Templars

The vegetation was denser than João had imagined. From the outside, the woods looked harmless, almost friendly, but just a few steps in revealed the truth: trunks grew in wild defiance, forcing them to squeeze through, while branches scratched at arms and faces without mercy. 

As if that weren't enough, swarms of mosquitoes and gnats attacked relentlessly. João waved his arms in vain, only to feel the constant buzzing and the sharp sting against his skin. 

Inside the wall, patrols circled at regular intervals, torches in hand, completing a round every ten minutes. Outside, however, there were no guards. A quick glance through the gaps in the logs confirmed it. 

Isaque cursed under his breath when he nearly slipped on dew-soaked stones. João, more attentive, was careful not to repeat the mistake. 

Time passed with nothing but the droning of insects and the suffocating stillness. Nothing extraordinary happened in Irmy—except for the almost demonic persistence of the mosquitoes, who had already feasted on their blood. 

Still, the hill in the center of the city drew João's attention. From any point in the forest it was visible, as if the earth itself had pushed out something strange, a grotesque protrusion struggling to emerge. It didn't look natural. 

He touched Isaque's shoulder, and instinctively the other reached for his sword. Both had already grown accustomed to the faint light of the moon and stars. There were no animals larger than rabbits or birds, the only ones startled by their approach. 

With a gesture, João signaled for them to move a little farther from the wall, deeper into the woods. They advanced about twenty-five meters before allowing themselves to whisper. 

— "Notice anything?" João asked. 

— "Nothing beyond the obvious," Isaque replied. "From the outside, it looks like just another village. But the wall guard is weak." 

— "Weak and careless. The time between rounds is far too long." 

— "They don't expect us to try an attack," Isaque concluded. 

João nodded. With so few men, a direct assault would be madness, even against such a crude defense. 

— "Besides, they seem inexperienced in war," Isaque continued. "Like they've never faced anything like this before." 

— "We can't forget today's ambush," João countered. "It was clever, almost brilliant." 

— "Exactly. That's why I'd rather know what's happening inside the city, not just around it." 

Then the night's silence broke. Shouts, hurried footsteps, and agitated voices echoed from within Irmy, rousing even the forest animals from their slumber. 

The pair didn't hesitate: they climbed a tall tree, scaling up to a sturdy branch from where they could spy beyond the wall. 

What they saw left them breathless. Streets filled with people, all heading toward the central hill. In the midst of the crowd, a man was dragged in chains, begging for mercy. At the front, a white-robed leader shouted words that whipped the mob into frenzy. 

Strange drawings, unknown symbols, marked his garments. Though far away, João and Isaque could catch fragments of the speech. The crowd roared in unison: 

— "THE GREAT SERPENT WILL COME TO OUR AID!" 

The prisoner was beaten until he lost consciousness, then dragged to the top of the hill. They tied him to a pillar. The white-robed leader raised his voice in prayer and, in a brutal gesture, split open the man's belly, spilling entrails, blood, and filth before the maddened crowd. 

Then they set the body ablaze. Even with his guts exposed, the man still writhed, screaming in agony. His cries mingled with the frenzied chant: 

— "THE GREAT SERPENT WILL COME TO OUR AID!" 

The flames devoured his flesh, while João, paralyzed, had the chilling impression of seeing something move within the fire. A thin shadow, long... slithering among the flames. 

Isaque's touch on his shoulder snapped him back to reality. His companion was pale. 

— "Let's go," he whispered, trembling. 

João only nodded. They scrambled down the tree in haste. They needed to report to Afonso what they had witnessed. 

But deep down, they both already knew: that had not been just a barbaric ritual. Something had been summoned that night. Something ancient, profane... and hungry.