The ruined city of Veyland loomed before them, its crumbling walls and jagged rooftops silhouetted against the dim twilight. Kael tightened his grip on Veyrune, its weight a constant reminder of the danger that lurked in every shadow. Behind him, the remaining villagers huddled together, their faces etched with exhaustion and fear.
"Elara," Kael said softly, glancing at her as they stepped through the broken gates. "Scout ahead. Stay close, but make sure the path is clear."
She nodded, her knife held low but ready. "Try not to let them panic while I'm gone," she muttered before slipping into the gloom.
Kael turned to the villagers, his voice steady despite the unease gnawing at him. "We'll find shelter soon. Stay together and keep quiet."
The group moved slowly through the deserted streets, their footsteps muffled by the thick layer of dust and debris. The buildings loomed over them like silent sentinels, their once-vibrant facades now weathered and lifeless. Broken windows stared out like hollow eyes, and the air was thick with the scent of rot and neglect.
Elara returned moments later, her expression grim. "There's an old inn up ahead. Looks empty, but… something feels off."
Kael frowned. "Off how?"
She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder as though expecting something to emerge from the shadows. "I don't know. It's too quiet. No scavengers, no signs of life. Just… empty."
Kael didn't like it either, but they didn't have many options. "We'll check it out," he said. "Stay sharp."
The inn was a squat, stone building nestled between two collapsed structures. Its sign, faded and cracked, hung crookedly above the door. "The Gilded Hearth," the letters barely legible under layers of grime. Kael pushed the door open with Veyrune's hilt, the creak echoing through the still air.
Inside, the air was damp and stale, carrying the faint metallic tang of blood. Broken furniture and scattered debris littered the floor, and cobwebs clung to the walls. The hearth was cold, its stone blackened by years of neglect.
"Secure the room," Kael ordered, motioning for Elara to check the corners while he scanned the main area. The villagers shuffled inside cautiously, their eyes darting around the shadowed space.
"Upstairs is clear," Elara called after a moment, descending the creaking staircase. "No signs of recent activity."
Kael nodded. "We'll make camp here for the night. Everyone, stay close and keep your weapons at hand."
The villagers settled uneasily, huddled together in the largest room on the ground floor. Kael and Elara sat by the cold hearth, their weapons within reach. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts.
"You feel it too, don't you?" Elara asked quietly, her eyes fixed on the flickering shadows cast by their meager lantern.
Kael didn't answer immediately. Instead, he ran his fingers along Veyrune's hilt, the metal cool and unyielding. "It's like the city's… watching us."
Elara shivered. "Do you think Eren's been here?"
"Maybe," Kael said, though he doubted it. The shadows that clung to Veyland felt different, older. Whatever haunted this place had been here long before the Rupture.
Later that night, Kael was roused from a light doze by the sound of soft sobbing. He sat up, his hand immediately going to Veyrune. The villagers were still huddled together, most of them asleep, but a small figure sat apart, curled in on themselves.
It was the young boy whose father had been killed in the attack. His thin shoulders shook with quiet grief, his small hands clutching something close to his chest.
Kael approached slowly, crouching down beside him. "Hey," he said gently. "What's your name?"
The boy sniffled, wiping at his eyes. "Korin."
Kael nodded. "That's a strong name. What's that you're holding?"
Korin hesitated before showing him—a small, carved figurine, worn smooth from years of handling. "It was my dad's," he whispered. "He said it would protect us."
Kael swallowed hard, the weight of the boy's loss settling heavily on his chest. "Your dad was brave, Korin. He protected all of us. And I'll make sure we keep going. For him, and for you."
Korin nodded slowly, his tears subsiding. Kael sat with him until the boy drifted off, the figurine clutched tightly in his hands.
The stillness of the night was broken by a distant sound—a faint, rhythmic pounding that echoed through the empty streets. Kael's eyes snapped open, his hand immediately going to Veyrune. Elara was already on her feet, her knife drawn.
"You hear that?" she whispered.
Kael nodded, rising slowly. The pounding grew louder, more deliberate, as though something massive was moving through the city. He motioned for Elara to stay with the villagers before stepping outside.
The street was bathed in eerie moonlight, the buildings casting long, jagged shadows. The sound was closer now, a deep, resonant thud that seemed to vibrate through the stones underfoot.
Then he saw it.
A massive figure moved through the street, its form barely human. Its body was covered in jagged, stone-like armor, and its eyes glowed with a faint, sickly light. Each step it took sent a shudder through the ground, the rhythmic pounding that had awakened him.
Kael's breath caught in his throat as the creature stopped, its head turning toward the inn. For a moment, its glowing eyes locked with his, and Kael felt a cold dread settle over him.
"Kael," Elara's voice came from behind him, tense and urgent. "What is that?"
"I don't know," he said, his grip tightening on Veyrune. "But it's not here to talk."
The creature let out a low, guttural roar, its body shifting as it prepared to charge.
"Get everyone out," Kael said, stepping forward and raising Veyrune. "Now."