Several disappearances and unexplained events have been registered shorty after the commercialization of an ancient statue linked to some legends from a mysterious place called "Reich der Finsternis" in eastern Germany, there is no know route leadin...
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Shelter in Gumprecht
The front door opened into a sparsely decorated room, its old paintings telling stories of a forgotten past. The walls were lined with dark wood paneling, and in one corner stood an unlit wood-burning stove, filling the room with the pungent smell of charcoal. Several iron cooking utensils hung nearby. The neglected wooden floor creaked under his weight as he stepped in. Lukas sat in a chair by the dining table, his mother carefully cleaning his wounds with an alcohol solution.
The woman wore a red wool skirt, a white blouse, and a bodice in the same shade—traditional attire from the nearby regions. The old woman settled down as soon as her son, Lambert, provided her a chair. Relief washed over her face, marking the deep lines of her weariness. With a gesture, she invited the agents and Anika to sit as well.
"Welcome to Gumprecht. You'll be safe here... for now," she said, studying each of them intently. "My name is Bertha," she introduced herself before shifting her gaze to Anika. "I see you've found Henoth's orphan."
The girl shrank under the sudden attention. Liz, on the other hand, was intrigued by the way they referred to Anika and, more importantly, by how they seemed to know her.
"You know her?" she asked, confusion lacing her tone as Lukas's mother poured a glass of water for each of them.
"Something like that," Bertha replied with a faint sigh before taking a sip. "We all know the story of the attack on Henoth a few years ago, when they rebelled against Friedrich Holzmann. Shortly after, a rumor started spreading here in Gumprecht and in Bien, saying that a little girl had survived the massacre." She took another sip, her hands trembling slightly as if even holding the glass was a struggle. "Of course, no one believed a child could be the only survivor of such a slaughter. That's why most people who've seen her think she's a lost soul searching for her family... A ghost, if you will. That's why they fear her so much."
Bertha set her glass on the table and extended a hand toward the girl. Anika hesitated but eventually reached out, resting her fingers on the old woman's wrinkled hand. The contrast between Anika's smooth, delicate skin and Bertha's shriveled, worn hands was stark.
"I knew it..." Bertha whispered, almost to herself. "The girl has a power that very few in this sector possess. It's because of this gift that she survived."
"I don't get it," Liz said, unease creeping into her voice as she watched Bertha release Anika's hand. "Do you travel through these sectors alone? And why were your sons and grandson out there at night?"
Bertha closed her eyes and took a slow, deliberate sip of water. For a moment, she seemed upset by the question, making Liz feel a pang of guilt, but when the old woman spoke again, her voice was calm.
"I can walk through the woods because I have the same gift as the girl," she said, gesturing toward Anika, who remained silent. "I can sense evil... corruption... impurity. But I'm the only one who inherited this ability. Neither my sons, nor my grandson, nor my daughter-in-law possess it," she added, motioning toward her family.
