On the Road Again

The morning broke pale and cold, the kind of light that made the campfire’s dying embers look like they were clinging to life out of spite. The forest mist hung low, curling between the trees and blurring the edges of the road.

Morgana pushed herself up from her bedroll with a groan, stretching until her wings gave a faint pop. Since she was in her tent, she felt relaxed enough to not cover her features.

Also her skill, Veil of Silence allowed her to shroud her tent with shadows, not allowing outsiders to see what is going on inside.

After carefully combing her hair with her fingers and fixing her attire, she put on her cloak, pulled up her hood and made sure that her wings were hidden before stepping out of her tent.

Aiden was already up, cheerfully helping the merchant pack his things. Darren was re-fastening the straps on his armor, and Lyris was returning from the treeline with a small bundle of snares—two rabbits swinging limply from her hand.

Nyra sat near the fire, sipping from a dented tin cup, her eyes flicking briefly toward Morgana before looking away.

Still staring holes in me, huh? Morgana thought, smirking faintly. Guess one little spear of pure darkness is enough to put me on your “watch closely” list.

As she started to pack her stuff, the thought struck her. She hadn’t checked the skills from last night’s little skewer session. They’d still be in the book, waiting. She’d been too focused on not getting into a midnight pissing contest with Nyra to bother.

Of course, aside from being alert and making sure that her demonic features do not show.

Well, that oversight needs fixing.

The group was busy with breakfast and loading the carriage. Morgana slipped away just far enough to put the oak tree from last night between her and prying eyes. She crouched, pulling a strip of dried meat from her satchel and biting into it. 

With her right hand, she let the familiar cold creep down her arm. The runes on her skin pulsed, and the black mist coiled outward, solidifying into the heavy leather book.

She flipped it open, the pages parting to reveal the fresh additions.

[Skill Gained: Night Piercer] – Enhanced version of ranged precision in low light; attacks in darkness are harder to dodge.
[Skill Gained: Predator’s Reflex] – Passive. Slightly increases reaction speed to sudden movement or attacks.

Morgana chewed her meat slowly, reading the descriptions twice. “Well,” she muttered, “you two aren’t exactly flashy, but I’ll take free upgrades.”

She snapped the book shut, letting the mist reclaim it. By the time Nyra rounded the corner, Morgana was leaning against the tree like she’d been doing nothing but enjoying breakfast.

“Weren’t you supposed to be helping load the cart?” Nyra asked.

Morgana swallowed the last bite and grinned. “And deny them the joy of hard work? That’d just be selfish.”

Nyra gave her a flat look but didn’t press, turning back toward camp. Morgana followed at a leisurely pace, her expression neutral but her mind already cataloging the new skills with the rest of her growing arsenal.

The group set off not long after, the carriage wheels crunching on damp dirt. Morgana walked alongside, occasionally pacing ahead to scan the road. The merchant, seated comfortably atop the carriage, wasted no time picking up their conversation from yesterday.

“As I was saying,” he began, “Velharen’s border towns are a mixed bag. Some will treat travelers kindly. Others…” He trailed off meaningfully.

Morgana smirked. “Others will try to charge me three silvers for a cup of watered-down piss that they call ale, right?”

“Or sell you to the nearest slaver if you look alone and poorly armed.”

“Good thing I’m neither.”

Aiden glanced over his shoulder at her, still smiling like the world couldn’t possibly be as ugly as she made it sound. “You don’t seem too worried about danger.”

“Why should I? Worrying’s a waste of energy,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “I’d rather save it for killing whatever’s dumb enough to try messing with me.”

That earned a small snort from Lyris, though she didn’t look back. Darren only kept pace, his tower shield strapped across his back.

The merchant leaned slightly toward her. “You’ll find Althwyn… different. It’s wealthier than most cities in Velharen. More opportunity, but more eyes watching. The city guard isn’t fond of troublemakers.”

“Guess I’ll have to work on my charm, then,” Morgana said dryly.

Nyra’s voice floated from the rear of the group. “Good luck with that.”

Morgana looked over her shoulder, meeting the magician’s gaze for a heartbeat before smirking. “I’ll take that as encouragement.”

By midday, the road had turned from damp forest track to a wide, sunlit stretch of packed dirt. The air was warmer here, the mist burned away, and the landscape opened into rolling hills dotted with patches of wild grass and stubborn shrubs.

Morgana walked with her hood all the way down, keeping the shadow over her horns, the cloak tucked close to hide her wings. But the longer she stayed on the road, the more the thought gnawed at her.

Big city, more people. More eyes. More guards. Hiding like this forever is going to be fucking impossible.

She rolled her shoulders and her wings twitched lightly under her cloak, causing her to pout.

Not to mention how damn uncomfortable this feels. Gods above, I just wanna stretch my wings now.

She was used to stares, but the kind you could laugh off or threaten into silence. In a city? All it would take was one overzealous guard yanking her hood back, and the whole place would be on her in seconds.

By the time they stopped to water the horses and stretch their legs, she had her plan.

The merchant was leaning against the side of the carriage, sipping from a flask, when Morgana wandered over. Aiden was nearby, wiping dust from his spear tip. 

Darren and Lyris were checking the harness straps, while Nyra stood off to the side, scanning the horizon as if she expected it to bite her.

“Question for the experts,” Morgana said, voice casual. “Any of you ever run into a creature that can shapeshift?”

Aiden tilted his head. “Shapeshift? Like, into other people?”

“Or into something less… suspicious,” Morgana said, gesturing vaguely. “Animal, person, whatever.”

The merchant perked up. “Why the sudden interest?”

She shrugged. “New to the area. I like to know what to watch out for. You know, things that could be pretending to be your friend, then eat you when you’re not looking.”

Nyra arched an eyebrow. “So you’re asking about shapeshifters purely for… safety?”

“Yep.” Morgana smiled faintly. “Call it professional paranoia. I don't wanna get caught off-guard.”

Darren finally spoke, his voice deep and even. “There’s one in this region. The Hollow Wraith. Likes to lure people off roads or away from their camps.”

Lyris added, “It doesn’t just look like other people. It can mimic voices. Faces. Sometimes it uses the faces of people you’ve lost.”

Aiden frowned. “Most travelers know to avoid chasing anything they see at night around here. That’s usually how it gets you.”

The merchant nodded gravely. “It’s famous enough that even farmers teach their children the stories.”

Morgana’s expression didn’t change, but inside, she was already mapping the possibilities. Mimics faces and forms? If it can do that to itself, maybe I can make it do that to me. Permanently.

She waved a hand dismissively. “Good to know. I’ll be sure to stay close to camp.”

“See that you do,” Nyra said, eyes narrowing slightly.

They were back on the road within minutes, the rest of the day passing in stretches of quiet conversation and the occasional merchant anecdote about cities, markets, and shady deals that “totally weren’t illegal at the time.”

By the time the sun dipped low, the group had found a small clearing just off the road to make camp. Morgana pitched her tent without complaint, and joined the others for a shared meal before retreating into the canvas shelter.

The low hum of conversation around the fire faded as the adventurers rotated into their guard shifts. Morgana lay still, listening until she was sure the rhythm of the camp had settled.

Then she rose silently, moving with the same care she used when stalking prey. The flap of her tent whispered shut behind her. She kept to the shadows beyond the firelight, slipping between trees until the camp was just a faint glow in the distance.

Time to find myself a shapeshifting monster.