By nightfall, the landscape had softened into shadow, and the air had cooled with the promise of midnight. They arrived at a river that shimmered beneath the moonlight, cutting a silver path through the earth like a blade forged by stars. The current moved slow and quiet, its surface mirroring the heavens above—an endless stretch of glimmering constellations dancing on the water.
Rey crouched at the river's edge, his reflection wavering as he dipped a waterskin into the cool stream. "We'll camp here tonight," he said.
Arinn collapsed onto the grass with a groan, his limbs aching from the day's long march. "Do you always walk this much?" he muttered.
Rey chuckled as he secured the waterskin. "You'll get used to it."
They shared a simple meal—strips of dried meat and hard bread warmed slightly over a small fire. The night air smelled of dew and pine, and the firelight cast long, flickering shadows across the trees.
Arinn lay back on the grass, hands behind his head, eyes fixed on the velvet sky. "Do you think Mom and Dad are looking at these same stars right now?"
Rey followed his gaze upward, his expression softening. "Maybe," he said quietly. "Maybe they are."
Then—a sound.
A soft rustle from the trees behind them. Faint, but deliberate.
Rey was on his feet in an instant, hand on the hilt of his sword. Arinn mirrored the motion, fingers clutching the hilt of the small dagger Rey had taught him to carry.
From the darkness, a figure emerged.
He stepped into the firelight slowly—a tall man clad in a dark cloak, his face shadowed by a weatherworn hood. The flames caught the edge of his silver beard and the glint of steel strapped across his back.
His voice was low, but not unkind. "You shouldn't be here."
Rey didn't lower his guard. "Why not?"
The man's eyes—gray and tired—flicked briefly to Arinn, then returned to Rey. "Because something hunts this road. Something that doesn't leave bodies behind."
A Warning in the Dark
The stranger introduced himself as Rhys, a wandering swordsman with years behind his stride and battle etched into the lines of his face. He sat with them at the fire, warming his hands as he spoke.
"People have been vanishing along the eastern road," he said, his voice hushed like a secret. "No signs of a struggle. No tracks. Just… gone."
Arinn's brow furrowed. "Gone where?"
"That's the question, isn't it?" Rhys replied. "Some say it's beasts from the deep forests. Others whisper about shadow cults. Whatever it is, it's smart—and it's fast."
Rey clenched his jaw. "You think our parents might've been taken?"
Rhys didn't answer right away. His expression darkened. "It's possible. If they traveled east, they passed through the same cursed stretch."
A long silence settled over them, broken only by the crackle of fire.
Finally, Rey stood, his voice steady. "Then we'll find out who—or what—is behind it."
Rhys studied him for a moment, then gave a slow, amused smirk. "You're either very brave... or very stupid."
Rey didn't flinch. "Maybe both."
Rhys chuckled, the sound deep and gravelly. "I like that. You've got guts, boy." He leaned back on his elbows. "I've been tracking this mystery for weeks, and it hasn't killed me yet. If you're headed east, I'll travel with you."
Arinn sat up straighter. "You're good with a sword, right?"
Rhys gave a crooked grin. "Good enough to keep you breathing, kid."
The fire cracked, sending sparks into the night sky.
And so, beneath the stars and by the edge of a whispering river, the trio formed a pact. Not of blood, but of purpose.
Ahead lay danger.
But they would face it together.