The forest thinned as the path wound into open plains, the landscape spreading wide under a gray sky. The air was crisp, carrying the faint smell of rain, though the clouds overhead had yet to break. I walked with my sword slung across my back, my eyes scanning the horizon for anything unusual.
Lyra kept pace beside me, her movements relaxed but purposeful. She had the kind of stride that suggested she was ready for a fight at any moment, and I found myself envying that confidence.
"Are all roads this quiet?" I asked, breaking the silence.
Lyra shrugged. "Depends on where they lead."
Her answer didn't exactly inspire reassurance, but the truth was, I didn't know what I'd expected. The world outside the village was still a mystery to me, and every step felt like crossing into uncharted territory.
"We're not far from the first settlement," she added, gesturing toward a distant ridge. "Small place, nothing like Ebonreach, but it's on the way."
I nodded, taking in the sight of the rolling hills. The openness made me uneasy. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to take cover if something—or someone—decided to come for us.
The thought barely crossed my mind before Lyra stopped, her hand resting on her sword. "Wait," she said, her voice low.
I followed her gaze to a cluster of rocks just off the path. At first, it looked like nothing more than an odd formation, but as we approached, I saw what she'd noticed.
A charred section of grass surrounded the rocks, the edges blackened and brittle. In the center of the scorch marks lay a discarded gauntlet, its metal warped and twisted as if it had been caught in an explosion.
Lyra knelt to inspect it, her gloved fingers brushing over the scorched ground. "This isn't old," she said, her tone sharp.
"What could've caused it?" I asked, my eyes scanning the area for any signs of movement.
"Magic," she said simply. "And not the subtle kind."
She stood, her expression unreadable as she glanced at the horizon. "Whoever did this isn't far ahead. We should keep moving."
The sun was beginning to set when we reached the outskirts of the village Lyra had mentioned. It was smaller than I'd imagined, with only a handful of wooden houses clustered around a central well. Smoke drifted from a few chimneys, and the faint sound of voices carried on the wind.
The villagers paused as we approached, their eyes wary. It reminded me of the first time I'd walked into the village that Krael now protected. There was the same tension in the air, the same unspoken fear.
A man with a short axe slung across his back stepped forward, his posture stiff. "Travelers?" he asked.
Lyra nodded. "Passing through. Looking for a place to rest."
The man's gaze flicked to me, lingering for a moment before returning to her. "We don't have much, but there's a shed near the edge of town you can use. Just don't cause trouble."
"Thanks," I said, but the man didn't respond. He turned and walked back to the well, the other villagers resuming their hushed conversations.
"Friendly place," I muttered.
"They're scared," Lyra said. "We've seen what's out here. They've probably seen worse."
The shed was little more than a single room with a thatched roof, but it was dry and out of the wind. Lyra lit a small lantern, the warm glow illuminating the rough wooden walls.
"We're not staying long," she said, setting her pack in the corner.
I leaned against the wall, my eyes on the lantern's flame. "What do you think happened back there? The scorch marks, the gauntlet..."
Lyra didn't answer immediately. She sat cross-legged on the floor, her sword resting across her knees. "Could've been a fight. A magician lost control, or someone used magic to defend themselves. Either way, it means people are using magic openly around here, and that's not something you see every day."
I frowned, the weight of her words settling over me. Magic had always felt like a distant concept, something scholars and legends dealt with—not something you stumbled across on a dirt road.
"Do you think it's connected to the watchers?" I asked.
"Maybe," she said. "Or it could be unrelated. Not every shadow in this world is tied to you, Aric. But we'll keep an eye out, just in case."
Her tone was casual, but there was an edge of tension in her posture. She wasn't dismissing the possibility, even if she wanted me to think she was.
That night, I sat by the shed's small window, watching the moonlight stretch across the fields. Lyra had insisted on taking first watch, but sleep wouldn't come. My thoughts were tangled, pulled in a dozen directions at once.
The pendant at my chest felt warm against my skin, its faint pulse a constant reminder of everything I didn't know.
"Still awake?" Lyra's voice broke the silence.
I turned to see her leaning against the wall, her arms crossed.
"Couldn't sleep," I admitted.
She studied me for a moment before sighing. "You're carrying too much. The village, the watchers, the sword... You're going to burn yourself out if you don't let some of it go."
I frowned. "How am I supposed to let it go? Every step I take feels like it's leading me closer to something I can't even see. And every time I stop, it feels like the world's closing in."
Lyra's gaze softened, just slightly. "You'll figure it out," she said. "But not all at once. Take it one step at a time, or you'll trip over your own feet."
Her words didn't solve anything, but they settled the noise in my head just enough to let me breathe. I nodded, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly.
"Try to rest," she said, turning back to the door. "Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
As she stood watch, I let my eyes drift shut, the faint warmth of the pendant lulling me into an uneasy sleep. Whatever waited ahead, I would face it. One step at a time.