Gord's body moved—one sharp step forward, weight already shifting into a sprint.
"I'm gonna hunt him down," he said.
Zarius's arm snapped out in front of him, blocking his path like a bar."We can't afford that now."
Their eyes met for a beat.
"And chasing him makes us look exactly like what he'll claim we are... We don't have much time. Let's move."
Veda's attention dragged sideways.
Moriana stood a few steps away—too still, too focused. Her eyes were locked on nothing, unblinking.
"Yana…" Veda started toward her. "What's wrong?"
Before she could take another step, Moriana shouted,"Back off!"
Veda jerked her leg back. Behind her, Yulia let out a thin, weak hum—half a warning, half a complaint."What a bad timing…"
A few seconds passed. Moriana exhaled, slow and measured, then spoke again—colder than before.
"Keep your distance." Her eyes didn't leave that empty point ahead.
"Young man, you take the lead. I'll watch our back."
Yulia lifted her face just enough to speak louder.
"Is it really that bad? Two months of drills—and you had it tight."
A tremor ran through Moriana's forearm—subtle, but real.
"Even after consuming it on Synchrony," she said, forcing the words out like they tasted wrong,
"it's still… overflowing."
Zarius cursed under his breath.
"Your choice, witch." He didn't soften it. "If you're not sure, stay. We'll pick you up on our way once we're back from the inn."
His gaze swept the square—ruin, silence, bone-dust. In some corners, the world looked decades older than the next.
"Come on," he said. "Let's go."
As they shifted to move, Veda hesitated, eyes catching on a lone figure farther out.
"What about Hyran?"
Hyran sat with his back to them, legs crossed like this was a break between chores. The horrific cavity in his head and torso was partially closed—new flesh and fur knitting back in slow, grotesque waves.
In front of him lay a small, neat pile of bones and remnants.
Gord's face stayed cold.
"Leave him." He took the front as he spoke.
"I can handle any danger on my own."
Zarius moved beside him, voice firm.
"He'll be on our way too when we head west to Skaldvin. Follow our lead before the Helmgard arrive."
Yulia gave Veda a final, urgent nudge.
They moved east—silent, single-file through a dead city.
No one spoke. Shoulders stayed rigid. Steps kept the same pace, like anything else would crack them open. Faces held blank, tight lines. Eyes fixed forward. Even Yulia, limp against Veda, had given up on looking around—her cheek pressed into Veda's shoulder, her eyelids barely open against a world that had turned into an opened tomb.
Gord was different. Up front, he didn't drift. His head kept turning in small angles. Every crunch under his boots registered. Every gust through a hollowed building. Every shadow that flickered at the edge of the ruins.
On the way to the inn, it wasn't just bones and dust.
In East Valdar, rot hadn't finished its work everywhere. Some bodies still lay where they'd fallen—bloated, split, skin turned to grey slime that clung to bone before sliding off. Dark fluids had seeped out and dried in crusted streaks, then gone tacky again in the damp.
A few steps later, the street flipped—clean, dry skeletons stripped bare, ribs and jawbones dusted white as if the meat had been peeled away in one ruthless sweep.
The ground was black with decay—runoff from the rotting bodies worked into a greasy paste that grabbed their boots, stringing in wet ropes when they lifted a foot. The stench was thick and sour-sweet, crawling into their noses and sitting in their throats until breathing felt wrong.
Veda couldn't take it. She dropped to her knees and vomited hard.
Gord turned back fast, reaching for Yulia—hands already moving to pull her off Veda's shoulder—but Zarius stepped in and took Yulia's weight first.
"I've got her," he said, steady. "We need your strength."
They pushed on. Veda stumbled upright, both hands clamped over her mouth. Moriana stayed close behind her, silent and sharp-eyed.
Veda kept her gaze low, trying to survive one step at a time, but the city refused to let her.
To her left, a skeleton sat slumped against a wall, bony fingers still wrapped around the handle of a clay mug.
Further on, inside a collapsed doorway, two skeletons were tangled together on a pile of rotting straw—locked in a final, ugly embrace.
Veda squeezed her eyes shut.
A small moment later they stopped moving in silence. finally was who to speak.
"Well…" His voice came out rough, scraping the silence. "This is really bad."