The walk back to Duskhaven was quiet.
Too quiet.
Arlan hated it.
The group wasn't usually like this. Even after rough fights, someone—usually Tomas—would make a joke, Beren would grumble about it, and Leila would make a sarcastic remark. But now?
Now, they trudged in silence.
The crypt had shaken them.
Arlan kept his gaze ahead, but he could feel it—the weight of unspoken words hanging over them like storm clouds. Mira was walking beside him, her staff resting against her shoulder, but she hadn't said a word since they left. Not to him, anyway.
She knows.
Not the truth, not yet—but enough to know he was hiding something.
Bones shifted in Arlan's cloak, his tiny claws digging lightly into his shoulder. Even his familiar, normally so full of energy, seemed tense.
Arlan swallowed hard, trying to ignore the growing anxiety pressing against his ribs. He had survived the crypt. He had survived the sorcerer.
So why did facing his friends feel more terrifying than anything else?
Back in Duskhaven – The Guild's Response
The guild hall was busy when they arrived, adventurers bustling around, discussing bounties and dungeon runs. It was almost jarring—returning from something so dark and unnatural, only to step back into the normalcy of Duskhaven's life.
But normal wasn't for them anymore.
Gareth, the guild clerk, spotted them from behind the counter. His tired eyes flicked over the group, lingering a second too long.
"You're back," he said. "And alive.
Tomas exhaled heavily as he dropped into a chair. "Barely."
Mira stepped forward. "We need to report."
Gareth didn't move for a moment, then waved them toward the back room. "Let's talk privately."
Arlan felt his stomach twist.
That wasn't a good sign.
A Difficult Report
The back room was small, cluttered with maps and papers—guild records, dungeon reports, and a half-empty bottle of something strong on the table.
Gareth sat down, rubbing his temple. "Alright. Talk."
Mira hesitated, glancing at the others.
"We encountered a powerful undead," she said finally. "A ghoul—ancient, intelligent, and strong."
Gareth's expression darkened. "And?"
Beren crossed his arms. "It wiped the floor with us."
Leila huffed. "Almost literally."
Gareth leaned forward. "So why are you still alive?"
Silence.
Arlan tensed.
Mira hesitated, but in the end, it was Tomas who spoke. "Dumb luck."
Gareth stared at him. "Dumb luck?"
"We don't know why," Tomas admitted. "The thing just… left. Could've finished us off, but it didn't."
Mira's jaw tightened.
Gareth studied them for a long moment. Then, with a deep sigh, he leaned back. "That's bad."
"Yeah," Tomas said. "We figured."
"This crypt has been there for years," Gareth continued. "Undead show up sometimes, sure. But something strong enough to defeat a full party of adventurers and then let them go? That's not normal."
Leila shifted uncomfortably. "So… what now?"
Gareth ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know yet. The guild won't send another team in until we understand what we're dealing with. But the longer we wait, the worse this could get."
Arlan swallowed hard. He knew the truth. This wouldn't get better.
Mira stood abruptly. "Then we'll prepare."
Gareth raised a brow. "Oh?"
"We weren't strong enough," she admitted. "That much is clear. If this thing comes for Duskhaven, we need to be ready."
Tomas let out a tired groan. "You're saying we need to train, aren't you?"
Mira shot him a look. "Yes."
Beren cracked his knuckles. "Fine by me."
Leila stretched her arms. "We should also get real gear. Some of us are still using whatever scraps we got when we registered."
Tomas placed a hand on his chest dramatically. "Are you calling my sword scraps?"
"Yes," Leila said flatly.
Arlan should have been relieved that the conversation had shifted. But he wasn't.
Because he knew the truth.
Training wouldn't prepare them for what was coming.
Mira's Suspicion
After they left the guild hall, Arlan tried to slip away. He wasn't in the mood to be around anyone. He needed time to think.
But Mira wasn't going to let that happen.
"You're hiding something."
Arlan stopped in his tracks, closing his eyes briefly before turning around.
Mira stood a few steps behind him, arms crossed, her sharp gaze locked onto him.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said.
Mira exhaled, rubbing her forehead. "I know you, Arlan. You're a terrible liar."
That wasn't fair. He was a fantastic liar.
Mira stepped closer, lowering her voice. "In the crypt, when that thing spoke, it was looking at you. And when it attacked, you—" She paused, searching his face. "You weren't as surprised as the rest of us."
Arlan swallowed. "You think I knew it was going to happen?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "That's the problem."
Silence stretched between them.
Mira's gaze softened, just a little. "I'm not accusing you of anything, Arlan. But I need to know if we're in danger."
Arlan wanted to tell her.
But he couldn't.
Not yet.
So he forced a tired smile and shrugged. "We're adventurers. We're always in danger."
Mira's expression remained unreadable.
Finally, she sighed. "Fine. Keep your secrets."
She turned to leave, but just before she walked away, she hesitated.
"Be careful," she murmured. "I don't know what's going on with you… but I don't want to lose you."
Then she was gone.
Arlan stood there for a long time, the weight of her words pressing down on him.
Bones peeked out of his cloak and clicked his teeth softly.
Arlan exhaled. "Yeah," he muttered. "Me neither."
But if the undead sorcerer's words were true…
Losing them might not be a choice.