Is Self-Doubt the Evil Within?

Ronai sat with his back against the massive stalk of a bioluminescent mushroom, its soft glow painting his white hair and cape. Arsec lay nearby, still and silent, his breath barely perceptible. The giant badger mother, her fur patched and matted from her ordeal, rested close by with the cub, her great sides rising and falling in rhythmic calm as her pup nudged her all over—its faith in the party had paid off. The underground forest hummed with life—the distant drip of water, the soft rustling of unseen creatures—but Ronai’s thoughts were far away.

He sulked. Narwa had ranted about finding the culprits behind the badger massacre and had stormed off, not willing to listen to any reason. Samina, the great genie, was definitely not herself as she saw reasonable to run after the masked girl, determined to be of some use to her precious So-sha-nim, who happened to lay comatose on the spongy ground in that fungal forest. Princess Mesui did not have time to think, she rushed into the mushroom stalks while shouting Ronai to take care of Arsec.

"What? Why don't I go after them?" Ronai asked, confused.

"I don't think you'd be so eager to stand in the way of an angered genie spellsword and a masked shapeshifter if they come to another disagreement," Mesui answered, not stopping.

Ronai opened his mouth, but then he found himself silent. Indeed, if Narwa would attack Samina for whatever spite she had, what would he do? What could he do?

Mesui answered his thoughts as the three wilderkin cubs jumped on her shoulders—they, as well as the princess' miraculous bow, were the answer to his prerrogative.

Ronai simply sulked, as usual, and agreed to the plan. He tried to sit next to Arsec, but the badger growled, ensuring the ogre she would be the one protecting her human savior. Frustration kicked in, and a few moments later, he simply lay his back against the most appealing stalk he could find.

One hour later, he was sitting there, boiling inside.

He turned over the worn vellum of the Vial of Wisdom in his calloused hands. The scroll was old, stained with time and use, its edges frayed from years of careful study. His fingers traced the sigil pressed into the wax seal—the mark of his former master. She had given it to him in her final moments, the ink barely dry from her last words.

He closed his eyes, and her voice returned to him like a warm tide.

“The order must change, Ronai. We are the keepers of renewal, not of stagnation. To wield the power of the Living Water is to heal, to guide… not to punish.”

He could almost feel the weight of her heavy hand on his shoulder, the warmth of her conviction. She had stood taller than most ogres, her passion greater than any he had known. Her lessons were never mere doctrine—they were fire, burning with purpose, shaping him into something more than just another sword in the ranks.

And then the fire was extinguished.

The memory of her execution was sharp and clear, like an unhealed wound. The council of paladins, their faces cold and unyielding. The decree of heresy. The dull roar of the crowd as she was forced to her knees. He had called out to the Living Water in those moments, pleading for intervention, for justice. For anything.

Silence.

The blade fell. Her head rolled across the stone floor, her eyes still burning with defiance even in death. The only thing he had left of her was the Vial of Wisdom and the smothering knowledge that her teachings had died with her.

His gaze fell on the final passage within the scroll, the ink elegant yet deliberate, written in the archaic tone his master had always favored.

The Frost shall not be wielded by the stagnant, nor by those who yield to darkness within. It is the blade forged in the crucible of steadfastness, the cold flame that burns away corruption. To those who hold firm in righteousness, unyielding despite despair, the Frost will awaken.

His master had always insisted the Frost had been lost to the Paladins of the Roaring Cascade. Yet, she had documented it as if she believed its return was possible. Ronai exhaled. Had she foreseen something? Had she believed in him?

And yet, the gods had seen fit to grant power—not to him, not to the disciple who had spent his life in service—but to an ex-slave. Arsec, who had never spoken a prayer to the Living Water nor any gods whatsoever, had been given miracles beyond anything Ronai could ever dream of, and by a god he had never heard of no less. It was salt in an open wound, a bitter reminder of his own insignificance.

A chittering sound snapped him back to the present. His eyes darted toward the approaching swarm—giant crabs, their glossy shells glinting in the fungal light, their many legs clicking against the damp earth. They smelled blood, weakness. They smelled Arsec.

Ronai tensed, his hand hovering over the hilt of his plank sword. A sudden, ugly thought took root in his mind. Why should he fight for Arsec? Why should he risk his life for a man who had been gifted everything Ronai had ever wanted? Would the world truly suffer if he let these creatures take what they came for? If the gods favored this human, surely they would intervene now.

His fingers twitched, hesitating. A lifetime of discipline warred with the bitter coil of resentment in his chest. He had bled for the Living Water, for the Order, for his master’s dream—only to be left with nothing but disgrace and duty to ogres who did not deserve it. And yet, this powerless, sleeping spearman at his feet had been given all that Ronai had prayed for.

A crab lunged forward. Ronai did nothing.

And then he saw her. His master’s eyes, filled with defiance even in death. Her voice, strong even in his memory.

“To wield the power of the Living Water is to heal, to guide… not to punish.”

He exhaled sharply, his hesitation shattering like glass. He was not one of the Order’s cowards. He was not the man they had tried to break. If the gods would not answer him, if fate had turned its back, then he would stand on his own.

With a growl, he drew his massive plank sword. The first crab lunged. Ronai twisted his hips, swinging the sword in a wide arc. The weight carried it forward, smashing into the creature’s carapace with a wet crunch. The impact sent him skidding back, but he used the momentum, pivoting on his heel and slamming the flat of the blade down on another crab as it scuttled too close.

More came. A hundred clicking legs, snapping pincers, glistening black eyes. Ronai’s movements were a brutal rhythm, a practiced dance of power and precision. He did not waste strikes. Each swing carried through to the next, redirecting force, turning every block into an attack. His blade was not just a weapon—it was a wave, crashing and rolling, impossible to stop.

Yet Ronai stood his ground.

"Come on, I'll smash every single one of you monsters!"

Then the badger mother stirred.

Perhaps it was the sound of battle, the scent of blood, or some deeper instinct, but her dark eyes snapped open. She saw Ronai, standing alone, defending the one who had saved her. A deep growl rumbled in her chest, and with a powerful push, she rose to her feet.

She barreled into the swarm with a guttural roar, her massive claws shearing through chitin, her weight crushing anything in her path. Together, they formed an unrelenting front—steel and fang, brute force and primal fury.

A crab leapt for Arsec’s unmoving form. Ronai surged forward, bringing his sword up in a spinning arc. The momentum launched him into the air, his body twisting mid-flight as he brought the full force of his weapon down. The crab split apart in a spray of dark ichor.

The remaining crabs hesitated, not willing to confront an apex predator in their biome. The badger growled low in her throat, and Ronai pointed his sword at the swarm, daring them forward.

They scattered.

Ronai exhaled, his muscles burning, his heart hammering. The badger turned to him, huffing, her dark eyes gleaming with something like respect. He nodded to her, wiping his blade against his bare forearm before kneeling beside Arsec. 

"Ow! Hey!" he complained.

A sharp, biting chill ran up the very skin that had touched the blade. He recoiled, staring at his weapon.

The central frame carved into the plank blade now glowed an intense blue, a fog permeating the air around it. The wood, once ordinary and worn, now pulsed with a freezing aura.

********

Arsec stirred, the weight of exhaustion still heavy on his limbs. His body ached, his muscles sluggish from whatever toll his power had taken on him. However, all the strength and power he had replenished at the forge was coming to him faster than normal.

Blinking away the haze, he pushed himself up on his elbows. The underground forest remained quiet, the glowing fungi casting their eerie light over the damp terrain. The smell of brine and ruptured shell lingered in the air, but the danger was gone.

More importantly, so was Mesui... or Narwa... even Samina. His eyes finally found Ronai, as the ogre stood a few feet away. Arsec sighted with relief as he began to walk towards the ogre.

"Hey Ronai," he called, "Where are the others? How long have I been out? Ronai? Are you listening to me?"

Ronai's strong frame was frozen in place, his head bowed as he stared down at the plank sword in his hands. The once-ordinary blade shimmered with an unnatural frost, the cold mist curling from its edges like breath in the winter air. It gleamed under the soft glow of the mushrooms, an ethereal blue etched into the grain of the wood.

Arsec swallowed, his voice hoarse. "I didn’t know you could do that."

Ronai didn’t react. He didn’t shift or respond, as if Arsec’s words never reached him. The ogre remained still, eyes locked onto his weapon with an intensity Arsec had never seen before.

Movement at his side drew his attention. The mother badger, weary but alive, nudged him with her nose—a silent gesture of gratitude. The cub, however, was far less restrained. With a joyful chirp, it barreled into Arsec’s chest, nearly knocking him flat again. He let out a breathless laugh, ruffling the creature’s fur as it nuzzled into him.

"All right, all right! Hey, sniff somewhere else!" Arsec complained as he rolled with the cub and gained the upper hand.

Still, Ronai didn’t move.

Arsec looked back at him, frowning. There was something strange in the air, something heavier than just silence. Ronai’s massive shoulders trembled. His thick fingers clenched around the grip of his sword, knuckles white despite his dark skin.

"Hey... um... brother? You're kind of scaring me." He said, as he eyed his spear a few meters away. His mind darted back to the moment Samina decided their fateful encounter was to become a duel a few hours ago. He began planning his next move. If Ronai were to attack him for whatever reason—given his blade glowed and he had never seen that before—he would lunge at the spear and defend himself. He would have to push the cub away to protect it, mustering his strength and dexterity to do so. If he was able to dodge rodentment bites and scratches back at the gray mountains, he could certainly avoid one massive slash from Ronai.

Then, to Arsec’s shock, a single tear traced its way down the ogre’s cheek.

Ronai inhaled sharply, his body shuddering with barely contained emotion. His knees buckled, and with a heavy thud, he fell to them. His head hung low, his breath uneven, ragged. More tears followed, dripping onto the earth below, mixing with the frost curling at his feet.

Arsec hesitated before pushing himself fully upright. "Ronai? Are you—?"

The ogre sucked in a breath, tried to form words, but they broke apart in his throat. His lips moved, trembling, the weight of whatever he was feeling too overwhelming to contain.

Finally, in a stuttered, breathless voice, he choked out, "It… it came back—hic—This… the Frost!—sniff—I-It’s real. She was right—sniff—she was right all along... master! Master! You... y-you...—sob—sob—sob..."

His sobs came freely now, a mix of joy and grief so raw that Arsec didn’t know how to respond. He had seen Ronai fight—perhaps more notoriously, he had seen him sulk and speak depressively. But this... this was something different. 

Arsec blinked. "So… you're happy?"

Ronai nodded furiously, still sobbing.

"Okay, great! So, uh… should I hug you or—?"

Ronai wailed even louder. Arsec sighed, patting him awkwardly on the shoulder. "Yeah, this is fine."

He expected the towering ogre to react negatively, but Ronai humbly accepted the patting.

Arsec's eyes furrowed as he stared into the dark, his mind suddenly taken by urgency.

"I'd hate to interrupt you in this moment but I'm afraid we have to find Samina—and the others. They're not safe."

"Not safe?"

"I'm afraid Samina is not herself..."

"She was definitely struggling to compose herself before leaving us," Ronai commented. he cleaned his face in one swoop of his arm and sighed as he looked at his enormous blade again, shuddering, "It'll be a nice opportunity to test this!"

Arsec looked at the badgers, who were ravenously feasting on some crab meat, unsettling the boy. They were going to be fine. His eyes returned to Ronai, who refused to sheath his blade on his back.

"R-right," The human boy picked his spear and dusted off his cape and clothes, "Let's go."

*******

Come to me…

See the light behind the veil…

Embrace it…

Release it…

"Samina?"

The genie's violet eyes snapped open, darting to Mesui as if jolted from a deep trance. Mesui’s hand was on her shoulder, her grip firm but cautious. Samina stared at the touch, then at the goblin princess.

Mesui studied her, eyes sharp. "Release what?"

"Uh? Ah…" Samina fumbled for words, her voice thin, uncertain.

"Is she really okay, princess?" Narwa's voice drifted from an elevated rock where she stood, keeping watch. She didn’t even turn to look. "The farther we get from those mushrooms, the more she just... stares. Besides, the exit is right there. I can smell it."

Mesui’s gaze never left Samina.

Samina forced a smile, a tremor in her voice. "I won’t lie... what happened back there—it lingers. But I’m fine."

"Troubled?" Mesui's brow furrowed. "You’re sweating. Are you sure the word isn’t traumatized?"

Samina quickly wiped her face as if she could erase the truth.

"Trust me, princess. I assure you—"

The spider. The protruding eye.

The vision struck like a blade. Samina flinched, eyes squeezing shut as a sharp pain lanced through her skull.

Mesui’s concern deepened.

"I’ve seen what this Cycloth does to people, Spellsword," she said carefully. "Perhaps you should go back. We’ll wait for the boys, then Ronai can take you to the palace to rest."

Samina's breath hitched. "No, please, princess… I can do this! I have to. My light—it can lead us to the old city."

Narwa scoffed, circling back, her impatience a coiled snake. "We’re wasting time. Might as well set a tree on fire with Stinky’s flames instead of dragging her around."

"We’re not leaving her," Mesui snapped. "But maybe we should wait for Arsec. The flames might—"

"Arsec poured his soul into that mother wilderkin," Narwa snarled. "This is madness. He barely knows those two, and he’s already dying for them!"

Mesui clenched her fists, rolling her eyes.

"It is what it is," she hissed. "If you want to leave, then go. But if you stay—shut up and cooperate for once!"

Narwa's gaze flicked to the three cubs. They bared their fangs at her, hissing in unison, their small bodies bristling.

She growled back, muscles tensing, every instinct screaming fight.

"Cooperate?" she spat. "With her? She reeks of corruption. The same filth as Voidmaw. The same filth as that cursed eye in the sky. She’s turning, Mesui—she’s slowing us down!"

A cry of agony tore from Samina’s throat. Her knees buckled.

Her hands clawed at her temples as veins pulsed black beneath graying skin. The color bled up her arms, creeping toward her throat.

Mesui’s stomach turned. "Blasted winds..."

Narwa's giant stoat paws were already half-transformed.

"We should kill her, princess!" she barked. "Before it’s too late!"

Mesui whirled, eyes wide with shock. "What?! Are you insane?" 

"You know what happens when they fully turn. There's no coming back."

Mesui’s breath hitched. A memory—her father’s hollow eyes—flashed through her mind. Her grip on the bow tightened.

"You’re talking about murdering a Spellsword from across the sea. A revered one at that!"

"Like I care who she is!" Narwa roared. "Spellswords, goblins—they can all kill each other for all I care! I saw what she did to Stinky. I saw what she’s capable of when she fights."

"This is madness! We can’t—"

"Move aside, goblin," Narwa growled, taking a step forward. Her claws flexed, ready. "I'll show you what eons of killing in cold blood can do."

Mesui’s arrow notched against the string in a heartbeat. The cubs snarled, their small forms glowing with an emerald aura as she braced herself.

"I—I won’t let you, Narwa." Her voice trembled, not from fear, but from the crushing weight of the choice before her. "Samina will live."

A ragged breath.

Samina’s skin darkened further. Gray creeping up her arms, veins pulsing black like ink spilling through parchment. Her eyes squeezed shut, opened—shut, opened—desperate to banish the vision, to stop seeing the one-eyed spider.

But it wouldn’t leave.

She was slipping.

Narwa stilled. Her paws clenched. "You’re really going to fight me over this?" she hissed. "She’s the danger here, not me!"

"If we kill her just because Cycloth touched her, then what stops us from killing the others?" Mesui shot back. "What about my father? What about a cure?"

The air between them burned with tension.

Narwa’s heavy breaths clashed against Mesui’s hammering heartbeat. Her muscles tensed, poised to strike—then froze.

Something stopped her. Something wrong.

A memory surfaced. The fire crackling under the open sky. The warmth of Mesui sitting beside her. The quiet, fragile peace they had shared crossing the steppe.

Mesui pressed on, voice unwavering. "Is this what Arsec would want? After everything he’s done to save her? To forgive her? What about those badgers—?"

Narwa flinched.

Her masked face turned away, frustration tightening her jaw. Mesui’s words struck deep, cutting through her instincts, her bloodlust.

The kill-urge that had driven her just moments before—gone. Dissolved at the sound of Arsec’s name.

And that terrified her more than anything. It was a disgusting—no—repulsive feeling.

She forced herself to step forward, defying these new feelings. Mesui tensed her bow, and the cubs' glow intensified.

Cycloth...

The air grew thick, heavy with something unseen yet suffocating. A whisper, faint at first, slithered through the cavern. 

Cycloth...

Mesui's ears twitched. Narwa stiffened.

Then it came again, this time overlapping, multiplying.

Cycloth... Cycloth...

Mesui and Narwa broke their standoff and now stood back to back, trying to get a lock on the disturbing noise.

The first sign of danger wasn’t the voices. It was the sudden, frantic movement of the fauna.

Tiny creatures that had been idly scuttling along the cavern floor—crabs, beetles, and skittering things with too many legs—froze all at once. Then, as if struck by an unseen force, they bolted.

Crabs clacked their shells together in a panicked rhythm, claws raised as they scurried sideways, tumbling over each other in their desperate flight. Chitinous critters scattered in a wave, their tiny feet scratching against the stone, forming a rattling chorus of terror. Even the phosphorescent worms that had clung lazily to the cavern walls now writhed and recoiled, retreating into crevices as if trying to escape something far worse than the darkness.

Then, the call for that accursed name intensified.

Cycloth...

The frauna shrieked, hissed, and chattered, their frenzy doubling.

Cycloth... Cycloth...

A crab stumbled and flipped onto its back, legs thrashing wildly before a wave of scurrying feet trampled it, pushing forward in blind desperation. The whole cavern seemed to tremble under the weight of their exodus, as if nature itself was trying to flee.

Then, from the depths of the shadows, the figures emerged.

Gray-skinned, white-eyed, they crept forth in unnatural silence, their bodies stiff yet fluid, like marionettes on invisible strings. Their lips barely moved, yet the chant poured from them, overlapping, relentless.

Cycloth...

The fauna had vanished, their absence leaving only the echo of their fleeing sounds. And now, the dream-walking goblins stood in their place.

Watching. Chanting. Closing in.

A chorus of hollow voices, neither loud nor soft, but wrong. They rose from the shadows like an unnatural tide, gray-skinned figures emerging where there had been nothing.

Cycloth...

One of them twitched, head jerking to the side at an impossible angle. Another's fingers curled like talons, nails scraping against stone as it crawled forward, breath rasping. They moved not like warriors, not like hunters, but like something far worse—something guided, pulled, puppeted by an unseen hand.

Then, all at once, they surged.

Gray limbs lashed out, their clawed hands grasping. Their chant did not break.

Cycloth... Cycloth...

The shadows came alive with them. And they attacked.

The air crackled, charged with raw energy, as Samina's crystal hovered above the mob. With a strained motion of her fingers, she unleashed a furious wave of lightning. The front line of gray-skinned goblins seized up, their bodies convulsing as arcs of blue light danced over them, locking them in place.

Mesui and Narwa turned.

Samina stood on unsteady legs, her hand weakly guiding the crystal. Her breath was ragged, her voice barely a whisper.

"I... I can help... I won't fall here..."

Mesui's eyes widened. The corruption had nearly overtaken her. The black veins stretched across her gray skin like cracks in stone, and a thick, inky ooze dripped from the corner of her mouth. Just resisting Cycloth's grasp was breaking her apart.

A new feeling gripped Mesui, one that smothered her instinct to protect her kin. Her hands moved on their own, nocking an arrow and loosing it in a single motion.

One of the cubs answered her call.

Mid-flight, the arrow shimmered, shifting into the emerald form of a towering woodchuck spirit. Wielding a massive fan, the hulking rodent swept the battlefield with a single motion, sending goblins tumbling through the air like ragdolls.

But more were coming.

Two goblins, eerily swift, darted past the others, eyes locked onto Samina. They lunged, arms outstretched—

Narwa was faster.

She seized them mid-air, her claws digging into their skulls. With a savage snarl, she slammed them against the ground, the force cracking the stone beneath them. Without a word, she hurled their limp bodies aside and turned to meet the next wave.

Samina met her gaze, her breathing growing more labored. She gave a weak nod.

Narwa didn't respond. She just moved.

Mesui reached for another arrow, firing upward, past the crackling edges of Samina’s field. The wilderkin spirit within her cubs flared to life, illuminating the air with a green glow. A spectral warrior, spear and shield in hand, took shape above the battle, soaring through the air like a falcon before diving into the fray.

"Let’s see what you do now, little one," Mesui murmured, eyes on the serious, frowning prairie dog cub.

The next arrow flew, and the cub answered. In a burst of green energy, the spirit transformed—a rodent warrior, twin axes in hand, roaring as he charged the enemy. He never strayed far from Mesui, his foster mother, standing between her and the horde. 

Mesui allowed herself to breathe as she felt there was considerable space between them and the afflicted. Her mind rushed with questions. Was this the crisis General Akrumei had tasked her to solve? Was this the big mystery below the palace? How? Who was turning so many of her kin into mindless fanatics?

A sudden hiss of arrows split the air.

"Watch out!" She yelled, rushing towards Samina and carrying her way.

Mesui barely had time to react before a volley struck the ground between them and the advancing horde, forcing both sides into a tense standstill. The goblins, eyes vacant and gray-skinned, faltered at the unexpected interference as if it were part of their plan. They halted, never stopping their endless choir.

From the shadows of the ruined city, armored figures emerged—clad in the deep crimson and gold of the Khanate’s elite palace guards. Their formation was disciplined and unwavering, a stark contrast to the predictable thralls they had just halted.

Then came the voice.

“I must admit, Princess Mesui, I underestimated you and your companions far too much.”

The princess' ears twitched and her eyes widened as she recognized the voice.

A regal and strong figure stepped forward, his broad silhouette unmistakable even before the torchlight caught the silver gleam of his ceremonial armor. 

General Akrumei.

The Khanate’s renowned warlord.

An old mentor. An old friend.

Mesui tightened her grip on her bow. “Akrumei?” Her voice was laced with disbelief, but she bit her lips as she noticed the afflicted were not attacking him, nor his quite capable guards.

She sighed.

"This is not a rescue mission, is it?" she asked, tighening the grip on her bow.

Akrumei remained silent, looking down on the three girls.

Anger kicked in. Mesui gritted her teeth, her fangs showing. “Why are you siding with them? Why are you protecting those afflicted by Cycloth’s madness?”

Akrumei exhaled, shaking his head as if amused by her indignation. “All will be explained in due time,” he said smoothly. “Under the right conditions.”

Then, the world shuddered.

A deafening thud echoed above them. The ground trembled beneath their feet.

From the ruined heights of the city’s collapsed towers, a monstrous shape descended.

A spider.

Akrumei lifted his hands in praise, "Behold my instrument of liberation! Granted by Cycloth!"

"CYCLOTH!" the horde echoed, rejoicing and lifting their hands.

All Mesui and Narwa saw was the same celebratory chant Voidmaw had done in the mountains, and a chill ran through their spine as everything seemed to cycle back to that moment.

A grotesque, titanic thing, its chitinous legs striking the ground with thunderous force. At the center of its back, an enormous, single eye burned white-hot, like a searing brand in the darkness.

Samina gasped—then stiffened.

The eye pulsed, bathing the battlefield in a sickly glow. Mesui turned to the mighty warrior, dread pooling in her gut. “Samina—”

But the genie was already lost.

Her body twitched violently as the gray corruption fully consumed her. Her breathing hitched, her pupils dilating into soulless voids. The crystal above her surged with power, crackling with unstable energy.

"Bring your wretched abominations, as many as you want!" Narwa roared, her paws now ignited in icy fire as her mask's eye sockets glowed in rage. "We have killed you lot in the past, we will kill you again!"

Her body lunged at the spider's feet. Narwa only needed to hold onto one with her mighty claws and then crack, that leg would be a broken twig.

Then she turned on them. Lightning shrieked through the air.

Mesui barely had time to register the betrayal before a searing jolt struck her square in the chest, her body locking up in agony. Narwa snarled as another blast sent her skidding backward, her paws scorched and reversed to normal hands.

The two crumpled to the ground, limbs twitching, consciousness slipping.

Above them, Samina floated, her body slack, her face expressionless. But when she spoke, her voice was no longer hers.

“I am at the service of Cycloth.”

Akrumei laughed, slow and deliberate. “Excellent.” He turned to his guards. “Take the girls. They will make fine sacrifices for our lord.”

As darkness closed in, the last thing Mesui heard was the clanking of chains.