By the time true night fell, his voice had grown hoarse from repeating her name.

The village had changed.

Torches burned lower than before, their flames tiny and blue. The air tasted metallic, like iron filings on his tongue. The rain had stopped, but the mist remained, curling around rooftops, coiling like snakes around people's legs.

As Auren rounded the far edge of the square, he noticed the wall again.

The section of wooden siding that had shimmered before.

He stepped close, fingers brushing the boards. This time, he felt the seam immediately—a faint groove running vertically. He shoved hard.

The wood gave way.

With a hiss like air escaping a sealed jar, a narrow door swung inward.

Dark stone stairs spiraled down into pitch-blackness.

Auren hesitated on the threshold, listening. No footsteps, no voices, just a faint drip... drip... echoing up from below.

He tightened his cloak around his shoulders and descended.

The stairs were slick and uneven. Dampness oozed from the stone. Shadows clung to the walls like living things. The deeper he went, the more the village above seemed to fade from his mind—as though it had been a dream.

At the foot of the stairs, a corridor stretched ahead, lit by oil lamps smoking in rusted sconces. The flames flickered, casting wavering patterns across the walls.

He followed the corridor, passing archways opening into small rooms. He peered into one and saw old chairs stacked like barricades, a heap of broken pottery, dark stains on the floor.

He turned a corner and froze.

A figure stood at the end of the hall.

Long black hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a face sharp as a sculptor's chisel. A gleaming chestplate hugged her torso, rainwater still glinting faintly on the steel. A spear jutted over one shoulder, the steel tip catching flecks of torchlight.

"Kaele." His voice cracked.

She stared at him with wide, unfocused eyes.

"Kaele—talk to me."

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Then she turned and walked away, silent as a ghost.

"Wait!"

Auren chased her, ignoring the screaming pain in his ribs. He rounded the next corner—and stumbled into a vast chamber.

The space smelled of mildew and something darker—coppery and sour. Moss crawled up stone pillars. Flickering lanterns revealed walls covered in intricate carvings, their lines blurred by centuries of grime.

In the chamber's center rose a massive stone statue.

The figure depicted wore a long robe, arms spread as though beckoning worshippers closer. Its eyes were hollow pits. The lower part of its stone face was cracked away—but what remained looked almost human.

Blood streaks marred its chest and hands. Dried rivulets clung to the moss.

At the statue's base, half a dozen villagers knelt in a ring. They rocked back and forth, whispering words that scraped against Auren's ears like rusted knives.

He scanned the chamber for Kaele.

And there—half-hidden behind the statue—he spotted a shape lying limp on the stone floor.

"Kaele!"

He lunged toward her.

Two villagers sprang up to block his path. Their faces were frozen in wide grins, eyes blank as polished stone.

Auren tried to shove past them, but hands clamped around his arms. More figures surged forward, dragging him back.

The chanting rose in volume.

The villagers pressed him against a pillar. Fingers dug into his shoulders, nails biting his skin through his cloak.

A man with hollow cheeks leaned close. "The Forgotten One remembers," he crooned. "The price must be paid. The door must open."

Auren strained against their grip, vision swimming. "Let me go!"

Another villager—an old woman with a twisted spine—leaned in, her breath sour. "Pain is the key."

Auren's ribs throbbed like fire. "I don't care about your key!"

The villagers didn't react. Their murmuring continued, a single phrase repeated again and again:

"The door must open. The door must open. The door must open."

Suddenly a voice cut through the chanting.

A child's voice.

"Stop it!"

The villagers stiffened as the little boy stepped into the chamber. His small fists were clenched. His eyes glistened in the lantern glow.

"Let him go!"

For an instant, the villagers faltered. Their grips loosened.

Auren tore free and staggered around the villagers. He dropped to his knees beside Kaele.

Her eyes were half-lidded, breath shallow. Her skin glistened with sweat.

"Kaele, come on," he whispered, cradling her head. "Wake up."

Her lips moved faintly. "... Auren..."

Auren felt something surge inside him—a burning heat, unfamiliar and fierce.

Light pulsed from his palms where they touched Kaele's armor. The glow spilled over her chestplate, chased across the stone floor, and climbed the statue's mossy sides.

Kaele sucked in a sharp breath and her eyes flew open, pupils wide.

She blinked at Auren. "What... what did you do?"

"I don't know," he panted. "I just... needed you to wake up."

The villagers wailed and fell prostrate.

Cracks splintered the chamber walls. Dust rained from the ceiling.

The boy shouted, "We have to go!"

Auren pulled Kaele upright.

The villagers scrambled out of their way, still chanting but softer now, voices trembling.

As Auren and Kaele staggered toward the exit, the statue's stone face shifted. A faint smirk curved its lips, where before there had been only blank stone.

They fled back through the twisting corridors.

Torchlight flared and guttered as they passed. Walls trembled. Somewhere behind them, rock fell in great crashing slabs.

The child raced ahead of them, leading them up the spiral stair.

They burst into the night air, panting.

Millshade lay strangely silent. The rain had stopped completely. No villagers moved in the streets. The houses looked hollow, the lanterns flickering out one by one.

The delivery cart still sat by the village edge, piled high.

Kaele gasped for breath, gripping her spear. "We can't stay."

"Agreed," Auren croaked.

The little boy yawned, his eyelids drooping.

Kaele stared at him. "He helped us."

Auren knelt beside the child. "Hey. What's your name?"

The boy blinked sleepily. "Don't... drink the... second..." His voice trailed off as he slumped forward into Auren's arms, fast asleep.

Kaele touched Auren's shoulder. "We can't leave him here."

Auren nodded. He carefully hoisted the boy onto his back, adjusting his cloak to shield him from the chill.

They hurried down the dirt road, leaving Millshade behind.

Fog hung thick as wool around the village gates. Trees loomed on either side, branches glistening wet under a faint sliver of moon.

Behind them, a distant rumble echoed like thunder.

Auren risked one last glance over his shoulder.

Through the fog, he saw the outline of the Forgotten One's statue, towering above the rooftops.

The face that had once been solemn and blank now wore a clear, mocking smirk.

Auren shivered.

He shifted the sleeping boy's weight on his back and pushed forward into the trees, Kaele close beside him, as Millshade disappeared into the mist.

Branches scraped their shoulders as they moved, the forest swallowing the last glimmers of village lantern-light. Leaves dripped cold water onto Auren's hair, and the night smelled of damp moss and distant rain.

Neither of them spoke for a while, the silence broken only by the soft rustle of undergrowth and the boy's slow, even breaths against Auren's back.

At last, Kaele let out a long exhale. "I feel like the whole village was breathing down our necks."

Auren adjusted his hold on the boy, grimacing at the memory. "It was. And the statue..." His voice dropped. "Kaele. Before we ran. I swear—the statue's face changed. It was smirking at me."

Kaele turned to him, brows knit together. "Auren... you've lost a lot of blood. You're tired. Maybe your mind's playing tricks."

Auren opened his mouth, then closed it. He felt the memory clinging to him like cobwebs—the curve of stone lips, eyes that seemed suddenly aware.

"I know what I saw," he said finally, though quieter.

Kaele shook her head. "Statues don't smirk."

But her eyes lingered on his a moment longer, as though searching for some hint of jest. Finding none, she looked away, her spear glinting faintly under the stars.

They trudged on, deeper into the trees.

Auren felt the boy's small weight pressing against him—a reminder of all the unanswered questions left behind in Millshade.

He cast one last glance over his shoulder. The mist coiled among the trunks like silent fingers, obscuring the path back.

"We'll keep moving," Kaele said, voice hardening. "Whatever that village was, we're done with it."

Auren nodded slowly, though unease curled in his gut.

Because in the dark of the forest, with the village vanished behind them, he couldn't shake the feeling that the Forgotten One's stone eyes were still following them.

And far away, unseen, stone lips curved into a deeper smirk.