The order of "Whisper" echoed in Shadow's mind like a funeral bell, instantly cutting off his surveillance of Nyran. The presence of his sister, normally so ethereal, was charged with a tangible panic that made the air turn cold around him. He didn't think twice. The shadows twisted around him, swallowing him whole, and he moved not like a man, but like a reflection of the darkness itself, following Whisper towards the perimeter of the Blade Mocambo.

  The air, which moments before had smelled of wet earth and dew, now carried a sweet, heavy, metallic thread of blood. The first sign wasn't a scream, but an oppressive silence, the wrong kind of silence, coming from where the rhythmic thud of Kito's axe in the field was always heard. Materializing at the eastern edge of the quilombo, where the forest began to swallow the clearing, Shadow stopped, his feet sinking into the soft earth. The smell of iron was stronger here.

  The body of the grown man, Kito, lay sprawled at the foot of a papaya tree, his shadow elongated by the weak morning light. His face, a portrait of eternal terror, eyes open and glazed, was turned to the sky. His torso was a mess of flesh and tears, one leg missing, ripped away with a violence that spoke of brute force. Deep claw marks and lacerations crossed what remained of his body, and the earth around him was churned and soaked a dark red.

  It was recent, Shadow thought, his stomach churning at the sweetish odor of death. And this... this wasn't the work of a human, or a common animal. This was a monster.

  As the Specter crouched to examine the body, his fingers hovering over the wounds without touching them, Whisper approached Shadow, her voice an even softer whisper than usual.

  "At the Lake Burrow, they also found a body... a woman, torn apart in the same way. And the strangest thing..." she paused, her eyes scanning the surrounding forest. "...there were dark feathers scattered near the body."

  Shadow turned his face to her, an icy premonition running down his spine.

  "Feathers? Matinta Pereira, The Witch Bird? But I thought she only attacked those who broke pacts with her..."

  "I found that strange too," Whisper agreed, pulling her cloak tighter. "But the worst came from the Ridge Burrow. The place that should be the most protected. A guard was killed. Luckily, another saw what happened just before dawn... it was a werewolf."

  Shadow shot to his feet, his eyes meeting his sister's deep, dark ones.

  "Matinta-Pereira, werewolves, and now this..." he gestured towards Kito's body. "Perhaps it's the work of a Mapinguari... What gods have we angered to have so many monsters attacking us at once?"

  Other guards arrived, forming a silent, tense circle around the Specter and the body.

  "I'd like to know as well," said the Specter, rising. His voice was calm but laden with a gravity that silenced all whispers. "It seems like a coordinated, premeditated attack. But monsters don't work together. And I know of no gem capable of orchestrating something like this."

  The three fell silent for a moment, the weight of that truth hanging in the air. This had never happened before. The meeting with the mocambo chiefs and Zala was convened immediately.

  The tension in the council room was palpable. Zala slammed his clenched fist onto the solid wood table, making the water cups tremble.

  "How could this happen?" his voice was a mix of fury and disbelief. "Are you telling me this was a coordinated attack on the quilombo, and not a series of monster accidents?"

  The Specter remained impassive before him.

  "Exactly. The pattern and diversity of the creatures involved are... anomalous. Someone, or something, must have guided them. Regardless, from this moment on, we are on maximum alert."

  Carlos, who was watching the discussion with visible apprehension, leaned forward, his fingers interlaced on the table.

  "A question, Specter. Is it possible... to dialogue with these monsters? Would a diplomatic approach be viable, to convince them somehow?"

  The Specter shook his head, a slow, definitive movement.

  "Dialogue is a human concept. With Matinta Pereira, one might make a pact, but she always demands a terrible price and twists desires. It is consensus that trying to talk to any of these creatures only leads to death or a curse worse than it."

  Fernando, whose mocambo had also been violated, spoke with a voice heavy with worry:

  "Then, Specter, is there any way to protect ourselves? Some ritual, some barrier?"

  "Only vigilance," replied the Specter. "More guards, more eyes. But it's impossible to protect all the mocambos all the time, unless..." he made a calculated pause. "...unless we had more of those spyglasses with vision gems we captured in the last battle. With them, we could identify threats from a distance, with plenty of time to organize a defense."

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  It was then that Carlos interjected, a slight glint of opportunity in his eyes.

  "In that case, the problem boils down to buying more of them, right?"

  The Specter let out a short, almost imperceptible sigh.

  "Yes, but the price... is prohibitive."

  A confident smile spread across Carlos's face.

  "Ah, in that case, I think I can solve the financial part."

  The Specter frowned slightly, a crack in his habitual impassivity.

  "You haven't even heard the amount, Carlos."

  "I don't need to hear," he laughed, a dry sound. "I recently mastered large-scale steel production. Just yesterday, we manufactured the equivalent of millions of réis. And we'll continue until the end of the month. The only limitation is the iron ore, which is scarce. But if Paula fulfills her part of the agreement, money will cease to be a problem."

  The eyes of everyone around the table gleamed, especially Zala's. Carlos noticed the greed in the man's gaze and turned directly to him.

  "That actually reminds me... I've been paying the fee Ganga requested in an... improper way."

  Ganga Zala frowned, confused.

  "Improper? In what way?"

  Carlos stood up, grabbed a stack of papers, and began distributing them, one to each chief.

  "Basically, I've been giving you half of the gross profits, without deducting costs. My employees' salaries, the weapons I manufacture and donate to the army, the import of essential supplies for the mocambo to function..." he paused, letting the information hang in the air. "...I should deduct that, especially now, after what I spent importing steel for the machines and iron for production. Not to mention the church fee for the hospital, and now, the new acquisitions for the army."

  Zala slammed his palm onto the table with a dull thud.

  "You know those are your administrative issues, don't you, Carlos?"

  "They are issues that affect everyone's security," Carlos countered, his voice firm. "This month, I barely had any capital left for my own mocambo. Imagine if a crisis happens, the quilombo is isolated, and we have no funds to pay, for example, the Church's healing fee?"

  His eyes drifted to Maria, across the table. Maria, who had remained silent until then, spoke with her soft, yet firm voice:

  "Ganga, Carlos has a point. I think it's prudent for him to consider the investments he makes in the quilombo before calculating the payment."

  Seeing the normally reserved Maria confront Ganga sent a visible wave of surprise across the faces of several present.

  Carlos, sensing the momentum was in his favor, turned back to the Specter.

  "Currently, I'm also developing new weapons and more potent gunpowder. For that, the costs of importing minerals will skyrocket. And now, with this emergency, I'll import any magical gem the army needs."

  The Specter, in a rare show of support, inclined his head in agreement.

  "Carlos is right. Given the severity of the attack we suffered, it would be unwise to financially strangle precisely the mocambo that produces our weapons and innovates our defenses."

  Seizing the support, Carlos swept his gaze across the table before making his final argument.

  "I must remind everyone that the entire quilombo benefits from the weapons that come from my forges and the healing the Church provides, thanks to deals I negotiated. And, speaking of which, I need more workers. If you could spread the word: anyone who wants to move to my mocambo will have plenty of food, good clothes, and well-furnished houses." He made a dramatic pause. "And, of course, with more money in the coffers, I could also pay all the chiefs who dedicate themselves to the quilombo better; you too can enjoy what my mocambo offers."

  Ganga slapped his open hand hard on the table, a crack that cut through the air.

  "Enough! I get your point!" his voice was a growl. "But you will still pay me a share of the profits. And besides..."

  Zala interrupted him, staring fixedly at the Specter.

  "...And I will cover the costs of any magical weapon the quilombo needs."

  The discussion dragged on for a while longer, but the mood had shifted. Shortly after, the meeting was adjourned. Zala withdrew to his quarters, the door closing with a dull thud. The silence that followed was broken only by the grinding of his own clenched teeth.

  I can't believe it... Maria and the Specter, on his side! No one sees what I've done for this place! The quilombo only stands because of my schemes, my influence! If it were up to my mother in power, we would have lost half our men in futile attacks and burned through the patience of every plantation owner in the region. Of course I deserve a little money and gold, after sweating and sacrificing so much for everyone!