The morning broke in pale light, muted by the thick canopy of trees. The villagers were already stirring, their movements slow and unsteady. Kael stood at the edge of the clearing, his eyes scanning the dense forest. The encounter with the creature the night before still lingered in his mind, its cryptic words echoing like a haunting refrain: The blade... it calls.
"Kael," Elara's voice broke through his thoughts. She stood behind him, one hand bandaged where the creature's claws had grazed her. "We need to move."
He nodded, his jaw tightening. "We'll make for Veyland. If the map's right, we should reach it before nightfall."
Her gaze flicked toward the villagers, who were huddled around the dying embers of the fire. "You think they'll make it?"
Kael didn't answer immediately. He turned back to the group, their sunken faces and trembling hands a grim reminder of how fragile they were. "We'll get them there," he said finally, though his voice lacked conviction.
The group set out, the forest growing denser and darker as they moved. Kael led the way, Veyrune slung across his back. The sword's weight felt heavier than usual, as though it were responding to the oppressive atmosphere.
Elara walked beside him, her knife ready. "You notice how quiet it is?" she murmured. "No birds, no animals. Just… nothing."
Kael nodded grimly. "Whatever's out there, it's keeping everything else away."
They moved in tense silence for hours, the only sounds the crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional snap of a branch. The villagers trailed behind, their footsteps dragging. The young boy Elara had helped earlier stumbled, his mother catching him before he hit the ground.
"Kael," Elara said, her voice low. "They're not going to last like this."
Kael stopped, turning to face the group. "We rest here," he announced, though every instinct screamed at him to keep moving.
The villagers collapsed to the ground, their breaths labored. Kael scanned the forest, his hand resting on Veyrune's hilt. Something felt wrong, though he couldn't place it.
"We can't stop for long," he muttered to Elara. "Keep your guard up."
The attack came without warning.
One moment the forest was still, and the next it erupted in chaos. Dark shapes burst from the shadows, their forms twisted and unnatural. Kael drew Veyrune in a single motion, the blade's runes flaring to life.
"Get behind me!" he shouted to the villagers, but the creatures were already upon them.
Elara lunged forward, slashing at one of the beasts as it charged toward a young woman. Her knife found its mark, driving deep into the creature's side. It howled, a sound that sent shivers down Kael's spine, but it didn't fall. Instead, it turned on her, its claws swiping in a blur of motion.
Kael roared, swinging Veyrune in a wide arc. The blade's magic surged, cutting through the creature and sending it crumbling into ash. He turned to Elara, who was clutching her side, blood seeping between her fingers.
"I'm fine!" she shouted, though her face was pale. "Help them!"
Kael's eyes darted to the villagers. One of the creatures had a man pinned to the ground, its claws digging into his chest. Kael surged forward, Veyrune slicing through the air, but he was too late. The man let out a strangled cry before going still, his body limp.
Rage and guilt burned in Kael's chest as he drove the blade into the creature, its form disintegrating. Around him, the remaining villagers fought desperately, some wielding sticks and stones in a futile effort to fend off the attackers.
"Elara!" Kael called, his voice hoarse. "Get them out of here!"
She didn't argue. Grabbing the boy and his mother, she ushered the villagers toward a narrow path between the trees. "Move!" she shouted. "Go!"
Kael stayed behind, his blade cutting through the remaining creatures. Each swing sent a jolt of pain through his arm, the sword's magic taking its toll. By the time the last creature fell, he was gasping for breath, his body trembling.
The group regrouped further down the path, the villagers huddled together in fear. Kael leaned heavily on Veyrune, his knuckles white around the hilt. Elara approached him, her bandaged side soaked with fresh blood.
"Are they all here?" he asked, his voice strained.
Elara shook her head, her expression grim. "No. We lost two."
Kael's stomach sank. "Who?"
"The blacksmith and the boy's father," she said quietly. "They didn't make it."
Kael closed his eyes, the weight of their deaths pressing down on him. He had promised to protect them, to get them to safety. And he had failed.
"We have to keep moving," Elara said gently, though her voice was tinged with pain. "Veyland isn't far."
Kael nodded, though the guilt gnawed at him. He sheathed Veyrune and turned back to the group. "Let's go," he said, his voice hollow.
By the time they reached the outskirts of Veyland, the sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows over the crumbling walls of the city. The gates stood ajar, their wood splintered and rotting. The streets beyond were eerily quiet, the air thick with the scent of decay.
Kael stepped through the gates, his hand resting on Veyrune's hilt. The city was a ghost of its former self, its buildings sagging with age and neglect. But there was movement—figures darting between the shadows, their eyes glinting in the dim light.
"Stay close," Kael said, his voice low.
Elara stepped beside him, her knife drawn. "Welcome to Veyland."
Kael's gaze swept over the ruined city, a sense of unease settling over him. Whatever answers they sought here, he knew they wouldn't come without a price.