Ink of the Unknown

The first faint light of morning crept over the horizon, casting golden rays onto the treetops above the camp. The forest stirred softly—leaves rustling, birds beginning their early chorus—but within the clearing, everything remained still.

Sai slowly blinked open his eyes.

“Eeh…” he groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. As the fog of sleep cleared, he caught movement a few paces away—Mira standing near Reith, who sat hunched over with his arms resting on his knees, staring blankly ahead.

Sai stretched and let out a long yawn. The rustling of his blanket stirred the others.

Corvin shifted with a grunt, sitting up halfway and running a hand through his messy hair. A few feet away, Eira blinked drowsily, then looked around. They’d all heard it—just enough sound to wake light sleepers.

Sai stood carefully, avoiding the cooling embers of the campfire, and wandered toward Mira and Reith.

Corvin and Eira followed behind, silent but curious. None of them knew why they were walking—they just did, following Sai’s lead.

“Hey, you guys! All good?” Sai called with a lazy wave.

Mira looked up and gave a tired smile. “Yeah. All good.”

As Sai reached them, he paused, eyes flicking between the two. Mira’s hair was tousled, the jacket she wore still streaked with blood. Reith looked worse—his shirt torn, dried blood dark across the fabric, scratches and bite marks visible on his arms and shoulders.

“Whoa…” Sai blinked. “You two look like hell.”

“Hehe. Thanks,” Mira replied dryly.

Corvin caught up, draping an arm over Sai’s shoulder with a grin. “Wow. That’s a look, Mira.” He smirked, eyes closed. “Though for Reith, I’d say it’s kind of his brand.”

But when he opened his eyes, the smirk faded.

Reith’s scythe was still lodged in a wolf’s cracked skull. Beyond them, the clearing was littered with bodies—dozens of wolves, torn apart. Blood stained the grass and roots like spilled ink.

Corvin’s expression stiffened. His amusement melted into unease.

“Damn…” he muttered, stepping back slightly. “Looks like you had a blast last night.”

Mira walked past him without replying. She gently turned Eira around and began leading her back to the camp.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “Reith had fun. I barely got a shot off.”

“Sounds… nice,” Corvin said faintly, casting one last glance at the aftermath of Reith harvest.

With a soft grunt, Reith stood. He planted a boot on the wolf’s skull and yanked his scythe free. The crunch echoed into the morning stillness.

He turned toward the others, voice flat. “So. Shall we go?”

Before anyone could answer, Reith had already begun walking. Sai followed after him. Corvin lingered a moment longer, staring at the carnage, before reluctantly turning to follow.

Back at the camp, the group sat around the rekindled fire. Reith had reclaimed his jacket from Mira—his shirt now too torn and blood-soaked to be of any use.

As they settled, Eira reached into her pocket. Her brows lifted slightly in surprise as her fingers brushed something. She pulled it out—a small, folded slip of yellowed paper.

“I found this yesterday,” she said quietly. “While you were fighting that thing…”

She unfolded it and held it out.

Sai raised an eyebrow. “Wait—I think that might’ve fallen out of my sword’s sheath.”

Corvin snatched the note from Eira and squinted at it, flipping it back and forth. His expression grew more annoyed by the second.

“There’s nothing on this,” he said, and handed it off to Mira, who glanced at it briefly and passed it on without comment.

When it reached Sai, he studied it more closely.

At first, it looked like nothing—just faint, random lines. Scribbles, maybe.

But something clicked.

“It’s a map,” Sai said suddenly, turning the paper so the others could see. “Look—this curve here is the clearing we’re in now. That ridge? The mountain we escaped. And this bend…” He tapped a spot. “That’s got to be the river Reith found yesterday.”

The others leaned in, squinting—but to their eyes, the paper was blank.

Corvin gave a skeptical snort. “Sorry to say, but it sounds like you’ve officially lost it.”

“No, seriously. I can see it, clear as day.” Sai turned the page back toward himself. The ink was faint, but the map was undeniably there getting clearer by the second.

“Sure a magical map only you can see, do you hear yourself?”

Sai looked up from the map at Corvin “Yesterday we fought a tiger that had wings and feathers, i think its safe to say everything is believable at this point.”

The group leaned closer, trying to glimpse what Sai saw, but none of them could make out anything.

“There are symbols here too,” Sai added. “Small marks—like symbols or something, maybe a language”

As the group studied the strange paper, Corvin began casually edging backward. His eyes flicked toward the treeline.

“Where are you going?” Mira asked without turning.

Corvin froze mid-step. “Just… going for a walk.”

Reith raised a brow. “Sneaking off now? That’s suspicious.”

Corvin held up his hands. “Hey, I was trying to be discreet. Didn’t want to interrupt your little map party by yelling, ‘Bathroom break.’”

Eira giggled. Mira rolled her eyes. “Try not to get eaten,” Eira said, as Corvin vanished into the trees, the others returned their focus to Sai, who was still tracing the paper with his fingers.

“I’ll need time,” he said quietly. “But i think we can solve these symbols.”

Reith stared off toward the forest. The morning light was brighter now, casting a soft orange across the sky and onto the leaves above.

Mira followed his gaze, then looked down at the blood still dripping from his hand. It ran from a fresh bite on his shoulder.

“You need to clean that,” she said, her voice gentle.

“Yeah,” Reith muttered. “I know.”

They stood in silence for a moment. The tension from the night before hadn’t vanished—but it had changed. Faded, dulled by exhaustion and the rising sun.

When Corvin returned—thankfully in one piece—they packed up camp, stomped out the fire and prepared to move. Sai slipped the map carefully into his pocket.

They began their slow walk alongside the river, the forest stretching ahead.

It still felt dangerous.

But somehow… it no longer felt entirely unknowable.