Silverwood slowly released them.
The towering silver trees thinned with every step until patches of blue sky finally broke through the canopy. The cool scent of damp earth gave way to smoke carried on the afternoon breeze.
Not the smoke of war.
The smoke of hearths.
Ahead, the dirt road widened, marked by countless wagon tracks and hoofprints hardened by the summer sun.
Rowan slowed her pace.
"From here, the forest ends."
She pointed toward the valley beyond.
"Greyhaven."
The settlement rested between gentle hills, surrounded by wheat fields that swayed like golden waves. Stone cottages stood beside timber homes, their chimneys sending thin streams of smoke into the clear sky. Children chased one another through open fields while farmers worked without urgency.
It felt...
Normal.
After everything they had endured, the sight almost seemed unreal.
Ellis smiled.
"I was beginning to think places like this didn't exist anymore."
"They don't," Garron muttered.
"They're just better at pretending."
A few nearby soldiers laughed quietly.
As they approached the gates, the rhythm of ordinary life became clearer.
A blacksmith hammered glowing steel inside a roadside forge.
A baker shouted at two boys trying to steal warm loaves from a windowsill.
An elderly woman swept dust from her porch while complaining loudly about the weather, despite the cloudless sky.
No one spoke of kingdoms.
No one spoke of war.
People were simply trying to survive another day.
Uriel watched them carefully.
None of them looked at him twice.
The mask drew a few curious glances.
Nothing more.
To these people...
He was just another traveler.
For the first time in years...
He preferred it that way.
Two wardens stepped forward and opened the heavy timber gate.
The guards recognized Rowan immediately.
"Back already?"
"We found travelers."
One guard looked over the company.
"Mercenaries?"
"Survivors."
The guard nodded once.
"That explains the faces."
He stepped aside.
"Welcome to Greyhaven."
The village was larger than Uriel expected.
The central square bustled with merchants selling vegetables, leather goods, pottery, and bundles of herbs gathered from Silverwood.
A traveling musician played an old stringed instrument beneath a weathered fountain while children tossed copper coins into an overturned hat.
Nearby, an elderly carpenter argued with a fisherman over the price of a broken cartwheel.
Life continued.
Messy.
Ordinary.
Real.
Maera slowed near a bookseller's stall.
She ran her fingers across faded leather bindings.
"Actual books."
Rowan smiled.
"Don't disappear."
"I'll try."
Captain Darius turned toward his company.
"We're not an army here."
"Stay in groups."
"No provoking fights."
"No gambling away your pay."
Ellis sighed dramatically.
"There go my evening plans."
Garron shoved him forward.
"You've never had evening plans."
Rowan led the officers toward a sturdy stone hall overlooking the square.
"The council will want to know why armed soldiers are entering their town."
Captain Darius nodded.
"Fair."
He looked toward Uriel.
"You don't have to come."
Uriel glanced across the marketplace.
"I'd rather walk."
Veyra studied him.
"You'll be fine?"
"I need to remember what normal looks like."
She gave a quiet nod.
"I'll find you afterwards."
The company split.
Captain Darius entered the council hall with Rowan and two of her wardens.
Several soldiers wandered toward the market.
Others searched for food and lodging.
Uriel, Maera and Veyra remained together for a while before Maera stopped outside a modest bookshop.
"I'll only be a few minutes."
Veyra smiled knowingly.
"You said that at the last archive."
"I meant it that time."
She disappeared inside before either of them could answer.
Uriel continued walking through the square.
An old potter sat shaping clay beside the road.
Two girls argued over whose turn it was to carry water.
A young apprentice chased runaway chickens while his master laughed instead of helping.
Small moments.
Insignificant moments.
Yet they felt more precious than any treasure hidden inside the Forgotten Vault.
Nox remained silent.
Even the serpent seemed content to watch.
"You there."
Uriel turned.
A little boy stood beside a fruit stall, staring directly at him.
He couldn't have been older than eight.
"You look like a hero."
His mother hurried over immediately, embarrassment flooding her face.
"Forgive him."
"He talks to everyone."
Uriel knelt until they were nearly eye level.
"What makes you think I'm a hero?"
The boy shrugged.
"You have a sword."
"My uncle says only heroes and fools carry swords everywhere."
Uriel laughed softly.
"And which one do you think I am?"
The child thought seriously.
"...I don't know yet."
Before Uriel could answer, the boy's mother gently pulled him away.
"Come along."
She offered Uriel an apologetic smile.
He simply nodded.
As they disappeared into the crowd, he found himself smiling beneath the mask.
You smiled.
"I know."
Twice in one day.
"I'm keeping count."
You should.
Near the edge of the square stood a weathered notice board.
Most notices offered work.
Missing livestock.
Broken fences.
Escorts needed for merchant caravans.
One parchment, however, caught Uriel's attention.
It was newer than the rest.
No reward was offered.
Only a warning.
TRAVELERS ARE ADVISED TO AVOID THE OLD NORTH ROAD AFTER SUNSET.
SEVERAL PEOPLE HAVE FAILED TO RETURN.
REPORT ANY INFORMATION TO THE GREYHAVEN WATCH.
Uriel frowned.
No monsters.
No explanations.
Just disappearances.
Ordinary mysteries were often the most dangerous.
Across the square, Rowan emerged from the council hall with Captain Darius.
Neither looked pleased.
Veyra met them halfway.
"What happened?"
"The council refused to spare guards."
"They've already lost too many protecting trade caravans."
Rowan folded her arms.
"They're frightened."
"Not cowardly."
"Just exhausted."
Captain Darius looked toward the notice board.
"They mentioned the disappearances."
"They've been happening for weeks."
"No bodies."
"No ransom demands."
"Nothing."
Maera rejoined the group carrying three old books.
"You've all got the same expression."
"That can't be good."
Rowan looked toward the northern hills.
"The council wants to ignore it."
"The merchants can't."
"If those roads remain closed..."
"...Greyhaven won't survive the coming winter."
Silence settled over the group.
This wasn't an ancient prophecy.
Nor was it the work of forgotten gods.
It was a problem threatening ordinary people.
The kind of problem no legend ever sang about.
Captain Darius finally spoke.
"We leave at dawn."
Uriel looked at the weathered notice again.
Then toward the distant northern road.
Somewhere beyond those hills...
People were vanishing.
And nobody knew why.