The fire crackled in the hearth of the abandoned village house they'd claimed for the night. Lucian sat cross-legged, sharpening his blade with slow, steady strokes. Across from him, Solas rested against the wall, a fresh bandage wrapped around his ribs. The guild girl—still cautious—sat between them, sipping water and watching Solas like he might vanish if she blinked.
The silence was heavy, but not tense. Just tired.
Solas finally broke it. "I found something near the northern woods, before I blacked out."
Lucian paused, his hand stilling on the whetstone.
Solas' eyes flicked toward him. "Not bodies. Not quite. What was left didn't look human. Burned. Torn. Like pieces were… put together. Wrong pieces. The smell was all wrong too—something chemical. Something dead trying to pretend it's alive."
Lucian slowly set the blade down. His heart beat louder.
"I've seen something like that before," he said. "First quest I ever took. It nearly tore me apart. But it wasn't natural. It felt made."
Solas nodded, his gaze sharpening. "Then I'm not crazy."
"No," Lucian said quietly. "You're not."
The girl leaned in, frowning. "So, whatever's behind this… it isn't just hunting villagers. It's using them."
Lucian's jaw tightened. That would explain the lack of blood. The silent nights. The vanishing.
"They're turning people into monsters," he said.
A long pause followed. Even the fire seemed to hush.
Then Solas broke the tension with a sigh. "Well, that makes things simple, at least. We kill whoever's behind it."
Lucian looked at him. "You sure you're up for this?"
Solas grinned through the pain. "I didn't crawl out of a burning field to sit around and knit."
Lucian almost smiled. Just barely.
This wasn't the team he expected. But maybe—just maybe—they were the one this cursed village needed.
Outside, the wind picked up again, howling through the hollow streets.
The hunt was only beginning.