The withered grass and coarse vines crunched beneath their boots as they approached the desolate village. A gust swept the dust away, and rattled the window shutters. Somewhere on the far side, a door clattered open, before slamming shut.
Sylven drew his sword, and examined the village.
"This is… far worse than the woman we found before," Cyrus said. He stepped around a young man, whose stone body was thrown over a small petrified girl. The back of his shirt was tattered, and a long gash marred his obsidian skin. "I don't think the stone plague killed them. At least not all of them."
"No, it seems the followers of Dilthane had a hand in this," Sylven said. He flipped over a loose board, revealing one of the Dilthane's pendants, snapped into two. "What I want to know is why. Why did they come here, to this village?"
"I don't think they came here alone," Cyrus said. He nodded to a trail of prints, big enough to swallow his boot, and sunk deep into the dirt. Long jagged claw marks stretched out from the fist sized toes. "What kind of beast could have created those?"
Sylven knelt next to the tracks, and ran his hands claw marks. "It sort of resembles a bear print, but I've never seen one this big. It'd have to be twice as large as the drake we fought."
"It'd take a lot to feed a creature of that size, wouldn't it?" Cyrus asked. He turned to the village. "Might explain what happened to the village."
"Come on. Let's see if there are any survivors," Sylven said. They followed the trail into the village, keeping quiet, and to the sides of the buildings.
As they neared the center, Cyrus stopped and peeked through a shattered window. The room on the other side laid in a cluttered mess, with chairs and blankets thrown around, and a cabinet tipped onto its side. A petrified woman cowered in the corner, her arms wrapped tightly around the stone form of a baby.
"Sylven. I don't think there are going to be any survivors," Cyrus said, prying his gaze away. Sylven stood still across the street, his sword hanging limply at his side. "Sylven? Are you alright?"
Cyrus crept forward, and tugged on his shoulder. Sylven fell back, his skin a pale grey and cold to the touch. His eyes reddened as his breath came in quick gasps, and his body began to convulse. Behind him, a shard of amethyst rose from the center of the village, as large as a fully grown man, and pulsing with a foul glow.
Cyrus swore beneath his breath, and threw Sylven over his shoulder. Grabbing the young man's sword, he dashed through the town, running as quickly as he could away from the purple gem.
It took him until he reached the edge of the withered grass before Sylven fell limp. Ducking behind a haystack, Cyrus laid him against the stalks, and checked his pulse. It took a moment for it to slow to a natural pace, and his breathing to calm.
"Hey, are you alright?" Cyrus asked, shaking Sylven's shoulder.
Sylven blinked open his eyes. His color slowly returned as he looked around.
"What happened? Why aren't we in the village anymore?"
"There's dark magic affecting the village. You lost consciousness, and started to petrify. If I hadn't gotten you out, you'd probably have ended up like the rest of these people," Cyrus said, gesturing towards the stone villagers. "How do you feel? Can you move on your own?"
"Yes, I think so," Sylven said, stretching his body. He glanced back towards the village. "There… There was a cluster of amethyst in the center of the village. It was calling to me. Did you see it?"
"I did. I think that's what's causing these plants to die," Cyrus said. He frowned. "It's strange. Even with dead wood, I can still feel bits of life from it, but these plants. It's like they're truly gone. I can't feel them at all."
"How strange…" Sylven said. He shifted his body, then winced. "By the Halls of Osyras, I have the worst headache. It feels like someone bashed my head in with a hammer."
"Better a headache, than a stone head," Cyrus said, arching his brow. "What now? From what I could see, the tracks were headed west, into that forest in the distance."
"We should follow them for now," Sylven said. "The kingdom of Eldenfel lies slightly more to the south, but we'd still be closer to our goal either way. At least this way, we might be able to get a hint about what the followers of Dilthane are planning."
"Are you capable of walking?" Cyrus asked. He helped Sylven to his feet.
"Only one way to find out," Sylven said, shaking his legs. He took a step with a wince, then nodded. "It feels like someone is poking my entire body with needles, but I should be fine. Let's go."
"Let me know if you need to rest," Cyrus said. They hurried around the village, keeping to the green grass until they found the tracks again. As they left the ruined village behind, he noticed Sylven glance back with a wild look in his eye, before it vanished.
"All good?"
"What? Oh, yes. It's nothing," Sylven said, shaking his head. "Come on. The tracks are still fresh, so if we hurry we might be able to catch up."
As they crossed the grassy plains, Sylven eyed the flattened strands while murmuring beneath his breath. When they reached the edge, and the plains fell away to a forest, he stopped and scratched his chin.
"It looks as though there were at least fifty men, along with the beast. A few rode horses, but most traveled on foot. Also, at least half of the group were bound to one another. I think they were villagers that were caught to feed the creature."
"So there are still survivors then?"
Sylven pursed his lips. "Perhaps a few, but the direction they're traveling in. If I'm not mistaken, then it would end up leading to the kingdom of Cilthrin."
Cyrus stared at the trees towering over them, grown from thick white trunks, and speckled with crimson spots. A trampled path cut through the underbrush, and young saplings, marred with ruts and broken footprints.
"I've never seen trees like these before," Cyrus said, running his hand over the smooth bark.
"Those are solbirch trees, found solely in the Falthrell forest. The wood is extremely tough, to the point that you'd dull your ax before chopping one down. That's also why it's so expensive," Sylven said, staring at the branches high overhead. He frowned. "It's getting dark. Perhaps we should rest here, and continue in the morning."
"You have a point," Cyrus said, eyeing the darkening sky. "I have a bad feeling about going in there right now."
The night passed quickly, with Cyrus and Sylven swapping who slept halfway through. They were on their way before dawn, moving quickly through the trees, and the path provided for them.
"I expect it will take us a day to catch up," Sylven said, climbing over a fallen tree. "The two of us should outpace a group as large as theirs."
Cyrus nodded, and peered down the path ahead. The further they went, the thicker the trees grew, until they were standing beneath trees hundreds of meters tall, with trunks thicker than a carriage.
Though the trees made it difficult to see, they also provided decent cover, allowing the two of them to move with hesitation. Another three hours passed before Cyrus and Sylven came across a clearing, matted down, and pocketed with smoldering campfires.
Sylven knelt next to one, and held his hand over the embers. "They're still warm. We must be close to catching up."
He stood, and scanned the clearing, then frowned.
"What's wrong?" Cyrus asked.
Sylven hurried across the clearing, and kicked a few leaves out of the way. Blood stained the ground beneath. "It looks like they've already fed one of the villagers to the beast."
Out of the corner of his eye, Cyrus noticed a glint shining through a mess of churned dirt and broken branches. Upon a closer look, it turned out to be a bronze scale, knotted with brown fur.
"What do you have there?" Sylven asked.
"It's the scale of an Urghast," Cyrus said, furrowing his brow. Shards of his memory fitted together to reveal a large bear, with scales covering its body along with its hair. "It's a creature of dark magic, far worse than a drake."
Sylven studied Cyrus. "Is there anything else you remember? A way to defeat it, perhaps?"
Cyrus shrugged. "Stab it through its heart, I suppose? Try not to get eaten while doing so."
"Well, we always have magic if we need it," Sylven said. He hoisted his pack further up his shoulder. "Come on. There's no time to waste."
Cyrus hooked his thumbs around his pack, and chased after Sylven as he dashed down the broken trail. The trees flickered past as they vaulted over ditches and fallen limbs, and the brush snapped at their clothes. Overhead, thick rolling clouds blanketed the sky, and the first few drops of rain splashed off the leaves.
Cyrus cursed beneath his breath, and flicked his hood up. Ahead, Sylven did the same. As the minutes ticked by, the wind grew, and the trees swayed, their tops snapping back and forth. Soon, the torrent of rain forced them to slow their pace, as puddles grew and the ground became slick.
Before an hour even passed, Sylven brought them to a stop, holding up his hand. Cyrus slumped against the trunk of a solbirch, gasping for breath. His cloak was drenched, and the gusts of wind snapped at his tunic.
Beside him, Sylven folded back his hood, and scanned the forest. Through the patter of rain, the crashing sound of water surged.