The next morning.They continued their journey.
The trail narrowed into a scar of blackened earth, winding down the hill toward what remained of the village. At first glance it looked like a graveyard of houses—charred beams thrust skyward like broken ribs, thatched roofs collapsed into mounds of ash. A silence hung over the place, deeper than the quiet of the forest, as if sound itself had abandoned it.
No birds. No wolves. Not even the hum of insects. Only the crunch of boots on brittle cinders marked their presence.
Shawn was the first to break the hush. "Stay sharp. Places like this never stay empty for long." His hand hovered near the axe strapped to his belt, his eyes never still.
Rory, by contrast, darted a few steps ahead, his voice hushed but tinged with wonder. "It's like the whole place… froze in time." He bent down, brushing ash from a splintered doorway. "These marks—look. Claws. Huge ones."
Elise flinched at his words. She pulled her cloak tighter, her face pale as she took in the ruin. "No one survived this," she whispered. Her voice trembled, as if the village itself pressed grief into her chest.
Selene stopped in the middle of the ruined square, her hand rising to her lips. The air smelled faintly of scorched stone, and something stranger beneath—an acrid tang like burnt metal. Her silver-flecked eyes shimmered in the dim light. "I can feel them," she said softly. "The echoes of their lives. It's like… grief caught in the walls."
Lyra stood close to her, though she didn't dare reach out. She felt nothing but dread. The longer she looked at the ruins, the heavier her stomach grew, as though she already knew what had caused this carnage. The claw marks Rory pointed out weren't natural. The scorch patterns twisting across the stones were wrong—curling in spirals instead of spreading outward like fire should. And here and there, faint sigils scarred into walls still glowed with an ember-red shimmer, long after their casters had vanished.
Not fire. Not war. Something worse.
She swallowed hard, her hand resting on the hilt of her blade.
"Sigils," Shawn muttered, crouching near one of the burned walls. His eyes narrowed. "Not the work of villagers. That's magecraft."
"Star insignia," Elise added, pointing shakily to the design. Her voice had gone brittle. "The same ones from before. It's them. It has to be."
Pyn stood a few steps apart from the group, her twin swords strapped across her back, her expression unreadable. She stared at the ruins with a sharpness that unsettled Lyra. Where the others recoiled in grief or horror, Pyn's face was tense, but unflinching. Almost… familiar.
Lyra's gaze lingered on her, suspicion stirring.
Shawn rose, brushing ash from his hands. "This wasn't a raid. It was a purge. The mages marked this place, burned it, then left whatever beast did the rest."
Rory frowned. "But what beast makes scorch marks like that?"
Nobody answered.
Selene took a step toward one of the sigils, her fingers hovering inches from its faint glow. Lyra's hand shot out, catching her wrist. "Selene."
Their eyes met—Selene startled, Lyra fierce. The tension softened after a heartbeat, but Lyra didn't release her until Selene lowered her hand.
"It's just… the sorrow here is overwhelming," Selene murmured, voice almost breaking. "As if the village itself is mourning."
Elise turned away sharply, unable to bear more. Rory shuffled beside her, silent now, the weight of the place sinking even into his restless heart. It reminds him of when his own village burned, Lyra thought grimly.
Only Pyn remained composed. When she finally spoke, her voice was clipped, almost brisk. "We shouldn't linger. Night falls fast in these hills." She adjusted her cloak, striding toward the broken main road as if she knew exactly where to go.
Lyra's eyes narrowed. Too certain. Too familiar.
"Wait," Shawn called, frowning. "How do you know where we're headed? You've been here before?"
Pyn's shoulders stiffened, but she didn't look back. "I've traveled these lands enough. Villages blur together."
Her tone was too casual. The shrug, too quick. Lyra caught it, even if the others let it slide.
Selene, ever the peacemaker, tried to ease the tension. "If Pyn knows the paths, it helps us." She gave Pyn a faint smile—one that made Lyra's stomach tighten.
Pyn answered with a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes. "That's the spirit, moonlight."
The nickname hit Lyra like grit in an open wound. She said nothing, but her hand stayed on her blade the entire time they followed Pyn deeper into the hollowed streets.
They moved through the village in silence, each footstep puffing little ghosts of ash into the air. The blackened beams leaned against one another like drunken sentries, and every gust of wind sent shivers of soot across the road. A toppled well lay cracked in the square's center, its rope burned through as though something had seared it from the inside out.
Shawn led cautiously, eyes flicking to every shadow. Elise walked close to Rory, her gaze low, avoiding the walls and their scarred symbols. Selene lingered near the center, her presence almost luminous against the ruin, and Lyra never drifted more than a step from her.
Pyn, though… walked with purpose. Her strides didn't falter at the sight of claw-marked doors or collapsed homes. She didn't flinch at the bones half-buried in ash. If anything, her jaw tightened, her pace quickening the deeper they went.
Lyra's suspicions grew heavier with every step.
Finally, Rory whispered what they were all thinking. "What could've done this?"
No one answered. The silence pressed close.
Then, from somewhere in the distance, the wind shifted—and with it came a faint, hollow sound. Not the call of an animal. Not the moan of timber. Something else.
Shawn muttered, "Whatever it was, it sounds huge."
A low groan followed, almost like a word.
Elise froze. "Tell me you heard that."
Shawn's grip tightened on his shield. "I heard it."
Selene's face went pale, her lips parting. "It wasn't the wind."
"It doesn't sound like orcs," Rory said, remembering the ones that had razed his own village.
For a long moment, nobody moved.
Then Pyn turned her head just enough to glance back at them, her grin sharp but brittle. "Well, whatever it is, it knows we're here now."
The words did little to comfort anyone.
Lyra's dread coiled tighter. She couldn't shake the feeling that Pyn knew more than she let on—that these ruins.
And Lyra swore, silently, that she would find out the truth.