The soft glow of the village lights flickered through the trees, distant and warm. The murmur of voices, the clink of metal, and the faint crackle of fires drifted through the cool night air. Yet, even with signs of life, the forest path they walked was hushed, shadowed, and cautious.
Ethan wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, glancing down at his black running shorts and sleeveless tee, soaked from exertion and dirt. His sneakers, so out of place here, crunched faintly on the soft earth.
He glanced at Talia, who moved ahead with confident, silent steps. Her thick wool tunic and sturdy leather boots seemed built for this world grounded, practical, unremarkable for these parts.
After a moment, Ethan broke the silence. "Talia… do you think we should take the main road from here?"
She hesitated, her gaze flickering sideways at him. "The main road? Why?"
He exhaled, shrugging awkwardly. "Well… I mean, it's the obvious route, right? But with how I look…" He gestured at his clothes, "I'm probably going to attract a lot of attention. People don't dress like this around here."
Talia bit her lip, considering. "You're right. Your clothes your shoes they're… strange here. You'd stand out like a beacon."
"Exactly," Ethan said, nodding. "So, is there another way? A back path or something?"
Talia's eyes softened with understanding. "It skirts the village edge, hidden in the underbrush. Narrow and overgrown, but it leads to my home without drawing eyes."
Ethan smiled, relief breaking through his tiredness. "That sounds perfect. I'd rather avoid curious glances or questions I can't answer."
She nodded and slowed her pace to let him catch up. "Follow me closely. It's tricky roots, rocks, and thorny bushes but I'll guide you."
They veered off the faint dirt road into the deeper forest shadows. The village lights dimmed behind them, muffled by the thick trunks and leaves.
As they walked, Ethan asked, "How big is the village anyway?"
Talia's voice was low, almost reverent. "About a thousand people live here. It's small, but large enough to have its own marketplace, a smithy, a tavern, and even a chapel. Most know each other or at least know of one another."
"A thousand… that's not tiny," Ethan said. "Sounds like a tight community."
"It is. Families stay for generations. Everyone has their role, their place. It's peaceful, but... secrets run deep."
Ethan glanced at her. "Secrets?"
She shrugged. "Old grudges, hidden crimes, the sort of things you don't speak of outside the village."
The path wound narrower, thorny branches scraping at their sleeves. Ethan stumbled once but caught himself quickly.
"You okay?" Talia asked, glancing back.
"Yeah," he said with a grin. "Just not used to walking through jungles."
After several tense minutes, the dense forest began to thin. Ahead, faint shapes took form low wooden houses with smoke curling lazily from chimneys, their warm lights spilling out onto dirt yards.
Ethan breathed a quiet sigh. "Feels like we're coming out of a different world."
Talia nodded. "This is home and my sister Mira waits inside. You'll be safe here away from the woods."
He looked down at himself again. "I hope so. I don't want to cause trouble."
"You won't," Talia assured him. "But you do need to stay out of sight. The villagers are kind, but they're wary of strangers especially ones dressed like you."
Ethan chuckled softly. "Yeah, I just need to change clothes."
They reached a small wooden gate leading into a fenced yard bursting with herbs and wildflowers. The house was modest, but sturdy, the windows aglow with firelight.
Talia stepped forward and rapped firmly on the wooden door. The sound echoed softly in the quiet evening air.
Inside, footsteps hurried across the floorboards. The door swung open, revealing a young woman with lively eyes and a bright smile. She had loose, curly hair that framed her face and a warmth that seemed to fill the small entryway.
"Talia!" Mira exclaimed, her voice bubbling with happiness as she stepped outside. "I was just about to start dinner. You're back early."
Talia returned a faint smile, though her eyes flickered briefly to Ethan behind her. "Yeah, I came back a bit sooner than expected."
Mira's gaze shifted to the stranger quietly standing just behind her sister. Her eyes widened a little, a flicker of surprise crossing her face.
"Who's this?" she asked, stepping closer with curious eyes.
Before Talia could answer, Mira's expression shifted again as she looked up at her sister. "Wait… you're taller. Since when?"
Talia glanced down at herself and gave a small shrug.
Mira tilted her head, studying her sister's stronger frame and the way she carried herself. "You look... different. Stronger. More well, I don't know. You look like you've been through something."
Talia's lips twitched but she didn't respond right away.
Ethan shifted nervously beside her, feeling the weight of Mira's gaze. "Uh, hi," he said, forcing a small smile. "I'm Ethan. I just met Talia today."
Mira's eyes flicked between them both, curiosity and caution mixed with a natural friendliness. "A friend, huh? Well, you're welcome here. But you're kind of… different, too."
Ethan laughed softly, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. It's a long story."
Talia stepped forward, placing a calming hand on Mira's shoulder. "He's been through a lot, Mira. I trust him."
Mira looked at her sister's face, then back to Ethan. "Okay. If Talia trusts you, then so do I. But---"
"But what?" Ethan asked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
"But you're going to have to explain all of this sooner or later," Mira said, her tone light but firm. "I want to hear the story from the beginning."
Talia's eyes flickered with something unreadable, but she nodded. "Soon. For now, come in. Let's get you something to eat and a place to rest."
Mira smiled brightly, stepping aside to let them enter. "Dinner's simple, stew and fresh bread but it's warm, and you'll need it."
As they stepped inside, the scent of herbs and woodsmoke wrapped around them like a comfort. The small house was cozy, filled with well-worn furniture and the quiet hum of daily life.
Ethan looked around, feeling an unfamiliar but welcome sense of refuge.
Mira grinned at him. "So, Ethan, what's the weirdest thing you've ever worn? Because seriously, are hose shoes magic or something?"
Ethan chuckled, easing into the moment. "Not magic, just... modern."
Talia rolled her eyes playfully. "He's from a world far stranger than this one."
Mira laughed, the tension breaking between them.
Ethan smiled, thinking maybe, just maybe, he was going to be okay here.
"So," his voice low but curious, "where exactly am I? Like… what kingdom is this?"
Mira raised a brow, folding her arms as she leaned against the rough-hewn wall. "You don't even know what kingdom you're in? That's strange. Did something happen? You sound lost."
Ethan swallowed hard, staring down at his dirt-streaked hands. "I guess… yeah. I don't remember much. I woke up in a forest with no idea how I got here. It's like everything I knew just vanished."
Talia stepped forward, her eyes dark and serious as she took a seat nearby. "You're in Sablecourt. It's a kingdom tucked between dangerous neighbors. We've been at war with the Tharvorn Dominion to the north for years now."
Ethan blinked, trying to absorb the name. "Tharvorn Dominion…"
Talia nodded slowly. "They're brutal, ambitious and hungry for land. And there's Thalriom, to the southwest, who's been threatening us too. War's on the brink there."
Mira shook her head, lips tight. "Basically, every kingdom around here wants to expand their borders. It's a mess. People live in fear and suspicion."
Ethan's eyes widened, the weight of it settling in. "Wait… so I'm caught in a kind of world war?"
Talia gave a tired sigh. "Not exactly a world war like you might imagine, but yes. Borders shift, alliances break and form. And the innocent get caught in the crossfire."
The room's warmth wrapped around them, but outside, the fading light through the windows pressed against the coming night like a slow, creeping shadow.
Talia glanced toward the dimming sky, her eyes narrowing. "It's getting dark. Mira, you should head down to the underground now. Ethan, you should come too."
Ethan blinked, surprised. "Bunker? Why? Are the Tharvorn Dominion soldiers close? Are they here?"
Talia gave a short, almost weary laugh, then abruptly reached behind the table and grabbed a small, sharp knife and a rusty pitchfork leaning in the corner.
She looked at Ethan, expression puzzled but patient, as if what she was doing was perfectly normal. Then she sighed, shaking her head slowly, and thought to herself, Wherever he came from must be really that far away.
"No," she said softly, "it's not the Dominion. Not yet, anyway. It's just… dangerous at night here."
Ethan frowned, eyes fixed on the weapons in her hands. "Dangerous how? Monsters? Why can't the guards stop them?"
Talia's gaze darkened. "There are guards, yes, they patrols the village and forest edges. But these creatures? They're clever, elusive. Many avoid the guards entirely. They hunt under cover of darkness, slipping into villages and picking off anyone they find alone."
Mira nodded in agreement, her tone serious but calm. "They're not just animals. Some are twisted things born of old curses or magic gone wrong. People here tell stories, but these things are very real."
Ethan swallowed hard, the weight of the reality settling on his chest. "So… staying above ground at night is too risky?"
Talia's grip tightened on the pitchfork. "Exactly. That's why we have we hide underground and lock the doors tight until dawn."
Ethan looked around the small room, suddenly feeling the walls close in. "I'm sorry. This all sounds so strange. Where I come from, it's… different. But I get it. You're trying to keep me alive."
Mira smiled faintly, reaching out to squeeze his arm. "You'll learn to watch the shadows here. We all do. But for now, the underground is your safest bet."
Talia stood, motioning toward a trapdoor set into the floor near the hearth. "Come on. I'll show you the way."
Together, they moved toward the trapdoor, the last of the fading light slipping away as the forest outside whispered with unseen threats.
The scent of the stew still clung to the air as Talia guided Ethan and Mira toward the trapdoor. A low lantern glowed near the hearth, its light making the shadows on the walls sway like restless branches in the wind.
Ethan glanced down at the wooden square in the floor, reinforced with thick iron bands. "That's… the bunker?"
"Yes," Talia said, kneeling to lift the heavy latch. "It's not much to look at, but it increases our chances to stay alive."
Mira set her hands on her hips. "And it's warmer than it looks, once you're inside. We keep blankets down there."
Ethan crouched beside them, peering into the dim opening. A ladder descended into darkness, the faint smell of earth and dry straw rising up. "Feels like a storm shelter back home… except the storm here has teeth."
"That's one way to put it," Talia murmured, her voice low.
Mira rolled her eyes faintly but smiled. "Don't listen to her when she gets all dramatic."
"I'm not being dramatic," Talia replied, fixing her sister with a look. "You remember what happened to the Carvers last year."
The smile slid from Mira's face, and she nodded once. "Yeah. Fair enough."
Ethan hesitated. "What… happened?"
Talia didn't answer immediately. Her fingers tightened on the edge of the trapdoor. "They didn't hide."
That was all she said, but the silence after it was heavy enough to choke on.
Mira broke it with a forced brightness. "Anyway, let's not stand around up here talking about it. Come on, before it gets properly dark."
They descended one by one. The bunker wasn't large stone walls, a low wooden ceiling, and shelves along one side stacked with jars of dried herbs and food. A small cot was tucked in the corner beside a pile of folded blankets.
Ethan took it all in. "Not bad. Cozy, even."
"That's one word for it," Mira said with a faint smirk.
Talia set the pitchfork down within arm's reach and sat cross-legged on the floor. "We wait until dawn. No matter what we hear up there, we don't go out. Understood?"
Ethan nodded. "Understood."
They passed the first hour talking quietly. Mira told small, harmless stories about village festivals and childhood pranks, while Ethan explained carefully how strange this world was to him. He avoided saying too much about where he came from; Talia didn't press, though she listened intently.
After a while, their voices grew softer, their words slower, until silence settled in like a blanket. The lantern burned low, casting just enough light to see each other's faces.
Ethan was half-asleep when the first sound came—a faint creak from above, like a step on an old floorboard.
His eyes opened and whispered. "Did you hear that?"
Another creak. Slow. Deliberate.
Mira's brow furrowed. "Is someone… in the house?"
Talia's voice was barely above a whisper. "I locked the door."
Ethan swallowed. "You're sure?"
"Yes," she said, a trace of steel in her tone. "I'm sure."
Then came the sound click like a latch being tested. Followed by a long pause. And then another step. The intruder, whatever it was, moved slowly, almost lazily, as if it knew they were there and didn't need to hurry.
Mira pressed a hand over her mouth. The air felt thicker now.
From above, faint scratches began a dry, almost tentative scraping against wood. It circled, stopping above the spot where the trapdoor was.
Ethan's heart thudded.
She stood silently, took up the pitchfork, and positioned herself facing the ladder.
The scratching paused… then resumed, this time right at the seam of the trapdoor. It was slow at first, but then deliberate, like something trying to find the edge.
A single sound broke through a thin, dry tap against the iron latch.
Ethan moved to Talia's side, his grip tightening on the small knife she'd given him. "If it gets in..."
"It won't," Talia said, her voice low and fierce.
The next sound froze them all a metallic clink as the latch shifted. Something thin had slipped into the narrow gap of the trapdoor, probing at the lock.
Then they saw it.
A long, pale claw that is far too thin. The joint bent backward unnaturally as it curled around the latch. Slowly, deliberately, it began to lift it.