The village appeared in the distance like a mirage, the small clusters of thatched-roof homes nestled between rolling hills and fields of golden grain. Smoke from the hearths curled lazily into the sky, and the distant sound of a bell tolling the hour cut through the still air. After days of silent travel through the wilderness, the sight of life—ordinary, mundane life—felt surreal.
Leon hadn't spoken since we left the river, and though Karis and I exchanged brief words now and then, the weight of our grief was too heavy for conversation. Each of us was lost in our own thoughts, haunted by the memories of what we'd endured. Mira's absence was a constant, aching presence, a hollow in the center of everything.
As we approached the village, Karis slowed, her sharp eyes scanning the surroundings. "We'll stay the night," she said, her voice matter-of-fact. "Rest, resupply, and decide what comes next."
Leon said nothing, but he gave a slight nod, his expression blank. I wondered if he was even listening anymore, or if he was simply going through the motions, a shell of the man he had been.
The village square was quiet when we arrived, a few villagers going about their daily tasks with little more than a curious glance in our direction. We were just another group of travelers passing through—nothing more, nothing less. The ordinary rhythms of life continued here, unaffected by the cosmic struggles we had faced in the depths of the Citadel.
We found an inn near the edge of the square, a small, weathered building with a faded sign hanging above the door. The innkeeper, a grizzled old man with a thin, greying beard, greeted us with a polite nod but didn't ask many questions. He could sense the weight we carried, and perhaps he'd seen enough weary travelers in his time to know when to leave things unspoken.
"I'll get us rooms," Karis said, stepping inside to speak with the innkeeper.
Leon lingered outside, his eyes fixed on something in the distance, though I wasn't sure what he was seeing. I approached him cautiously, unsure if he wanted company but unwilling to leave him alone with his grief.
"We should get some rest," I said softly, though I knew the words would likely fall on deaf ears.
Leon didn't respond at first. His gaze remained distant, his jaw tight. But after a long moment, he sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I don't know if I can," he murmured. "Sleep feels… pointless."
"I know," I said, trying to find the right words. "But we need to keep our strength up. We've been through hell, and there's still more ahead of us. You know that."
His eyes flicked toward me, the hollow emptiness in them more painful to see than any physical wound. "More ahead of us?" He shook his head slowly. "For what? What are we even fighting for anymore?"
The question hit me harder than I expected. I opened my mouth to respond but found that I didn't have an answer—not a good one, at least. Mira's death had changed everything. What had once felt like a noble cause—fighting the Abyss, protecting the world—now seemed like an insurmountable burden. How could we continue without her? What was the point of all this loss and suffering?
"I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "But we have to keep going. For her."
Leon's expression hardened, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes. "For her?" He laughed bitterly. "She's *gone*. She's dead. And nothing we do now is going to bring her back. So tell me—what's the point?"
I flinched at the harshness in his voice, but I didn't back down. "The point is that she died to save us. To save the world. If we stop now, then everything she sacrificed will be for nothing. Do you really want that? Do you want her death to mean nothing?"
Leon's jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought he might lash out, but instead, he just turned away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I don't know what I want anymore," he muttered. "I don't know if I care."
Before I could say anything else, Karis returned, her expression unreadable. "Rooms are ready," she said, her tone brisk, as if she hadn't overheard our conversation. "We should get inside before it gets too dark."
Without another word, Leon walked past her and disappeared into the inn. Karis glanced at me, her brow furrowed in concern, but she didn't ask what had been said. She didn't need to. We both knew the weight Leon was carrying, and neither of us had the answers he needed.
---
That night, sleep eluded me. I lay in the narrow bed, staring up at the dark wooden beams of the ceiling, my mind churning with thoughts I couldn't quiet. The village was peaceful, but that only made the turmoil inside me more unbearable. The world outside had moved on, untouched by the darkness we had faced, and yet I couldn't escape the feeling that the Abyss was still with me, lurking just beneath the surface of my thoughts.
Mira's face haunted my dreams, her final words echoing in my mind. *I'm not afraid.* But I was afraid. Afraid of what lay ahead, afraid of what we had become. Afraid that no matter what we did, the Abyss would find a way to return.
Eventually, I gave up on sleep and rose from the bed, pulling on my cloak as I stepped quietly out into the hall. The inn was silent, the only sound the soft creak of the floorboards beneath my feet as I made my way downstairs. I needed air. I needed space.
The village square was bathed in moonlight, the pale glow casting long shadows across the cobblestones. The air was cool and crisp, carrying with it the faint scent of woodsmoke from the nearby chimneys. I walked to the edge of the square, my footsteps echoing in the stillness, and found myself standing by the well, staring down into its depths.
The water below was dark, reflecting the stars above like a shattered mirror. For a moment, I felt as if I were staring into the Abyss itself, its cold, unfeeling depths watching me in return.
A rustle of movement behind me broke the silence, and I turned to see Karis approaching, her cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She didn't say anything as she joined me by the well, but her presence was a comfort, a reminder that I wasn't alone in this.
"I couldn't sleep either," she said after a long moment, her voice low. "Too much… noise in my head."
I nodded, understanding all too well. "Everything feels wrong," I admitted. "Like we're still in the Citadel, like the Abyss is still… watching."
Karis glanced at me, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. "It is," she said simply. "The Abyss never truly goes away. It's always there, waiting. Watching."
Her words sent a chill down my spine, but I didn't argue. I had felt it too—the lingering presence of the Abyss, the sense that our battle wasn't truly over. We had sealed the entity, but the Abyss was vast, ancient, and hungry. It wouldn't be content to remain trapped forever.
"So what do we do?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "What's our next move?"
Karis was silent for a long time, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "We regroup," she said finally. "We find out what's left of the Order. They might have answers, or at least resources. The Abyss is still out there, and there are others who would seek to use its power. We can't let that happen."
I sighed, the weight of her words pressing down on me. The Order of the Crimson Light had been our allies, but they had been scattered and broken in the wake of the Abyss's awakening. Finding them would be no small task, and even if we did, there was no guarantee that they would be able to help us.
"And Leon?" I asked, my voice soft.
Karis's expression darkened slightly, her gaze flicking toward the inn. "He needs time," she said quietly. "We all do. But we can't afford to stop. Not now."
I nodded, though my heart ached at the thought of leaving Leon behind. He had always been the heart of our group, the one who held us together when everything else was falling apart. But now, he was the one who had fallen apart, and I wasn't sure if he would ever be whole again.
"We'll give him time," Karis said, as if reading my thoughts. "But we have to keep moving."
I didn't respond. There was nothing more to say.
---
The next morning, we gathered in the common room of the inn, the soft morning light filtering through the windows. The innkeeper brought us bread and cheese, but none of us had much of an appetite. Leon sat at the far end of the table, staring at his untouched plate, his face pale and drawn.
"We need to head to Redstone," Karis said, breaking the heavy silence. "It's the closest stronghold of the Order. If anyone survived the last attack, they'll be there."
Leon didn't look up, his expression vacant. I exchanged a glance with Karis, unsure if he had even heard her.
"I know you're hurting, Leon," I said softly