The stone walls of Glens Crossing clawed at the sky, a forbidding barrier. Only a narrow, worn cobble path breached their height. Four guards, grim and unmoving, stood sentinel at the gate. We were a lone procession, a trickle against the tide of fear that had surely emptied this town.

“Halt! Dismount!” The guard’s command was rough as gravel. “State your business.”

Noctis slid from his horse, the leather creaking in the tense quiet. From his pocket, he produced a small, gold plate. The family crest—two swords entwined with roses and their thorny vines—glinted in the fading light. Hearing a surname felt strange; such distinctions were usually reserved for nobility, not common folk like us. The guard’s posture shifted abruptly, his face paling.

“Duke Theonor… my apologies.” A deep bow followed. “Please, enter. Though I must warn you, finding shelter tonight will be… difficult. The Shadowveil’s touch was far heavier than any report suggested.”

“Heavier?” Noctis’s query held an edge of steel. “The reports spoke of damage to the town square alone.”

The guard’s attention flickered nervously. “Sir…” his words trembled slightly, “the town sought to minimize the panic. The truth… it’s far worse. You’ll see for yourself.”

“Then we will proceed.” Noctis’s tone was clipped, his concern now a palpable tension. He nodded to the guard, and we moved forward, the massive gates groaning open before us, revealing the shadowed ruin beyond.

Stone houses lined the street, some crumbling with age, their facades scarred by chipped and missing sections. Most gaped with empty window sockets, the glass shattered and replaced haphazardly with rough-hewn planks. An eerie hush blanketed the thoroughfares, broken only by the faint hiss of the street lamps. Their bright illumination painted dancing shadows on the walls, adding to the unsettling atmosphere. The air carried the smell of damp stone.

Amidst the town’s ravaged state, a small stable stood remarkably unscathed, a haven of sorts. A man, his weathered hands busy, forked fresh hay into the feeders. The scent of dry grass filled the air.

“Excuse me, sir,” Noctis began, his voice carrying a hint of weariness. “We’d like to stable our five horses here for tonight and tomorrow.”

The man paused his work, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “They’re welcome. One silver for both nights. You can store your saddles and gear in the small storehouse to the right.” His delivery was gruff, but not unkind.

We led the horses into their stalls, one by one, the quiet snorts and shuffles a comforting sound in the stillness. Carefully, we removed their saddles and satchels. The small storehouse, its wooden door slightly ajar, smelled of old wood and worn leather. We tucked our belongings inside, while Noctis settled the payment with the stable owner.

The first inn we approached emitted a weak, flickering candlelight. Inside, an old woman sat hunched over a table, a single candle illuminating her weathered face. “Welcome,” she rasped, her voice thin and tired. “Though I cannot offer you lodgings tonight. If you take a right at the next corner, then a left, you’ll find a humble inn. She may have room.” We thanked her and followed her directions.

The inn she described was indeed humble, a stark reminder of the recent chaos. Shattered windows gaped like empty eyes, and the once-tan curtains hung in tattered shreds, mere scraps clinging to the frames. Yet, beneath it all, the rich, savory scent of stew wafted from within, a warm, unexpected welcome.

A woman emerged from behind the worn counter, her ember-red hair tied back in a braid. She moved with a slight limp, her deep brown eyes holding a weariness that belied her polite smile.

“Customers?” Surprise tinged her words. “We’ve seen no one all week. Please, forgive the state of the place. The rooms are… basic. Warm, at least, with beds and blankets. How long will you be staying?”

“A place for tonight and tomorrow, if possible. Five rooms,” Noctis replied, his tone firm yet considerate. A trace of something—sadness, perhaps, or bitter irony—crossed her face.

“Five rooms. You’ll have the place to yourselves. It’ll be five silver for both nights.” Noctis placed two gold coins on the counter.

“Please keep the extra, and if you wouldn’t mind sending up some stew? This gentleman,” he gestured to Adrix, “can assist you.”

Two gold coins. The sum echoed in my mind. We could have lived here for months on that. It was more than payment; it was a gesture, a silent offering of aid.

“Thank you so much, and of course,” she murmured, her expression softening. “I made extra, intending to share with others.” She paused. “If you need anything, I’ll be here.”

The old stairs groaned beneath our weight, each creak a mournful sound in the quiet inn. I couldn’t shake the guard’s warning—’finding shelter would be difficult.’ Yet, we’d found rooms on the second try. The hallway stretched before us, a dim corridor lined with five doors. I chose the last one on the right, the air thick with the scent of damp wood and dust. The door creaked open, revealing a chamber shrouded in dim, filtered light. Planks nailed across the window cast long, uneven shadows. Inside, a narrow bed, a folded blanket, and a lone, wobbly stool stood as meager furnishings.

I dropped my satchel near the stool, the thud loud in the stillness. Kicking off my boots, I sank onto the bed, the worn mattress yielding beneath my weary frame. My muscles, still protesting from the day’s ride, seemed to melt into the rough fabric. Worse than any training I’ve done, I conceded inwardly, my eyelids growing heavy. The darkness tugged at me, a welcome oblivion. I surrendered, drifting into sleep.

The familiar terror of that night clawed its way back, replaying the chaos and unheard warnings in my slumber. Just as the words caught in my throat, a low, insistent murmur called my name.

“Lyra… Lyra, wake up. It’s only a dream.” The voice, deep and smooth, tried to pull me from the nightmare’s grasp. My limbs felt leaden, my eyes damp with unshed tears. “Lyra, please.”

Finally, my lids fluttered open. A tall, shadowy figure loomed beside the bed. Instinctively, I drew my dagger from its sheath and lunged, pinning him to the floor, the blade pressed against his throat. A faint, glowing barrier flickered into existence between steel and skin, and the shadows retreated, revealing Adrix. His violet eyes widened almost imperceptibly before settling into amusement.

A gasp escaped my lips, and I scrambled back, my face burning with shame. “Adrix… I’m so sorry. It’s… a reflex.”

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “A reflex that involves knives to the throat when someone tries to comfort you?” Amusement danced in his expression. “Remind me to create a barrier next time I check on you.”

I rolled my eyes, a blush creeping up my cheeks. “Funny.”

“I try.” A playful glint sparked in his eyes. He paused, his regard softening. “You okay? It was quite the nightmare.”

I hesitated, then gave in, a small curve forming on my lips. “Thank you for waking me. But… how did you know I was having one?”

He nodded, his attention lingering on mine for an instant. “You’re welcome, and I was bringing your stew.” Unease shadowed his features. “You were crying out, wouldn’t respond when I called. I was worried.”

Heat warmed my cheeks again. “That makes sense. Still, I wouldn’t make a habit of entering other people’s rooms,” I countered, my tone laced with playful embarrassment.

“Oh, I won’t,” he chuckled, his eyes twinkling. He creaked the door open and retrieved something from the floor outside. “The stew’s still warm,” he offered it with a kind expression.

I took the bowl, the warmth comforting in my hands, and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Thanks. It’s… just what I needed.” I paused, my focus dropping to the floorboards. “And I’m sorry again.”

“No problem. Enjoy,” he replied softly. “Get some rest after you’re finished.” He placed a hand on the doorframe, then glanced back, a teasing glint returning. “Besides, you wouldn’t have landed a blow anyway. You just caught me off guard.”

A small smile played on my lips, the embarrassment fading. “Good night, Adrix.”

“Good night, Lyra.” He withdrew, leaving me with the stew and the lingering warmth of his presence. I quickly finished the meal, the savory broth soothing my nerves.

The world lurched, a violent tremor that ripped me from sleep. A deafening roar, like stone rending flesh, filled the quarters, followed by the sickening crunch of collapsing masonry. Screams, raw and panicked, pierced the air, a chorus of terror that spurred me into action. I stumbled from the bed, my feet tangling in the blankets, and plunged down the creaking stairs. Dust, thick and acrid, choked my throat, and the air vibrated with the aftershocks. As I burst through the inn’s doorway, the sight before me stole my breath. Across the street, a building, once a solid structure, had become a mangled heap of rubble, its stones scattered like broken teeth. The atmosphere was dense with a grey haze, and the screams continued, a desperate symphony of destruction.

My attention darted across the chaotic scene, desperately searching for signs of injury, for any semblance of understanding. What had just happened? A child’s wail, high and piercing, cut through the din, pulling me toward her. She stood amidst the scattered debris, her small frame trembling, her eyes wide with terror. A basket of fruit, now bruised and scattered, lay spilled across the shattered cobbles.

I knelt beside her, my voice low despite the frantic pounding in my chest. “Are you alright? What happened?”

Tears streamed down her face, leaving streaks in the dust. “My… my aunt… inside…” she stammered, her words thick with sobs. “Mom… sent me with fruit… please… help my aunt and uncle.”

Adrix, his face grim, stepped forward and raised his hand. The air shimmered, the mana around him crackling with power, and the rubble began to rise, hovering mid-air.

Without hesitation, I plunged into the ruined building, the scent of dust and crushed stone filling my nostrils. “Over here!” I shouted, my voice hoarse. I found them huddled beneath a collapsed beam, their bodies bruised and broken. I hauled the woman onto my back, her weight a significant burden, while Noctis, his face set with determination, dragged the man by his arms. We stumbled out of the wreckage, laying them carefully on the ground.

Adrix lowered the rubble, the dust settling like a grim shroud. Liora pushed through the crowd, her expression focused. She knelt beside the woman, placing her hands gently on her wounds. A warm, golden aura emanated from her fingertips, bathing the woman in its soft glow. A wave of tranquility washed over me, a moment of fragile peace amidst the chaos.

The woman’s cuts and scrapes began to knit together, her eyelids fluttering open. “Don’t rush,” Liora murmured, her tone soothing. “You’re safe. And so will your husband be.”

The woman’s gaze fell upon her husband, tears welling. She reached for him, her fingers trembling as she grasped his arm. Liora turned her attention to the man, her golden aura enveloping him as well. He stirred, his eyes opening, and looked to his wife, his own tears mirroring hers.

“Oh, darling,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

They clung to each other, their sobs a mixture of relief and lingering terror. “Thank you,” they whispered, their voices choked with gratitude. “Thank you so much for saving us.”

The crowd began to disperse, a slow, reluctant retreat back to their damaged homes, their movements burdened with resignation. The little girl, however, remained rooted to my leg, her small hands clinging tightly. Her eyes, still brimming with tears, held a desperate plea.

“Can you help my aunt and uncle?” she asked, her voice trembling.

I knelt down, my brow furrowed with concern. “They’re safe now, I promise.” I offered her a reassuring look.

Noctis stepped beside me, his expression softening as he looked at the child. “We’ll make sure they have help repairing their home.”

But the girl’s tears only intensified, her small shoulders shaking. “You don’t understand,” she sobbed, her voice rising in frustration. “No one is listening to me. Why won’t anyone listen?”

The raw desperation in her plea sent a chill through me. Clearly, there was more to this than just the building collapse. “Why don’t you, your aunt, and uncle come to the inn across the street?” I suggested gently. “We’ll listen. I promise.” I offered her my pinky, and she eagerly intertwined hers with mine. “Now, sign it,” she instructed, tracing a symbolic mark across her small hand, then mirroring it on my own. “We’re bound.”

Her crying subsided, replaced by seriousness. “You have to listen to everything now,” she stated firmly, her eyes locking onto mine. “You can’t break your promise.”

We made our way to the inn, finding it eerily empty. The innkeeper was nowhere to be seen. With no chairs available, we settled onto the floor, forming a circle. I looked at the little girl, intending to ask her name, but she interrupted me, her words trembling.

“They took him… they took Billy.” She spoke with a desperate urgency, and her aunt and uncle exchanged a look, their faces etched with grief.

“Who took Billy?” Noctis inquired, his voice low and concerned.

“The shadows,” she whispered, her eyes wide with fear. “They took him. I saw it. I saw aunt and uncle try to stop them.”

All attention turned to the aunt and uncle, seeking confirmation. A sob escaped the aunt’s lips, and she nodded, her words choked with tears. “Yes… it’s true.”

The girl continued, her voice gaining strength. “Billy… he learned he had strong healing powers, recently. He healed my mom when she was very sick. The doctors couldn’t help her. Then… then he tried to heal everyone he could. And that night, they came for him.” A chill ran down my spine. If her story is true, it confirms my suspicion: the Shadowveils were acting with purpose, not mindless destruction.

“Do you believe me?” she pleaded.

“We believe you,” I affirmed, gently patting her head. “It’s okay. We believe you.”

Tears streamed down her face again as she whispered, “Thank you… thank you.” A woman, her face a mirror image of the girl’s, entered the inn and swept her into a comforting embrace, rubbing her back. “It’s alright,” she murmured. “Let’s go home. You’ve had a long day.” She bowed her head to us. “Thank you for everything. Our neighbor told me where you brought her.” We waved goodbye, then turned to the grieving couple.

“I wish he’d never discovered his ability,” the aunt said bitterly. “This would never have happened.”

“What do you mean?” Noctis asked, his brow furrowed.

“We’ve heard rumors… from travelers. That the Shadowveils can sense strong mana. We dismissed them as stories. But they didn’t attack anyone, just came in like a whirlwind, destroying the town square and searching homes. Their shadows… like claws, ripping through everything. They were looking for Billy. We know it. We feel it.” She paused, her delivery heavy with grief. “But we couldn’t tell anyone.”

They can’t tell anyone? The thought snagged. And the Shadowveils seek targets, not just destruction. This is… wrong.

“Why did your house collapse?” Finnian asked quietly.

She shook her head, her voice thick with despair. “I don’t know… if it was just… our old house finally giving way. I just don’t know.” Her gaze drifted to the floor, her fingers twisting nervously.

Noctis leaned forward, his expression grave but compassionate. “I’ll send word for help to restore your home, and the others. And if you’re willing, I’ll put out a missing person poster for Billy.”

A hint of hope ignited in the man’s eyes. “Yes… thank you. We would be eternally grateful.”

“You both look exhausted,” Noctis observed gently. “Why don’t you take my room upstairs? You need rest.”

The woman looked up, her eyes red and swollen. “We can’t… we can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can,” Noctis reassured her firmly. “We’ll keep watch. You need to rest.”

The couple exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, the man nodded. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Thank you for everything.”

Adrix raised his hand, a shimmering barrier forming around us, isolating our voices from the rest of the inn. We remained in our circle, the quiet filled with unspoken dread.

“I don’t think we’ll find Billy,” I stated flatly, the weight of the situation pressing down on me.

“I know,” Noctis replied, his tone laced with a quiet sorrow.

“Then why give them false hope?” Finnian interjected sharply. “Their son is gone.”

“Because,” Noctis countered, his gaze hardening, “we have to try. At least a missing person poster gives us a chance, however slim. It’s better than doing nothing.” He paused, his eyes lingering on me, a silent inquiry in their depths, as if searching for something I wasn’t saying.

The conversation that followed was a somber exchange of theories and grim realities. We all agreed: the Shadowveils were behaving abnormally, their ability to sense mana a terrifying new development. My thoughts, however, drifted to Tirilla, to the king’s plans, and a growing unease that settled in my stomach. What if this is connected? The question hung unspoken.