There was something wrong with the village.

Nothing was destroyed—just terribly off. Fences leaned at odd angles as if the ground beneath them had shifted overnight. Buckets hovered in the air, and rakes sat upright in the dirt where no one had planted them. Crops twisted into curls, as though the earth had tried to braid itself.

A wagon lay on its side, one wheel spinning in the dust.

On top of that wheel, balanced like it owned the place, stood a black goat.

The goat bleated at the sky defiantly.

Villagers whispered words like curse and haunting. Some made holy symbols with their hands. Most instinctively avoided the shrine in the field. It glowed faintly red in the sunlight, a crack running down its face like a wound. Each time it pulsed, the villagers flinched.

“Send a message to the King,” a villager finally spoke up. “Send for the Black Banner.”

They came before dusk.

Footsteps echoed first, heavy and measured. Rook’s boots struck dirt as his shadow stretched across the town’s broken outer fence. He was armored in black steel that had seen too many miles. A scarred visor hid his face, covering his eyes in darkness. It reflected the warped glow of the shrine as he approached. He stopped just long enough to survey the curious villagers watching from afar before striding forward.

Beside him, a strip of paper fluttered. A hand caught it easily, fingers snapping the charm back into place. Sana grinned around the corner of the parchment, all foxlike teeth and mischief. Her bracelets chimed softly as she tucked them at her belt with a swish of her fluffy tail.

“Always with the mystery,” she told Rook. “You could address them all first, you know.”

He didn’t answer.

A low growl silenced the muttering around them. Ashen padded into view, dark scales glinting where the sun touched them. His massive head dipped to the dirt, a single golden eye sweeping the villagers. Someone gasped. Someone else muttered a prayer.

Grave arrived next. His sword was strapped at his side, shoulders tense but chin lifted like he hoped to prove something. He glanced at the others and muttered, “This isn’t what I pictured.”

Sana flicked her fox ears. “Magic never is.”

Rook’s voice came through his helm, sharp and low. “Eyes up. It’s active.”

The shrine waited at the edge of the fields.

A slab of stone, cracked nearly in two, pulsed with a dull glow. The dirt around it had warped. Weeds curled inward, sprouting in spirals. Even the air felt heavier here.

Sana crouched at once. She pressed a charm to the crack and watched the paper smolder faintly at the edges. “A bleed,” she said. “Old magic leaking through. Nothing we can’t handle.”

Grave frowned. “That’s it? You just stick paper on it?”

“Don’t underestimate my paper,” she grinned.

A crash split the field.

The goat had launched itself off the wagon wheel and barreled straight at Grave. He yelped, half-drawing his sword. Before he could swing, Rook shoved him aside with one armored arm. The goat skidded past, bleated once, and darted for the hills.

Villagers laughed nervously. One even clapped.

Grave’s ears went red. “Was that—?”

“Not the real problem,” Rook said.

Ashen prowled closer to the shrine, nostrils flaring. His tail lashed once, restless.

Sana pressed another charm down. “Just give me a moment. We seal the crack, the bleed settles, the world stops putting buckets where buckets don’t belong.”

Grave muttered, “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” she chirped.

The charm smoked.

Grave leaned closer. “Is it supposed to do that?”

A fine new fissure spread across the stone, splitting the charm apart. Light surged from the crack in a sudden pulse. The ground rumbled. Small stones lifted an inch, hung there, then dropped all at once.

Everything was quiet.

“Well,” Grave said grimly. “That was easy.”

The shrine broke.

The glow flared bright enough to blind. Crops curled tighter, shriveling in on themselves. A rake twisted in the air, thrown upright. Even the dirt seemed to ripple.

Villagers screamed. Some bolted for the houses.

Rook planted himself in front of the shrine, silver sword flashing free in one clean motion. His visor caught the red light, gleaming like an ember.

Sana was already digging in her satchel, ripping new charms free with her teeth. “Buy me time!”

Ashen growled low, smoke curling from his throat. His wings flexed once, shaking dust across the field.

Grave froze for a heartbeat, eyes wide at the sight of the stone unraveling. Then he swallowed, raised his sword, and stepped beside Rook. “Guess I did ask for more fighting.”

“Hold,” Rook ordered.

The shrine crack widened.

And something inside it began to move.