At dawn, as the sky slowly shifted from deep black to a pale blue streaked with orange, the group finally reached the village.
The early light revealed a place steeped in old weariness. It was neither abandoned nor truly lively. It simply existed. Rough brick houses stood scattered without any clear order, as if they had been added over generations whenever there was a need, not a plan. Some bricks were newer, hastily repaired, while others were cracked and eroded, bearing the silent marks of time.
The silence was unsettling. Not complete, but lacking something essential. There was the wind slipping between the buildings, the faint creak of old wood, and the steady drip of water. What was missing were the sounds of adult life.
At the center of the village stood a small stone statue. It was fractured in several places, its features nearly erased by age. Water still flowed from it, feeding a narrow fountain. Each drop felt like an effort, as if the stone itself was struggling to remain standing.
Rael stopped for a moment, staring at it.
"It's going to collapse," he muttered.
"Not as long as someone's watching," Blanek replied quietly.
They continued forward.
Then, suddenly, the scene shifted.
Children were playing.
They ran between the houses, laughing loudly, tossing around a ball made of tightly bound rags. Some stumbled, scraped their knees, then jumped back up without hesitation. Their laughter echoed against the walls, bright and clear… almost too clear.
Selena felt a knot form in her stomach.
"This isn't normal…"
Lyo watched in silence. The children were playing, yes, but their eyes constantly flicked toward the alleys, the doors, the dark gaps between buildings. Their laughter felt rehearsed, like something practiced to keep silence away.
When they noticed the group, the game slowed. A boy dropped the ball. A girl pulled another child behind a wall. One small girl with tangled hair stared directly at Rael, her eyes far too serious for her age, before turning away as if she had seen something she wasn't supposed to.
Lyo felt a familiar pressure tighten in his chest.
Something was wrong.
That was when a man appeared at the end of the street.
He walked toward them without hesitation, but each step was measured. He was tall, though not broad, his frame slim and tense, like a bow drawn for too long. His clothes were simple, but clean. Too clean for a man who slept well.
His face was young, yet hardened. Dark circles rested beneath his eyes, and a thin scar cut across his jaw, old but poorly healed. His gaze moved quickly over the group, assessing weapons, posture, hands. When his eyes landed on Blanek's massive sword, he paused, calculating the man who carried it.
"Who are you?"
His voice was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm learned by someone who could no longer afford fear.
Lyo stepped forward.
"We're adventurers. We're here about the disappearances."
The change was immediate.
The man's shoulders lowered slightly. His jaw tightened, and some of the tension drained from his eyes, replaced by exhaustion rather than trust.
"I see… I am Eran Valmor. The chief of this village."
He took a slow breath.
"Follow me."
He turned without waiting for a response.
As they followed him, Lyo studied his movements. Eran didn't walk like a man used to command. He walked like someone forced into leadership. His eyes scanned every corner, every doorway. A chief who had become a sentry.
They stopped in front of a house slightly larger than the others. The walls had been reinforced recently, the door fitted tightly, almost new. It felt less like comfort and more like a barrier. Something meant to keep danger out… or in.
Inside, warm air wrapped around them, heavy with the scent of dry wood and medicinal herbs. Small bundles of plants hung near the hearth. A simple round table sat at the center of the room.
Eran gestured for them to sit, then called toward the back of the house.
An elderly woman entered.
Her back was bent, but her steps were steady. She leaned on a wooden staff polished smooth by years of use, though it felt more like habit than necessity. Her face was deeply lined, yet her eyes were sharp and clear, unsettlingly alive for such an aged body.
She stopped the moment she saw them.
Her gaze moved from one adventurer to the next, slow and deliberate. When her eyes met Rael's, they lingered. A strange crease formed on her brow.
"This is my mother," Eran said quietly.
She offered no greeting. She only watched, as if weighing their presence… their worth… or their threat.
Tea was poured. Steam rose gently from the cups. No one drank.
Eran inhaled deeply.
"Our village has always been peaceful. We lived apart from the world… until a month ago."
Rael set his cup down.
"What happened?"
Eran clenched his fists.
"My father, the former chief, went hunting. It was a tradition. He never came back."
The old woman lowered her head.
"The forest does not return what it takes," she murmured.
"After that," Eran continued, "people began to disappear. Adults first. Then children. No sound. No trace."
Selena shivered.
"No one saw anything?"
"The night looks away," the old woman replied.
When Eran mentioned the two strangers searching for ancient ruins, a chill ran down Lyo's spine.
Rael said nothing.
But he understood.
This village was not forgotten.
It was guarded.
And something buried beneath the land or the memories had begun to stir.