelan Empire.
This Zhao Yixian was none other than the younger brother of Bert’s fiancée, Zhao Yunyao.
The news spread through the streets and alleys of the Northwatch like wildfire. People said that this engagement had been Julchen’s own proposal, a cold-blooded calculation intended to keep the Zhao family from withdrawing from Halcyon and to consolidate House Morningdew’s power.
They called her “the cruel, disfigured girl,” “the cold-blooded viper,” and even… “the usurping tyrant.”
Ali had never had anything to do with Julchen, but she did not believe the girl deserved such cruelty. And yet, to become engaged so quickly to the younger brother of her dead brother’s fiancée—before his bones had even grown cold, to someone she had never even met—was, in the end, simply too jarring, too heartless.
At the dinner table, Solin sighed.
“A noble engagement is never a private affair. It is a building block of power.” She mourned for the two young people whom fate had forcibly bound together.
David, meanwhile, fell silent for a moment before murmuring, “… Still, it’s too cruel to that young lady Yunyao.”
Well, this loveless engagement had forcibly stitched together the rift between the two families, but beneath the stitches, pain, confusion, and estrangement continued to grow unchecked.
When word of “Bert’s” appearance in the Forbidden Zone reached the Morningdew estate, what would the people at the very heart of the storm make of it?
“Ali, stay alert.”
David’s voice pulled her back to reality. Ali looked up and saw her father’s hand was already resting on the hilt of the sword at his waist.
The Stone Church Sector was unnervingly quiet today. There was no wind, only a sparse scattering of grotesque pines standing among the dead grass with their twisted branches screaming soundlessly.
“Dad, look.” Triton pointed toward the ground a short distance away.
“Bootprints.”
A single, clear, fresh print was deeply impressed in the mud. Beside it, a branch at shoulder height on a low tree had been snapped cleanly in two, the break far too smooth to have been caused by natural forces.
Crack.
The sharp sound of a branch breaking underfoot came from somewhere nearby.
David’s breathing grew heavy for a moment. Ali immediately caught the sudden sense of danger that had descended upon the air.
They were being followed.
“Ali, do you remember your training?” David looked at his daughter, his gaze calm and steady.
“Yes, I do.” Ali ran a hand through her gray-black, shoulder-length hair, forcing herself to calm down. She took a deep breath and quickly surveyed her surroundings. “At this distance, we have roughly thirty seconds to react to a pursuer.”
This was not their first time in the Stone Church Sector. The Forbidden Zone had been named after the abandoned stone church at its center, while Sector 3 lay closer to the outer perimeter. Ali, her father, and Triton had come here before on routine patrols.
From where they stood, there were several possible routes to shake off their pursuer: step onto the forest floor thick with pine needles and let it muffle their footsteps; climb the exposed rocky slope and take the high ground; enter the filthy stream running through the valley and follow the current; or take the cobblestone path toward the Stone Church, pretending that was their destination, then veer off at the first opportunity.
But climbing would be exhausting and risk exposing their position, while heading for the Stone Church would make their destination far too obvious. The pine needles could muffle their footsteps, but they were not the best choice at the moment.
“We should remove our greaves, enter the stream, and follow it downstream,” Ali said, her words coming faster now. “The current can wash away our tracks, muffle our movements, and disperse some of our scent, while also helping us move faster.”
“Correct. Move.”
David swiftly unfastened the plate armor covering his legs, and Ali immediately did the same. Triton, who didn’t have that part of the armor to begin with, stepped into the stream first. The icy water made him shudder, his teeth chattering faintly.
“Triton.” David turned toward his son, lowering his voice to almost a whisper.
“If the pursuer is a hound or a monster that relies on its sense of smell, how would you conceal your scent further?”
“Mud.” Triton answered without hesitation. “Rub it on your hands, feet, and your armpits. But if we are using mud from the river, we need to check for leeches, bloodsuckers, and other unpleasant things first.”
“Correct. But why don’t we simply use the rotting leaves in the woods, or rely on the stream alone, Ali?”
“Because…” Ali hurried through the water, already wet to the knees from the icy current. “Rotting leaves can only add a scent similar to the surrounding environment. They can’t cover the odor on our body. And the water will evaporate. No matter how dirty it is, it still can’t wash away the scent that naturally clings to us.”
“Correct. When necessary, mud must be used to completely block our scent. A good tracker never relies on their eyes alone.”
They struggled onward through the knee-deep icy current for nearly an hour. According to the map, they were about to enter the more dangerous Stone Church Sector 2. The last known sighting of “Bert” had been in Sector 3, so they would have to turn back and return to their intended route.
Behind them, there was no sound of the pursuer’s footsteps. Around them, no roar of monsters. Ahead, there was still no sign of “Bert.”
Today, the Forbidden Zone was unwilling to grant them even the slightest whisper of wind or the call of a bird. Only a shroud-like silence clung tightly to the three Trailblazers as they carried out their mission.
Ali could feel her heart rising uncontrollably into her throat, pounding against it with every beat.
From the moment they had entered the Forbidden Zone, the gaze that seemed to follow them like a shadow had never disappeared. They had not shaken their pursuer at all—or rather… Their pursuers.
She dared not to think any further.
“Uh, Ali?”
Triton gently tugged at his sister’s shoulder armor. His voice filled with tension as he leaned closer and whispered, “Can you see… that thing on the treetops?”
He raised a slightly trembling hand and pointed toward the branches of a nearby twisted tree.
“That… that’s a person, right?” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Someone with wings… crouching on the branch like a bird…”
Ali lifted her head. Almost instinctively, she followed her brother’s gaze toward the branches of the grotesque tree—
And her eyes met another pair of cold eyes.
