Chapter 26 – The Chronicles of Suo (1)
Four weeks earlier;
Far from the warring kingdoms, far from cloaks and intrigues, a man walked alone, against the current of destiny.
The Black Continent.
It had taken Suo two weeks to reach it. Two weeks of exhaustion, deprivation, hunger, and battles against nature itself. Before him stretched a merciless land: a sky perpetually darkened, as if night had claimed its eternal reign. No stars, no moonlight, only dull gray gleams that deepened the desolation.
He drew a deep breath. The air burned his lungs, heavy with moisture and a metallic stench.
— "Even the air here seeks to kill us…" he thought, tightening his dark cloak.
Each step echoed on cracked ground, dry as bone. In the distance, monstrous silhouettes sometimes appeared—beasts with luminescent eyes that vanished instantly into the shadows. Danger was not the exception here. On this land, danger was the rule.
Suo marched on, guided by the crude map he had been given. His boots sank into dark, sticky mud, as if the earth itself wanted to devour him. His thoughts circled.
— "The Black Continent… larger than the supercontinent of the Five Kingdoms. Only ten percent habitable… and even that is questionable. How do humans survive in this place?"
After several days, he finally saw a village. His eyes narrowed.
Low houses, fishing nets stretched… but no sound. No child running through the dust. No old fisherman repairing his nets. Not even a stray dog.
He stepped into the first house: the table was set, two plates half full, a candle burned to its end. It was as if the inhabitants had vanished in the middle of their meal.
— "They… they disappeared." he whispered.
He spent the night in the ghost village. The silence pressed upon him like a stone. Every creak of wood, every beat of his heart, seemed to scream in the darkness.
The next day, he moved on. And it was the same in the villages that followed. Silence. Abandoned homes. Everyday objects left behind as if no one had ever had the time to reclaim them.
Four days crossing dead cities.
Four days wondering if the Black Continent was already a graveyard.
It was only after a week that he finally spotted another village in the distance.
The mist clung to the hills like a dirty spider's web, and the wind hissed through dead branches. Suo walked at a measured pace, his boots sinking into a muddy path where every puddle reflected the moon like a glassy eye. The air had a metallic taste, an aftertaste of rust and ash that made him clench his jaw.
When he reached the outskirts, he finally saw the village. Dozens of small houses huddled together, all built from the same dark, twisted wood. The thatched roofs seemed to sag under an invisible weight, and the dim yellow glow of the windows flickered, as if each flame fought desperately not to die out.
An abnormal silence hung over the place. Not the peaceful calm of the countryside, but a heavy, sickly stillness. A few silhouettes passed in the distance: hunched men carrying bundles of wood, women dragging buckets of water, pale-faced children—silent. Their eyes sometimes rose toward Suo, only to turn away instantly, as if staring too long at a stranger might invite misfortune.
A shiver ran down Suo's spine. It was not fear—he had seen too much to tremble—but an instinctive warning, the impression that the village itself was breathing something lifeless.
(This place is more than just a hamlet… it hides something.) he thought, narrowing his eyes.
He pressed forward. His steps echoed on the damp planks of a small bridge, and he noticed the cracks, the moss, the decay. Nothing here breathed life. Even the stray dogs, gaunt and hollow-eyed, remained lying down without barking, their glowing eyes following his advance.
At last, he saw a cracked wooden sign hanging from a creaking chain. A crude drawing of a bunch of grapes could just be made out beneath the grime and damp. Below, in faded letters, it read: "Rosario Inn."
A warm, greasy breath of air seeped through the cracks in the door, heavy with the scent of stew and beer. It was the only building that seemed even faintly alive in this numbed village. Muffled laughter, rough voices, and the clatter of mugs echoed faintly behind the thick wood.
Suo lingered for a moment at the threshold, watching the lanterns swaying in the wind. Their orange light poorly illuminated the surroundings, casting distorted shadows across the walls.
(A façade of warmth… but behind it, everything is tinged with shadow. Exactly the kind of place where tongues loosen if one knows how to listen.)
He pushed the door open.
Under his false identity—Eric, the traveling apothecary—Suo sought an inn. There, he would encounter the Rosario family.
The atmosphere shifted instantly. A heavy warmth engulfed him, thick with smoke, alcohol, and simmering meat. Rickety tables filled the room, cluttered with greasy dishes and overflowing mugs. Men laughed loudly, but their laughter carried something forced, like a mask hiding fatigue or fear. Heads turned toward him briefly: some wary, others indifferent, but none truly welcoming.
Behind the counter, a massive man with salt-and-pepper beard slowly wiped a mug with a dubious rag. His piercing eyes scanned Suo from head to toe.
— "You're not from around here," he said in a gravelly voice. "What do you want, traveler?"
Suo approached calmly, his hand brushing the edge of his cloak. His tone was steady:
— "A room. For a few nights. And a hot meal, if possible."
The innkeeper raised an eyebrow.
— "We don't house snoops. Here, you pay in advance."
Suo pulled out a small leather pouch and set it on the counter. The clear jingle of coins briefly filled the room, drawing a few glances. The innkeeper opened the pouch, weighed its contents quickly, then shut it with a firm hand.
— "Hm. That'll do. Second floor, door at the end of the hall. We'll bring your meal to the room, if you'd rather avoid the stares."
A half-sincere smile tugged at his lips before he added:
— "Welcome to the Rosario Inn… stranger. Name's Ban."
Suo lowered his hood, maintaining his role: Eric, the wandering apothecary. The innkeeper eyed him with suspicion but handed him a key. Suo inclined his head slightly and took it. His eyes swept the room—every face, every detail—filing away what might one day prove useful.
Then, a small clear voice piped up behind him.
— "Where are you from, mister?"
Suo turned. A little girl with brown hair, no more than five years old, looked up at him with wide, shining eyes. Her smile stood out strangely against the general gloom.
— "From a village… far away," he answered softly.
— "And what do you do?"
— "I sell remedies. Sometimes I heal the wounded."
— "So you're a doctor?" she exclaimed, amazed.
— "Not quite. Let's say… I'm a merchant with some herbs and a few secrets."
The girl burst out laughing.
— "Then you must know lots of stories!"
Suo allowed himself a discreet smile. He wasn't used to such purity.
A woman hurried over, pulling the girl gently by the arm.
— "Forgive her, stranger. She's far too curious," she said apologetically.
The little one protested.
— "But Mama, I want to talk to him!"
The woman sighed and introduced herself.
— "Morena Rosario. And this is my daughter, Nathalie."
Suo inclined his head.
— "Eric. Simple apothecary. Pleased to meet you."
A burly man, his skin blackened with soot, approached next.
— "Arnold Rosario. I'm a charcoal burner," he said, extending a calloused hand.
Suo clasped it firmly, already gauging the strength and honesty of the man. Arnold smiled.
— "You're lucky. Strangers are rare here… and not always welcome. But if you're honest, you'll find bread and a roof."
Nathalie tugged at Suo's sleeve.
— "Will you stay long? Will you play with me tomorrow?"
Morena frowned.
— "Nathalie! Don't bother him."
Suo hesitated, then looked down at the little girl. For the first time in days, his features softened.
— "Perhaps. Tomorrow, if I'm not too tired."
The child giggled and ran off to tell her parents she had found a new friend.
Suo remained silent, but deep within, he felt something strange. A warmth, fragile and fleeting. Something he hadn't known in a very long time.
To be continued…