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A beast had broken loose, and no one was sure what exactly this beast was. It was supposedly as big as a mountain and could swallow cows whole. It had also poisoned a well and taken away dozens of sheep. Even then the gods knew that man often exaggerated stories and told tall tales.

Nowadays some demigods would be set upon the task, but this tale takes place in that time before Zeus had started to lust after the mortal flesh, so there were few demigods to go around. Thus the twins Artemis and Apollo had been sent out to vanquish this ‘unknowable’ beast.

The beast in question turned out to be a manticore. Manticores were indeed known for eating and kidnapping cattle, even the bravest of dogs wouldn’t stand a chance against a creature that had the mighty body of a lion and the venomous sting of a scorpion. That explained the poisoned water supply as well. And the twins had to give it to the mortals: This particular manticore was indeed quite huge, but still a far stretch from being mountain-sized.

A manticore would pose an impossible threat for mortals, and a reasonable threat for a demigod or two, but for two Gods of Archery, one of which is the actual Goddess of the bloody Hunt, this would be a piece of cake. Or should have been.

Closing in on the manticore took some time, but as the sun set, they finally had the monster surrounded. Necessity is the mother of invention, however, and a cornered beast is the living embodiment of that wisdom. A hunt like this was routine for the twins and they had grown lackadaisical and accustomed to the routine of doing their father’s bidding. The manticore pounced, surprising both archers, and grabbed Apollo by the neck with the vice-like grip of its stinger.

The prospect of the manticore poison being injected into his veins was not a welcome one for Apollo. Even though he was immortal, his godhood would not spare him the burning and flashing pain that came with the sting. And like all men do when they are faced with something they cannot escape from, he started trashing. Begging his sister to shoot the damned tail, so he could free himself.

As a dutiful sister Artemis, put a poisoned arrow herself on the bow, and her breath steady, took aim. Looking back at that moment now, it was almost as if the Fates, or Chaos themselves, intervened. Just as she was about to fire her arrow, the clouds shifted, and the evening sun bathed her in orange light. As beautiful as this may have looked, as much of a blessing from her own brother this may have seemed. It was nothing but a curse. A curse that momentarily blinded and distracted her.

Yet the arrow did fly. It flew straight and true, not towards the vexing tail that had curled itself around her brother's neck, but towards his eyes, its new target. The arrow pierced Apollo’s left eye as easily as it would have an apple. And the scream of agony that Apollo released at that instant reverbed across the known world, every being from the depths of Tartarus to the peak of Olympus heard the cry of Phoebus Apollo.

Mortified at what she had done Artemis amended her fault and unloaded her quiver on the manticore, securing that it now was dead, and rushed towards her brother. But the damage had already been done. One eye was already blind and the poison of the arrow spread towards the other one. The last thing Apollo would see with his own eyes was his sister - his beloved, yet betraying sister - face twisted in anguish running towards him.

As his vision left him, the sun turned an angry, violent orange, bathing the world in blood. And as the darkness crept upon him, he uttered a final prophecy of his own making, aimed at the cause of his new fate: “Your arrows will never fly true, as long as the Sun basks the world in its light”.

That is how Artemis tore apart the sky and veiled the Sun forevermore.

On a road, two people move in different strides. One swaggers forward, daggers equipped in a satchel slinging around her shoulder. The other staggers, clutching onto a bag while darting a glance everywhere but ahead.

Upon making it to a building—wood and small—occupying a grassy expanse. The windows shutter from winds passing by, swinging back and forth.

"This cabin's been abandoned." Kerezen scans its nondescript structure and porch. "But who knows what secrets it might contain?"

"Oyyy! We oughta leave!" Enele's steps falter as he pants. "We can't… we can't go there! You know what those stories said! If anyone goes, they won't escape!"

"It's some silly tale folks conjured to scare off those daring to venture," Kerezen says with a huff.

Enele frowns. "Or it's a tale of caution? Warning others to stay away from danger? Or they might face the wrath of a monster!"

"Pffft, what monster? Wolves? Bears? As long as we have our weapons, they won't be a match to us!"

"It isn't just some regular monster! What if it has magic? And cast a spell on us? Didn't you hear about those children who went to a witch's house to seek shelter?"

"Oh, that's rubbish! You don't believe some old lady turned some children into candy, do you?"

"Anything is a possibility. I'm just… this doesn't seem to be the best idea."

"Take it easy, my friend. We'll take a quick look and we'll be back before supper."

At that, Enele grimaces while cracking his knuckles.

Kerezen leans her ear against the door, latching onto its handle then pushes it open.

Enele's pulse quivers at the sight of a room shrouded in shadows and light.

Brittles of dust clutter over the wooden floor. It shimmers from the daylight outside as if a magical creature performed a grand spell. Only for it to go awry.

Before he can flee, Kerezen crouches down and picks some of it.

"There must have been a hunter who wandered in these parts." Kerezen narrows her eyes while rubbing the bits. "These might be ashes from a herb."

A flock of birds crows and startles Enele, prompting him to turn around. He exhales and his shoulders loosen. Kerezen gets up and dusts her hands. Whatever is at play here, Enele refuses to ruminate further. He had lived in the villager since he'd been a child when his family moved here. He often refused exploring the woods, scared of what terrors could be hidden.

And while his stomach sinks at the thought of doing this… he can't shirk his duties as a guardian. Regardless of any fears clawing at him.

The floorboards creak and Enele jumps as Kerezen stiffens. She reaches for the hilt of her sword,

"There's been something plaguing this village for centuries," Enele says, his voice trembling. He gulps while curling his shaking fingers. "

The old lady scoffs. "Where's the fun in that? If I wanted to hurt you people, I'd have smacked a shovel at you. Now… now what are you looking for?"

"For answers of the legends," Kerezen explains, tilting her head to the side. "Just recently, a nobleman visited our village

"Do you think those girls are innocent?" The old lady hums noncommittally then raises a brow. "Or… or they wanted to merely run away?"

"W-what do you mean?" Enele perks up, his jaw slacking.

"People often go to these woods to run from something." The old lady smirks. "Didn't you hear those legends? Of those so weary of life in society? That they'd abandon it for a cabin or a cottage. In fact… there's stories of a former heiress in here. But I wouldn't know for sure."

"Wait, there's no monster?"

"Well, is it a monster if it lurks while protecting its home? Perhaps, it's a creature that dislikes visitors, who treat their home with shabby manners."

Kerezen and Enele exchanges a quick look, their expressions shifting from its initial wariness. Enele's brows are lifted before he sucks in a breath. Kerezen

"Did you two see that?" The old lady asks, her voice crackling mimicking a fireplace's flames.

Kerezen tightens her grip on her dagger. "See what?"

With a cackle, the old lady aims a finger at the floor. "Look closer."

Enele gasps at a piece of fabric strewn beside the pile of dust. He drops down and inspects it closer. Kerezen rubs her chin, her face twisted in suspicion.

The remnants of a torn veil, transformed into tatters by a vicious creature no doubt.

"There must have been a bride who've made a deal," Enele says, examining it further.

"And the sorcerer or witch summoned a creature to deal with her," Kerezen added, sounding alarmed. She blinks. "Perhaps, you had every reason to worry, my friend. Whatever this is, it's much more than the villagers think it is. It's much more than they want us to know, Enele."

He gets up, lifting his head. "We must find who's been doing this. Only then, we can have the answers we seek."

The old lady leans against a side of the doorframe. "If you need guidance, I can be of assistance. I've been a scholar of… magic."

The mere word sends a jitter in his pulse as he shivers.

"With magic involved in it, we need all help we can get," Kerezen says. She extends a hand. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Kerezen."

"If we must work together, allow me to introduce myself." The old lady lifts her cloak back, bestowing a strange grin. She shakes her head. "I'm Quiana."

"I suppose we shall get started?" Enele asks.

Despite the knots in his stomach, he smiles in an attempt of courage.