The night descended slowly, like a silken veil being pulled over the world.
I was sitting next to Rammal, who drove the carriage with the patience of a man who had done it a thousand times. Having just come out of meditation, I still felt enveloped by an inner fog—that half-sleepy state where the body is awake but the mind still floats on another plane.
From time to time, my eyes rested on the aged leather map on my lap. I unfolded it, confirmed our predetermined route, and returned to face it just out of habit. I already knew the way, but there was something comforting about the repetition.
Twilight was approaching, and it was one of the landscapes I liked to observe the most. It always has been.
The forest was being swallowed by shadows little by little. The golden light gave way to a deep reddish hue, and then to dark purple. The clouds, still visible to the naked eye, hid the sun behind their dense bodies—but not before being tinged red by the evening fire. It was as if the sky was burning in silence.
The wind began to blow in my face, bringing distinct fragrances of the forest: leaves, flowers, damp earth... Everything mixed and spread through my nostrils. The heat of the day was already gone, taking with it the exhaustion of the sun. In its place, the first noises of the insects came, announcing the opening of another night show.
I let myself go.
I lay on my back on the edge of the carriage, feeling the lethargy spread through the extremities of my body. Like a heavy sheet, she crawled into me, slowly but determinedly. I blinked, staring at the slowly fading sky.
"At first it was good," I murmured, my eyes half-open as I looked up at the darkened sky. "But now... it's just boring"
"Hold on just a little longer," Rammal replied with good humor, his eyes fixed on the map in his calloused hands. "We will enter the plain tomorrow at noon"
I nodded, but before I could sink back into the dusk slum, a strange hum cut through the silence. It started subtle, like the flapping of the wings of an insect that was too close — but it intensified. It was almost like a whisper straight into my ear, icy and jagged.
I opened my eyes, alert.
A biting cold rose up my back, spreading across my chest. I sat up immediately, my eyes fixing in a specific direction, instinctively.
"Which way does this route lead?" I asked, pointing to an old, forgotten-looking road that jutted out of the trees—overrun with roots and brush.
Rammal hesitated. The good mood disappeared from his face like steam.
"The Forest of Maples" replied in a lower tone. "There is an abandoned mansion there. It had been owned by a nobleman, for a long time. But the Empire of Dawn made a purge there... And now, only ghosts remain. I never went in, but I passed by a few times on my trips. I always avoided getting close"
There was something in his voice... Genuine tension. Fear.
Doug approached with a crooked smile, the kind of expression one makes when remembering something they'd rather forget.
"Yes. There's something wrong with that mansion," he said. "We were advised never to enter. Those who did... ended up committing suicide on the way back"
I felt my expression harden.
"Purges?" I repeated, keeping my voice steady but low.
"The Church of the Dawn does this from time to time," Doug replied, folding his arms. "They don't have as much influence in our hometown, but they are a dominant force in the capital. Paranoid people... believes that he is defending a just cause. In practice, they make judgments and condemnations without mercy. And they believe they are saving the world in the process."
I stopped talking and went back to lying down, crossing my arms under my head. The buzzing persisted—for a moment, I thought they would get worse. And they got worse. A high-pitched, vibrating sound, as if some invisible presence was approaching, pressing on the edges of my mind.
But after a few minutes, they began to weaken. The cold slowly dissipated and the exhaustion of meditation finally caught up with me. I surrendered to fatigue. My eyes closed. My breathing slowed down.
And then I listened.
"You must run away," whispered a voice.
I heard a whisper. It didn't sound like a thought of mine, nor a sound coming from outside. It was something strange, floating in the middle of nowhere. Still, my rested mind was able to discern it with disturbing clarity.
Even so, I realized. I felt the words pierce the fabric of sleep and echo inside my mind. My consciousness rose, as if it were emerging from a dark sea. And I opened my eyes.
But he was no longer in the forest.
He was in front of the carriage, standing still... and someone was watching me from above her.
A child.
She wore torn and dirty clothes, covered in a thin layer of dust. Her face was pale, expressionless, and in the center of her forehead... there was an axe. Deeply driven. The blade went through the skull, but the blood looked dry, old, as if it was already part of it. His eyes, crooked and distorted, stared at me with a look that was impossible to decipher. Something between agony and fascination.
But your mouth... His mouth was still moving.
"If you don't run... You can get hurt," he said, in a voice that sounded like scratching glass. "What are you looking for... it's not here"
She raised a trembling arm and pointed.
In the direction of the mansion.
That same forgotten road, shrouded in roots and silence. The forest of maples.
"But there," he added.
The little boy smiled.
It was at that moment that I began to breathe with difficulty. His words still echoed in my mind as I opened my eyes, panting. It was already morning.
A cold sweat ran down my face. The dread enveloped me like a wet, heavy, suffocating blanket.
"Stop the carriage," I ordered in a trembling voice.
Rammal pulled the reins immediately, surprised.
"Is there a problem, sir? The horses are still in good condition to travel"
I put my hand to my chest, trying to calm the uncontrolled pulse. The panic on my face said more than I could explain. It was an instinctive, primitive fear. I knew that if I didn't listen to that thing—whatever it was—I would be dead.
(The path is wrong... Isn't the goal the Golden Galleon?) I frowned, confused, until a memory of Felipe's voice popped into my mind:
"We necromancers are persecuted. We cannot operate in a place known to everyone"
(If that's so... Why didn't he tell me from the beginning? Couldn't he?) I thought, restlessly. I knew Felipe. He wouldn't betray me without good reason.
Both warriors obeyed my orders, though I could see the confusion on each one's faces. He didn't say a word. I just got into the carriage and started to change, gathering all my belongings.