The night wind carried dust across the outer watch posts.
Dane was on guard duty when he saw them.
Shapes in the dark.
Not warriors.
Not traders.
Women.
Dozens of them.
Some carrying bundles.
Some holding small hands.
Some with nothing at all.
Dane narrowed his eyes and signaled the archers to stay alert.
As they stepped into torchlight, the truth became clear.
They were exhausted.
Clothes torn.
Faces hollow.
Children clinging to their legs.
Dane stepped forward.
"Stop there."
One older woman raised both hands slowly.
"We seek shelter."
Her voice was dry… cracked from days without water.
Kael was called from the inner camp.
When he arrived, he froze slightly.
There were nearly sixty women.
And only seven children.
Seven.
Kael noticed immediately.
"Where are the others?"
The women exchanged uneasy glances.
Finally, one younger mother spoke.
"They are gone."
"Taken?"
She shook her head slowly.
"We do not know."
The air grew heavier.
Another woman stepped forward.
"In our village… children began disappearing."
"How many?" Dane asked.
"At first, one in a month."
"Then two."
"Then three in a week."
Murmurs spread among Kael's warriors.
The mother holding a small boy tightened her grip.
"No blood."
"No screams."
"No bodies."
"Just empty sleeping mats."
Kael's eyes darkened.
"And your chief?"
The older woman looked ashamed.
"He said spirits were angry."
"He forbade us from speaking of it."
Another woman added quietly:
"But it was not only children."
Kael frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"Younger men… began dying."
"Healthy ones."
"Fever without cause."
"Breathing stops in the night."
Dane looked toward Kael.
This wasn't random.
This was pattern.
"How many people in your village?" Kael asked.
"Four hundred women remain," the elder answered.
"And young population?"
She swallowed.
"Very few."
"Most who survive are old… or small children."
Kael's mind raced.
Missing children.
Young adults dying.
Population collapse.
Not war.
Not starvation.
Something else.
"Why did you leave?" Dane asked.
The younger mother's voice trembled.
"Because some women… started acting strange."
Silence.
"They walked at night."
"They whispered near the forest."
"They tried to take children from sleeping mothers."
A child behind her began crying softly.
Kael stepped closer.
"Did you see their faces?"
The mother nodded.
"They were… normal."
"But their eyes…"
She struggled to explain.
"Empty. Like someone else was inside."
A cold silence spread across the courtyard.
Dean muttered under his breath, "Not animals."
Kael's thoughts moved carefully.
This could be:
— Disease
— Poison
— Cult activity
— Or something far worse in this primitive world
"Did you confront them?" Kael asked.
The elder shook her head.
"Those who accused them disappeared next."
That settled it.
This was organized.
Or controlled.
Kael looked at the seven children.
Too few.
Far too few.
If the numbers were true…
That village was dying from the inside.
Dane spoke firmly.
"You will be given shelter tonight."
"But tomorrow, we investigate."
Some of Kael's villagers shifted nervously.
Taking refugees meant risk.
Unknown disease.
Unknown enemy.
Kael raised his hand, silencing doubts.
"If something hunts children…"
"It will not stop at one village."
The torches flickered violently as wind passed through.
For a moment, Kael felt something watching from beyond the trees.
Not a beast.
Not like the mammoth.
Something patient.
Something intelligent.
The youngest refugee child looked toward the dark forest…
And whispered:
"It sings at night."
The wind stopped.
No one spoke.
Kael slowly turned his gaze toward the forest line.
Civilization was growing.
Copper.
Weapons.
Trade.
Currency.
But now…
A different threat had entered the story.
Not hunger.
Not rival tribes.
Something that attacked the future itself.
The children.
And if that was true…
This wasn't just survival anymore.
This was war against the unseen.