The sun hung low on the horizon as we left the village, its faint warmth doing little to combat the chill creeping into the air. The plains stretched out before us, an endless expanse of rolling hills and scattered groves. The road was well-worn, marked by the passage of carts and travelers, but now it felt deserted, like the land itself was holding its breath.
Lyra walked a few paces ahead, her steps sure and deliberate. She hadn't said much since the village, her focus entirely on the road ahead. I couldn't blame her. The further we traveled, the heavier the silence seemed to grow, pressing against us like an unseen weight.
I kept my hand near my sword, the memory of the watcher that had appeared at our camp fresh in my mind. Its inhuman shape, the way it had lingered without attacking—it all felt like a message I couldn't decipher.
"You're quiet again," Lyra said, breaking the silence.
"Just thinking," I replied.
"Dangerous habit," she muttered, though there was a faint trace of humor in her tone.
I sighed, my gaze drifting to the hills. "Do you think we'll find anything in Ebonreach? Real answers, I mean."
Lyra glanced back at me, her expression unreadable. "If we don't, we'll find the next lead. That's how this works. One step at a time."
Her words were meant to reassure, but they felt like a reminder of how far we still had to go.
By mid-afternoon, the road began to curve, dipping into a shallow valley where the air felt heavier, colder. The trees lining the path were gnarled and bare, their branches twisted like grasping fingers. A faint mist clung to the ground, swirling around our boots as we walked.
"This is new," Lyra said, her voice quiet but alert.
"What is?"
"The mist," she said, gesturing toward the haze. "It wasn't this thick back in the village. And it's too early for it to be natural."
I frowned, my hand instinctively moving to the hilt of my sword. "You think it's magic?"
"Could be," she said, her eyes scanning the trees. "Or it could just be the land playing tricks on us. Either way, stay sharp."
The road grew narrower as we descended further into the valley, the mist thickening until it clung to us like a second skin. Shapes loomed in the fog—trees, boulders, or something else entirely—and every sound seemed magnified, the crunch of our boots echoing unnaturally.
I couldn't shake the feeling that we weren't alone.
"Lyra," I said, my voice low.
"I know," she replied, her hand already on her sword. "I feel it too."
The pendant at my chest grew warm, its pulse faint but insistent. I gripped the hilt of my sword tighter, my eyes darting to every shadow that moved in the haze.
And then, we saw it.
A figure stood in the mist, its shape barely discernible. It was tall, its limbs too thin, its head cocked at an unnatural angle. For a moment, it didn't move, and I wondered if it was just another trick of the fog.
But then it took a step forward.
"Get ready," Lyra said, her voice steady.
The figure took another step, and then another, until it was close enough for me to see the glint of something sharp in its hand. It let out a low, guttural hiss, the sound sending a shiver down my spine.
It wasn't alone.
More shapes emerged from the mist, their movements jerky and unnatural. There were three, then five, then seven of them, surrounding us in a loose circle. Each carried some kind of weapon—rusted blades, crude clubs—and their pale eyes glowed faintly in the dim light.
"Watch the flanks!" Lyra shouted, drawing her sword.
One of the creatures lunged at her, its blade swinging wildly. She sidestepped with ease, her own sword flashing as she brought it down on its arm. The creature screeched, staggering back as dark ichor spilled onto the ground.
Another came for me, its club raised high. I met it head-on, my sword slicing through its midsection with a force that surprised even me. The runes along the blade flared briefly, illuminating the fog around us.
"They're not watchers," I said, panting as another creature lunged toward me.
"No," Lyra replied, her voice sharp. "But they're just as dangerous."
We moved in sync, cutting through the creatures as they closed in. My sword felt lighter than it had before, almost as if it was guiding my movements, and the warmth of the pendant grew hotter with every swing.
The last creature fell with a strangled cry, its body crumpling into the mist. Silence descended over the valley once more, broken only by the sound of our heavy breathing.
Lyra wiped her blade clean on a patch of grass, her eyes scanning the fog. "That wasn't random," she said.
"What do you mean?"
"They weren't just scavengers," she said. "They were coordinated. They were trying to herd us."
The thought made my stomach turn. "Herd us where?"
Lyra didn't answer. She didn't need to. The road ahead felt darker, heavier, as if the valley itself was warning us to turn back.
But we didn't.
We pressed on, the mist swirling around us, the promise of Ebonreach pulling us forward. Whatever was waiting for us, we were getting closer.