The morning came cold and gray, mist rolling low over the cracked earth. The group moved in a loose formation along the remnants of an old stone road, half-buried by ash and roots. Trees leaned like gaunt sentinels, their branches clawing the sky.
Rhess kicked at a loose stone. "You know, this used to be part of the merchant trail to Veyln. Back before it all… burned."
"Your trivia is riveting," Seralyn muttered, stepping over a half-buried wagon wheel.
Rhess grinned. "I'm just saying — people used to bring spices and silks through here. Now? Just us and whatever's lurking in that fog."
Maeve scanned the treeline. "And you had to say that out loud."
Lyra walked near Kaelen, her eyes flicking between him and the road ahead. "Do you think anyone lives here now?"
Kaelen shook his head. "Not for long, if they do."
"Optimistic," she said dryly.
"I call it honest," he replied.
Seralyn stopped briefly to examine a carved stone marker. "Fifth mile," she murmured. "We're close to the ridge."
Kaelen glanced at her. "See anything unusual?"
"Besides the fact we're still breathing? No."
The trail narrowed as they pushed through thick undergrowth. Lyra moved ahead, surprisingly nimble. "I used to think forests were safe," she said.
Rhess smirked. "That's because you've never seen what hunts in them."
Maeve shot him a look. "Not helping."
"Not trying to," he said cheerfully.
They emerged onto a ridge overlooking a vast stretch of blackened land, where dead trees jutted like skeletal fingers. Smoke rose faintly in the far distance.
Kaelen crouched near the edge, scanning the horizon. "Something's burning out there."
"Could be bandits," Seralyn said.
"Could be worse," Maeve countered.
Lyra's gaze lingered on the rising smoke. "It feels… wrong."
Kaelen stood. "We'll check it later. For now, keep moving."
They descended into a narrow valley. The air was thicker here, damp and heavy. Small streams ran red with silt. Along the path, they found remnants of an old campsite — rotted bedrolls, a collapsed tent, and a half-buried chest that Rhess immediately began trying to pry open.
"Could be treasure," he said with a grin.
"Could be cursed," Maeve said flatly.
"That's half the fun."
Kaelen didn't stop him, but when the chest finally opened, it revealed only broken tools and moldy cloth.
"Your definition of treasure needs work," Seralyn remarked.
"Hey, one man's trash…" Rhess began.
"…is still trash," Maeve finished.
By the time they turned back toward camp, the sun was already dipping low. The mist had thickened, curling around their ankles. That was when Kaelen heard it — a sharp fluttering overhead.
A black-feathered messenger bird swooped down, landing on a low branch in front of him. Its eyes gleamed red in the fading light.
Rhess frowned. "That's not one of ours."
The bird extended its leg, revealing a small sealed scroll. Kaelen broke the wax and read quickly.
His jaw tightened.
"What is it?" Seralyn asked.
Kaelen looked up at them, voice low. "Someone's at our camp. Waiting for us."
Maeve's eyes narrowed. "Friend or enemy?"
Kaelen's grip tightened on the parchment. "A subordinate of Vorath."
The forest seemed to grow colder. Lyra shifted slightly, her expression unreadable.
"Then," Rhess said softly, "we'd better be ready."