A Dark Fantasy Spy

---

Steam rose from the transparent broth, as the ladle skated along the pot’s edge, scooping up foam.

Glass jars etched with patterns, herbs boasting lush leaves, and the clear broth visible amid the bubbles.

The bubbling pot in the kitchen resembled an alchemist’s workshop.

There was my sister, who would scream at the mere thought of dust contaminating her precious concoctions, and Francesca, who would mix ingredients of mysterious origins.

Even if I couldn’t use magic, I had been observing magicians for a long time.

It was only natural that I felt a warm nostalgia in the scenery of the kitchen—

– Kiieeeek!

“Huh?”

I was startled, halting in my tracks as I turned the doorknob to enter. I had just set foot over the threshold when a chilling sound came from within the kitchen.

Was it a cry from the depths of hell? A wail so indescribable it sent shivers down my spine.

What on earth was going on? Had a demon appeared?

Frozen stiff and unable to move, I was gripped by a sudden shock when something pale popped out from behind the refrigerator.

“Oh? Colonel?”

“Veronica?”

It was Veronica.

The saint stared at me with her ladle in hand, blinking in surprise.

“What is this scream? Who are you torturing?”

“Ah—You heard that, huh? It’s not a scream made by a person… um. You could say it’s ‘torture!’”

“What do you mean…?”

“Look at this.”

Veronica plunged the ladle into the pot.

As she swirled the unclear liquid that resembled broth, she scooped up a ladleful of the transparent soup, her face lit with a cheerful grin.

Carefully, she brought the ladle of soup to the table, where there was a massive case laid upon a long horizontal table.

As the broth poured over the musket imbued with the devil’s soul, a scream piercing enough to shatter ear drums filled the kitchen.

– Gaaah!

I plugged my ears against the unpleasant noise, while Veronica, with a satisfied expression, gently set down the ladle.

“Surprised, are you? It’s due to the curse attached to the weapon. I’m in the middle of suppressing it.”

“You’re… suppressing a curse?”

“Yep!”

“How?”

“By soaking it in holy water. Here, see?”

With a tap of the ladle against the pot, a clear chime rang out.

Peering into the pot from which steam billowed, I saw that old crosses and rosaries were boiling along with the herbs.

“A fragment left by a demon’s soul resides in that weapon. The Holy See seals curses that clerics cannot purify like this. Come to think of it, isn’t that similar to what the Magic Department does?”

“Yes, but this is a bit….”

I gazed upon the weapon soaked in holy water with baffled expression. I had heard that the Magic Department sealed off high-risk curses, but never did I imagine they would soak them like they were pickling kimchi.

Relics aside, I wondered why the herbs were included. When I couldn’t hold back my curiosity and asked, I learned they were for flavor.

Apparently, the smell of the old lanolin was quite something.

“It feels like just yesterday you were making broth with the bones of saints… now you’re making soup out of it.”

“It’s effective, you know. You can see that, right?”

Veronica, grinning, tilted the ladle. As the boiling holy water splashed down, another scream echoed through the kitchen.

I looked at Veronica in a daze. Then I glanced towards the musket, still shrieking as it was soaked in holy water. It dawned upon me that she was torturing the demon.

“…Veronica.”

“Yes?”

“In my eyes, you should be an Inquisition Officer, not a saint.”

—

Episode 17 – The Tree that Drinks Blood

—

“We’ve received contact from the Inquisition.”

After having turned the demon into holy water pickles, we gathered in the living room to discuss matters.

“They seem curious about Ramiel and Nathaniel’s whereabouts. They’ve requested me to testify.”

“It’s an investigation. I received similar contact myself.”

“Did you respond?”

“No. I refused.”

Veronica shook her head disapprovingly. Regardless of rank, clergymen couldn’t refuse the Inquisition’s requests for cooperation, but the Pope and saints were exceptions.

That was because they were the favored children of the great celestial deity.

In terms of the church’s doctrine, the divine was regarded as being bestowed upon the faithful by the celestial deity, a concept of blessing and grace. Clergymen believed that the quality and quantity of this divine nature were directly reflective of the depth of one’s faith.

In that sense, Veronica, who could hear the voices of angels and wielded the power of the Holy Spirit, and Lucia, possessing an immense amount of holiness rarely seen in ceremonial practice, were positions that even the head of the Inquisition dared not touch.

Except for crimes punishable by death, such as treason or heresy, it was a reality that they were difficult to penalize under ecclesiastical law.

This was exactly why the individuals who had been working hard to keep Lucia from ascending to sainthood had now laid down their tails, and it was also the reason Veronica could swagger about boldly regardless of the trouble she caused.

“According to the team members, they seem quite anxious,” she remarked.

“Of course they would be.” Veronica nodded as if she knew everything.

“An apprehended danger has escaped, and they’ve now shown up alongside a new threat. That’s the worst-case scenario for not just the Inquisition but for the Holy See and Al-Yabd as well.”

After mulling over her words, I slowly began to speak.

“I have already reported to the company. They seemed somewhat skeptical about the identities of Ramiel and Nathaniel, leaning toward the idea that they are definitely not extremely dangerous individuals, unlike the Inquisition’s speculations.”

The Government of Abas voiced doubts about the identity of the two angels while throwing a dissenting vote regarding the interpretation of their being dangerous factors. To be precise, it was close to the meaning of needing to keep a close watch over them.

It was evident that someone who had managed to escape the ‘Divine Wrath’—the sandstorms deemed as such by the locals. Even if they attempted a detainment plan that failed for the church, the chances of success for the Abas government were slim. It might be wiser to keep them under surveillance instead.

That was why I had brought Charnoy along.

While Ramiel might be trusted, considering Nathaniel’s distrust of humans, a non-human would be a more suitable guardian for the pair. Perhaps if I brought someone else along, it would be fitting to entrust the beastman, Kair.

Clearing my thoughts, I posed a question to Veronica.

“What did the Holy See say about this?”

“Are you seriously asking that? You know the Colonel, so you shouldn’t be unfamiliar with Raphael’s personality.”

“I know.”

I was far too familiar with him.

Sinking into the sofa, I began to recollect past events.

When Ramiel first declared he would search for the angels, I had gotten in touch with Camila.

“Frederick? I hear you’re missing. What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain later. I’ll be sending you three encrypted coordinates. Please decrypt them quickly.”

I sent Camila the three destinations pinpointed by Ramiel. It was hidden in such a way that she would have to go through several decryption processes to uncover the true coordinates.

Once she received the message, Camila rapidly decoded the orders. It contained warnings regarding potential dangers and a note to prepare thoroughly to approach. Upon realizing the contents, she hurriedly packed her things and came to us.

The problem was that Camila wasn’t the only one who read the orders.

From the moment she received the message, Francesca and Lucia had been by her side, and naturally, the orders landed in their ears. While they were trustworthy allies, the fact that Lucia had requested assistance from the Holy See caused the situation to balloon uncontrollably.

Just after we barely managed to escape from the underground ruins, the troops of the Inquisition waiting above ground suddenly appeared before us. The priests, on high alert due to Veronica’s disappearance, unleashed their attacks at the sight of Ramiel and Nathaniel.

As two angels capable of subduing a demon single-handedly, they were not easily caught off-guard by the ambush from the Inquisition.

However, clashing with so many troops was evidently a burden even for angels.

In a moment when bolts of white lightning and arrows poured down upon them, Ramiel and Nathaniel chose to wrap themselves in a rainbow light and vanished.

I opened my mouth with a troubled voice.

“…That was a mistake. I should have said not to inform the church. I forgot that Ramiel was wanted.”

“Did someone call my name?”

I was taken aback.

A deep voice booming from behind startled me into jumping.

Ramiel, donned in armor, was gazing at us from behind, having approached without a sound.

How does one walk around in armor without making any noise? They ought to sound the alarm a little!

“I thought I heard someone calling my name.”

“We were just talking about you.”

Upon hearing his name, Ramiel crossed his arms with mild interest.

“An intriguing topic.”

The knight seamlessly joined our conversation; his attitude conveyed he would be silent and merely listen.

I shot him a quizzical glance while Veronica cut straight to the point.

“In any case, the higher-ups at the Holy See are viewing Ramiel and Nathaniel as dangerous individuals who have escaped. They are perceived as unknown dangers? Something along those lines. I heard they are even considering a hunt order.”

Veronica began explaining the events that had transpired in Lateran in a calm tone.

After the report from the Inquisition went up, an order to prepare for a hunt had been dispatched to the War Ministry of the Holy See. While Raphael had not officially taken any action, it was evident that once he stamped the order, a fully equipped Order of the Holy Knights would undoubtedly fly towards Mauritania.

“It wouldn’t be surprising if the old fogey’s command had been issued long ago. They’re preparing, but it seems they are hesitant to make a decision, influenced by Al-Yabd.”

The church and Al-Yabd were historically opposed to one another. This was a fact proven through numerous crusades that had succeeded.

No matter how you spin it, the Holy See’s army coming here to capture Ramiel and Nathaniel under the pretense of exterminating a threat thought to be a vampire was an entirely different matter entirely. The hold over Mauritania was tightly clenched by Al-Yabd.

If the Knights of the Cross were to launch an attack without agreement, Al-Yabd would immediately mobilize forces to obstruct them.

And we all knew too well what was bound to happen when armed factions from two religions found themselves in the same place.

“Unless the Pope intends to start a holy war, Raphael wouldn’t easily mobilize the army. I predict that even if an extermination order comes down, it will likely be carried out secretly. That’s what I suspect.”

The saint calmly speculated the Pope’s moves. Just then, Ramiel, who had been silently listening, opened his hand.

“The Holy See’s secret blade. I know enough about them.”

As if rummaging through memories of the past, he continued to speak in a somber tone.

“Long ago, there were priests who secretly assassinated those regarded as infidels and heretics. Rotary granted them the title of ‘Qanaim (קנאי).’”

“Qanaim? Those zealots?”

I had heard of the Qanaim from the Holy See in passing. This group was frequently mentioned whenever references to the history of covert operations in this area were made.

The origins of the Qanaim traced back to the period of the Third Crusade, commonly referred to as the Crusade.

Pope Rotary, who had led three crusades, cultivated numerous armed groups, including the Order of the Holy Knights, to ensure victory against heretics, and the Qanaim received special treatment among them.

Their primary operations revolved around assassination and sabotage.

The Qanaim conducted intelligence gathering and reconnaissance missions akin to modern special forces, often operating under the guise of merchants or pilgrims, creating parallels to current intelligence agents.

Of course, like any organization operating in secrecy, the Qanaim was looked down upon for the dirty work it did.

Within the followers of Al-Yabd, they were referred to as zealots, and once the Pope changed, the organization itself was dissolved, fading into the pages of history.

Honestly, I hadn’t thought I would hear about this here.

I had to admit Ramiel truly was an ancient relic, and as I was pondering this, Veronica tilted her head quizzically.

“Wait a sec. You know quite a bit about Qanaim? How?”

“I’ve met them in person.”

“…You’ve met the Qanaim?”

There was a glint of doubt in Veronica’s eyes.

“I haven’t lived through the era of 800 years ago, but I know what kind of organization the Qanaim was. I remember it being kept strictly secret, with even Archbishops being unaware of its existence. How on earth did you meet those people?”

Thinking back, there had indeed been quite a number of suspicious things from the start. Veronica added:

“Though you hide that you’re an angel, records of being a fallen angel remain. You entrusted the coffin not to the Holy See but to a follower of Al-Yabd, and now you’re saying you’ve met the Qanaim? What kind of person—no, what kind of angel are you?”

“There’s a bit of a story behind that.”

“So what’s this story?”

“……”

Ramiel hesitated, unable to speak for a while. After a long pause, he finally began to utter carefully.

“I made a mistake in the past. There was a conflict with the Holy See.”

“…You had a conflict with the Holy See?”

This was a tale that crossed beyond mere surprise into staggering disbelief.

What on earth did he get involved in that caused a conflict with the Holy See? Weren’t they of the same faith?

Veronica pressed for more details, but Ramiel kept his lips sealed, hinting that it had been something quite unpleasant.

Feeling discomfort take hold, he quietly slipped away from the conversation. As I watched the knight retreating, an expression of confusion filled Veronica’s face.

“A conflict between an angel and a cleric…”

The saint knit her brow in perplexity.

“I have no idea what happened. Do you have any guesses, Colonel?”

“Why ask me? I’m not even a priest. Maybe they had a huge fight.”

The scripture referred to him as a fallen angel, so if the Holy See were at odds with Ramiel and his companions, it conveniently all lined up. Or perhaps it didn’t at all.

I lowered my gaze in dismay. Then I closed my eyes slowly.

“Or perhaps the Holy See screwed up in some way.”

—

It had already been three days since Ramiel and Nathaniel had vanished. Currently, the two angels were hiding out in a safe house, evading the watchful eyes of the Inquisition.

“What is this little squirrel-like entity?”

Ramiel poked with a fingertip at the orange-haired nymph.

He kept tapping the small head while asking about its identity. With its pointy ears trembling in fright, I gave a dispassionate response.

“It’s a nymph.”

“Ah, a nymph! A holy and good being!”

The knight exclaimed in admiration, hunching down to meet it eye to eye, causing his giant plated armor to tremble.

Holding onto the bottom of his helmet, Ramiel moved his fingers as if stroking a chin. His voice swung into an unexpectedly intrigued tone.

“I remember them being much larger than this. I couldn’t recognize it, for it has shrunk down like a dwarf. Now I see familiar traits showing up.”

“Hieeeek…!”

Perhaps overpowered by the angel’s aura, the nymph let out a shriek.

In a hurry, Charnoy dashed behind me, cowering low and covering its head with its hands.

“Is the armor talking?!”

“……”

I pushed Charnoy away, trying to shake it loose. She kept clinging to my legs, making it a real struggle to pry her off.

Explaining why I had brought this nymph along had to start with the orders issued by Leoni.

Right after my report went up, a conference was held at the Abas Intelligence Community.

At that meeting with high-ranking intelligence officers, Leoni advocated for the need for surveillance. While it was uncertain whether they were angels or not, a more detailed understanding was necessary to determine if they posed a threat or were safe.

The Abas Intelligence Community agreed with Leoni’s suggestion. By his authority, he classified all documents regarding the angels as top-secret and simultaneously instructed to assign a watcher.

I designated Charnoy as the perfect candidate for this.

“They’ll stay in the safe house as your protector.”

Ramiel and Nathaniel had no need for help in their day-to-day lives. They neither ate nor slept, so what would they need assistance with?

However, we needed to keep an eye on them, and considering Nathaniel’s inclination to be wary of humans, a nymph like Charnoy was undoubtedly the best fit for this job.

Of course, she vehemently denied it.

“What?!”

Charnoy, taken aback by her sudden repositioning, looked shocked.

With sparkling eyes brimming with tears, she regarded me as if I was a betrayer—a Roman emperor stabbed by a friend.

“This black-haired beast has sold out Charnoy!”

“I didn’t sell you out.”

“A truly nymph-hating decision…! This is why you shouldn’t carelessly take in black beasts!”

After managing to wrestle Charnoy away from my legs, I tossed her over to Ramiel. He offered her a bag of honey candies as a gesture of compassion, and she gushed with gratitude, desiring to thank him while shedding tears of joy.

“Hurry and take Charnoy away! Call Pippin over immediately!”

She begged to see her friend Pippin, not wanting to be here any longer.

Despite Charnoy insisting my interpretation was wrong, I firmly disagreed. The translation abilities embedded in my brain were nothing if not accurate. It was Charnoy who was mistaken.

“Ugh…”

Now stationed in the safe house, Charnoy shuddered with overwhelming joy.

After a time spent trembling and too flustered to speak, the nymph retrieved a communication device with a hidden mode and dialed someone.

“Kair…”

– ‘Nyaa?’

“Hurry and pick up this Charnoy!”

Despite her desperate plea to take her back, her dream was shattered.

By Leoni’s order, Kair had also been assigned as a watcher.

His argument for sending a non-human employee was that there was a beastman in the Royal Intelligence Department’s Operations Team who could cooperate. I had called Matt to ask for collaboration but was told he had already set off.

Thus, another watcher had been added to the mix.

This unfolded unbeknownst to me.

What a wild turn of events.

“Caw-caw—! This damned nymph dragged me into all this trouble!”

“This black-haired beast has caused me quite a hassle! It’s a real beast this time!”

Considerably outmatched in her predicament, Kair dashed around the safe house on all fours. Every time he encountered Charnoy, he would hiss in response, forcing him to scurry away from the beastman.

It was a sight akin to a cat chasing after a cheese-loving little mouse. Ramiel watched with great amusement, chuckling heartily.

Anyway.

With the demeanor of a mobile lineage auto-hunter grumbling from discussion, I focused on my main duties while leaving the surveillance operations to the nymph and beastman.

I joined Camila to hunt monsters and connected with officials from the Ministry of Defense, following Francesca’s lead.

News had spread far and wide about the alchemical weapons that could dissolve monsters; even defense attachés from distant continents were vying to meet with Francesca. I pillaged information from diplomats dispatched to the embassy.

Of course, managing the informants hadn’t fallen by the wayside.

“Hey, Victor? The safe house is functioning well. I actually reached out because of market conditions. I’ve heard Kien Empire shells are being sold cheap in the civil war zones. Know anything about that?”

“It’s me. How’s business on the Northern side? I hear the Palm Tree Trade Guild is eyeing an expansion into the Necropolis, which reminded me to call you. It seems there’s been a rumor of crackdowns somewhere in the Eastern ports.”

“There’s nothing happening at the Necropolis? Really? That’s a relief. By the way, have you reduced the amount of marijuana, Joaquin?”

While it was a good thing that intelligence kept streaming in effortlessly, managing and analyzing it still fell squarely on my shoulders.

New information came through.

“Here’s a report from the Necropolis. Apparently, there were several unidentified religious figures who met with followers of Al-Kair there.”

Notes scattered across the table chaotic patterns. This information had been gathered by Joaquin, who had disguised himself as a staff member of the Palm Tree Trade Guild within the Necropolis.

Veronica began combing through pieces of intelligence obtained through investigation. I took a sip of tea and continued.

“Considering the Inquisition had hinted that Al-Yabd and Al-Kair were linked, it raises several suspicions. I suspect those religious folks who claimed to have contacted a cultist are indeed followers of Al-Yabd.”

“Hmm…”

Veronica, biting the end of her fountain pen, shook the notes she had been reading.

“Is there evidence for that?”

“Yes. There were some suspicious aspects.”

According to Joaquin’s findings, those religious figures who interacted with Al-Kair identified themselves as cultists. They were a small yet prolific group operating actively in the Necropolis.

However, when they inquired through connections to that group, their replies returned claiming there were none. Apparently, since January, they had been absent from the Necropolis altogether, so no believers remained in the city.

Just to be cautious, I ordered more investigations, and Joaquin delved into the Ash Tree Alley within the Necropolis.

After probing the ties these cults had, it turned out they were indeed away and had only recently returned to the Necropolis.

As I took a sip from my teacup, I brought Veronica’s notes closer.

“I’ve obtained testimonies from different groups, so there’s some credibility to this. There’s no reason for them to lie.”

“If the cult really was away, then the religious figures who met in the city while stealing Lucia’s blood must have concealed their identities?”

“Yeah.”

In the harbor of the dead, many figures could keep their identities hidden. But anyone who went so far as to impersonate someone else would raise alarm bells.

Impersonation was a serious issue. Especially for cultists whose activity was under the strict watch of the religious police.

If they wanted to kill themselves, there were many methods available. But if they wanted to hide their identities, they could simply stay quiet—no one would suspect anything. Yet they chose to impersonate others.

That was the opinion of Kair, the resident from the Necropolis, who suggested that was a different breed of folly.

“There are two possibilities if they are hiding behind other religions.”

I leaned back, lifting my chin.

“It could be either a child who doesn’t understand how the city operates or a cunning bend who plans to escape quickly. If someone were to notice they were using others’ names to operate, they would surely track them down… they likely had confidence that a deranged cult wouldn’t dare touch them.”

Nodding at the chin resting on the table, Veronica placed her arm down and inquired, “Are those Al-Yabd’s priests?”

When I silently nodded, a sigh escaped Veronica’s lips.

“Phew… that’s the most probable theory.”

“There are also other potential backers to consider.”

“That’s what complicates things.”

While Al-Yabd was indeed suspect, that only heightened the oddity of the situation.

Why on earth was Al-Yabd after Lucia’s blood? What did they plan to do with a sleeping angel?

“According to the angels, that, tree or bird that drinks blood would surely become restless. There wouldn’t be a reason for Al-Yabd to awaken a demon.”

“I’m at a loss too. Initially, I also pondered what they intended to do with Lucia’s blood and the angels.”

“Goodness….”

A comprehensive mess, this was.

To assume they were merely doing these things by virtue of differing religions is far too illogical. It was far more plausible to suggest someone possessed by a demon like in the North had gone rogue independently. Though that too had no grounding.

“Let’s take a breather for a moment.”

It seemed the incident which had spiraled into obscurity forced Veronica to press her temples while groaning softly.

Raising her arm over the sofa, she lit a cigarette. While she took a moment to herself, I procured some palm liquor from the kitchen.

I poured enough drink to fill the cup and rubbed the ash onto the tray before speaking.

“Isn’t there a reason we can’t even serve drinks to foreigners here…?”

“It’s for legal reasons. You know how the religious police are on high alert.”

“I’m not even a believer in the Earth God.”

While I bantered along with Veronica, a sudden sound caught my ear.

Knock knock. A beautiful sound like glass knocked drew closer.

Glancing around to figure out the source of the sound, my eyes locked onto a giant bird pecking at the window.

Without a thought, I glanced away, only to jump when I met the creature’s bulging eyes. Suddenly, precious liquor splashed from the cup, staining my pants and the carpet.

“…What’s with that?”

“Ah, it’s Aquila. Seems the Elder sent a letter.”

Veronica, still holding a cigar, rose from the sofa and walked towards the window.

She carefully unlocked it, slowly opening the window, allowing a hawk to hop across the sill. This familiar messenger and pet of the cardinal was Aquila.

Caring little to show off for some lowly human, the divine beast cast a haughty gaze towards the saint, extending one leg. On that stretched leg dangled a little rolled-up letter.

“Here.”

Veronica retrieved a piece of meat from the refrigeration and tossed it to the creature.

For a moment, Aquila puffed out its glossy feathers, flaunting its form, only to dive face-first into the morsel with a fierce peck. Soon after, the sound of chomping broke the silence as the divine beast commenced its meal.

I gazed at the hawk, carried away by its wings, then glanced at Veronica.

“What does it say?”

“I sent a letter a few days ago. I told him we found a new angel. Requested a response, so I wrote my inquiries. Looks like the reply has arrived now.”

Carefully untangling the knot, she broke the wax seal with a knife and slowly unwrapped the rolled-up letter.

“……”

Veronica’s expression froze as she read through the letter. It was a barely perceptible change, difficult to notice.

As I sipped my palm liquor, I approached cautiously at her side.

“You look serious. What’s up?”

“…Looks like you need to see this in person.”

She suddenly thrust the cardinal’s message at me. I received it and began to read it slowly.

—

A joyful tune echoed in the air.

As if to keep the rhythm, shoes tap-tapped on the sand, while hands skillfully carved the wood.

Seated on a rock, a nomad hummed along.

What the nomad was creating was a statue. To soothe the solitude along the path toward the Holy Land, he diligently shaped a carving to offer to the Earth God.

– Clink-clink-clink.

– Meh.

The sound of bells blended into the cool night air, accompanied by the long bleating of livestock.

Soft wind and gentle brushing of sand were delicate melodies. With those as background music, the nomad chiseled away at the wood.

– Mehhh!

The goat let out a long, painful bleat. It was a familiar yet irritating sound. Especially while he was in the midst of a cheerful tune.

The woodcarving nomad glanced at the frantic goats. Alarmed, they bolted together, bleating in panic as the wind blew through.

Finally, calming the startled goats with gentle hands, he tuned into the quiet night.

Promptly, as he settled back to his work, an unexpected thought struck.

“Hmm?”

He noticed a long stick that had fallen to the ground. It seemed like an exceptionally slick piece of wood, which was hard to see drop from the tree.

Recognizing that the stick was something he had gifted to his son, crafted by himself, the memory stirred easily.

Ordering his child to take care of the livestock—what was he doing to leave this behind?

The nomad frowned deeply as he picked up the stick. He resolved that he’d reprimand his son upon returning.

At that moment, he lifted his gaze and caught sight of a tree. Its barren branches reached skyward yet had something familiar hanging from them.

And as he watched that figure closely, the nomad let out a small sigh. It was clear his son had climbed the tree to pick the dates again.

Unbothered by concern, the nomad moved closer, raising his voice loudly towards the child hanging from the branches. He demanded to know what exactly he was doing up there and told him to come down immediately for his safety.

“……”

But no reply came.

The child hung silent from the branches. Just as the father took a few more steps toward the tree, a faint sound broke through the stillness.

Thump.

And the stick fell onto the sand below.

Then came silence.

The cool night air swept over the sand, and the desert nighttime surrendered once more to tranquility.

Only, the figure hanging from the tree had now doubled.