Time soon passed, and with the awakening of their abilities, the next part of their journey was particularly eventful.
No bandits, no monster attacks, no cultists, for a while, Damien even had begun to imagine if such peaceful times could last forever.
Now ten days later, the carriage rumbled to a halt on the outskirts of Gravestone.
Unlike their arrival six months ago, when the town was bustling with merchants, adventurers, and the chaotic noise of a border trade hub, the silence now was deafening.
"Something is wrong," Lyra whispered, her hand instinctively reaching for the empty air where her Phantom Bow would materialise.
Damien peered through the carriage curtains.
The sun was setting, painting the sky in a bruised purple hue.
Usually, this was the time when the taverns opened, and the nightlife began. But the streets were empty. Shops were boarded up.
