As Erohan soared through the sky, the group felt the rush of wind against their faces, a stark reminder of the urgency of their mission. Erohan's increased speed, a testament to their intense training, cut their travel time significantly. The landscape below changed swiftly as they neared their destination, the site of the next artifact according to the map they possessed. With their old speed, the travel would take them a full week, with Erohan's new speed, it took them only four days.
Arriving at the river, the signs of disturbance were immediately apparent. The earth around the riverbank was upheaved and scattered, evidence of frantic digging. The area looked as if it had been ravaged by a desperate search for something hidden deep beneath. Amukelo, with a sense of foreboding, dove into the river to investigate the gate. Underwater, the gate stood ajar, the protective barrier that once sealed it now conspicuously absent, a clear indication that someone had been there before them. With a heavy heart, Amukelo returned to the surface, his face solemn as he conveyed the unfortunate news to his friends with a simple, disheartened shake of his head.
Knowing they were too late, the team mounted Erohan once more and took to the skies, heading towards the location of the next artifact. As they passed the nearby village, the scene below shifted dramatically. The village was in ruins; buildings were either smoldering in the aftermath of fires or lay in ruins, reduced to rubble. The devastation was widespread, and the air carried a somber, heavy silence punctuated only by the occasional distant cry.
As they descended closer, they noticed that the village was eerily quiet. The catfolks who had once lived there were nowhere to be seen, likely hiding or possibly worse. They chose to land in a relatively clear area near the edge of the village to avoid any further destruction. As they touched down, a solitary figure, a woman, was visible walking amidst the devastation. The sound of their landing startled her, and she stumbled, falling to her knees in the dirt, her body shaking visibly.
The woman, looking up with wide, fearful eyes, seemed to mistake them for someone else. Her voice trembled with terror as she spoke, her words filled with despair, "Why do you come back?" Her face was marked by grief and the strain of recent horrors, reflecting the pain and fear that had befallen the village.
Amukelo and his team exchanged glances, each feeling the weight of her words, understanding that their arrival had stirred old fears, possibly reminding her of recent atrocities. They stood silent, the gravity of the situation settling in, as they faced the woman whose life had clearly been shattered by previous events.
As Eliss reassured the trembling woman, her companions gathered closer, their expressions somber, reflecting the gravity of the situation unfolding before them. The villagers, hesitant at first, began to emerge from their hiding places, drawn by the promise of safety in the presence of these strangers who bore no resemblance to their tormentors.
The woman took a deep breath, steadying herself before she began her tale, her voice a soft murmur that carried the weight of her despair. "It began about a week ago," she started, her eyes distant as if reliving the horrors. "A dragon shadowed the sky above us. We thought it was a passing beast, but then it landed, and with it came men and women—no, monsters, cloaked in darkness. They demanded a stone, claiming it would unlock some ancient power. Our chief refused, and that's when the slaughter began."
Her story unfolded like a nightmarish tapestry. "They executed anyone who dared resist. They broke into our homes, dragged us out, and... and..." Her voice cracked, the memory too painful to vocalize fully. "They didn't just kill. They enjoyed it, reveled in our terror. They set fire to our homes with families still inside. Those who tried to flee were cut down without mercy."
The air grew thick with the unspoken images her words conjured, each phrase a blow to the hearts of her listeners. "When they didn't find the stone where they expected, their leader, a man filled with vile power, ordered the massacre to continue until we yielded its location. But it was too late. Many had died already, and those who survived were too broken to resist any further."
As she concluded her harrowing account, the gathered villagers nodded in grim confirmation, their faces etched with the scars of their ordeal. Amukelo's reaction was visceral; his fist clenched so tightly that blood began to seep from his palm. His whisper, filled with loathing for Valarian, was a soft but potent expression of his growing resolve to stop the madman responsible for so much pain.
Ida, ever the pragmatist even in the face of such horror, inquired about the aftermath. "What happened to those who died?" His voice was steady but carried an undertone of sorrow.
The woman's face paled, and she looked away, unable to bear the memory of the carnage. A man stepped forward, his face solemn and eyes hardened by what he had witnessed. "We've placed them in the town hall," he said, his voice hoarse. "It's... it's not a sight for the faint-hearted. We plan to burn the bodies at dusk, to spare the living the sight of such horror permanently etched into our village's memory. Follow me," The man said while walking towards the village hall.
They followed him towards the town hall, the man's steps reluctant but steady. The building stood somber and silent, its walls likely the last to witness the lives of many villagers. As they reached the door, the man paused, his hand on the latch, and turned to face the group. His eyes, red-rimmed and haunted, met theirs as he issued a gentle but firm warning, "If you don't want to look at this it's fine, but if you decide to do it any way you better prepare."