The village looked like a painting half-smeared.
Houses sagged inward, their rooftops caved in. Fields had collapsed into muddy sinkholes. A cart still sat in the main road, one wheel spinning lazily in the breeze.
But no corpses.
No blood.
Just… absence.
They reached the well at the village square. Luka crouched beside it and picked up a small shoe. Children's size.
Snow gave a low whimper.
"They didn't run," Serene said, voice flat. "They were taken."
Luka frowned, scanning the surroundings. "No signs of a fight. No mana residue. Whatever hit this place was clean. Surgical."
Just then—hoofbeats.
From the ridge behind them.
Serene whirled, hand on her weapon.
A squad of riders approached—Guild reinforcements. Three adventurers wearing light plate and blue capes stamped with the Adventurer's Guild crest.
And leading them…
Arthur.
In full parade gear. His ornate armor practically shimmered in the gloom.
