The night was eerily silent as Morvane, Drevon, and the child spirit, Mykal, made their way toward the secluded village. The forest thinned, revealing a cluster of modest houses scattered across a misty valley. The village was far removed from any city—a forgotten place, where time seemed to stand still.
As they approached, Mykal pointed to a small, worn-down house with dim lights flickering inside. "That's my house," he said, his voice barely a whisper.
Morvane hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of the situation. He stepped forward and knocked on the wooden door. After a few moments, the door creaked open, revealing a frail-looking woman with hollow eyes and disheveled hair. She looked as though she hadn't slept in days.
"Yes? Who is it?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"We don't mean any harm," Morvane said gently. "We just… have something to tell you."
