Chapter 21
Greenvalley was a small village, but sturdier than most. Its houses were built of brick, stones, and timber. Roofs tiled instead of thatched. The people here knew their craft. Smoke rose thinly from a few chimneys, and a handful of villagers moved about the streets, their steps slow, faces drawn.
A cart creaked past, a woman carried water from a well, but there was little sound between them. No laughter. No chatter. Only the groan of wood and the soft rattle of shutters shifting in the wind.
"I'm Garron." The village chief said as they walked. "I'm a hunter. And also the chief of Greenvalley village. Not that the title means much anymore." He gave a humorless chuckle. "Your papers look proper enough, but I've never heard of this Stonewatch."
Darius met the man's sideward glance without offense. "It's newly formed." He explained. "Under Lord Isaac Thornevale's direct order. We're meant to handle cases the regular guards can't."
"I see." Garron grunted. "I would've thought that, given how detailed my reports have been, the town would have sent more seasoned fighters to handle this case. But I suppose I'll take what I can get."
Renna, walking just behind Darius, spoke evenly. "Our being new doesn't mean we're untrained. We came prepared to handle more than strayed wolves."
Garron glanced her way, his gaze briefly catching on the faint glint of silver at her collar. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something sharp, but he only sighed instead. "Then I hope you're as good as your Lord thinks you are."
They reached his house near the center of the village: a sturdy two-story dwelling of brick and oak. The porch beams were marked with talismans, some old and brittle, others freshly carved. He pushed the door open and motioned them inside.
The interior was warm but dim. The faint scent of herbs hung in the air, and somewhere deeper in the house, a kettle hissed over a fire. Garron's wife, a quiet woman with deep lines of worry etched into her face, offered them a nod before retreating to prepare tea.
"Sit." Garron said simply.
The squad took places around a broad table scarred by years of use. Darius sat opposite the chief, while the rest fanned out, Renna and Alden to one side, the Scourge leaning against a post near the window.
For a moment, only the creak of chairs and the distant bubbling of water filled the silence. Then Garron spoke, his tone heavy.
"It started about a month ago." He began. "First, it was livestock. Goats, chickens, dogs. Gone in the night. We first thought it was the work of some unruly beast, but we found no signs of blood or struggle."
He paused to take a slow breath. "Then it was people. A woodcutter vanished near the ridge. Then a woman and her daughter from the southern quarter. All gone without trace."
Darius listened intently, elbows on the table. "No tracks? No signs of forced entry?"
"None." Garron's jaw clenched. "Doors found open. Lamps still burning. Meals half-eaten. Like they just got up and walked out into the dark."
He rubbed a scarred hand over his face. "Three nights later, we found Henral in his well. Broken arm. Collarbone. We pulled him out, and the moment he came to, he started screaming about his wife calling him from outside. Said he went to the door, and the next thing he remembers is waking up choking in the dark. His wife and boy…gone."
Darius's brows furrowed. "And still no signs of struggle?"
Garron shook his head slowly. "None. House was untouched. Just empty."
Jaro's expression darkened. "And you're certain this wasn't bandits?"
Garron's eyes hardened. "Bandits don't walk through locked doors. And they don't whisper."
A faint chill rippled through the room at his words.
He let the silence linger before continuing. "The villagers say they sometimes hear voices. Faint whispers calling for help." He hesitated. "And when they go, they don't come back."
The Scourge broke the silence first, his tone dry but sharp. "You've heard it?"
"I did." Garron said flatly. "And so did my son."
He fell quiet then, knuckles whitening on the table. His wife returned briefly to place a wooden tray with steaming cups, her eyes flicking toward her husband but saying nothing.
"My boy, Fenn." Garron said finally, voice rough. "Five days ago, he slipped out sometime after noon. He knew better, none of us go far alone anymore, but he must've thought to check the ridge traps before nightfall." His throat worked. "The following day, we found his boots in the muds nearby."
A heavy silence followed. Alden stared into his cup, the faint reflection of sunlight trembling across its surface. The chief's words pressed against the heavy feeling that had followed him since the gate.
Garron sat back, sighing heavily. "I sent word to Lint after the first family vanished. No one came. I ask for help again when we found Henral in his well. Still nothing. Only when my son went missing did the town finally decide to care."
There was bitterness in his tone, his grief and frustration barely restrained.
Darius sighed, letting the complaint pass without rebuke. "I can't speak for the delays." He said. "But we're here now. And we intend to find what's causing this."
The chief looked like he wanted to say more, but swallowed his words. He gave a slow nod. "Then I'll let you work…"
Darius nodded. "Good. We'll stay at the inn tonight, but first, we'll walk the streets and speak with whoever's willing to talk."
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The inn was quieter than any they had ever stayed in.
Its main hall smelled faintly of wood oil and dust, the light from the high windows catching on floating motes. Tables stood empty. A single old man worked behind the counter, wiping glasses with slow, distracted motions. Even the hearthfire burned small, as if reluctant to draw attention.
Darius waited until the innkeeper had gone to fetch their keys before speaking. "Well." He said dryly, "I had some hopes that the mission reports were subject to embellishments. But I guess not."
Jaro snorted, though his laugh was hollow. "No shit. Why were we even chosen to take care of this?" He slumped into a chair, running a hand through his hair. "This feels like a full-blown horror manifestation."
Lysa shot him a sidelong look but didn't disagree. Siv leaned against the wall near the stairs, arms crossed, his gaze thoughtful but wary. Alden sat quietly near the end of the table, watching the light flicker across the grain of the wood.
Darius didn't raise his voice, but the weight of his tone was enough to steady the air. "We were chosen because we signed up for this. Hunter squad means we handle the strange and the dangerous. If you wanted routine work, Jaro, you could've joined the patrols."
Jaro's jaw tightened. He looked away, muttering, "Didn't sign up to get my soul eaten."
The Scourge chuckled faintly from his seat near the window. "If it's any consolation, the guards are probably dealing with daily horror apparitions too."
"That's not helping." Jaro said flatly.
The captain leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. "We'll keep calm and deal with this. Don't panic. First, we gather information."
Renna nodded. "From what the chief told us, it's intelligent. It uses voices to lure victims. That narrows it down."
"Wraith-type horror." Siv declared, his voice low and certain. "The whispering, the vanishings, the lack of struggle, it fits."
The Scourge shook his head slightly. "What Garron described sounds like a Whisperer."
The room went still. Even the fire popped softly, as if reluctant to interrupt.
Alden frowned. "A Whisperer?"
Scourge's eyes, half-lidded with thought, shifted toward him. "Like Siv here said, they're a wraith type of horrors. Meaning they have the ability to be intangible, or simply are formless. Whisperers are like wraiths, but in a sense, they're weaker. They don't have the ability to possess the living. They grow strong by feeding on essence, souls, qi, whatever they can devour. They don't attack outright. They feed on fear first. They mimic voices, twist memories, pull people out of safety. Once you've fallen for their illusions, they devour you."
Jaro grimaced. "That doesn't sound any better than a wraith."
Renna shook her head. "Wraiths don't rely on illusions to fight. They can literally just possess you, and then it's over."
The more he listened, the more Jaro he regretted his decision to join the Hunters squad.
"There's one thing I don't understand. Isn't this village protected by a ward or something like that? Why is it attacked by a horror?" Alden asked.
"Yeah, you're right." Lysa said. "This place has a shrine, doesn't it? A working wardstone should keep horrors away."
"It should." Scourge agreed. "But perhaps it has some problems, which weakened its reach. We should ask the chief about that."
Siv frowned. "Even so, he said it started about a month ago. Shrines don't just fail overnight."
Darius nodded slowly. "Could've been tampered with. Someone might've damaged it without realizing what it would cause."
"That's the most likely explanation." the Scourge said. "Still, whisperers can become quite dangerous if left to grow for too long."
Jaro groaned softly. "Is there any good side to this? I swear the more you talk, the worse the situation gets."
A faint smile ghosted across Darius's lips. "Try to look at it as an opportunity, Jaro. If you survive this, you'll be rewarded with a fat purse."
"That's not funny."
"Wasn't meant to be."
Darius let the exchange fade, then glanced around the group. "Speculation's useful, but we need proof. We'll split up and scout the village. Talk to the locals, see what they've seen or heard. Focus on the outskirts and the shrine. If something's wrong with the wardstone, I want to know before nightfall."
"Pairs?" Siv asked.
"Pairs." He confirmed. "A Silver with a Bronze. I'll move alone and check the perimeter myself."
"I'll go with Alden."
Alden turned to see Renna staring back at him. He smiled.
The Scourge rose from his chair, stretching. "Guess that means I'll take Lysa. She looks like she won't faint at the first whisper."
Lysa rolled her eyes but grabbed her gear. "Just don't start making them yourself."
Siv looked toward Jaro. "You're with me, then. We'll take the east quarter."
Jaro took in a deep breath, pumping himself up. "Alright, let's do this."
Darius gave them a single nod. "Keep your eyes open and don't stray too far from the main paths. If anyone hears whispers, you don't follow. You come back and report it immediately. Understood?"
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Alden and Renna walked side by side. The afternoon sun was still high, but its light did little to warm the air. Every villager they passed looked pale and drawn, as if sleep had become a rare thing.
A woman bent over a washtub straightened as they approached. Her sleeves were rolled up, arms thin and wiry, her hair tied back with a strip of cloth.
"You're from Lint." She said, eyes darting between them. "Finally, you're here. The chief said you'd come. But it's been hard on us."
Renna offered her a nod. "We're here to understand what's going on. Can you tell us more about what's happening to the village?"
The woman hesitated, then nodded. "The whispers. They haunt us. I fear they have taken my husband. It's been two weeks since I've seen him. He went out to fetch water from the well. But he never came back." Her lips trembled slightly. "But I still hear him."
Renna's expression didn't change. "Hear him?"
"At night." The woman's hands twisted together. "He calls from the fields. Says my name like he's standing right outside the window."
Alden frowned. "You're sure it's his voice?"
"I've lived with that man twenty years. I'd know his voice anywhere."
"Have you gone outside?"
She shook her head quickly. "Not after what happened to Henral." Her eyes darted toward the well at the end of the lane. "He said his brother called him too. Next thing, he's half-dead in a hole, and his whole family missing."
Renna inclined her head slightly. "Have you noticed any other strange signs aside from the whispers?"
The woman clenched her fists and looked down, shaking faintly. "I… when the night comes, sometimes I feel like I'm not the only one at home. I live alone. But even when I'm alone in my room, I feel like someone is staring at me."
Alden frowned. The duo thanked the woman for her time and offered some comforting words. Then they walked on.
The narrow streets opened onto a small square with a dry fountain in its center. A few villagers lingered there, pretending to go about their chores. None met their eyes for long.
Alden watched a child peeking from behind a doorway. The boy's eyes were wide, face smeared with dust. When Renna turned her head toward him, he flinched and disappeared inside.
"They don't trust outsiders much." Alden said quietly.
"It's normal." Renna replied. "After experiencing the whispers and those disappearances, I'd keep to myself too."
He looked at her, studying the calm set of her expression. "You've seen something like this before?"
Her gaze stayed ahead. "Not personally. But the records are full of them. Whisperers, Echo Fiends, Wraiths, Night Terrors. Horrors come in many forms."
Alden nodded, the glanced around at the shuttered houses. "For some reasons, this place reminds me a lot of Lint."
Renna frowned and glanced at him. "What do you mean?"
"There's this strange pressure in the air. Don't you feel it?"
Her frown deepened, and she shook her head. Now it was Alden's turn to frown. That was strange. It was something so obvious, how could she not feel it?
But looking at her eyes, he saw clear confusion.
"When we leave the town, don't you feel like there's a suffocating presence that suddenly vanishes?"
Once again, she shook her head. "I have never noticed something like that, and have been coming and going from Lint a lot in the past… Maybe, what you're feeling is dark energy."
"But Lint is protected by 3 wardstones and active wards." She explained. "There shouldn't be such heavy darkness in the town."
He looked at her, his gaze lingering for a moment longer before he nodded. "Can I ask something?"
"Go ahead."
"How do horrors even start? What makes them appear?"
Renna slowed her pace. "I'm not quite sure myself. I've read some books about their origins, but there are many theories. I know that they are attracted to people and dark emotions. The more people there are, the more there is darkness. And it's that darkness that calls to them. It's part of the reason why most horrors only show up at night."
Alden absorbed that quietly. "And the wardstone?"
"The wardstone is what keeps them from spreading. It's not man-made. They're natural monuments, born where spiritual flow is strongest. It purifies the darkness, and repels horrors. Some texts say that they're a gift from the world to protect the living."
"I see, so they're something like natural treasures then." Alden said.
"Yes, you can say that. Runes and shrines only extend their reach. When the stone cracks, the protection thins. That's when things like this happen."
They turned a corner and passed into a wide field on the edge of the village. Crops grew unevenly, patches of earth tilled and abandoned mid-row. The wind ran low through the stalks, carrying a faint hum.