Chapter 103: The Truth!

For several seconds, the clearing remained still.

Damian stayed seated on the low branch with his hood shadowing most of his face, while the white wolf rose from its place beside Ravelhorn and fixed him with a severe gaze.

Mirelle, on the other hand, looked shaken, but Ravelhorn merely rested one hand across his lute and smiled as though an overdue guest had arrived.

"Leaving you in the tree while we discuss you would be poor hospitality, Human. Come down and join us. If murder was your intention, I suspect you would have tried before announcing yourself." Ravelhorn invited with an easy sweep of one hand, his voice almost warm despite the pressure hanging across the glade.

Damian dropped lightly to the moss, the Longtian Sword descending beside him with a low growl, then walked to an exposed root opposite the Satyr and sat without asking permission.

"A dead Goblin gave me your name weeks ago, and since then three villages burned while Rosewood Town mobilized an army in response. Meeting the creature who keeps causing trouble in this region seemed necessary to me." Damian answered pleasantly as Mirelle’s tails stiffened.

Ravelhorn plucked a single note from the lute and gave a quiet laugh.

"Then let us save each other some time. You came for answers, and I am curious about the Otherworlder who entered my clearing unnoticed, so ask what you actually want to know." Ravelhorn offered, glancing at the Longtian Sword askance.

"What is the Deep Moon, and why is reopening one old crossing worth turning southern Moonveil Forest upside down?" Damian asked calmly.

Ravelhorn proceeded to explain while his fingers moved across the strings, describing a Fey realm once linked to Valoria until wars, treaties and failing crossings strangled the exchange.

"After that, the Moonwells began dying, habitats collapsed, and the Wild Court preserved old oaths while our realm starved. So I broke the oath, reopened a crossing, and gave several thousand Fey nine days to escape before the passage collapsed." Ravelhorn concluded with a faint smile.

"Hoh? So this crossing is attempt number two, then?" Damian remarked with raised eyebrows.

"That means the village raids were never random violence. You wanted the southern approaches emptied before whatever comes through has to share the road with civilians." Damian concluded thoughtfully, his tone light enough that Mirelle seemed unsure whether he was condemning the plan or complimenting it.

"Indeed, fear moves mortals faster than warnings, and three burning villages achieved in days what polite notices might not achieve in months." Ravelhorn replied with an almost apologetic shrug.

Damian’s lips twitched because the logic was cruel for sure, but it was sound.

"Tsk, quite efficient, though bloody and likely to make everyone hate you for generations, but definitely efficient." Damian observed with mild amusement.

The absence of moral outrage in the young man seemed to interest Ravelhorn far more than anger would have.

Mirelle stepped forward, unable to tolerate the tone. "You speak as though his sacrifice is merely an interesting strategy!"

Damian glanced over at the irate white fox with a calm gaze as she continued.

"Ravelhorn lost his home and his place among the Wild Court because he chose dying Fey over ancient rules, and he still carries that burden while Humans call him a monster!" Mirelle protested fiercely, her three tails rising behind her.

"Hey there, I am not the person you need to convince. If my world was dying, I would probably become very flexible about somebody else’s border as well." Damian replied with an innocent shrug.

The lack of anger in his demeanor stole most of the energy from her challenge, leaving the white fox feeling as if she had punched cotton.

"Though, the simple fact is that the people whose families burned will still want his head, and they are equally entitled to that response. Having a sob story of your own doesn’t change that." Damian added evenly. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ

Ravelhorn made a gesture of ’touché’ and chuckled, but didn’t speak.

Damian’s attention shifted toward the white wolf.

"You’re Alfaro the White, I guess? Moonfang told me your descendants believed Ravelhorn had enthralled you and asked me to free you." Damian asked with mild curiosity.

Alfaro was surprised at being addressed, but Damian’s words made him smile gently. "The children are silly, but their fear is understandable."

Alfaro gave Damian a deep look. "Human, I remember Moonveil Forest before its decline, and I watched the forest shrink while generations of my descendants were born knowing only what remained."

"I chose to stand with Ravelhorn, and whatever doubts I may possess now, I have walked too far beside him to pretend I am innocent of the consequences." Alfaro admitted with a slow shake of his head.

Ravelhorn let the silence sit, then turned the conversation around. "You have learned something about me, Human, so indulge my curiosity in return."

"My dear Mirelle cannot read your life essence, your abilities feel as though they belong to several traditions, and tonight you raised a Journeyman woman into Adept with substances she could not identify. What sort of world produces a man like you?" Ravelhorn asked lightly, though his eyes had become very attentive.

"A boring one with no proven magic, which is probably why I find all this so entertaining." Damian replied with a smile.

"Still, you and I share one useful point of reference. You crossed between Valoria and the Deep Moon, and I understand better than most what it means for two worlds to sit close enough that a door can connect them." Damian added cryptically.

Ravelhorn resumed strumming without pressing. "Oh? You are also able to cross worlds even after arriving here? What a strange blessing you have been given, Human Otherworlder."

"Though the mystery remains mostly intact, I now know why another world does not frighten you as an idea." Ravelhorn remarked with visible satisfaction, while Mirelle stared at Damian with renewed fascination.

Damian listened to several notes before his expression changed slightly, becoming one of amused severity.

"You know, Ravelhorn, I will admit it openly. You’ve done very well. The Deep Moon is starving, your grief is probably genuine and your first rebellion clearly saved lives, which is precisely why everyone accepts the rest of the performance." Damian said softly, and the final word caused the lute to go silent.

Mirelle bristled, but Ravelhorn lifted one hand before she could interrupt.

"That is a neat accusation from a man who has known me for one conversation. You have a dead Goblin’s testimony and a few minutes of my company, yet you believe you’ve reconstructed my soul?" Ravelhorn asked with a colder smile, while the air around the stump seemed to become heavier.

"The world in which I originate had no magic but an endless supply of politicians, executives, stories, movies, games and people pretending to be things they weren’t. I’m no intellectual, but patterns repeat." Damian replied with a small chuckle.

"Then I came here and gained some benefits, like <Fey Touched> and <Arcane Knowledge>. Satyrs are beings of the Chaos Alignment and thrive amid revelry and upheaval, while the special racial feat of <Reveler> gives you Adept-level proficiency in <Performance> and <Persuasion>."

"I myself also have <Actor> and <Persuasion>, which are only Novice, but apparently that is enough to notice the cracks in your facade." Damian revealed, his smile turning strange.

Alfaro’s eyes sharpened while Mirelle turned toward Ravelhorn in disbelief.

"You never needed to fake the famine or invent dead relatives because nearly everything in your story is true. You simply keep choosing the path that creates the most instability, concentrates the most fear around your name and places you at the center of whatever replaces the old order. Saving the Fey may still matter to you, but power, relevance and a world arranged around ’Ravelhorn the Reveler’ have become the real prize." Damian concluded calmly.

Ravelhorn’s face went cold enough that Mirelle relaxed for half a heartbeat, then one corner of his mouth twitched and amusement broke through the mask. "Ah!! Finally!! Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to spend decades surrounded by blocks of wood who applaud every speech and never once ask why the Reveler keeps arranging history into a festival?!"

"I kept the act going so long I nearly forgot how much fun I was having." Ravelhorn exclaimed through delighted laughter, his expression turning far more alive and far less kind.

Mirelle recoiled as though struck while Alfaro stepped forward with a growl.

"You will explain yourself now, Ravelhorn! I did not follow you for decades to discover I was merely scenery in your performance!" Alfaro demanded, his claws pressing deep into the moss.

Ravelhorn did not even look at him.

He set the lute aside, drew a set of black Fey pipes and brought them to his lips with a dismissive smile, then blew a single piercing note before Alfaro could demand anything more.

A strange purple power erupted across the glade, flooding Alfaro’s eyes as his howl ripped through the trees.

Mirelle was thrown backward while the two moths blazed violet, tore away from her and circled back toward Ravelhorn as Alfaro’s resistance collapsed.

"Friends? Did either of you truly think I would surround myself with powerful creatures and leave you free to challenge me when the mood struck? You really are wonderfully foolish." Ravelhorn mocked with open delight, barely sparing Mirelle’s devastated expression a glance.

"The Deep Moon will open, Valoria will answer, and eventually the entire world will bow to the whims of chaos and bloody merriment! Now, Human Otherworlder, entertain me and show me whether you are as interesting in battle as you were in conversation!" Ravelhorn declared with a sinister grin, pointing his pipes toward the seated Damian as Alfaro’s burning violet eyes locked onto him.

The Great White Wolf’s claws exploded against the earth and his enormous body became a blur, crossing the clearing with enough speed to tear moss and soil into the air!

Damian remained seated upon the root as the berserk Wolf opened his jaws, purple eyes burning beneath the false moonlight, and lunged directly for his throat!