The sun was already dipping low when they reached the outskirts of Gallowsbright. A pale orange glow stretched across the sky, staining the moor's fog in streaks of crimson. The nearer they came to the gates, the quieter it seemed. No guards stood watch, only two men leaning lazily against the wooden posts—both sleeveless, one bald and scarred, the other with a ragged punk-cut. Their arms were folded, grins too wide for comfort.
They didn't ask for a stamp. They didn't ask for names.
Instead, the bald one stepped forward, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. "One silver coin each. Toll for entry."
Ashborne's jaw flexed. Reiyell's and Keiya's brows twitched. Even Liora's playful eyes narrowed. Wads caught Ashborne's look, a quiet agreement flashing between them. With a measured exhale, Wads gave the smallest of nods.
Ashborne dug into his pack and wordlessly placed six silver coins into the punk's waiting hand. Both men smirked like wolves fattening on scraps, and stepped aside with a mock bow.
Past the gates, Gallowsbright stretched before them—a modest riverside town. Its crooked cobblestone streets wound between timber-framed houses, their walls climbing with moss and ivy. Lanterns dangled from iron hooks on nearly every corner, their warm glow just managing to hold back the fog drifting in from the moors. At the far edge stood the town's namesake—an old gallows, weathered, rotting, but left untouched as a silent reminder. The market square carried the faintest buzz, but nothing like the bustle of Rooks Run; plain stalls lined the street, bread and cloth stacked neatly beside wooden charms hawked by superstitious sellers. Past the rooftops, a dark forest pressed close, the river curling lazily beside it, carrying the scent of damp earth and quiet unease.
By the time they reached Gena's Inn, night was deepening. The six hauled their packs down. Ashborne took hold of the wagon, steering it aside, while the others pushed open the inn's door.
The warmth of a hearth washed over them instantly. A woman in her forties greeted them, her face lined but kind. She wore a soft, weary smile. "I'm sorry, travelers," she said, wringing her apron. "We do not accept accommodations tonight."
"Greg sent us," Wads replied smoothly.
At once, her expression brightened, her voice lighter, her smile nearly identical to Greg's own. "Greg? Oh, how is he?" she said, her tone turning fond, words spilling quickly with relief. Their exchange softened the room, Gena reminiscing about her brother while Wads spoke politely on Greg's behalf.
Eventually, she clasped her hands together. "I don't have any separate rooms left, but the largest has three bunk beds. Enough for six."
"That will do," Wads answered, bowing his head politely.
The group climbed the creaking staircase. The room was simple but clean. Whitewashed walls, a wooden floor swept spotless, the faint smell of lavender lingering from freshly laundered sheets. Three sturdy bunk beds lined the walls.
"Woohoo!" Klyden shouted, tossing his pack onto the top bunk of the nearest bed. "I claim this kingdom!" He scrambled up with exaggerated pride.
"I'll take this one, then," Liora said, climbing to the top bunk of the second bed with far more grace.
Keiya simply sat at the bottom bunk of Klyden's, sliding her pack beneath the frame. "Children," she muttered.
Reiyell settled beneath Liora's bed, the wood solid, no creak beneath her weight. Wads wordlessly took the last bunk. Ashborne does not look like the type who would sleep at the top of a bunk bed.
Klyden wandered to the window, threw it open, and spread his arms like a bard in a drunken play. "Ahhh, smell that air! Sweet, mysterious Gallowsbright!"
Keiya groaned, crumpled a napkin from her pack, and tossed it at his face. "Shut up and sit down before you fall out."
The napkin stuck briefly to Klyden's cheek. He peeled it off dramatically, bowing like he'd been struck by a royal decree. "Yes, my lady."
The others laughed quietly, the tension of the road fading.
Liora climbed back up and stretched. "Who do you think those men at the gate were?"
"Peeved peasants," Klyden said instantly.
"Thugs," Keiya muttered.
Reiyell's lips curled faintly. "Scum with too much free time."
Liora broke into laughter at the blunt answers. Wads exhaled, shrugging off his jacket, revealing a crisp polo as he rolled up his sleeves. "They're the Scorpions. Greg warned us about them."
"Scorpions?" Klyden snorted, choking back a laugh. "That's even more cringe than the 'Veil' group we made as kids!"
Liora laughed harder at that, clutching her stomach. Keiya finally let a smile slip, though she tried to hide it.
"Seriously, Veil?" Reiyell said, flicking her gaze to Wads.
"Don't look at me," Wads muttered, sliding his glasses off to rub them. "Klyden named it."
Reiyell shook her head slowly. Keiya's stare silently confirmed: of course it was Klyden.
"How long have you two been friends?" Keiya asked, curious.
Klyden spun a chair around and straddled it backward, pointing at Wads with dramatic flair. "Let me tell you about Wyxro here—"
The sound of Wads actually laughing cut him off because it just feels weird to hear his name Wyxro coming from Klyden. Reiyell blinked in surprise. She had never seen him laugh before, and it left her oddly amused. Ashborne entered right then, pausing at the door, his brows furrowed at the bizarre sight.
"I first saw Wyxro when I was four!" Klyden announced proudly. Reiyell leaned forward slightly, Keiya crossed her legs, and Ashborne walked past, silently putting his pack away.
"He was sitting on a swing," Klyden continued, "staring at a barking dog—don't ask me why—when I jumped in front of him! He was so shocked he fell off the swing!"
Liora gasped, listening like it was a fireside tale. Wads rubbed his temple in silence.
"And listen!" Klyden said, grinning. "When I asked him to be my friend, he rejected me!"
Keiya snorted, Reiyell hid a laugh behind her hand, and Liora nearly rolled off her bunk. "I would've too!" she said between wheezes.
"Shut it, Liora!" Klyden pointed at her dramatically. "This snob rejected me every single day for a whole year! I had to annoy him into being my friend!"
"Poor Wads," Keiya teased.
"Poor, poor Wads," Reiyell echoed softly, her smirk deepening.
Klyden groaned, ruffling his hair. "And yet, here we are! Best friends since forever!" He stretched his arms wide, grinning ear to ear. "Then Liora came along when we were seven, and ahh, the golden years began!" He sighed theatrically, like an old man recounting his glory days.
Reiyell shook her head. "Almost ten years of friendship, huh…" she murmured, lying back against her pillow.
Wads pinched the bridge of his nose, finally speaking. "Don't listen to half of what he says. If it were up to Klyden, our childhood would sound like a circus play."
"Circus?" Klyden gasped, hand over his heart. "How dare you, Wyxro."
Their laughter filled the room, spilling into the wooden walls of the inn, carrying with it the kind of warmth only travelers on the road could share.
By the time night fell, their chatter had faded, and the six slept soundly in their bunks.
But elsewhere, beyond the warm lanterns of the town, a figure lingered in Gallowsbright's shadowed alleys. His voice hissed low, curling into the fog.
"Ah… so there are new travelers."
His grin cut through the dark like a knife.