The deeper Jacob and David ventured into the Tanglebogs, the quieter the world became. The usual chirp of birds and rustling of forest life gave way to still air and the slow drip of moisture from high canopies. It was the kind of quiet that pressed in around you—a living hush, like the bog itself was listening.
David, for all his usual banter, grew noticeably more serious.
"Used to think swamps were just muddy forests," he muttered, peering into the murky water beside the trail. "But this place… it feels watched."
Jacob didn't disagree. Even his mule, usually calm, was uneasy, ears twitching with every distant rustle.
As they pressed on, Jacob pulled out his notes. "We're close to where the first body was found. Five years ago. Local coroner called it an accidental drowning."
David scanned the path ahead. "Funny how a drowning leaves seared markings on a man's back."
They crossed a narrow stretch of moss-laden bridge, half-rotted. Beyond it, the earth sloped upward slightly, giving way to a raised clearing. Trees arched high above, forming a canopy so thick that the ground below was locked in permanent twilight.
That's when they saw it.
A circle—about ten paces across—carved into the damp soil. The markings were faint but deliberate, etched in a language neither of them recognized. Jacob knelt, brushing aside wet leaves to reveal a symbol at the center: a crude eye surrounded by what looked like thorned branches.
David drew in a sharp breath.
"This isn't just some old trapper's ritual. That's deliberate. Like a summoning seal… or worse."
Jacob traced the grooves with his fingers, feeling how deep they cut. "It's old. At least a year. Maybe more."
David moved around the perimeter, lantern raised. "There's dried blood here. Just a little. And… huh."
He knelt beside what looked like a bundle of cloth, half-submerged in the mud. He gently pulled it free.
It was a child's scarf, faded green with a silver fox emblem stitched at the end.
Jacob's mouth went dry.
"That emblem… it matches the report from the orphan boy—four years ago."
David stared at it for a moment, then folded the scarf gently. "Someone's using this bog for more than just hiding bodies."
---
As night began to fall, they made camp on the higher ground. David lit a fire, more for comfort than warmth, while Jacob pulled out his ledgers and began to sketch the circle from memory, careful with every detail.
"You're quiet," David said, roasting a strip of dried meat over the flame. "More than usual, I mean."
Jacob kept drawing. "I don't like missing pieces. Someone has been doing this for years. No arrests. No investigations. Just… loss."
David leaned back, arms folded behind his head. "You ever wonder why you care so much?"
Jacob hesitated. "Because no one else did."
There was silence for a moment, save for the crackle of the fire and the slow churn of bogwater in the distance.
David finally spoke. "You know, back in Ironwood, I once cracked a whole caravan ring because I couldn't sleep until I figured out why a horse was wearing two left shoes. My captain said it was obsession. I say it's a calling."
Jacob looked up. Their eyes met across the fire—two young men, both with stubborn ideals and an Empire too large to care.
"I think," Jacob said slowly, "we were both sent here for a reason."
David smiled. "And I think the bog's not done talking yet."
---
As the night deepened, something far off howled—not wolf, not man. Something in between.
They exchanged a look.
Tomorrow, they'd push deeper. But tonight, they stood watch in turns, firelight flickering over the old symbols in the dirt.
The swamp had secrets. And Jacob intended to bring them to light—one record, one truth, one judgment at a time.
The morning mist clung to the ground as Jacob and David ventured deeper into the Tanglebogs. The air grew heavier, and the silence was broken only by the occasional rustle of unseen creatures. The path narrowed, leading them to a clearing where the trees seemed to bow inward, forming a natural cathedral of twisted branches.
At the center stood a stone altar, weathered by time but still bearing intricate carvings. Symbols of eyes, thorns, and serpents intertwined, echoing the markings they had previously discovered. Jacob approached cautiously, his fingers tracing the cold stone.
Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the clearing, carrying with it whispers in an ancient tongue. The voices seemed to emanate from the very earth, speaking of sacrifice, power, and eternal vigilance.
David's hand instinctively moved to his weapon. "This place... it's alive," he murmured.
Jacob nodded, his gaze fixed on the altar. "And it's guarding something."
They uncovered a hidden compartment beneath the altar, revealing a collection of scrolls and artifacts. Among them was a ledger bearing the crest of House Virelion, a noble family known for their wealth and influence in the county.
The ledger detailed rituals performed to bind a malevolent entity, referred to only as "The Watcher." The rituals required sacrifices—humans taken from the fringes of society, their disappearances easily overlooked.
Jacob's face paled as he read. "They've been doing this for generations, maintaining their power through dark pacts."
David clenched his fists. "We need to bring this to light."
---
Returning to the magistrate's office, Jacob and David pored over historical records, piecing together the Virelion family's involvement in the county's affairs. Patterns emerged—sudden deaths of rivals, unexplained wealth, and a consistent presence at key political events.
Jacob presented their findings to Magistrate Vollen, who, though frail, recognized the gravity of the situation. "This cannot be ignored," he declared. "But we must proceed with caution."
They devised a plan to confront the Virelion family, gathering testimonies from those who had suffered under their influence. Survivors of the bogs, families of the missing, and former servants came forward, their stories painting a damning picture.
As the evidence mounted, the Virelion family's grip on the county weakened. Whispers of rebellion stirred among the populace, and the once-feared name of Virelion became synonymous with corruption and darkness.
---
Under the cover of night, Jacob and David led a contingent of constables to the Virelion estate. The mansion loomed ahead, its grandeur now overshadowed by the weight of its sins.
Inside, they found the remnants of rituals—altars, symbols, and the lingering presence of The Watcher. The family members, caught off guard, offered little resistance.
In the days that followed, trials were held, and justice was served. The Virelion estate was repurposed as a sanctuary for those affected by the family's actions, and the bogs were cleansed of their dark legacy.
Jacob, once a mere paper boy, stood as a beacon of integrity and resilience. His partnership with David had not only uncovered a sinister truth but had also restored faith in the magistrate's office.