The Ruins of a Battle

They moved quickly, following the acrid scent that tainted the crisp night air. The deeper they ventured, the stronger it became. And then, they saw it.

A village—burned, broken, abandoned. The ground was littered with remnants of destruction—charred wooden beams, shattered glass, deep gouges in the earth where battles had been fought. The air still carried the scent of ash, though the fires had long since died.

Mia’s stomach twisted. “This wasn’t just an attack.” Her voice was quiet, but firm. “This was a slaughter.”

Blake knelt, running his fingers over a deep claw mark embedded in a stone wall. “Whoever did this… they weren’t human.”

Mia’s pulse quickened. “Rogues?”

Blake shook his head, standing slowly. “No. Something worse.”

Mia’s fingers curled into fists. She could feel it—something dark lingering here. A presence. A warning.

Then she saw it.