The carriage moved in silence, broken only by the soft crunch of damp dirt beneath its wheels.
Anthony drove firmly, eyes fixed ahead, lips tightly pressed together. He hadn't said a word since they departed. His posture—rigid—spoke louder than any sentence could.
Behind him, inside the carriage, the atmosphere was... tense.
Shay watched him from his seat, one eyebrow raised and his face hardened, leaning against the wall of the vehicle.
The bard, on the other hand, seemed to live in another world. Galigan lounged shamelessly, taking up more space than he should, one leg crossed over the other, his lute resting on his chest, out of tune and unbothered. He hummed an improvised melody, oblivious to the fact that no one wanted to hear it.
Milo, sitting near the door, broke the silence with a sigh.
—I didn't like leaving the tavern without saying goodbye to Billy, he said, eyes downcast.
—We looked everywhere for him, Gearlock, Shay replied without moving. He wasn't there.
Milo didn't answer. He just looked back.
The carriage creaked as it began to climb a hill. The path slowly steepened, winding through underbrush and moss-covered stones. The wheels bumped softly against roots.
—I still think we should've gone back to the Hall we came from to look for survivors —Shay murmured, breaking the silence as the carriage advanced uphill.
Galigan let out a nasal laugh from his corner.
—Of course, of course… Let's return to the torture chamber. Seems like jumping into fire is your favorite hobby, Broken Bridge. —His tone was syrupy. —Always so generous with the suicidal ideas, aren't you?
Shay turned his head slowly, locking eyes with the bard.
—Keep talking, and you'll find out what really breaks when I throw you off this carriage.
Galigan shrugged, his arrogant smile unshaken.
Before the tension could rise any further, Anthony spoke up from the driver's seat, not bothering to look back.
—Enough.
His voice was sharp.
—Milo made the right call by moving forward. Going back there would've doomed us all. Finding the exit is the only thing that makes sense.
A brief silence followed.
—And you, Broken Bridge… —he added with clear disdain— should worry more about keeping yourself in one piece than playing hero over a warhammer.
Shay opened his mouth, ready to throw back a sharp retort. But before he could speak, he felt a firm hand on his shoulder.
Milo.
He shook his head silently, his gaze tired.
Shay swallowed his pride and leaned back again, brooding. Silence returned to the carriage like a heavy blanket. Even Galigan, for a moment, stopped smiling to himself.
—Where's the girl? —he suddenly asked.
Milo looked forward.
—She went off alone. Followed some tracks she found near the tavern, just after we noticed Shay's warhammer was missing. We thought it might be a clue.
Galigan shot upright, dropping his lute.
—You let her go alone!? You lost the only woman in the group!?
Shay raised an eyebrow.
—That's what worries you?
Galigan looked at him like the question was ridiculous.
—Of course it is. None of you are remotely passable enough to share my bed. Unless you want to volunteer, Broken Bridge?
Shay leaned toward him, fists clenched, his face burning.
—Listen here, you piece of shit—
But he didn't finish the sentence.
The carriage crested the hill… and everyone fell silent.
Before them, spread across the valley below, was a town.
Or what was left of one.
The houses were scorched, reduced to blackened skeletons of wood. Some were still smoldering, with wisps of steam rising from the ruins. The air had a copper hue, heavy, as if fire still lingered in it.
Not a soul in sight. Only half-collapsed structures, broken walls, and roofs eaten away. The central square, visible from the hill, was covered in ash...
A cracked bell hung from a shattered tower. Milo stood up, speechless.
Shay frowned.
—What is this...? —Milo asked.
—What's left… —Anthony murmured, not turning his head, almost as if speaking to himself— …of the town of Orwald.
—A town? —Shay echoed.
—It was a refuge, —Anthony continued, his tone growing darker—. The last bastion of survivors who escaped Bhael's grasp. A blind spot in the Lotus. A place where lost souls could hide, breathe… resist.
The wind blew through the ruined buildings, scattering ash.
—Destroyed by Visitors, —Galigan added with uncharacteristic seriousness.
Anthony nodded slowly. The carriage creaked as its wheels rolled over the first broken cobblestones of Orwald.
—We need to find the exit to this damn place, Shay finally said. I've lost count of how many times I've said that.
—More than once, for sure, Anthony replied.
—Help! —a voice cried out in the distance, distant and broken by the wind.
Everyone stopped.
Shay narrowed his eyes, scanning the ruins for the source.
—It's one of two things… —he muttered— A damn Visitor pretending to be helpless… or someone who's actually in danger.
—Why take the risk? —Galigan jumped in from his corner— Let's just move on. Who cares what happens to them, Visitor or not?
Milo frowned and stood tall.
—It's always worth the risk if there's a chance we can help someone.
Galigan scoffed but said nothing more.
The plea rang out again—closer this time.
And then, out of nowhere, a figure came running from the ruins.
—Stop!
He threw himself in front of the carriage, stumbling in the process. Anthony yanked the reins with all his strength, swerving just in time—barely missing the man by a few inches.
—Idiot! —Anthony spat as he jumped down, fists clenched— I almost ran you over!
The man was gasping, covered in dust and ash. His skin was dark and weathered by the sun, his face thin and worn by exhaustion. A dirty bandage wrapped around his left forearm, stained with dried blood. His right leg bore a fresh superficial wound, still dripping slightly. He wore simple clothes, now torn and singed at the edges.
—Speak! —Shay shouted, stepping down from the carriage.
The man raised his hands immediately, trembling.
—I don't want trouble! I swear! —he cried, still on his knees, his eyes filled with desperation— My sister… my sister is trapped in our house. It's surrounded by undead, she can't get out. Please!
He rose shakily to his feet, both hands lifted in a pleading gesture.
—I'm Lenny Withman. A horde came out of nowhere—from the swamp. We hid, but I managed to escape. Our house is near the swamp's edge. She's still there… I don't know how much longer she can hold on. Please, help me.
Milo studied him closely, then turned to Anthony.
—What's near the swamp? Any road? A way out?
Anthony shook his head, frowning.
—I don't know. I don't remember ever taking that route.
Shay crossed his arms, skeptical.
—Detouring through an unknown path swarming with undead? I don't know, man… sounds like the perfect start to a tragedy.
Galigan snorted from inside the carriage.
—And just when I was starting to enjoy the warm scent of fresh corpse in this delightful charred village… why not? Let's go to the swamp too. Maybe there'll be dessert.
Lenny took a step forward.
—Please… I'm a doctor. If you help me and keep me alive… I can treat wounds, fight infections. I have nothing else… but I can be useful in exchange for your help.
—Mmm… —Milo murmured, bringing a hand to his chin as he studied Lenny carefully— We've got someone half-dead in the back with a leg on the verge of infection. If you can heal him… we'll help you.
Lenny nodded immediately, but his voice was firm:
—I'll help you without hesitation… but only after you help me. My sister can't wait.
Silence stretched for a moment. All eyes turned to Milo, who stood still, weighing the risk, the time, the odds.
Then he sighed.
—Alright… get your weapons ready, boys.
He turned to Lenny and gave him a nod.
—Get in. We're heading there.
Lenny didn't waste a second. He climbed into the carriage clumsily.
Galigan let out a dramatic sigh and slumped back into his seat.
—Fantastic. Saving a sister in a house surrounded by undead… what's next? Inviting a vampire over for garlic soup? Wonderful. Truly inspiring.
Anthony said nothing. He simply turned the carriage toward the new direction.