The sun burned mercilessly in the sky, casting its harsh light over a completely deserted village. The houses, silent and cloaked in dust, held the weight of something recent — something grim. The only movement came from the soldiers filling the streets, their dawn-blue capes billowing in the heat, silver armor gleaming like mirrors under the sun. They were the Knights of the Aurora, known for their relentless discipline and the unmistakable shine of their attire.
At the village center, next to an old stone well, stood a tall, lean man. His blond hair was tied at the nape of his neck, standing out among the crowd of closed helmets. His gaze was fixed on something horrific: a charred body, still pinned to a stake driven into the ground like a grotesque cross.
The scorched flesh crackled in the hot breeze. Nothing about it felt natural — neither the death nor the silence.
"How could someone... do this?" the man whispered, feeling a cold knot in his stomach despite the heat.
His thoughts were broken by the sharp sound of armored footsteps. Someone was approaching quickly.
"Lieutenant Nikitich!" called a soldier, striking his fist against his chest in a salute, sweating beneath his silver helm. "We searched the entire village... but found nothing." The soldier's voice was breathless, heavy with nausea, as he pinched his nose shut. The smell of burned flesh seemed to cling to the very air.
"I see..." murmured Lieutenant Nikitich, his eyes fixed on the hanging corpse. Something about the scene deeply unsettled him. Not just the brutality, but a sense — subtle, yet undeniable — that this went beyond the realm of men. There was something in the air... something divine.
"Do you believe this was the work of demons?" the soldier asked hesitantly.
Nikitich remained silent for a moment. Then, without lifting his gaze from the ground, he replied:
"Unlikely... Demons love spectacle. They scream, destroy, leave behind trails that boast of their presence."
He knelt beside a set of marks in the hardened earth. Several footprints crossed the ground, but they weren't signs of flight. They were dragged... as if someone had been forcibly taken.
"An entire village in silence... This was human work," he said darkly, turning back to the blackened corpse. Beyond the grotesque burns, the victim's legs were covered in wounds. Deep cuts, perhaps from blades, or something even more cruel.
"Send for reinforcements," he ordered, rising. "And take her down. Make sure she receives a proper burial."
Time passed, and the sun began to descend on the horizon when the body was finally laid to rest. All the knights were present, arranged in a semicircle around the open grave. A solemn silence hung among them.
Lieutenant Nikitich stood with his head bowed, murmuring a prayer for the anonymous soul. Perhaps the last witness to what truly happened in the village of Sens.
And in that moment, as the earth covered the coffin, a golden ray of light pierced the clouds. The light of Belenus, the Lord of Light, rested gently upon the village.