The path descended gently toward the village.
Alex walked more slowly now, each step measured, deliberate, as if moving too quickly might shatter the illusion he was still clinging to. The ground beneath his feet was worn smooth, packed down by years of travel. Wagon ruts scarred the earth in shallow grooves, their edges softened by time and weather.
Closer now, the village revealed its textures.
Wood darkened by age. Stone fitted together imperfectly, gaps filled with moss and pale mortar. Roofs sagged slightly under their own weight, beams bowed but unbroken. Nothing here was symmetrical. Nothing looked temporary.
The statues grew more numerous near the entrance.
They flanked the path in uneven rows, some standing upright on low stone bases, others sunk directly into the earth as if they had risen there on their own. Their surfaces were weathered, faces softened by rain and wind, but the shapes were still clear enough to read.
Warriors with swords raised mid-swing.
Cloaked figures clutching staffs, expressions caught between concentration and terror.
Creatures Alex only half-recognized from stories—broad, hunched bodies with tusks frozen mid-snarl; winged forms with stone feathers flared in alarm; something serpentine, its coils wrapped protectively around a smaller figure.
They weren't decorative.
They were specific.
Each statue carried a sense of interruption, of motion halted rather than completed. The stone didn't feel celebratory. It felt commemorative. Like the aftermath of something no one wanted to explain twice.
Alex slowed to a stop just before the village boundary.
A simple wooden post stood there, its surface carved with shallow runes worn nearly smooth. No gate. No walls. Just the suggestion of a threshold.
Beyond it, the village continued quietly.
Someone swept the ground near a doorway. A pair of children—human, he thought, though he couldn't be certain from this distance—ran past each other in a quick burst of motion before vanishing between buildings. Somewhere, metal rang softly against metal, rhythmic and controlled.
Alex's heart beat faster.
This is still a dream, he reminded himself.
Dreams borrowed details. They built worlds out of fragments. He must have seen villages like this before—in books, games, movies. His mind was filling in gaps, layering familiarity over nonsense until it felt real.
He crossed the boundary.
Nothing happened.
No shift. No sound. No sudden clarity.
The air inside the village felt no different from outside—cool, clean, faintly smoky. Alex took another step, then another, the statues now fully behind him.
A shadow moved to his right.
"Hold."
The voice was calm, steady.
Alex stopped instantly.
A guard stood a few paces away, partially shaded by the overhang of a nearby building. He hadn't been there a second ago—or if he had, Alex hadn't noticed.
The guard was tall, lean rather than bulky, his posture relaxed but alert. He wore layered leather armor reinforced with dull metal plates at the shoulders and chest. The straps were worn smooth where hands had adjusted them countless times.
A spear rested loosely in his grip, its butt planted against the ground. He wasn't pointing it at Alex—but he could, very quickly.
What caught Alex's attention first wasn't the weapon.
It was the ears.
They rose subtly from beneath the guard's dark hair, tapering to gentle points that extended just beyond what would have been human. Not exaggerated. Not dramatic. Just… unmistakably not human.
Alex stared.
The guard noticed.
One eyebrow lifted slightly—not in offense, but in recognition.
"Traveler?" the guard asked.
His voice was clear, accented in a way Alex couldn't place. The words were familiar, but the cadence was off, shaped by habits Alex didn't share.
"I—" Alex stopped.
His mouth felt dry. His tongue heavy.
"I think so," he said finally.
The guard studied him openly now. Not suspicious. Assessing.
"From the forest?" he asked, glancing toward the trees behind Alex.
Alex nodded. "I woke up there."
The guard's gaze sharpened just a fraction.
"Alone?"
"Yes."
That earned him a longer look.
The guard shifted his weight, the spear scraping softly against stone as he adjusted his grip. Up close, Alex could see faint lines at the corners of the man's eyes—age, maybe, or simply exposure to weather. His skin was a shade darker than Alex's, marked with old scars that looked healed rather than fresh.
"You're lucky," the guard said at last. "Or cursed. Hard to tell, sometimes."
Alex let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "So this is… real?"
The question slipped out before he could stop it.
The guard frowned—not deeply, but enough to suggest confusion.
"This is a village," he said carefully. "If that's what you mean."
Alex nodded too quickly. "Right. Sorry."
Dreams didn't correct you like that, he told himself. They adapted. Shifted. Bent around expectation.
Still.
The guard gestured with his spear, angling it slightly toward the open space beyond. "You can enter fully. Just—mind the statues."
Alex glanced past him.
From here, he could see more clearly.
At the far edge of the village square, beyond a cluster of buildings, something massive occupied a wide stretch of ground. Stone curved upward in layered arcs, overlapping forms stacked atop one another.
It looked like a hill at first glance.
Or a pile of rubble.
His eyes slid past it without lingering, attention drawn instead to the smaller statues arranged nearby—figures posed mid-battle, weapons raised toward that same massive shape.
"Those…" Alex hesitated. "They're everywhere."
The guard followed his gaze.
"Our dead," he said simply. "And our warnings."
Alex swallowed. "They look like they were—"
"Stopped," the guard finished.
His expression didn't change, but something colder settled behind his eyes.
"Yes."
Alex nodded again, unsure what else to say.
The guard straightened, then stepped aside, clearing the path into the village proper. "You should speak to the elders if you plan to stay longer than a night. The square is ahead."
"Thank you," Alex said.
The guard paused, then added, "And traveler?"
Alex looked back.
The guard's gaze flicked briefly toward the far end of the square—the stone mass Alex had barely registered—before returning to him.
"Try not to wander too far after dusk."
Alex managed a small, uncertain smile. "I'll keep that in mind."
He walked on.
Behind him, the guard resumed his post, spear settling back into place with a soft, familiar sound.
The village opened around Alex as he moved deeper inside. Sounds layered over one another—voices, footsteps, the clatter of tools. Life unfolded without spectacle.
He passed another statue, this one of a young woman with her hands outstretched, face frozen in an expression that might have been relief—or pleading. Her eyes had been carefully carved, pupils deep enough to catch shadow.
Alex looked away.
At the edge of the square, the stone mass loomed larger now.
Still, it didn't register as what it was.
Curled in on itself, segmented forms wrapped tight, wings folded so completely they resembled layered rock rather than flesh. Its head was tucked low, horns blending into the ridges along its spine. Moss and lichen clung to its surface, softening its silhouette.
It slept.
Or seemed to.
To Alex, it was just another monument—another warning he didn't yet understand.
He stepped fully into the village square.
And for now, the dream held