Lucian and Lediye arrived at an abandoned village, hidden on the far edge of the city, near Eldorinna.
Ironically, this place—once prosperous, now shunned and nicknamed the Forgotten Land—was where Lucian intended to investigate a series of inexplicable events.
The cart jolted over the uneven ground, creaking as it followed a road flanked by vast, silent fields, coated in dust as if no living soul had passed through in years.
Above them, the gray, melancholic sky hung like an anchor. Thick clouds swallowed the sunlight, drowning the world in a sickly, eternal twilight.
As they approached what seemed to be the only entrance to the surrounding settlements, silence bound them like a knot.
Before moving on, Lucian stopped, a small bird perched on his fingers. He tied a message to its leg and released it into the air. In moments, it vanished into the horizon.
By the roadside, the wheat fields lay dead—dry, bent stalks defeated by time. The wind carried a bitter scent of stagnant soil and burnt leaves.
From a distance, Lucian studied the village: darkened wooden houses, worn by years of abandonment, stood like specters—mute witnesses to a time long gone.
A few thin, apathetic animals wandered aimlessly, blending into the ghostly scenery. Some lay on the ground—gaunt, skeletal creatures with horns, their skin devoid of color.
With a crooked smile, Lediye broke the silence.
"Who would've thought the sacred land would be so… welcoming."
Lucian allowed a faint smile before returning to his thoughts.
"This place is marked by absence. It's not just the soil that's barren."
They both observed the animals warily, sensing more than just the air—something in the atmosphere itself.
"They don't look like they're starving," Lediye said. "I'd say this could be the effect of a curse… or maybe a blessing."
Lucian, though his tone was calm and accustomed, still felt a chill run through him as he looked at the creatures.
"If it were only hunger, they could have left. I think it's a curse—or an aspect of one."
Lediye nodded. His reasoning made sense.
The road led them to a smaller, nameless village—once a modest trading hub, now swallowed by abandonment.
"Looks like several villages surround this one," Lucian murmured, scanning the scene.
The narrow, cracked path guided them into desolation: collapsed roofs, crumbling walls, rubble burying what remained of homes.
Here, the silence was thick, broken only by the rustle of dry leaves in the wind.
Among the ruins, broken angel statues drew their attention—some lying face-down in the dirt, wings shattered into fragments like shards of a broken mirror. Once serene faces had warped into grotesque masks under the erosion of time.
Lediye fixed his gaze on one statue: an angel with broken wings, hands raised in supplication, staring into the void.
"Fallen angels. Perfect welcome. If that's not a sign we should be somewhere else, I don't know what is."
Lucian stared at the same statue, speaking softly.
"What happened here?"
Lediye shrugged, eyes still on the angels.
"I don't know, and honestly, I don't want to. I just hope it's not more of those weird rituals or monsters… Gives me chills just thinking about it."
A shiver crept up his arms, making his legs tremble.
The cart rolled downhill into a deep valley, where fields that should have been green were now a graveyard of brittle plants. Twisted, leafless trees clawed at the sky like skeletal hands.
They dismounted, letting the cart turn back.
In the center of the valley rose a stone chapel, still standing but scarred by time—its roof caved in, doors torn away, and stained glass, once vibrant, now nothing more than dull shards that caught no light.
Lucian studied it, feeling an inexplicable weight in the air.
Breaking the quiet, Lediye spoke.
"Ah, of course. A chapel in the middle of nowhere. Bet there's a horrifying story waiting inside."
Lucian smirked faintly without taking his eyes off the structure.
"Horrifying story or useless ritual secrets. Maybe both."
They shared a brief smile and moved on.
The path led them to another village, with a towering church at its heart—its spire leaning dangerously, part of it already collapsed.
The statues here were worse: one angel missing its head, another with eyes gouged out, and a third shattered into pieces scattered across the church steps.
Lucian's thoughts darkened.
"Everything's destroyed—villages, farms, churches, statues—nothing spared. If there was a ritual here… it went wrong. Very wrong."
He scratched his chin.
"Makes sense if they couldn't control it… maybe an invocation. That would explain a lot."
Lediye seized the chance to tease him.
"You know, I think these statues are trying to tell us something. Something like: Turn back now before it's too late."
Lucian didn't answer, but he knew Lediye's irony was only a mask for growing unease.
As they moved through the ruins, strange symbols began to appear—carved into the walls of houses and temples. The marks, intricate and dark, seemed to hum faintly under Lucian's gaze.
On one wall, a single word was etched: Invocation…
Further ahead, crude paintings showed a hooded figure.
A chill climbed Lucian's spine. He tried to shake it off, but the feeling of being watched only grew.
Beside him, Lediye whispered:
"I was joking about ghosts and monsters… but this is starting to feel real. Too real."
Lucian didn't respond, keeping his eyes fixed on the figure in the murals. The air seemed heavier now—like something had been waiting for them.
They explored the last few houses, but found only ruin.
Not even a body remained.