Chapter 69: The Soul-Stealing Skull

“Serpent-Hand” Shaman and his servant, the Soul-Thief Sprite Chaniquay, lingered for a whole day and night in the ogre stronghold deep within the Forest Valley. After repeated discussions with Shrek, they finally settled on a plan to launch a joint attack on Powhatan Village.

On the last day of February 1620, Shaman led his Blightspawn Legion out in full force, marching openly toward the Algonquin Valley where Powhatan Village lay. Along the way, they deliberately ravaged the forests, plundering elves, fae, and even humans who dwelled nearby. Bad news and pleas for help began pouring into Powhatan Village like a blizzard.

Ever since the return of Magni’s scouting party from north of the Ifen River, Viktor and Matoka had sensed that the river could not halt the spread of the “Black Blight.” Sooner or later, the Conquest Cult would reach its claws across to the southern bank. To prepare for the impending crisis, the couple strengthened security around the valley and planned to reassemble a scouting team, with Matoka herself leading another expedition across the river to the north. However, they did not anticipate the enemy’s swift advance. Before their second reconnaissance could even begin, the Blightspawn army was already pressing upon the outskirts of the Algonquin Valley.

Upon receiving the grim news from the jungle, Viktor Galinin immediately called upon his powers as a druid to summon a flock of raven allies, sending them to scout at low altitude and track the Blightspawn’s movements. Meanwhile, Matoka gathered all the tribe’s elite warriors—two thousand Asa hunters skilled in woodland combat, armed with bows, crossbows, and steeds, ready to ride at a moment’s notice.

Viktor’s raven scouts quickly pinpointed the enemy’s location and brought back detailed reports: the Blightspawn numbered no fewer than five hundred, led by a corrupted druid who cast spells daily to destroy vast swathes of forest.

From the ravens’ descriptions, Viktor and Matoka were certain that the mastermind commanding the Blightspawn was none other than the “Witherer” Magni had spoken of—a cultist from the “Hangman’s Forest.”

Both Viktor and Matoka were protectors of nature, a druid and a ranger, united by their devotion to the primal order and the duty to safeguard the wild. The Witherer’s actions stood in stark opposition to everything they believed in—a mortal enemy. What’s more, the Blightspawn were not only destroying the forest but also slaughtering animals and residents alike, leaving behind lifeless ruins wherever they passed, posing a grave threat to the very survival of the Algonquin tribe. Whether for the sake of faith or the defense of home, neither Viktor nor Matoka could tolerate the Witherer and his accomplices’ savagery. At dawn on the first of March, they led the Asa hunters out, guided by the ravens overhead, in pursuit of the Blightspawn legion.

Magni Powhatan had wanted to follow his parents to war and avenge the fallen kin in the northern forests, but Matoka decided someone had to stay and oversee the village, especially with little Conti still a child. Thus, she assigned her eldest son to remain behind. Magni had no grounds to refuse and, though reluctant, stayed in Powhatan Village.

Joan had already been in Powhatan Village for a week. In this secluded, peaceful village, time seemed to pass with unusual swiftness. The Powhatan family treated him wholly as one of their own, enveloping him in a warmth and familial affection he had always lacked. He also learned much from Conti’s parents and brother—secrets of the natural world, skills for setting hunting traps, even how to identify poisonous mushrooms.

Though village life was pleasant, Joan did not neglect his pursuit of magic. Viktor Galinin, though a divine spellcaster, possessed knowledge far beyond flora and fauna. He was able to offer Joan useful guidance in the arcane arts, for, after all, different schools of magic share much common ground. Many arcane spells have divine counterparts, and vice versa. Under this high druid’s tutelage, Joan made swift progress, gaining deeper understanding of spells he had already learned and basically mastering two challenging first-circle spells: Magic Missile and Arcane Armament.

Recently, Joan found himself developing a peculiar habit. Whenever he acquired a new spell, he would become intensely excited, wishing to immerse himself in study day and night. Yet, as soon as he mastered those spells and found himself without new ones to learn, his mood did a complete about-face. He felt hollow, inexplicably anxious, unable to sit still, as if he could sense precious time slipping away without making any progress. Joan knew all too well how brief life was, and the guilt of wasting his days pressed him to seek new knowledge—preferably arcane knowledge.

Driven by these mounting anxieties, Joan naturally remembered the original reason he had come to Powhatan Village and sought out Magni to inquire about the “Mythic Ogre.”

“The ‘Mythic Ogre’ Shrek is the lord of the Forest Valley ogres. He’s said to command over a thousand ogres, not to mention countless goblins, orcs, and forest gnomes forced into his service. Joan, if I were you, I’d never consider targeting that so-called ‘Clever King,’” Magni said with a wry smile.

Hearing this, Joan felt his hopes sink. From Magni’s description, he realized he was in no position to challenge Shrek. Facing an ordinary ogre was already likely fatal for him, let alone a mythic ogre lord surrounded by loyal guards.

Since challenging the Mythic Ogre was out of reach and there were no other mythic creatures rumored near Powhatan Village, Joan’s spirits fell. He began to question the reason for staying any longer. Yet, faced with the Powhatans’ parental affection, he found it difficult to bring himself to say farewell. When he finally mustered the courage, news of the Blightspawn attack sent the whole tribe into high alert. In such a tense moment, to depart would seem as if he were fleeing just before the Algonquin tribe went to war—a matter of conscience he could not abide.

On the very morning that Viktor and Matoka led their two thousand Asa warriors out of the valley, Joan privately asked Conti if there was any way he could help.

“My parents have gone to track the cultists, and all the village’s daily affairs are now Magni’s responsibility. He’s careless and impatient, so I have to help him with the ledgers and paperwork. Why don’t you take a walk in the ash woods and read a book or two? Once I’m done with these tedious chores, I’ll come find you,” Conti said with a sigh.

Joan could see Conti really was busy, and, knowing nothing of bookkeeping, he realized he would be of no help and would only get in her way. He accepted her suggestion, took two books, and set off for the ash grove.

The Ash Grove was the sacred ground where Powhatan Village’s holy tree, Yggdrasil, had taken root. Normally, two sentinels stood guard at its entrance, with a patrol keeping watch inside. But because the chieftain and his wife had taken two thousand riders to pursue the Blightspawn, the remaining defenders were stretched thin. Magni had to reassign half the Ash Grove guards to the village gates, figuring the grove, being within the village, would be safe enough.

Yet this redeployment unwittingly set the stage for disaster. At the very same time that Viktor and Matoka led the Asa’s main force in pursuit of the Blightspawn, Shaman’s servant, the Soul-Thief Sprite Chaniquay, slipped into Powhatan Village, cloaked by morning mist and deep woods, on a mission to locate “Yggdrasil.”

The Soul-Thief Sprite, a small fae creature, was not known for martial prowess. Chaniquay dared to infiltrate Powhatan Village alone by relying on agility, cunning, and unique supernatural powers. Upon entering the village, he did not immediately search for his target but instead chose a secluded spot, scaled a tall tree, and patiently lay in wait for prey to come to him.

His patience was rewarded when a lone villager passed beneath his perch. Without a sound, Chaniquay reached to his waist and pulled out a pallid faerie skull, hurling it with force at the unsuspecting passerby.

This tiny skull, no bigger than an apple, would scarcely have raised a bump with Chaniquay’s strength. But infused with wicked magic, it was far more than a thrown weapon: the instant it struck its target, it clung fast to the man’s back, as if with a powerful suction.

The Asa youth, startled, turned around in confusion. The moment his gaze met Chaniquay’s, his eyes glazed over, and he stood as still as a puppet.

“Excellent. From now on, you’ll obey my every command,” Chaniquay murmured with a sly grin. The faerie skulls he crafted by hand possessed a power to dominate the mind. Once struck, a victim was as if under the effect of a fifth-circle spell—Dominate Person. Unless the target possessed exceptional willpower, they would instantly lose all self-awareness and follow Chaniquay’s orders unconditionally, like a soulless marionette under the sprite’s control—hence the name “Soul-Thief.”

With a curl of his finger, Chaniquay summoned his new puppet to him and asked if he knew where Yggdrasil grew. The youth nodded without hesitation. Pleased, Chaniquay ordered, “Take me to Yggdrasil. Avoid others as much as possible.”

Expression blank, the Asa youth turned on his heel and strode stiffly toward the Ash Grove.

Chaniquay did not follow immediately. First, he fished a small pouch of brownish-yellow powder from his belt and sprinkled it evenly over himself. His skin turned transparent, and in a moment, he vanished completely. Chaniquay was quite satisfied with the “Vanishing Dust”—its effect would last only half an hour, but that was ample time to slip through the busy village streets behind his puppet and into the deserted woods.