Scotland

"What do you think, Xavier?" Leko asked, his voice tinged with concern as they stood in the dimly lit room.

Xavier's eyes narrowed as he observed the young girl lying peacefully on the bed. "This spirit just wants to utilize this innocent soul as a host," he said, his tone calm but resolute.

Leko glanced at the girl's father, who stood nearby, wringing his hands. "You should've called a priest. It isn't a major concern," Leko remarked, trying to ease the tension.

The father sighed, his face etched with worry. "We were really afraid and thought it might be dangerous," he confessed.

Xavier stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on the father's shoulder. "It's all right, Leko," he said, his voice gentle yet firm. "This is also part of our job. Your daughter is fine now, sir. That spirit won't trouble her again."

The father's eyes filled with relief and gratitude. "Thank you, Lord Xavier," he said, bowing slightly.

Xavier nodded, a faint smile on his lips. "Leko, let's go," he said, turning toward the door.

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains as Maxilin slowly opened his eyes. For a moment, he thought he was still dreaming, but the familiar surroundings of his room grounded him in reality. The warmth of the blankets and the scent of the wooden floor were all too real. As his vision cleared, he realized he wasn't alone.

His father stood by the bedside, along with his uncle, Evan, and Evan's father. Their faces were a mix of fear and anxiety, and they watched him in silence, as if unsure of what to say or do. The room was heavy with unspoken words, the tension palpable.

Maxilin's gaze shifted to his father, and he was shocked to see tears welling up in his eyes. It was rare for his father to show such emotion, and it confused him. Why was his father crying? The sight made Maxilin's heart ache, a deep, piercing pain that made it hard to breathe.

He tried to sit up, wanting to reach out and wipe away those tears, but as he moved, a sharp pain shot through his chest. Grimacing, Maxilin looked down and froze. There, on his chest, was a strange mark—dark and ominous, unlike anything he had ever seen before.

That night in the woods came rushing back—the red circle, the weapon, his mother's twisted expression as she let go of his hand. But it wasn't his mother. Deep down, he knew it had been something else, something dark and malevolent. The devil, perhaps. Yet, despite the terror and the pain, he still felt his mother's presence, as if a part of her had been there, hidden beneath the horror.

Now, back in the present, Maxilin stood in front of the mirror, his fingers gently tracing the strange mark on his chest. 

Maxilin sighed as he pulled on his clothes, pushing the strange thoughts of the mark to the back of his mind. It was time to meet Hawki, his loyal companion. Walking over to the window, he blew a loud, clear whistle that echoed through the morning air. Almost instantly, a shadow passed overhead, and Maxilin smiled as he spotted Hawki soaring toward him.

The hawk landed gracefully on a tree branch just outside Maxilin's window, his sharp eyes glinting in the sunlight. Maxilin extended his hand, and Hawki immediately flew down to perch on his arm. He had grown into a magnificent bird, large and powerful, with fierce intelligence that matched his keen gaze.

Maxilin gently stroked Hawki's back, feeling the smoothness of his feathers. "Hawki, did you tell my uncle about my situation?" he asked softly. Hawki fluttered his wings in response, a sign that he had indeed delivered the message.

Maxilin chuckled, a smirk playing on his lips. "Excellent job, boy. I should give you a reward."

Hawki responded with a series of happy "Kack-Kack" sounds, clearly pleased with himself. 

Meanwhile, in another part of the house, Yean walked into the office where Wyiner was deep in conversation with a man whose appearance was anything but ordinary. The man's entire body was concealed beneath heavy clothing, leaving only his head partially uncovered. His face was shadowed, making it difficult to discern his features.

As soon as the stranger heard footsteps approaching, he quickly exited the room, moving with an odd, almost unsettling grace. Yean's brow furrowed as he watched the man leave. 

There was something about the stranger that piqued his curiosity — he was unusually thin, his movements oddly fluid, like a shadow slipping away.

"This letter is for you, my lord," Yean said, handing over the sealed envelope. He didn't inquire about the mysterious man who had just left; such encounters were not unusual in this household.

Wyiner took the letter, his eyes scanning the contents with growing intensity. As he read, his expression darkened, his brow furrowing in concern.

Yean noticed the shift and instinctively began to step back, ready to leave. But before he could, Wyiner's voice stopped him. "Yean," he said, his tone firm but not unkind.

"Apologies for the inconvenience, my lord. I was just about to leave," Yean replied, respectful and cautious.

"It's not that serious. You can stay," Wyiner assured him, though his voice held a hint of distraction.

Yean hesitated, then asked, "Is everything all right, my lord?"

Wyiner didn't answer immediately. Instead, he turned his gaze toward the window, where the storm outside raged with a fierce intensity. The afternoon had given way to a sky split by lightning, and the wind howled like a restless spirit.

Finally, Wyiner spoke, his voice calm but resolute.

"We need to go to Scotland."

Maxilin was making his way to the hall room, lost in thought, when a figure suddenly collided with him. "Be careful," Maxilin warned instinctively, but before he could get a good look at the person, they pushed him aside and darted toward the gate. Maxilin caught a glimpse of the figure's face, partially obscured by a hood. Something about the way they moved struck him as odd — too graceful, too swift.

As he watched the figure flee, Maxilin felt a strange suspicion gnaw at him. He glanced down at his hand, still tingling from the brief contact. The touch didn't feel like a man's. It was more delicate, almost like... a woman's. Could it be? Maxilin's mind raced as he quickly looked toward the office from where the mysterious figure had emerged.

Without wasting a moment, Maxilin blew a sharp whistle, summoning Hawki. The hawk responded almost immediately, swooping down from above to join him. Together, they headed toward the office, the urgency in Maxilin's steps mirrored by the storm brewing outside.

Inside the office, Yean was engaged in a tense conversation with Wyiner. "Scotland?" Yean asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"Yes," Wyiner confirmed, his expression grim. "It's quite urgent. There's a solitary creature of immense evil power affecting the events across the islands. The locals believe it's responsible for withering crops, droughts, sickness, and plagues among both cattle and humans."

Yean's eyes widened slightly. "Has anyone seen it?"

Wyiner shook his head sternly. "No, but they've heard the sounds of hooves surrounding their settlement at midnight. It's enough to spread fear throughout the region."

Yean swallowed, his mind racing with the implications. "What will we do, sir?"

"We must go and stay there," Wyiner replied, his voice resolute. "We need to assess the situation ourselves. If we don't, we won't be able to say anything with certainty."

Maxilin stood in the doorway, his expression serious.