The caravan creaked back onto the dirt road by midmorning, its single remaining wagon groaning under salvaged goods. The forest flanked them on either side — dark, whispering, full of eyes.
And at the very front, against every fiber of his being, walked D'rail.
The broad-shouldered guard marched beside him, helm strapped crooked, as if serving as a ceremonial escort. His expression was grave, reverent.
D'rail's boots squelched in mud. His thin coat flapped in the cold breeze. He glanced back once, hoping to slip into anonymity among the merchants, but no — the whole group's gaze fixed forward, following his back as though it were a banner.
He muttered under his breath, "I should've just run into the woods. Let a wolf finish me. Would've been easier than this."
"What was that, my lord?" the guard asked.
D'rail straightened at once, clearing his throat. "I said… let the wolves beware."
The guard nodded, awed. "A warning to the beasts themselves. Remarkable."
D'rail's face twitched.
Behind them, the merchants' chatter carried on in low, urgent tones.
"I swear I saw his eyes glow in the firelight."
"Glow? No — he vanished. One moment he was by the trees, the next the bandits fled. Like smoke."
"Aye, and the beast-call he summoned… gods, it chilled my blood. That was not normal."
D'rail nearly tripped on a root. Beast-call? I coughed!
He shot a glance over his shoulder. They quickly looked away, whispering faster, weaving his lies into legend.
One of the younger guards jogged forward, voice trembling with nervous curiosity. "Lord, forgive my impertinence… but is it true you've mastered the Black Silence? That with but a thought, you can snuff a man's life like a candle?"
D'rail froze mid-step. His tongue felt like lead.
The broad guard cut in, answering for him. "Of course he can. You saw how the bandits fell without a blow. His silence is death itself."
The younger man paled, nodding fervently.
D'rail forced a smirk, though his palms were slick with sweat. "Mm. Silence speaks loudest, after all."
They gasped, as though he'd uttered scripture.
For the next mile, no one dared raise their voice above a whisper.
D'rail trudged on, head aching, stomach growling, muttering only to himself: If I sneeze wrong, they'll think I've cursed the wind.
By late afternoon, the road narrowed into a gully, with cliffs rising sharp on both sides. The air was heavy, still, as though the forest itself held its breath.
A scout came pelting back down the road, face white, eyes wide. "They're following us," he gasped. "The bandits! Two dozen, maybe more. Keeping to the trees."
The caravan dissolved into panic. Merchants dropped sacks, guards cursed, horses whinnied and stomped. Everyone's eyes swiveled toward the front — toward the thin man in the muddy coat who hadn't so much as swung a sword.
D'rail stiffened with panic.
The broad-shouldered guard grabbed his arm. "Lord Eurt! What's your command?"
D'rail's mouth went dry. His gaze darted from the trembling merchants to the pale-faced guards. Every soul here expected him to save them. Again.
I can't fight. I can't lead. I can't—
Words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.
"They wouldn't dare attack again," he said, voice low and sharp. "Not after last night. My curse still lingers."
The words echoed against the gully walls. The murmurs died.
The guard swallowed hard. "…Curse?"
D'rail's pulse thundered in his throat. He forced himself to nod, slowly, as though confirming something obvious.
"Any man who raises a blade against me," he said, his tone measured and deliberate, "shall fall dead by sunrise. I warned them once. The next who defies me dies screaming."
A collective shudder rippled through the caravan.
One merchant clutched her shawl, whispering, "A death-curse…"
The younger guard who'd asked about the Black Silence crossed himself, muttering prayers.
Even the horses quieted, as though sensing something dreadful in the air.
D'rail fought to keep his face calm, aloof — the mask of a man unbothered by such things. Inside, his stomach knotted so tight it might have folded in half. Curse? Sunrise? You absolute idiot. Why not promise thunderbolts, too?
But no one laughed. No one doubted. They only looked to him with wide, reverent, fearful eyes.
And behind them, somewhere in the dark forest, bandits crept closer — unaware they'd already been condemned by a lie.