The sun rises over the town of Budsle, casting a frail, pale light over the waterlogged streets.
The torrential storm has completely settled, leaving behind only the rhythmic dripping of water from the eaves and a thick, suffocating silence.
Henry wakes up on the hard wooden floor, rubbing the heavy sleep from his eyes. His joints crack loudly as he stretches his aching arms before turning to shake Leonard awake.
As leonard wakes up both of them step outside the house, drawing in the crisp, damp morning air.
At first glance, the settlement looks entirely normal. The cottages stand fully intact, and the dirt roads are clear. Yet, the absolute lack of life is deafening.
Not a single soul is walking the paths; not a single chimney throws smoke into the sky.
Henry steps into the thick, muddy street. His boot clips something soft in the mire.
Stooping down, he brushes the sludge away to reveal a small, carved wooden child's toy. A cold knot forms in his stomach.
Walking side-by-side with Leonard, he approaches the nearest cottage and knocks firmly on the heavy timber door.
"Hey! Is anyone there?" Henry calls out, his voice echoing hollowly down the empty road.
"We're travelers. We had to take shelter in one of the houses because of the crazy storm last night. Is there an inn open?"
Receiving no answer, Leonard places his hand on the iron latch and pushes.
The door isn't locked. It swings open with a slow, agonizing creak.
They step inside, weapons drawn, but the house is completely deserted.
Strangely, the residents' personal belongings are all perfectly intact. A glass lantern still hangs silently by the window frame.
Everyday clothes are neatly draped over a wooden chair. But on the dinner table sits a plate of completely rotten, mold-covered food.
Leonard approaches the table, poking at the decay with a grim scrawl across his features. "This has been sitting out for weeks," he says, his voice dropping into a tense whisper. "Where the hell did everyone go?"
Henry gulps, the hair on his arms standing on end. "Let's... let's just go back outside, sir."
They step back onto the muddy street. Leonard takes a deep breath, cupping his hands around his mouth, and roars into the open air, "Is anyone here?!"
The shout echoes off the vacant wooden walls, swallowed instantly by the surrounding forest.
No reply.
Henry notices that nearly every single front door along the row is standing wide open, items carelessly strewn across the thresholds.
Driven by a sudden, anxious surge of adrenaline, he begins rushing from one house to the next.
He bursts through three doors, then four, but finds the exact same chilling sight: fully furnished, fully stocked rooms completely devoid of human life.
He jogs back to Leonard, frantically scratching the back of his neck. "Did they all just abandon this town without even taking their things? Everything is right there... except for the people."
Leonard's veteran gaze hardens as he scans the empty windows surrounding them. "Get the carriage I'll wake the ladies up. We should leave this place immediately."
Henry turns and rushes toward the horses, eager to get the carriage moving.
Seeking a distraction from the eerie silence, he decides to pull out the heavy leather pouch—the one the grateful food stall owner back in Aval had given him, packed to the brim with fresh food and travel snacks. *We should eat something before we set out,* he mutters to himself, pulling the leather strings open.
The second his eyes drop inside the bag, his hands lose all strength.
The pouch hits the muddy earth with a heavy, wet *thud*. Henry completely freezes, his breath locking in his throat.
"What the fuck...?"
Every single loaf of bread and strip of dried meat inside has been aggressively torn apart, violently half-eaten by jagged teeth.
The remaining pieces are freshly drenched in a thick, glistening pool of crimson blood.
He frantically checks their secondary travel sacks; all of their stored rations have been entirely cleaned out. Not a single scrap of edible resource remains.
Henry sprints back into the house, his voice echoing in a panicked shout. "Sir Leonard! Someone stole all of our food! They cleaned us out, and whatever they left behind from the stall owner's pouch is completely half-eaten and covered in fresh blood!"
"What?" Leonard turns sharply, his brow furrowing. "But there's no one here... or are they hiding in the shadows?"
The frantic shouting rouses Grace, who steps out from the back bedroom, rubbing her temples in annoyance. "What is with all the fuss this early...?"
Henry turns to her, his voice tight and trembling with anxiety. "There is something seriously wrong with this town, My Lady.
There are no people here! All of their belongings are perfectly intact, as if the entire population just vanished into thin air."
Grace's eyes instantly widen, her morning drowsiness evaporating into sharp focus. "What are you talking about?"
Leonard cuts through the rising panic, sitting heavily onto a wooden chair as his hand instinctively rests on the pommel of his blade.
"Let's all just calm down. We are leaving this town right now." He shoots a stern look at Grace. "Wake the princess."
Henry wastes no time. He rushes back outside, untethers the horses, and brings the carriage directly in front of the house.
The tension is thick enough to choke on as everyone piles into the cabin. Leonard climbs onto the front driver's bench beside Henry, who snaps the leather reins tightly.
The carriage rattles forward, racing past the silent, staring houses toward the heavy wooden archway marking the town's exit.
They plunge directly into the thick, overhanging forest path, the gnarled canopy completely swallowing the morning light. But after minutes of driving straight through the dense wilderness, the trees abruptly part.
Henry violently slams his boots onto the brake levers.
The horses shriek, their hooves skidding violently as the carriage jolts to an abrupt halt. Henry's jaw drops as he stares ahead in absolute, paralyzed disbelief.
"What in the world... we just left. How are we back?"
They are standing right back at the rotting entrance archway of Budsle.
Refusing to believe his eyes, Henry fiercely whips the reins again, pushing the exhausted horses into a frantic gallop.
They tear through the path once more, but the result is entirely identical. No matter how fast they drive or which fork they take, the forest simply bends, spitting the carriage right back out into the entrance of the town, over and over again.
Inside the vibrating cabin, Elsbeth clutches the heavy black book tightly against her chest, her knuckles turning white.
"What... what is happening?" she asks, her voice trembling.
Grace places a comforting, steadying hand over Elsbeth's fingers. "Everything is fine, Your Highness. Don't worry."
Pulling back the front leather flap of the cabin, Grace sticks her head out toward the driver's bench. "Leonard, what's wrong? Why are we traveling in circles?"
Leonard brushes his brow, a rare layer of sweat breaking out on his forehead. "No matter how much we try, we can't seem to leave the perimeter of this town. We're trapped."
Grace gasps, her mind racing. "What? Do you know what kind of magic or curse this is?"
Leonard shakes his head grimly. "I have no idea."
Seeing a veteran adventurer completely devoid of clues, Henry pulls the horses to a definitive halt right in front of their original shelter.
"Someone ate our food, stole our rations.
And unless I'm losing my mind... they were close enough to do it while we were sleeping."
Henry says, his eyes scanning the dark, vacant windows around them. "There is someone or something here with us. We have to find whoever it is."
Leonard nods tightly, his steel sliding an inch from its scabbard with a cold hiss. "Agreed."
They decide to systematically search the surrounding structures.
For safety, Elsbeth and Grace remain inside the original house they spent the night in.
Grace watches the quiet princess for a long moment before speaking softly. "Elsbeth, can I step out for just a brief moment?"
Elsbeth nods silently.
Grace steps out onto the porch, running her fingers frantically through her hair to soothe her spiking anxiety.
She fiercely kicks a loose stone into the dirt road, muttering under her breath, "Damn it... why did I choose this shortcut? We should've just stayed in Aval. Now we're stuck in god-knows-what. Will we even reach Patrin alive?"
She stops herself, taking a sharp breath, forcing a layer of strict discipline over her fear.
"No, no... be optimistic,"she whispers to herself, crouching low against the wooden railing to clear her head.
Inside the quiet room, Elsbeth carefully opens the sacred black book. She pulls it close, hugging the binding tightly against her chest as hot tears finally spill over her cheeks, staining the leather cover.
"Luan... just wait a little longer," she whispers into the hollow silence, her voice cracking with profound grief. "I will come to you, I promise... Mercy, please, watch over him..."
Hearing the faint thud of Grace's approaching footsteps on the porch, Elsbeth quickly wipes her eyes, smoothing her expression back into a stoic royal mask.
Grace walks back into the room, collapsing heavily onto a wooden chair with a defeated sigh.
Her eyes wander across the dusty floor, eventually locking onto a built-in drawer that sits slightly ajar near the desk.
Driven by a tense curiosity, she reaches out and pulls it fully open.
Rested inside is an old, leather-bound diary, its edges heavily stained with thick, dried black blood.
With a trembling, hesitant hand, Grace lifts the book and flips open the very first page.
Written there in a frantic, jagged scrawl is a single, terrifying warning:
Whatever you do. Never follow the voices.