Allen was startled—he opened his mouth to cast a Mind Blast, but when he turned his head, he realized it was Wren.
That rain-soaked face was extremely close, staring at him with a suspicious look.
"You scared the hell out of me—what are you doing here?"
"I should be asking you that—what are you doing here?"
Allen steadied himself a bit and explained, "I saw those six children again—the same six I saw the first night we came to Goldshire. This time I followed them out, and they disappeared right here."
Wren explained his situation as well. He had been woken up by Allen knocking on the door. When he opened it, no one was there. To avoid what happened last time, he went to check Allen's room and found it empty. Looking out the window, he spotted Allen in the distance, standing in the torrential rain—so he followed.
Allen nodded, crouched down, and lifted up the bone he had just dug out.
"I found this."
Wren took the bone and examined it carefully under the flash of lightning.
"This is a human bone."
The two exchanged a glance and, in silent agreement, crouched down and continued digging.
With Wren joining in, the speed increased significantly. Allen's fingers moved rapidly through the mud, his hands quickly becoming caked in filth. As he dug, he eventually grabbed Xal'atath, Blade of the Black Empire, using the dagger as a shovel and furiously turning over the soil.
"Darling—"
That resentful voice echoed in his mind.
"You're actually using me for this? Digging dirt? Shoveling mud? I'm not a shovel!"
Allen didn't stop moving his hands and ignored her completely.
"You dare treat your master like this!"
Fortunately, although Xal'atath seemed displeased, she didn't take any further action or punishment. It seemed she really was quite weak at the moment.
Finally, all the remains were unearthed.
They lay scattered across the muddy ground, washed by the heavy rain. Under the flashes of lightning, the pale bones glowed with an eerie light.
Among them were the skeleton of an adult male, several large animal skeletons, and—most strikingly—six small skeletons.
Allen and Wren looked at each other.
"I'd say this was a ritual," Wren wiped the rain from his face, his voice low. "A dark ritual. These were definitely sacrifices."
Allen nodded, his gaze fixed on the six small skeletons.
Six children. Six ghosts. Six skeletons.
"What kind of person would perform a ritual like this by the lakeside?" Wren frowned, almost speaking to himself. "And what was the purpose?"
Allen crouched beside the bones, thoughts churning in his mind.
"The ghosts of those six children keep reenacting the ritual in my room," he said slowly. "It's possible they've been there before—maybe the ritual was even performed there. It's the lingering obsession of their souls that draws them back again and again."
Wren nodded thoughtfully. "Then the killer might have stayed at the Lion's Pride Inn—your room."
"Exactly." Allen stood up. "Let's go back and ask Farley—see if there were any suspicious guests."
But they had no more leads. Allen also tried Speak with Dead.
However, these were no longer corpses—just a pile of bones. Speak with Dead produced no response, and even if it could awaken them, they didn't even have the organs needed to produce sound.
Wren broke the silence. "Let's head back. When the weather clears tomorrow, we can go to the Stormwind Library and check if there are any records related to this kind of ritual."
Allen nodded.
The two crouched down again and began burying the bones back where they had found them. After all, walking back with a pile of bones in the middle of a stormy night would look extremely suspicious.
This time, they buried them more carefully than when they dug them up.
Allen took a bit more effort to separate the remains—burying the adult male in one spot, and placing the six small skeletons close together.
After finishing, the two stood up.
The rain still raged, and lightning continued to tear through the night sky. Allen was completely soaked, his thin sleepwear clinging tightly to his body.
Wren wasn't in much better condition.
Suddenly, Allen's gaze froze. He stared at Wren's chest, where the soaked fabric had turned semi-transparent.
Strange… had he just seen something faintly visible through it…?
Was the Deception Orb losing its effect? Or was the heavy rain interfering with it?
Wren noticed Allen's gaze and looked down at himself.
The next second, his expression darkened sharply.
He said nothing—no explanation, not even a glance at Allen. He simply turned around and strode away without looking back, quickly disappearing into the curtain of rain.
...
The next day, the sky cleared.
Morgan stretched as he came downstairs, muttering, "Weird… last night it felt like someone knocked on my door. Was I dreaming?"
Allen was already seated at the dining table. Dark circles hung heavily under his eyes, and he held a cup of hot tea, staring blankly—clearly having slept poorly.
Only after Wren came downstairs did Allen start asking the innkeeper.
"Boss Farley, has your inn ever hosted a guest traveling with six children?" he tried to sound casual. "Like… one adult with six kids staying together?"
Farley stood behind the bar, resting his chin on his hand as he thought hard.
"Six children…" he muttered, thinking for a long time before finally shaking his head. "No. Young Lord Allen, I've worked at the Lion's Pride for years, but I've never seen anyone check in with six children."
Allen nodded and didn't press further.
Wren sat to the side, quietly eating his breakfast, never once looking at Allen.
...
Stormwind City.
In the Noble District, inside a luxuriously decorated suite.
Lady Katrana Prestor reclined lazily on a velvet sofa.
She wore a silk nightgown with a low neckline, the hem ending at mid-thigh. Her long, fair legs were crossed, gleaming enticingly in the morning light.
Her fingers lightly traced the rim of a wine glass. Her red lips were slightly pursed, and a cold glint flickered in her violet eyes.
Lord Malathrom stood nearby, sweat beading across his forehead, his entire body trembling slightly.
Katrana was clearly in a bad mood.
More precisely—an extremely bad one.
She—Onyxia, Black Dragon Princess, daughter of Deathwing—had been left waiting in Stormwind for so long, and still hadn't even met that brat king.
Her father was currently in Lordaeron, playing the role of Lord Daval Prestor, manipulating those foolish human nobles with ease.
As part of his grand plan, he intended for her to replicate the same scheme here in the future—impersonating the Prestor family to control all of Stormwind.
That was why she had come here: to prepare in advance to become Stormwind's shadow queen.
First, to show herself and build relationships with the nobles. Most importantly, to establish ties with King Varian Wrynn—and, at the same time, build her own power base so she could take control of the city at any moment.
Yet to this day, she still hadn't managed to meet Varian even once.
All because of that damned Allen Prestor, who dragged the young and impulsive king off to some remote town to play hero.
And just when Varian finally returned, he had changed completely—burying himself in endless state affairs, working tirelessly to strengthen the kingdom, refusing to see anyone.
He had even rejected her requests for an audience three times.
At the thought of her father urging her to return, a flicker of barely concealed fear passed through Katrana's eyes.
That father of hers did not tolerate failure.
"Malathrom," she finally spoke, her voice languid yet oppressive.
The lord trembled and hurried forward. "Yes, Lady Katrana."
"That Allen Prestor—where is he now?"
Malathrom wiped the sweat from his forehead. "According to the latest information, he has already arrived at Goldshire. He should reach Stormwind within the next couple of days."
A faint smile curved Katrana's lips.
Fortunately, she had other tasks she could handle.
To perfectly impersonate the Prestor family, her father had already massacred the real Prestor family in Alterac—leaving not a single survivor.
But clearly, he had missed one.
There was still an unwanted son of the Prestor family—living far away in Stormwind, never returning to the family lands, never mentioned by anyone.
That was her father's mistake.
And she, Onyxia, would personally correct it.
"Allen Prestor…"
She softly repeated the name, her violet eyes narrowing slightly, a hunter's excitement gleaming within them.
"I can't wait… to devour you."
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