Edrin had been traveling for approximately three hours.
He had already made a mistake.
"I miss the village," he said.
Ronan laughed. "You've been gone half a day."
"That's long enough to regret everything."
Lyra walked ahead of them, her pace steady and unrelenting. "You'll adjust."
"I don't want to adjust," Edrin replied. "I want to go back to a life where the most dangerous thing I faced was a fence."
"You lost to that fence," Ronan reminded him.
"It was a strong fence."
The road stretched ahead, winding through open fields that slowly gave way to thicker forest. The air felt different out here—less familiar, heavier somehow.
Edrin noticed it immediately.
"…Why does it feel like something's watching us again?"
"Because something probably is," Lyra said.
Edrin stopped walking. "I don't like how casually you said that."
"You'll get used to it."
"I don't think I will."
Ronan smirked. "You don't have a choice."
Edrin sighed and kept walking.
"This 'no choice' theme is really persistent."
For a while, they moved in silence.
Well—Lyra and Ronan moved in silence.
Edrin occasionally tripped over small rocks, roots, and once, somehow, his own foot.
Each time, he recovered slightly faster than before.
Progress, he supposed.
"I didn't fall that time," he said after catching himself mid-stumble.
Lyra glanced back briefly. "You're improving."
"That sounded genuine."
"Don't get used to it."
"I'm going to write it down anyway."
Ronan chuckled. "You celebrate small victories."
"They're all I have."
The road narrowed as the forest thickened around them. Shadows stretched longer beneath the trees, and the light grew dimmer.
Edrin lowered his voice. "…This feels like the kind of place where something jumps out."
"Stay alert," Lyra said.
"I am alert. I am extremely alert. I am alert enough for all of us."
"That's not reassuring," Ronan said.
Edrin frowned. "It should be."
A branch snapped somewhere deeper in the forest.
All three of them stopped.
Edrin whispered, "There it is."
Lyra raised a hand slightly, signaling silence.
The air stilled.
The forest held its breath.
Then—
Nothing.
Edrin blinked. "…False alarm?"
"Maybe," Ronan said, though his grip tightened on his sword.
Edrin exhaled. "Good. I prefer false alarms."
They started walking again.
Slower this time.
More cautious.
Edrin tried to keep his focus forward, but his eyes kept darting to the trees, half-expecting something to leap out at any moment.
"…You know," he said quietly, "I was worried about leaving home."
"And now?" Lyra asked.
"Now I'm worried about everything."
Ronan laughed softly. "That's normal."
"That's not comforting."
They continued along the path until the forest began to thin slightly, opening into a small clearing.
Edrin stepped into it—
And stopped.
"…That's not normal," he said.
Lyra and Ronan stepped up beside him.
In the center of the clearing, the ground was scorched.
Blackened.
Cracked.
As if something had torn through the area and left nothing behind.
Edrin swallowed. "…That looks bad."
"It is," Lyra said quietly.
Ronan crouched slightly, examining the ground. "Recent."
Edrin took a step back. "I don't like 'recent.'"
Lyra's gaze moved across the clearing, sharp and focused.
"This wasn't one Invader," she said.
Edrin blinked. "…More?"
Ronan nodded. "A lot more."
Silence fell over them.
Edrin looked around nervously.
"…And we're just standing here?"
"For now," Lyra said.
Edrin tightened his grip on the sword.
"…I have a bad feeling."
Ronan stood, his expression more serious than before.
"Good," he said. "You're learning."
Edrin sighed. "I preferred when I wasn't."
The wind shifted.
Faint.
Cold.
And this time—
It carried something new.
Not just danger.
Not just presence.
But intent.
Edrin felt it immediately.
"…We're not alone," he whispered.
Lyra didn't deny it.
Ronan didn't laugh.
And somewhere beyond the trees—
Something was waiting.