Dawn’s departure remained hours away, but supplies were needed, and we had to offer what aid we could before then. Each shattered window, each pile of splintered wood, twisted my heart. The morning sun beat down on the town, now a hive of frantic activity. Townsfolk, faces grim but determined, hammered and sawed, rebuilding. A few houses already boasted new windows, a fragile sign of recovery. The town square, a chaotic jumble of debris, showed marks of desperate labor; freshly built carts stood among wreckage, and a few stalls offered meager goods. Several townsfolk gathered nearby, their discussion low and urgent. Feigning interest in a black ribbon at a stall, I strained to catch their words.

“Those… things,” a woman hissed, her voice trembling, “ripped through everything like a storm. Just… smashed it all.”

“But why?” a man muttered, brow furrowed. “Didn’t take a single item. Just… ruined it. Madness.”

An older gentleman leaned heavily on his broom, his stare distant. “Sixty years,” he declared wearily, “seen floods, fires, bandits. But this? This ain’t of this world.”

Doubtful I’ll learn much more here. “I’ll take this,” I stated, indicating the ribbon to the stall owner.

“Three copper, dear.” A brief warmth touched her smile.

I paid, then quickly tied the ribbon around my hair, securing it in a tight, messy bun. Scanning the square for someone else to help, I suddenly felt a prickling unease—the distinct sensation of being watched. Not just a feeling; a weight, a presence, like focused attention fixed upon me. Resisting the urge to turn, to confront the unseen observer, a shiver crawled along my spine. The feeling intensified, a steady, unwavering regard that seemed to study me, piece by piece. Then, the abrupt clack of wood hitting cobblestones shattered the tension, pulling my focus away. An old man, hunched and frail, struggled with a load of lumber. I moved towards him, the lingering sense of being observed a quiet question in my mind.

“May I offer a hand?” I asked, bending to retrieve the dropped plank. Surprisingly, the wood felt smooth beneath my fingers, almost polished.

“Oh, bless you, child,” he rasped, his tone thin and reedy. “Taking these to the jeweler’s, then have to fetch more for the bakery.” He handed me a few more pieces, his own hands trembling slightly.

The jeweler’s shop, a short walk away, presented a scene of chaotic salvage. Broken furniture littered the street outside; inside, the shop was nearly bare – a half-finished workbench, a pile of fresh lumber, little else.

“Just stack it with the rest,” the old man directed firmly. I complied. “Would you mind helping gather more for the baker?” He looked at me pleadingly. “It’ll go faster with two.”

“Of course,” I agreed, offering what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

As we walked, his tone turned low and serious. “Everything happens for a reason, child. No coincidence.”

“What do you mean?” The question escaped me, catching me off guard.

He paused, picking up a piece of wood. “You seek answers, don’t you? To what’s occurred, to what’s happening now?” Urgency entered his delivery. “A great seer once foretold these days. Saw the storm coming. Saw darkness surge, tearing down walls, shattering defenses. Saw creatures of nightmare, forms shifting and grotesque, sweeping through the land like a plague. Saw the very foundations of our world tremble and break.” He leaned slightly closer, his gaze intense. “The kingdom is on the brink, child. The storm is upon us.”

We continued in silence for a moment, cobbles rough beneath our feet.

“She said there was hope,” he resumed, a strange intensity infusing his words. “That those who rise against the darkness would bring light back to the land.”

I gave him a bewildered look.

“An acquaintance,” he clarified. “Passed through here often. One day, told me I would meet someone… I was to tell her: No coincidences. Stars align for this moment, yet the path ahead is fraught with trials. Answers sought locked within her heart, waiting awakening, written in blood of ages, etched upon existence itself.” He shifted his grip on the wood, his knuckles white. Tell her she is instrument of change, turning tide. Stronger than she knows. Destiny awaits.” He stopped, fixing his stare on me. “You are her. Look just as she described.”

My heart pounded. This is insane. My mind reeled. Absolutely insane. Yet, a strange certainty settled within me, a cold, undeniable truth. “Thank you… for remembering. I’ll… remember,” I forced out tightly.

He smiled knowingly, an almost unsettling expression. “Fate,” he murmured, “isn’t matter of choice. Comes for us, whether we believe or not.” He paused, his regard lingering. “Hmmm.”

Speechless, I grappled with how to respond. Thanks for the prophecy of doom? For telling me I’m supposed to fix everything? We finished the deliveries in a strained quietude.

“Thank you,” the old man offered, his eyes holding mine. “Remember, it will all be well in the end.” And then, he was gone, leaving me standing alone on the cobbles, the weight of his words pressing. The walk toward the inn was a blur, thoughts a chaotic storm.

As I drew closer, the chatter from inside drifted through broken windows, pulling me back to the present. Opening the door revealed Noctis, the couple, and Finnian gathered in the entryway. Finnian sketched a portrait of Billy, presumably for posters. The innkeeper peered out from a doorway. “Ah, dinner will be ready soon. Why don’t you rest? I’ll call when everyone’s returned.” Her tone was almost dismissive, a subtle push away. I retreated upstairs, sinking onto the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Sounds from the entryway, usually a comfort, now felt like a distant, distorted hum.

A light knock sounded. “May I come in?” the innkeeper inquired from the doorway.

“You can,” I consented, sitting up, sliding to the edge of the bed.

She poked her head in, bright red hair and striking blue eyes catching mine. “Wanted to apologize for earlier. Didn’t mean to be rude. Just thought they needed privacy.”

“It’s fine,” I shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you.” Relief softened her features. “Dinner’s ready, by the way. Join us when you’re ready.”

“I’ll be right down,” I promised, offering a brief smile as I stood.

Ladling stew from the pot over the fire, the thick, savory scent provided brief comfort. Finding a spot on the floor, I settled, rough planks cold beneath me. Liora, the last to join, moved briskly, a quiet energy radiating from her. She settled beside me, her attention flickering towards broken windows, then returning to mine. “Ready to leave tomorrow?” she asked quietly.

“I am,” I confirmed, stirring stew with my spoon. “How about you?”

“Definitely ready,” she affirmed, taking a large bite, her gaze restless. “Glad Noctis got those missing posters started. Going to have copies posted throughout towns. Plus, knights should arrive tomorrow to help rebuild.” She paused, her regard drifting towards the others, an unreadable emotion crossing her features. “Be good to have some order restored.”

The stew felt heavy. Watching the others, faces etched with weariness, conversations muted, unspoken anxieties filled the room. Noctis, brow furrowed, spoke in hushed tones with the couple, expressions grim. Finnian stared into the fire, sketch pad forgotten beside him.

“Do you think,” I began, barely a whisper, “they’ll find Billy?”

Liora’s stare snapped toward me, sharp. “We have to believe they will,” she stated firmly. “We have to.” Taking another bite, her jaw set. “Can’t afford lose hope.”

Fire crackled, casting dancing shadows on walls, shadows seeming to writhe, shift in the dimness.

The rest of the day passed with unsettling swiftness. Remaining hours blurred, rush towards departure—a departure feeling less like journey, more like wandering into unknown. 

The first crow of roosters jolted me awake, pre-dawn darkness still heavy. Stretching, body stiff from the unfamiliar bed, I slipped into my boots, adjusted my sword and dagger, grabbed my satchel, and headed to the stables. The quiet nicker from the horses welcomed me. Placing my hand on Payton’s nose she gently nudge me in return. I began saddling her. I’m glad I still remember how. I laid the blanket on her back, and hoisted the saddle into place.

“Good morning,” Noctis rumbled, his tone still coarse with sleep. A smile flashed across his face. “Looks like you beat us all here.”

“Barely,” I countered. “Those roosters where determined to announce dawn early.”

A faint smirk touched his lips. “They did indeed. I heard everyone starting to move around before I left; they should arrive any minute.”

As if cued, Liora emerged in the stable door, worn leather satchel slung over shoulder. Yawning, she stretched her arms overhead, her eyes heavy with sleep. “Morning,” she mumbled, her words laced with slumber.

Behind her, Finnian and Adrix appeared, their faces drawn weary.

Adrix offered a tired smile. “Morning. Just need to saddle the horses.”

Finnian remained silent, his usual cheerful demeanor absent, his focus distant. Lost in thought.

We left Glens Crossing behind us, its shattered buildings and weary inhabitants fading with the distance. The town’s image remained etched in my mind, a weighty presence against my heart as we rode towards an uncertain future. The ensuing hush felt like an extension of that weight—perhaps we were all still half-asleep, or maybe the lingering sorrow had simply stolen our words. The wind, a restless traveler, whipped through my hair, tearing strands loose and forcing me to repeatedly tuck them behind my ears. As the sun began its slow descent, painting the sky in bruised orange hues of fading gold and deepening violet, the quietude morphed into unease. The darkening road stretched ahead, a ribbon of dust unwinding before us. The rhythmic clop of hooves became a stark lullaby against the growing tension. Liora, her face now etched with fatigue, kept glancing toward the darkening treeline. Adrix rode with shoulders hunched, his stare fixed on the ground before him. Even Finnian had fallen silent. The air grew colder, shadows lengthening, stretching like grasping fingers across the road.

Just as the last sliver of sunlight threatened to disappear, Noctis pulled on the reins, guiding his horse off the road to the right. “We should probably stop here, before the sun fully sets,” his statement was low and practical. Slowing our pace, we followed him a short distance into the trees. “Let’s split up,” he instructed. “Someone gather wood, someone gather kindling, another tend the horses. I’ll lay out the blankets. Adrix, I need you to set up a barrier.”

“I’ll gather wood,” I offered, eager for the task.

“I’ll gather kindling and stay with Lyra,” Liora added, leaning closer, her voice a near whisper. “I still don’t like dark woods.”

“That’s fine,” I smiled toward her. “We can work together.”

The shadowed woods felt uneasy. Shouldn’t stray far, need to move quickly. I noticed Liora’s worried expression. “Are you alright?” I asked gently.

“Fine,” she insisted, though her tone was strained. “Just… the darkness. And those things we heard yesterday? Etched in my mind. My heart aches for everyone.”

I stopped, moving closer, sensing her burden. “It’ll be okay,” I reassured her. “We have each other. We’ll get through this, find answers.”

Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug. I stood surprised for an instant, then awkwardly patted her back. “It’ll be okay,” I repeated soothingly.

She finally released me, pulling back slightly. “Thank you. I just… needed a friend. Someone to talk to. I’ve always held things together… haven’t had many friends, except Finnian. Can’t exactly hug him.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d like to,” I teased, nudging her. “But we should find that kindling and wood before it gets too dark.”

Unsheathing my sword, a faint luminescence emanating from the blade, I felled a small tree with a single swing.

“Well, isn’t that handy,” Liora laughed, the sound light in the dimming woods. “Don’t even need me for twigs; you’re just chopping down trees.”

“We need two more. Will you help me carry them?”

“Of course.” She flexed an arm playfully.

I felled two more small trees; we carried them toward camp together, Liora leading, me following. We stripped the smaller branches, arranging the wood in a teepee formation in the center of our makeshift beds—blankets laid out in a circle.

Finnian sat on his blanket, staring into the nascent fire, watching the first flames dance. Going to my satchel, I retrieved the book I’d waited to show him. Maybe this will help him focus. Settling beside him on the rough bedding, I held the tome out. “Hey, Finnian, could you look at something for me? Maybe help.”

Adrix, lying on another blanket, rolled onto his side, propping his head on his hand, listening with idle curiosity.

Finnian’s focus remained on the flames. “I’ll help if I can. What is it?”

“I need help deciphering this,” I explained, holding up the book. “Ancient language.”

His attention snapped to the volume, his eyes widening. “Yes, I can definitely help. Let me see.” Taking the offered book, he scanned the cover, slowly opening it. “Where did you get this?” he breathed, his regard fixed on the pages.

“Someone gave it to me,” I replied vaguely. “Said it would help.”

“Hmm, interesting.” He turned a page carefully. “Seems like a text from an ancient kingdom that sought control over creatures, using them against the land. I can only make out a few words… It’ll take time, but I can decipher it. I’ll start now.” Pulling out his notebook, his hands moved quickly, beginning to transcribe symbols.

“Looks like you brought some joy to dear old Finnian,” Adrix commented teasingly from his blanket. Finnian ignored him completely.

“Lyra.” Noctis stepped closer, his tone quiet but firm. “If you have a moment, I’d like to speak with you. Could you accompany me?”

“Sure.” Standing, I followed him until we were just out of earshot, the crackling firelight fading behind us as he led me to the edge of the trees.

“Just wanted to check on you,” he began, concern lacing his low words. “I know you’ve been through a lot this past week. Glens Crossing… you seem… distant.”

I hesitated, my gaze drifting toward the deeper darkness beyond the firelight. “It is a lot going on,” I admitted steadily. “But I’m handling it.”

He studied my face, his expression thoughtful. “Are you sure? You’ve been very quiet.”

Meeting his regard, my own unwavering, I clarified, “I’m processing. Trying to figure out how best to move forward. We all are.” I paused, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t need anyone carrying my burdens. I can handle them myself.”

“Lyra.” His tone softened with understanding. “I’m not trying to undermine your strength. Just concerned. We’re a team. We should rely on one another.”

“I know that,” I acknowledged. “I appreciate it. But I’m not going to fall apart. I am strong enough to face whatever comes next.”

“Understandable,” Noctis allowed calmly. “But we’ll figure it out… Together.”

Relief washed over me, a feeling I hadn’t realized I needed. “Thank you, Noctis,” I offered softly. “I’m going try getting some sleep now.” Turning, I walked toward the fire, the warmth mirroring the feeling in my chest as I settled onto my blanket, the rough fabric somehow comforting.

Staring up at the night sky, I watched the half-moon cast a subdued glow; stars formed a brilliant picture against the darkness, unmarred by clouds. Then, my attention snagged on the shimmering outline of Adrix’s barrier, the mana swirling, dancing gently within its perimeter. But something was wrong. A crack—a jagged fissure marred the surface where none should be. I shot up, my cry sharp. “Adrix! There’s a crack in the barrier!”

“Ha, very funny, Lyra. Impossible,” he scoffed from his blanket, not even turning his head.

“Serious! It’s huge!” I insisted, my pitch rising with urgency.

He finally rolled over and looked up, his eyes widening in disbelief. “How…? Impossible. It can’t just crack.”

…And then, it shattered. The barrier vanished, its shimmering outline dissolving into nothingness. From the ground around us, monstrous, shadowed tendrils lashed out, spearing through the earth. Their forms writhed and coiled with brutal force, extinguishing the campfire instantly. A chorus of maddening shrieks tore through the trees behind us, a sound that clawed at the mind. The air turned thick with the stench of rot as suffocating blackness descended. My heart hammered against my ribs; stumbling away from the eruption, I clutched my sword. Surrounded.