One evening, a villager came knocking at Vixen's door, his hands trembling.
At that time, Vixen and Kin were in the kitchen, preparing dinner. Kenny went to open the door, and the man nearly fell into his arms.
"Please, dada… please help me," he begged breathlessly. "I think some evil spirit has possessed my wife."
Hearing this, Vixen stepped out of the kitchen, his expression hardening. "Wait. I'm coming with you."
The man's voice cracked. "Master… these things are happening almost every day now. In one house or another. We can't go on like this. Someone has to stop it."
Vixen's eyes grew darker, but he nodded. "You're right."
Together, they went to the villager's home. Inside, his wife writhed in pain, eyes clouded with unnatural fury. Vixen released his Alpha's sacred pheromone, and slowly her body relaxed, the evil spirit fleeing with a hiss into the shadows. When she fell asleep, peaceful once again, the man dropped to his knees in gratitude.
On their way out, the villager whispered nervously, "Day after tomorrow… or maybe a week later, we were supposed to celebrate the festival. But it was stopped years ago… after the cult and their black magic began tormenting us."
Vixen's voice was calm but sharp. "Then we'll bring it back. The 'Rukora Festival' must return."
The man's face turned pale. "But master… what if the cult comes again? What if they cause trouble during the celebration?"
"They won't," Vixen answered coldly. "If they dare to come, I will deal with them myself."
The villager looked at him with fear and faith tangled together. "But master, what about the curses? What about the strange spirits attacking our people every night?"
Vixen's jaw tightened. "Tomorrow evening, gather all the villagers. We must warn everyone. And we must prepare—because this battle is not only against the cult, but against the Demon Lord himself."
---
The next evening, the villagers filled the square, torches glowing against the night. Vixen stood at the center, Kin, Zavrion, and Kenny by his side.
"If we want to survive," Vixen said, his voice echoing through the crowd, "we must fight back. Cultists and black magic are poisoning our land. The spirits attacking your wives, your daughters, your mothers—it's all because of them."
An elder raised his hand weakly. "But they haven't attacked us directly yet… not like before. Why should we provoke them now?"
Vixen's eyes blazed. "They're waiting for the right time to strike. If we wait, we will all die. We must destroy their hideout before they gather strength. We must tear out their roots before they spread."
His words struck the villagers like lightning. Murmurs turned to shouts.
"You're right!" someone yelled.
"Yes! We'll fight!" cried another.
Vixen's voice thundered. "The Demon Lord wants to use the cult to enslave Zemura and every town beyond. If we don't rise now, there will be no life left in this land. Do you want to wait and let him consume us all? Or do you want to end him before he begins?"
A roar of voices shook the night. "Never! We will fight! Destroy the cult!"
Vixen lifted his hand high. "Then it's decided. Next week, the 'Rukora Festival' will return to Zemura Village. And together, we will cleanse this land."
The villagers erupted into cheers, hope returning to their weary faces. For the first time in years, light pierced through their fear.
---
The day of the festival arrived.
The whole village transformed. Women and men dressed in new clothes, carrying baskets of fresh flowers. Laughter and songs filled the air, though beneath it ran a pulse of tension, as if the forest itself was watching.
Following tradition, the unmarried couples carried flowers and fruits up the hill to the mountain deity, whispering wishes of love and lifelong bonds. Kin and Vixen walked together, side by side. When they reached the shrine, they laid their offerings and bowed, silently wishing for a lifetime together.
A little later, Zavrion and Kenny approached the deity with their own offerings. Zavrion's voice was low, but full of warmth. "Please… bless us with happiness in the life to come. And grant us many children."
Kenny's face flushed crimson. He lowered his head quickly, embarrassed beyond words.
Yet, for that brief moment, as the mountain winds carried their prayers, it felt as though the shadows had retreated. The villagers smiled, couples laughed, and for once, hope burned brighter than fear.
But deep in the forest, unseen eyes watched. The cult was waiting.
To be Continued....