The sun hovered low over the misty horizon as Dray, Kessa, and Tyro slowly made their way deeper into the strange settlement. They walked side by side, eyes constantly scanning the unsettling scenery around them. The town felt muted, as though sound itself had chosen to abandon this place. The houses were oddly shaped, some too narrow, others too broad, and built with dark, unfamiliar wood that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.
Dray cleared his throat and approached a fruit vendor, an elderly man with a hunched back. "Excuse me, sir," Dray said politely, "can you tell us the name of this town?"
The man glanced up at Dray with vacant eyes, as if he was looking through him, and then turned back to arrange his produce without uttering a word.
Dray tried again with a woman sweeping in front of her home, but she too simply looked at him once and continued her work.
Children ran nearby, laughing and playing with strange wooden toys. Yet even their joy felt muted, almost artificial, as if they were reenacting memories rather than living in the present.
Kessa leaned close to Dray and whispered, her voice laced with unease, "This town looks weird."
Dray nodded silently. The deeper they moved through the streets, the more distant and surreal the world around them became. It no longer felt like Earth. There were no birds, no insects, no dogs barking or cats lounging on windowsills. Even the air smelled different—not foul, but sterile and hollow.
Tyro said nothing, though his hand hovered near the weapon holstered at his side. His instinct for danger had never failed him.
Despite wandering for over an hour, they couldn't even find a sign or marker that revealed the name of the town.
Elsewhere, far from the sunlit streets...
Within a secluded and ominous chamber carved into black stone, the air was thick with incense and shadow. Hooded figures slipped silently into the room, five in total, their robes trailing across the cold, rune-etched floor. A low, rhythmic hum began to build, growing louder with each step they took toward the altar at the end of the hall.
Atop the altar sat a figure, cloaked in absolute darkness. No face could be seen, no limbs moved. He was a being draped in mystery, resting upon a throne shaped like coiled serpents and howling beasts. All around him, the torches flickered in unnatural patterns, casting no light upon his form.
The figures stopped before him and began to chant in eerie unison:
"Oum varax, tal ruvan. Oum varax, tal ruvan. Let the night know our will."
They bowed low, their heads almost touching the ground. Silence followed until one of them finally spoke.
"Three young ones have entered the town, Ragyash," he said, voice trembling.
"A boy and a girl," added another, "but they do not look like the humans of the outside. One is cloaked, identity unknown."
The third stepped forward slightly. "They wear the military garments of the outside world."
A long pause.
Then came a voice.
Ancient. Ominous. Ageless.
It echoed through every crack and crevice of the chamber, as though the walls themselves whispered the words:
"Capture them."
The robed figures trembled at the command.
"Your will is our command, Ragyash," they chanted in reverence.
One by one, they bowed again, then rose and backed away from the altar, never turning their backs on the figure cloaked in darkness.
Once outside, their faces became visible. Four men, all rugged and scarred, and one woman—tall, elegant, and sharp-eyed.
"Do we capture them now?" one of the men asked.
The woman smirked. "I have a better idea."
The others turned to her.
"I will approach them. Earn their trust. Lead them to the hall. You prepare a trap. We'll catch them when they step inside."
One of the men nodded approvingly. "Brilliant idea."
The others agreed, their faces hardening in anticipation.
Back in town, Dray and the others were still trying to get a sense of direction.
Suddenly, a woman approached them. She looked different from the others—more vibrant, more human. Her eyes sparkled with familiarity.
"Hello there," she said warmly.
Dray blinked. "Haaa, I thought this town was weird," he replied.
She laughed softly. "It's not their fault. The people here aren't used to seeing outsiders, especially those from beyond the forest."
Dray offered a tired smile. "We just want to know the name of this place, and how to continue our journey."
"If you want real answers," the woman said, "you'll need to see the town head. He knows everything."
Dray exchanged a quick glance with Kessa, who shrugged.
"Alright," Dray said. "Lead the way."
They followed the woman through the winding streets, past twisted alleyways and stone arches. The further they walked, the more secluded the surroundings became.
Kessa frowned. "Why is this place so quiet?"
"The town head values silence and peace," the woman replied with a gentle smile.
Eventually, they reached a vast, ancient-looking hall built from pitch-black stone. Two stern men stood guard at the front, their expressions stone-like.
Without a word, the woman motioned for them to follow her inside.
As they stepped through the threshold, darkness swallowed them whole.
"Why is it so dark in here?" Dray asked, his voice wary.
No one answered.
A sudden rustling echoed from all sides.
Then light flared—not from torches or bulbs, but from strange red glyphs glowing along the walls.
Dray froze.
Men stepped out of the shadows, surrounding them.
Each held crude weapons—curved cubs and long sticks adorned with symbols.
Kessa reached for her blade.
Tyro lowered his stance into a fighting position.
Dray's eyes locked onto the woman who had brought them.
"What is this?" he demanded.
She smiled again.
But this time, it was cold. Empty.
"Welcome," she said, "to the heart of Ragyash."