The silence in Eldenwood was unnatural.

  The Eastern Team arrived at midday, when the sun was high, yet the village seemed frozen in a dead hour. There were no children, no animals, no fresh smoke rising from the chimneys. Only the lingering smell of burnt wood… and something heavier, metallic, that refused to fade.

  Captain Mara Kell advanced first. Her gaze swept over every house, every shuttered window, every shadow that lingered too long. Her weapon stayed lowered, but her hand never strayed far from its hilt. The thin scar on her left cheek looked more pronounced than usual.

  The mayor greeted them with an ashen face, as if he hadn’t slept in days. He spoke quickly, words tumbling over each other.

  First came the disappearances. People who never returned from the forest. Then the bodies appeared. Drained. Marked. At first, far from the village. Yesterday, inside their homes.

  “This time…” he swallowed hard, “…this time they didn’t try to hide it.”

  Mara said nothing. She simply followed him into one of the barns, where a cloth covered something on the ground.

  When she lifted the tarp, the air seemed to grow colder.

  The corpse’s skin was pale, almost ashen. Curved lines stretched across the neck and arms, precise, with blackened edges, as if carved with heat. There were no rough cuts. No bite marks.

  Elias Rowan crouched immediately. He drew his small knife and carefully held it near one of the markings, without touching it.

  “This isn’t an animal,” he said, tension sharp in his voice. “Someone carved this. And they knew exactly where to do it.”

  Liora Voss knelt beside him, her fingers glowing faintly with healing energy as she examined the body without trying to mend it.

  “This isn’t from a common weapon,” she murmured. “The marks look burned from the inside. Like something reacted beneath the skin.”

  Korvax Dren stood in silence, his shield resting against the ground. His brow furrowed.

  “They want us to see this.”

  No one disagreed.

  Mara straightened slowly. For a brief moment, she felt a clear sensation of being watched from outside the barn. She turned her head. Nothing. Only still trees and an empty road.

  “Search the forest,” she ordered. “Don’t split up. And keep your eyes open.”

  As the team moved between the trees, the feeling did not fade.

  It was as if Eldenwood was no longer alone.

  Far to the north, in the Kaelor Mountains, the wind cut like thin blades.

  The Northern Team advanced carefully across the rocky terrain. Lysa led the way, crouching now and then to examine the ground, frowning at footprints that didn’t make sense.

  “They don’t walk normally,” she said. “The weight… it’s wrong.”

  Garrick stopped beside her. Further back, Torren knelt before a crack in the stone.

  “Here,” he called.

  The runes were carved in spirals, interwoven like roots. They weren’t elegant or ceremonial. They looked forced. Burned. The surrounding stone was blackened.

  Torren slowly shook his head.

  “I don’t recognize them. They’re not from Valthera. Not from any kingdom I know.”

  Efrén stepped closer, visibly uneasy. He traced the lines in the air without touching them.

  “This…” he hesitated. “This doesn’t work like a normal seal. It looks like it absorbed energy. Or summoned something using a method I don’t understand.”

  Nearby, black crystalline fragments lay scattered among the rocks. Veyra remnants. Broken. Used.

  “For what?” Garrick asked.

  No one answered right away.

  They all felt it then. A subtle pressure. The uncomfortable certainty that they were not alone.

  Garrick straightened.

  “Keep searching,” he ordered. “And don’t separate.”

  The wind continued to howl, but it no longer felt natural.

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  Lucan walked beside Renar along the path leading to the Virell house.

  Renar was distracted, speaking little, his mind clearly elsewhere. He thought about recent training sessions, mistakes, corrections… and didn’t notice, until they arrived, how unnaturally quiet the house was.

  The backyard was empty.

  “Let’s train a bit,” Renar said, as if nothing were wrong. “Before it gets late.”

  Lucan nodded.

  They trained alone. Technical, precise movements. Renar corrected his posture patiently, pointing out mistakes without harshness. Lucan focused, letting his body respond before his mind did.

  At one point, Renar smiled faintly.

  “Well done,” he said. “That was better.”

  The door creaked.

  Maelis stepped into the yard first, followed by Darian and Aeris.

  Darian stopped when he saw them.

  Lucan stopped as well.

  The air shifted.

  Aeris watched with curiosity. Darian with something darker.

  And Renar, for the first time since they arrived, seemed to realize that his house was no longer as empty as he thought.

  The training hung unfinished, like a question no one dared to ask yet.

  Darian reacted first.

  He stood still, watching the scene. Renar was facing Lucan, correcting his stance, and for a brief moment, a quiet laugh escaped him.

  Darian clenched his jaw.

  Even at home?

  It’s already come to this?

  Aeris, meanwhile, stepped forward without overthinking it. Her eyes moved over Lucan with genuine curiosity, without hostility.

  “Do you always train like that?” she asked. “It’s not just strength.”

  Lucan hesitated before answering.

  “I guess… I trained a lot,” he said, avoiding details.

  Darian let out a short, dry laugh.

  “Looks like Dad’s got himself a new apprentice.”

  The comment landed like a stone.

  Maelis turned immediately.

  “Darian. Enough.”

  The silence that followed was uncomfortable. Renar said nothing. Aeris frowned slightly but didn’t push. Lucan lowered his gaze, unsure if he had done something wrong.

  Maelis took a breath and softened her expression.

  “Since you’re already here,” she said to Lucan, “stay for dinner.”

  Lucan looked up, surprised.

  “I don’t want to be a bother—”

  “You’re not,” she replied. “Come in.”

  The table was set simply. Nothing ceremonial. Nothing outwardly tense. Worn wood, common plates, warm food. To an outsider, it would have looked normal. Familiar.

  But beneath the gentle words, something stirred.

  Maelis asked basic questions, almost mechanically. Where he came from. What he liked to train. Whether Valthera’s climate felt harsher than the mountains. Her voice was kind, but measured, as if each sentence were calculated.

  Lucan answered carefully, without elaborating too much. He didn’t lie, but he didn’t offer more than necessary. Talking about himself still felt strange, as if every word risked revealing something he didn’t fully understand.

  Aeris watched him in silence, resting her elbow on the table. There was no judgment in her eyes, only curiosity. A persistent, almost childlike curiosity… until she couldn’t help herself.

  “And when you were little?” she asked. “What were you like as a child? Did you train a lot?”

  Lucan went still.

  The sound of cutlery seemed to fade. Even Darian stopped moving.

  Lucan lowered his gaze slightly, as if searching for the answer somewhere unseen. He closed his eyes for just a second.

  He searched within himself.

  An image.

  A clear sensation.

  A memory that wasn’t broken.

  He found almost nothing.

  “I don’t remember much,” he said at last. “I remember… Alaric. He was always good to me. Like a grandfather.” He paused, uncomfortable. “And then Eldric training me. That’s what’s clearest.”

  He swallowed.

  “The rest is… empty.”

  Renar slowly set his cutlery down. The sound was soft, but enough to break the air.

  Maelis didn’t look at him, but her back stiffened. As if someone had spoken a forbidden word.

  Lucan noticed.

  He felt the shift. The discomfort he couldn’t name.

  “Did I say something wrong?” he asked, genuinely confused. “I’m sorry… I”.

  No one answered right away.

  The silence stretched longer than it should have. Too long for a family table.

  Darian clicked his tongue, staring at nothing in particular.

  “Some people are lucky to forget.”

  The words landed heavy, charged with more than sarcasm.

  “Darian!” Maelis raised her voice immediately. “Don’t say something like that again.”

  Darian pressed his lips together, irritated, but stayed silent.

  Lucan lowered his gaze once more. He didn’t understand what had caused the reaction, the tension. But something in the air told him he had touched something he shouldn’t have. Something the adults had been avoiding for a long time.

  For the first time, doubt sank in deep, clear and persistent.

  Why don’t I remember anything?

  And why does everyone go quiet when I say it?

  That night, the dream was different.

  It didn’t come all at once. It crept in slowly, like a shadow stretching before it reaches you.

  Lucan woke drenched in sweat, his heart pounding. His back burned. The Seal throbbed beneath his skin, pulsing with an intensity he hadn’t felt in a long time, as if reacting to something nearby.

  He wasn’t alone.

  He knew it before seeing anything. Before thinking.

  A presence.

  Familiar and alien at once. Like a memory that wasn’t his, yet insisted on claiming him.

  “Soon,” a voice whispered from the darkness. “Soon I’ll show you the truth… and take you with me.”

  Lucan tried to move. His muscles didn’t respond. His body felt heavy, trapped between sleep and waking.

  “Who are you…?” he tried to say, but no sound came out.

  The figure never fully formed. There was no clear face. There didn’t need to be. The eyes, however, were unmistakable in the shadows, shining with an unsettling intensity.

  Lucan jolted awake, gasping, with the feeling that something—or someone—had just pulled away.

  The Seal was still burning.

  Far from there, Alaric sat alone in his chamber.

  Seated, leaning forward, hands clasped together, as if the weight of the entire kingdom rested on his shoulders. Candlelight cast long shadows across the walls, warping his silhouette.

  The door opened without a sound.

  Eldric entered.

  “The informant spoke,” he said quietly. “There’s unstable energy and seals near the kingdom.”

  Alaric didn’t move at first.

  “I expected as much,” he replied after a few seconds.

  He closed his eyes.

  “But thank you.”

  The silence that followed was thick. Uncomfortable. Full of unspoken things.

  Alaric took a deep breath before speaking again.

  “When do you plan to reunite with your daughter?” he asked.

  Eldric tensed immediately. The reaction was subtle, but unmistakable.

  “I’m not ready,” he said. “Not after what happened. Not until I know I can protect her… not drag her into this.”

  “Time is running out,” Alaric said, without harshness, but with a gravity that couldn’t be ignored. “She needs you too.”

  Eldric didn’t answer.

  He turned and left in silence, just as he had entered.

  Alaric remained alone, staring into nothing, feeling the pieces begin to move beyond his control.

  “We’re all breaking,” he whispered, “and I don’t know how to stop it.”

  End of Chapter 10