Two weeks had passed since Riel and Kaelith had arrived at the Cradle of the Gods.
Two weeks of alchemy, meditation, theology, and combat drills; of Daen's voice ringing through the courtyards and sleepless nights tangled with half-waking terror.
He had learned to steady his breathing under pain, to weave minor rites without tearing his essence apart.
The swamp still came for him every night. He survived longer there, fought back harder, but victory in those murky depths always slipped through his fingers. Still, it was progress; painful, bitter progress.
Now, as the morning mist curled across the lower training fields, he stood with Kaelith and two others he barely knew, Varen and Seris, while a disciple from the Cradle read from a slate.
"Group Nine," the man announced, his tone clipped and official. "You're to depart immediately for Ashvale. A border settlement near the southern woods reports nightly disturbances, sightings, missing livestock, unexplained lights. Your task is to investigate, fortify wards, and maintain order. You will not engage unless necessary. Protect, learn, and observe."
He handed Kaelith a sealed writ, the Cradle's emblem glinting faintly in the gray light.
"Your carriage waits at the east gate," the disciple added. "Depart at once."
Kaelith gave a mock salute. "We'll try not to set anything on fire."
The man didn't smile. "See that you don't."
The road to Ashvale stretched long and quiet, the carriage creaking over uneven dirt and fallen leaves. The windows were misted by breath and the occasional drizzle, turning the world outside into a gray blur.
Seris had taken the window seat, boots up on the bench, her short auburn hair sticking out at odd angles from under her hood. "So," she said, glancing at Kaelith, "you're the famous moon disciple everyone whispers about. Is it true you're touched by the Sun as well, or is that just one of those ego-stroking rumors?"
Kaelith smirked, leaning back with casual grace. "Depends who's asking. If it's admiration, then yes… divine favor. If it's jealousy… still yes."
Varen groaned quietly from across the bench, adjusting his gloves with meticulous precision. "If this is what divine favor sounds like, I'd rather stay mortal."
Seris snorted. "You're no fun."
Kaelith grinned. "That's because he's thinking about the report format we'll have to file when we get back."
Riel watched them faintly amused from his corner of the carriage, chin resting against his hand. Kaelith was already in his element… lively, confident, holding conversation like a torch that lit the small, dark space.
Seris tilted her head, eyes flicking toward Riel. "You're awfully quiet… You planning on scaring me with that stare of yours?"
Riel huffed softly. "I'm just… observing."
"Observing or brooding?" Kaelith teased. "There's a difference, you know."
"Depends who you ask," Riel muttered.
But outside, the world grew quieter with each passing mile.
The forests they crossed were hushed and half-bare, branches heavy with moss. Once, Riel turned toward the fogged window and caught sight of something that didn't belong.
The fog rippled, like fabric caught in the wind. Then it moved against the current, slow and deliberate. Something vast and limbed pressed faintly against the veil of the world, its outline barely visible; a silhouette of impossible geometry, like a creature drawn in the spaces between stars.
"Riel?" Kaelith's voice broke through the silence. "You're staring holes through the window again."
"Just thinking," Riel muttered, his tone soft but distant.
"Try thinking about something cheerful," Seris offered with a grin. "Like not dying."
Kaelith chuckled. "Or at least dying after we finish the mission… that's professionalism."
Riel huffed a faint breath that might have been a laugh. The noise of the wheels and wind filled the rest of the silence until the fields finally opened into a valley below.
By late afternoon, they reached Ashvale.
From a distance, it looked whole… a small collection of houses clustered around a central square, smoke curling gently from chimneys. But as the carriage rolled closer, the stillness took on weight.
The air felt… thin.
Villagers moved along the muddy streets with downcast eyes, shoulders hunched. Their clothes were patched but clean, their faces drawn and gray. Riel noticed their hands… calloused and cracked from hard labor, and the way none of them spoke above a whisper.
The carriage slowed at the village center, stopping beside an old stone shrine. The figure carved there was unmistakable; a towering, flame-crowned god with a gaping jaw of fangs, its stone blackened with soot.
A shallow brazier burned at its feet, fire dancing within, kept alive by constant offerings of ashwood and resin.
Kaelith leaned slightly toward the window. "At least their faith's still alive," he murmured.
Seris smiled faintly. "Can't blame them… fire's the only thing that listens in the dark."
Varen was the first to step out once the carriage halted, eyes scanning the rooftops and alleyways. "No signs of panic," he noted. "But… tension. It feels like the whole place is holding its breath."
Riel followed, the weight of the air sinking deeper into his chest. He looked around… the sagging eaves, the faint smell of smoke, the faces that seemed older than they were. The villagers weren't starving or desperate… just hollowed out.
They must have been vibrant once, he thought… lanterns strung between doorframes, laughter by the well, the scent of baking bread and incense drifting through the square.
Now, the color had bled out of everything, leaving only muted shades of gray and brown. Even the fire at the shrine seemed to burn reluctantly, its flames wavering against the wind.
Riel's gaze drifted upward… to the rooftops, to the edge of his vision. For just a moment, he saw it again: a thin, flickering shape standing behind the shrine, tall as the rooftops, its head bending toward him.
He didn't move. Didn't breathe.
Then Kaelith's hand clapped his shoulder, easy and grounding. "Come on," he said with that half-grin of his. "We'll find the elder, get our bearings, and figure out what's keeping everyone so gloomy.
Try not to stare at statues too long… they might start staring back."
The unease stayed with him, heavy as the clouds above.