Meanwhile, back in the village center, the celebration was in full swing. Laughter echoed between the buildings as villagers shared stories and clinked their mugs together. Children who hadn't yet gone to bed ran between the adults' legs, playing games in the flickering firelight.
Alaric sat with a group of the older men, captivating them with tales from his younger days as an active warrior. His cheeks were flushed with drink and pride, still basking in the praise his son had received earlier.
Beside him, Tanya nursed her own cup of wine, occasionally adding her own commentary to Alaric's increasingly exaggerated stories.
"And then," Alaric gestured with his hand, nearly spilling his drink, "the bear—easily twice the size of any normal beast—got up on its hind legs. But did I run? Not a chance. I channeled my mana and—"
The explosion cut through his words like a blade.
BOOM.
The sound travelled through out the village like thunder, rattling windows and causing several people to drop their drinks. Conversations stopped mid-sentence. Children froze in their games. Even the crackling of the bonfire seemed muted in the sudden, shocked silence.
"What is happening?" Alaric murmured, his instincts immediately overriding the alcohol in his system. He stood up, his hand unconsciously moving toward where his sword would normally hang.
Around the square, other former soldiers and guards were doing the same—scanning the darkness, their bodies tensing with alertness.
The Village Head, who had been deep in conversation with some of the village elders, slowly rose from his seat. Arthur followed behind, but Kael would have noticed something strange in the young man's expression if he had been there.
"That came from the merchant district," one of the guards reported, pointing toward the cluster of shops near the village center.
The Village Head narrowed his eyes, his weathered face growing grim. As someone who had nearly reached Master Knight level in his youth, his magical senses were more developed than most.
"What is this ominous energy?" he muttered, more to himself than to the others.
There was something wrong with the air itself. A coldness that had nothing to do with the night temperature, and an oppressive weight that made it harder to breathe. Those with even basic mana sensitivity were beginning to shift uncomfortably, though most couldn't identify exactly what was bothering them.
Tanya stood up as well, her maternal instincts suddenly screaming warnings. "Where's Aren?" she asked, her voice cutting through the murmur of confused conversations. "Has anyone seen Aren recently?"
Several people looked around, but no one could remember seeing the boy in the last hour or so.
"And Kael," Alaric added, his own parental alarm bells ringing. "Where's my son?"
A ripple of unease passed through the gathered villagers. Two of their children missing, right after a mysterious explosion? It was too much of a coincidence.
Just then, two figures emerged from the darkness at the edge of the celebration's light.
Aren stumbled into the firelight first, his face pale and streaked with sweat. His clothes were torn in several places, and he was breathing so hard he could barely stand upright. Behind him came Kael, moving fluidly but clearly exhausted from sustained magical exertion.
"Aren!" Tanya rushed toward her son, her wine cup forgotten on the ground behind her.
"Kael!" Alaric was right beside her.
The two boys collapsed near the bonfire, their legs finally giving out from exhaustion and terror. Aren was shaking so violently he could barely speak, while Kael kept glancing over his shoulder toward the darkness they had emerged from.
"What happened?" Alaric demanded, dropping to one knee beside his son. "That explosion—were you hurt? Are you injured?"
Kael shook his head, still trying to catch his breath. His mind was racing, trying to figure out how to explain what they had witnessed without revealing the full, horrible truth.
How could he tell them that Arthur—their respected young chief, his father's friend—was collaborating with necromancers? How could he explain the undead, the soul extraction, the planned harvest of village children?
Who would believe such an outrageous story? And worse, what if Arthur was here, listening, ready to discredit them or worse?