Chapter 9: Echoes on the Red Road
The dust of In Medias Res settled slowly behind them, a gray veil over the still-fresh wounds of battle and forced reconciliation. The departure had been silent, almost furtive, under the watchful eyes of Alf and the few hunters who remained. Four hooded figures moved like specters against the dying dawn light filtered through the eternal mist: Zack, Orpheus, K, and, disconcertingly, the Boy.
He had insisted on going. A stubbornness that sounded strange in his usual quietness, or perhaps a raw fear of being left behind in that nest of shadows. Zack had yielded, not out of conviction, but from a paralyzing lack of safe alternatives and an uncomfortable feeling he couldn't name when looking at the boy. Leaving him felt wrong, but taking him was dragging him into the heart of the storm. The weight of this choice added to the invisible chains, to that persistent emptiness in his chest.
The red road, so named not for the color of the soil but for the blood that frequently stained it, snaked out of the lower district, a treacherous path swallowed by the Void's mist. Here, far from the relative (and illusory) safety of the makeshift walls, the Void's presence was palpable, a constant pressure in the ears, a cold that seeped into the bones and seemed to resonate with the very chill emanating from the sword on his back.
"Keep formation," Zack's voice was a low growl, almost lost in the oppressive silence. "Orpheus, right flank. K, left. Boy... stay close."
The Boy, wrapped in a cloak too large for him, moved with an almost unnatural quickness, his eyes fixed on Zack's back, a passive observation that was hard to decipher. There was a calculated distance between them, a barrier Zack instinctively erected, repelled by something he didn't understand. In a moment of hesitation, he turned, his hand almost reaching out, but he recoiled, a shiver running down his spine. "Watch your step," was all he managed to say, his voice harsher than intended.
Orpheus, walking with feline lightness despite the tension, cast an inquisitive glance at K. "Our leader and his... peculiar paternal instincts," he murmured, the usual irony tinged with something else. K responded with a frown, her gaze on Zack laden with a concern he seemed incapable of accepting.
The first hours were marked by a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of their steps and the indistinct whisper of the mist. But the quiet was a lie. Soon, the first signs of danger emerged. These weren't the usual mindless monsters. They were different. Twisted creatures, with multiple limbs and eyes that gleamed with a malignant intelligence, lurked in the shadows, moving with disturbing coordination. A swift, brutal ambush tested the group's cohesion. Zack and Orpheus fought side-by-side, a lethal dance of shadows and scarlet flames, while K protected the flank. The Boy, huddled behind a rock, watched not with childish terror, but with a focused, almost analytical attention that made K shudder when she noticed it.
"They're thinking," K panted after the confrontation, wiping black ichor from her blade. "I've never seen them act like this."
"Milos," Orpheus replied, his red eyes scanning the mist with suspicion. "Or his influence is corrupting even the beasts."
That night, they camped in a tight circle, the fire crackling low, a precarious island of light in the devouring darkness. The Boy fell asleep first, or seemed to, curled up near K, but his eyes opened slightly in the shadow when he thought no one was looking. Orpheus stood guard, tense. Zack, unable to rest, sat apart, his hand hovering over the cold hilt of Black Moon. The sword seemed to pulse under his proximity, a hungry resonance that made him nauseous.
He closed his eyes, seeking a non-existent moment of peace, and sleep dragged him into a familiar abyss. He saw his farm, the golden sun, his wife's smile... but the image fragmented, rotted at the edges. Her face contorted into a mask of silent agony, the Golden Eyes becoming black holes that sucked him in. A voice, which was and wasn't hers, hissed in his mind, cold as the blade's steel: "The song... never ends... as long as you remember... as long as you feel..."
He woke with a start, choking, heart hammering against his ribs, cold sweat drenching his brow. The sensation wasn't of a nightmare, but of an intrusion, of something being torn out or suppressed within him. Black Moon lay beside him, impassive, but he could feel its oppressive weight, its chilling satisfaction. The warning wasn't about the Void; it was about the sword itself, about the darkness he carried.
Two days later, exhausted and tormented by a growing sense of unreality, they reached the ruins of the old watchpost. The place was too quiet. A sense of desecration hung in the air. Strange markings, symbols none of them recognized, were carved into the walls, pulsing with a faint, sickly energy.
"This isn't the work of common soldiers," Orpheus murmured, discomfort evident in his voice. "It's ritualistic. Void energy, channeled... wrong."
Inside the main structure, they found the horror. Remains of Void creatures, dissected and rearranged in grotesque patterns. Broken alchemical equipment. And, in the center of the room, a summoning circle burned into the floor, still emanating residual heat and the characteristic stench of corrupted magic.
"Milos wasn't just passing through," Zack stated, his Black Eyes scanning the scene, a nauseating sense of déjà vu assaulting him. "He was... looking for something. Or preparing the ground."
K found a scorched fragment of parchment. "It talks about... harvesting echoes... amplifying resonance..." Her voice faltered. "Zack, whatever Milos is doing, it seems connected to this profane energy."
The realization hung between them, heavy as the mist outside. The hunt had become something more sinister. Milos wasn't just a mercenary; he was a pawn, or perhaps a master, in a much more dangerous game, its rules dictated by the Void itself. And they, especially Zack, felt as if they were being pulled toward the center of a board designed by madness.