The sun had barely risen, but the world felt heavy.
Trevor rode silently along the broken road, his horse's hooves thudding against the hard, cracked earth. Dust swirled lazily around him, the wasteland stretching endlessly in every direction.
Ahead, a faint silhouette appeared against the pale horizon, a covered wagon, its canvas flapping in the breeze. Two horses pulled it at a slow pace, their riders tense and alert.
Trevor slowed his mount as he approached.
"I knew you'd come."
Beatrice sat on horseback to the side of the wagon, her arms folded as though she'd been waiting for him. Her confident smirk was back, as irritating as ever.
"You must be very proud of yourself," Trevor muttered.
"Not really. It was obvious," she replied, her tone light. "A man like you doesn't run from curiosity or from trouble."
Trevor ignored the jab. "Where are you going?"
"To Helmond Canyon," she replied. "That's what I told you, remember?"
He gestured toward the wagon. "And this?"
She nodded toward the canvas. "Survivors from the outskirts. Their village fell last week. I couldn't leave them behind."
Trevor frowned, his gaze lingering on the wagon as he passed it. Through a gap in the canvas, he saw the faint outline of figures, women and children huddled together, their faces drawn weary.
Something about the sight made his chest tighten. He looked away.
"You're dragging them to a canyon full of monsters?" he asked coldly.
"They're heading to the next village, far from the canyon," she corrected. "I'm simply escorting them until we part ways. I didn't expect company but I'm glad you decided to join me."
"I didn't join you," Trevor shot back. "I'm here for my own reasons."
"Of course you are,"she said, her smirk deepening.
Trevor exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus on the road ahead. He was already regretting this.
The road to Helmond Canyon was quiet, but not peaceful. The air felt wrong, thick with something unseen. Even the birds were silent.
Trevor rode beside Beatrice, neither of them speaking. Occasionally, she glanced at him—curious, questioning—but he offered nothing.
Hours passed, marked only by the creaking of the wagon and the distant groans of the wind. As the canyon loomed closer, the landscape changed: the ground grew jagged, the earth cracked and blackened like old scars. Strange, clawed tracks marred the dirt, and Trevor's hand lingered near the hilt of his sword.
Beatrice finally broke the silence. "This place wasn't always like this, you know."
Trevor glanced at her. "What do you mean?"
She gestured at the desolation around them. "Helmond Canyon was once a thriving outpost—a bridge between kingdoms. Trade routes, farms, travelers passing through… and then, a few years ago, something changed."
"Demonic energy," Trevor muttered.
She nodded, her expression darkening. "No one knows why it started or where it's coming from, but it's spreading. The kingdoms are losing ground, village by village."
Trevor didn't respond, but his gaze drifted across the broken land. He knew better than anyone what demonic energy could do—how it corrupted, consumed, and destroyed.
Beatrice tilted her head, watching him carefully. "You've seen this before, haven't you?"
Trevor's grip on his reins tightened. "You ask too many questions."
"I get that a lot."
As the canyon came into view, a low rumble shook the ground.
The horses whinnied nervously, their ears twitching as they shifted in place. Trevor pulled his mount to a stop, scanning the horizon.
"Something's coming," he said quietly.
Beatrice tensed. "Where?"
The ground rumbled again—louder this time. Trevor's eyes narrowed, his senses sharpening as he turned toward the wagon.
"Get down!" he barked.
Before anyone could react, the ground erupted. A massive creature burst from the earth—a grotesque fusion of rock and flesh, its maw lined with jagged teeth. It let out a guttural roar that shook the air, its hulking form towering over the wagon.
The survivors screamed drowning out the horses rearing.
Trevor didn't hesitate.
He kicked his horse into motion, drawing his sword in a single fluid movement. The blade gleamed in the morning light as he charged, his cloak snapping behind him. The monster turned toward him, its red eyes glowing as it swiped a massive claw.
Trevor veered to the side, narrowly avoiding the blow, and slashed across its shoulder. The beast howled in rage, black blood spraying across the dirt.
"Get the wagon out of here!" Beatrice shouted, leaping down from her horse. She drew her own blade—a long, slender weapon that glowed faintly with divine sigils—as she ran to assist.
Trevor circled the monster, striking its legs to keep it off balance. Beatrice darted in from the other side, her blade flashing with precision as she cut deep into its hide.
The monster roared again, staggering under their combined assault. It turned toward Trevor, its jaws snapping as it lunged—
Trevor planted his feet, his sword humming with energy. With a sharp exhale, he swung upward, driving his blade through the monster's skull.
The creature froze, its roar cutting off abruptly. Then it crumpled to the ground, its massive form collapsing into dust and shadow.
Silence fell.
Trevor stood over the remains, his breath steadying as he lowered his sword. Beatrice approached, wiping sweat from her brow.
"Not bad," she said, glancing at him. "For someone who doesn't take requests."
Trevor shot her a look but said nothing.
Behind them, the wagon creaked into motion again, the survivors huddled in stunned silence. Trevor watched as the girl from before peeked her head out from under the canvas, her wide eyes locking onto him.
"Is it gone?" she asked quietly.
Trevor nodded once. "It's gone."
Beatrice smiled faintly, sheathing her blade. "You're full of surprises, Trevor."
"Don't get used to it," he replied, turning back toward the road.
As they continued toward the canyon, the air grew colder. The blackened earth gave way to jagged cliffs and shadowed crags that seemed to stretch endlessly into the distance.
Trevor rode in silence, his thoughts dark and heavy. He could feel the energy here—thick, pulsing, alive.
Something's wrong, he thought.
Beatrice must have sensed it, too. She glanced at him, her earlier confidence replaced with quiet unease. "We're close now."
Trevor said nothing, his gaze fixed on the canyon ahead. Somewhere in its depths, something waited for them—something old, hungry, and dangerous.
And for the first time in years, Trevor felt something other than anger.
The hairs on his body stood like it being shocked.
"Brace yourselves"