The fog was strange that morning. Too low. Too quiet.
Enkidu stood at the edge of the path, eyes fixed on the shimmering boundary where the forest ended and the village began. The magic barrier—normally faint and humming—now pulsed irregularly, like a wound struggling to close.
Rem stood beside him, tense. Ram lingered a few steps behind, fingers flicking through a spellbook.
"This wasn't here yesterday," Rem murmured.
"No," Enkidu said. "And it shouldn't be here at all."
A rent in the air shimmered faintly—like glass cracked but not broken. He stepped closer and reached out. Cold. Too cold. The kind that didn't belong to weather. Ram snapped her book shut.
"I checked three times. This is a breach. Something either came through or is trying to."
Enkidu didn't respond. He stepped through.
The village looked the same on the surface. Cobblestone streets. Open stalls. Quiet chatter. But something felt... missing. Like a painting with too much empty space.
Children's toys lay scattered. A ball in the middle of the square. A doll on a bench. No laughter. No small feet racing between stalls.
Rem caught it too. "Where are they?"
Ram's mouth tightened. "There were at least a dozen kids yesterday. I remember Petra tried to braid my hair. It was a disaster."
They walked slowly, past familiar doors and watchful eyes. The villagers greeted Rem as usual—warm, respectful—but their gazes lingered on Enkidu. This time, it wasn't just curiosity.
It was worry.
"Lady Rem!" The baker approached them, wiping flour from his hands. "I—I'm glad you came. We've had... trouble."
"What kind of trouble?" she asked.
His face sagged. "Last night. Some of the children went missing."
Ram's voice sharpened. "How many?"
"Five. Maybe six. Petra too."
Something clenched in Enkidu's chest. Petra. The flower girl.
"Any signs of where they went?" Rem asked quickly. "Tracks? Sounds?"
"No," the baker said. "Doors were locked. Windows shut. But this morning, they were gone."
Enkidu's voice was quiet. "Did anyone see anything strange? Anyone... new?"
The baker hesitated. "Well. There was a girl yesterday. Small thing. Pink dress. I only caught a glimpse."
Rem and Ram turned to Enkidu at the same time.
"She was watching," he said. "At the well."
"And now she's gone too," Ram muttered. "Or hiding."
They checked every home. Every alley. They asked every vendor, every shepherd, every guard. The story was the same: the children were there—and then they weren't.
Near sunset, they returned to the well.
The cobblestones were undisturbed, but Enkidu knelt and brushed his hand across the edge. A single red stain.
Candy.
Ram crouched beside him. "She lured them."
"Where?" Rem asked. "And how did no one see?"
"She wasn't hiding from the adults," Enkidu said. "She didn't need to."
Rem looked around, helpless for once. "They're just children. How do we track something that didn't leave a mark?"
Enkidu stood, expression carved from stone. "We don't wait for the trail. We make one."
He turned to the square and raised his voice. "Everyone. Inside. Lock your doors. Keep your families close. We don't know what's hunting your children—but it knows this place."
The villagers obeyed without argument.
Then he turned to Rem and Ram. "We'll start at the breach. If something came through, it might've left a thread behind."
"I'll scan for residual traces—blood, shadow, twisted aether. Anything that doesn't belong." Ram said.
As they headed back toward the edge of the village, the last rays of sunlight vanished behind the trees. The air thickened. The birds fell silent.
The breach was still there—but wider now. Breathing.
Something had come through.
And it had not left.
They didn't speak. They didn't need to. Every step felt colder. Every breath felt borrowed.
Then Ram froze.
"There."
At the base of a gnarled tree, nestled in moss, was a single ribbon.
Purple. Frayed.
Petra's.
Enkidu picked it up gently, staring at it like it might speak. He felt the weight of it—light as air, heavy as guilt.
"They went into the forest," he said.
Rem looked toward the treeline. "Then we follow."
Ram drew a spell circle into the dirt with her boot. "I'll mark our path. In case we're not the only ones who go in."
They crossed the barrier again. Deeper this time. The magic hissed against them like water on hot stone.
Behind them, the village lights flickered once, then went out.