Paolo pushed himself to his feet and began to pace, his movements restless, his agitation seeping into every word. "So far, four people have simply vanished in just over a month." His jaw tightened. "I don’t include Lucas—his was an unfortunate, but unrelated loss."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his neatly combed hair, making it momentarily dishevelled before smoothing it back down. "Three of them were men, all taken while out working at dusk. Shawn was tending his cows, Will was gathering logs for his fire, and Silas—Silas was out foraging for tindergrubs, same as he did every evening. They were all seen by others in the fields or woods, going about their usual business, but none of them made it home for supper."

His pacing became more erratic, his voice edged with frustration. "And then, Breeda. She didn’t open her stall at the market last week. That alone was strange—she’s never missed a day’s trade in her life. One of the local boys, thinking she might be ill, went to check on her. He found her back door standing open."

Paolo halted, turning to face them, his expression troubled. "But the house was empty. Nothing disturbed, nothing stolen—just… empty."

He hesitated, then sat down heavily, the weight of his worry pressing down on his shoulders. "I wish that were the worst of it," he admitted.

Del frowned. "There’s more?"

Paolo nodded, rubbing a hand across his face. "There’s a feeling in the village now. A change. People are growing wary. At first, we all assumed there must be a reason, a logical one. But when you lose four people—strong, capable folk—with not a single trace, no sign of a struggle, no clues, people start talking."

He gestured vaguely toward the window. "Some of the older folk whisper about curses, bad omens. They say it started with the wolves going silent—" He paused, glancing at them, measuring their reactions. "We used to hear them at night, howling beyond the fields. Even when you couldn’t see them, you knew they were there. But over the past few weeks… nothing."

A faint unease settled over Del. He exchanged a glance with Elara.

"Silence can be worse than sound," she murmured.

Paolo nodded grimly. "A few have taken it as a sign to leave. Silas’ brother packed up and left three nights ago. Didn’t even wait for the morning—just left everything but what he could carry and went south. His wife said he woke up in the night, panicked, swearing he’d seen something moving outside. Said it was watching the house. She thought he’d been dreaming, but… he wouldn’t stay to find out."

The room felt colder, though the fire still burned in the hearth.

Del leaned forward, fingers steepled. "So what are the theories? What’s being whispered in corners?"

Paolo let out a slow breath, rubbing at his temples as though warding off an impending headache. "The usual nonsense—elves," he said with a glance towards Elara, a flicker of apology in his eyes. "Witches. Fell beasts from the old stories." He let out a dry, humourless chuckle. "But nothing that stands up to scrutiny. No tracks, no signs of forced entry. No blood. Just… gone."

His fingers tightened around the armrest of his chair, knuckles whitening. "Elves haven’t been a threat in generations—these days, the old stories are more folklore than reality, used to frighten misbehaving children. Witches?" He shook his head. "The last heaving was decades ago, and even then, most so-called witches were little more than hedge mages and herbalists. Hardly the baby-stealing hags of legend." He hesitated, then muttered, "To be frank, I’d trust a witch before I’d trust a wizard. At least you know where you stand with them."

Elara’s gaze was sharp, her mind clearly working through the problem. "What about lesser sentients? Hobs? Goblins?"

Paolo spread his hands, his frustration evident. "No tracks. Nothing." His voice was tight, controlled, but there was a weariness creeping into the edges. "Some of the more intelligent ones might know how to erase their prints, but even then, there would be something—a struggle, overturned earth, signs of resistance. But there’s nothing. Shawn, Will, Silas—they weren’t weak men, Del. They would have fought. And Breeda?" He shook his head, his mouth tightening. "Her house was undisturbed. No sign of a forced entry. No sign of anything."

His shoulders slumped slightly, the helplessness clear in his eyes. "I will be completely honest—I am at a loss. I don’t know where to look next. And the village is starting to feel it. Fear spreads fast, especially when the unknown is involved."

Del rubbed his temples, his own unease settling into his gut like a stone. ‘Where’s Sherlock when you need him, Del?’ The problem gnawed at him, an itch at the back of his mind he couldn’t quite scratch. The more Paolo spoke, the more unnatural it seemed.

With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair. "I’m not sure how long we’ll be staying," he admitted. "We’re resting up before heading to Stenfield. But while we’re here, we can keep our eyes open. Maybe an outsider’s perspective will spot something that’s been overlooked."

Paolo looked genuinely grateful, though a flicker of guilt passed over his face. "It’s too much to ask, but… perhaps a fresh pair of eyes will see what we cannot."

A cold shiver ran through Del as something in the back of his mind stirred—an instinct, a sense that this was bigger than it seemed.

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[You have been offered a quest – Solve the mystery of Stonebridge: Accept Yes : No]

The message hovered in Del’s vision, faintly glowing, its translucent edges shimmering as if waiting for his answer. Beyond it, he saw Paolo watching them, expectation warring with the weight of concern in his expression. He turned his gaze to Elara. She met his eyes and gave him a small, firm nod.

Del hesitated for the briefest of moments, fingers hovering over the invisible selection, the weight of commitment settling over him. This wasn’t a casual favour; it was stepping into something unknown, something that had already swallowed four people without a trace. But backing away wasn’t an option—not with the way Paolo was looking at them, not with the tension simmering just beneath the surface of this town.

Yes.

A faint pulse of confirmation flickered in his vision before the message vanished.

Elara exhaled, shifting slightly before speaking, her voice steady, though there was a flicker of uncertainty beneath her usual confidence. "As Del said, we might not be here long," she began, rolling her shoulders as if settling into the decision. "I need to reach the city to find a mage trainer, but…" She turned her attention fully to the elder, her golden hair catching the lamplight as she straightened her posture. Determination was written in every line of her face, and for a moment, the warmth of it almost made Del forget that she had very nearly been one of those who disappeared.

"While we’re here, we’ll keep a lookout," she continued. "If we find anything, you’ll be the first to know." A faint smile tugged at her lips, a flash of wry amusement breaking through the tension. "And at the very least, maybe I can ease some of the fear my kind seem to stir in your people."

A flicker of relief crossed Paolo’s features. The tightness in his shoulders eased, and some of the stress etched into his face seemed to lighten, if only a little. But Del still caught the shadow behind his eyes, the wariness of a man who had spent too many nights waiting for another disappearance, another name to add to the growing list.

The shift in the conversation was subtle but noticeable. The air felt a little less oppressive, the heavy weight of missing people and unanswered questions momentarily lifted by the simple act of camaraderie. The tension that had settled over the room loosened as Del and Elara recounted their journey to Stonebridge. They chose their words carefully, skipping over certain events—particularly their… creative interpretation of river law on their way here. But they painted a broad picture of what they had encountered in the High Woods, offering the elder a clearer view of the growing dangers beyond the village’s borders.

Paolo nodded grimly at their mention of goblins. "A problem this early in the season," he murmured, rubbing his chin. "They usually keep to themselves until later in the year. If they’re ranging this far south already…" He sighed, his expression darkening for a brief moment before, unexpectedly, he let out a hearty chuckle, slapping his thigh.

Elara and Del exchanged a glance, and then he realised what had sparked the shift—Paolo was grinning at the memory of Elara’s rescue.

"By the stars, that’s a tale," the elder said, still chuckling. "Straight out of some old fireside story—except you lived it." He shook his head. "Goblins outsmarted by their own arrogance… You should tell that one in the tavern sometime. I imagine it’d go down well over a few pints."

Elara smirked. "I do like a good audience."

Encouraged, Del found himself recounting more about his past, telling Paolo of life on the Isle of Starnd—of the isolation, the self-sufficiency, the way the mainland had always been a distant thing, an idea rather than a place. As he spoke, he saw a flicker of something in Paolo’s expression—not quite recognition, but a quiet curiosity, the mind of a man who was always gathering pieces of information, even if he didn’t yet know what they meant.

Paolo listened with interest, though he eventually admitted, "I’ve not heard of it, but there are plenty of small communities scattered across the seas off Gondowa. Not surprising that some stay unknown."

Elara, in turn, spoke of her journey—her search for a mentor in nature magic, the drive that had led her to leave her home, the path that had ultimately landed her in a goblin’s cage. As she spoke, Paolo nodded along, listening with quiet respect.

By the time the conversation wound down, the weight of their earlier discussion hadn’t entirely disappeared, but it had shifted—eased, if only slightly, by shared words and the simple comfort of understanding.

But just as they were about to rise, Paolo hesitated. His fingers drummed against the armrest of his chair, a faint crease forming between his brows.

"There is one last thing," he said slowly.

Del felt himself tense instinctively. "Go on."

Paolo hesitated, as if debating whether to speak. Then, with a quiet exhale, he reached into the desk drawer beside him, pulling out a folded piece of parchment. The edges were slightly crumpled, as though it had been handled too often, passed between too many unsure hands.

"This was found near where Silas went missing," he said, unfolding it and laying it flat on the table. "We don’t know what to make of it."

Del leaned in, frowning at the parchment. It wasn’t a message or a letter—at least, not in any writing he recognised. It was a series of crude symbols, drawn hastily, overlapping as if someone had scrawled them in a rush. Some looked almost like claw marks, others like twisted runes, unfamiliar and yet unsettling in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

Elara inhaled sharply beside him. "I’ve seen something like this before," she murmured.

Paolo’s gaze snapped to hers. "Where?"

She hesitated. "Not personally. But my mother had old texts—records of signs left behind by things that… don’t want to be followed."

A chill traced its way down Del’s spine.

He glanced at Paolo. "And no one in the village recognises it?"

Paolo shook his head. "We’ve asked everyone. No scholars here, of course, but even our oldest folk don’t recall anything like it. And that worries me more than anything."

Del exhaled slowly, pressing his palms together. "Alright. Looks like we have our first lead."

Paolo studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "If you can make sense of this, it may be the key to understanding what we’re dealing with."

They stood, shaking hands once more, but the atmosphere had shifted again. Before, it had been a matter of logic, of unknown threats and missing people.

Now, it was something more.

Something unseen.

As they stepped out into the fading daylight, the crisp scent of earth and distant cooking fires filling the evening air, Del exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.

"I expect we may be here a touch longer than we first thought," he admitted, glancing at Elara with a hint of ruefulness. "I’m sorry to be delaying your journey. If you want to push on ahead, I’ll understand."

Elara rolled her eyes before giving him a playful shove, then, to his surprise, looped her arm through his.

"Don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily," she laughed. "Besides—" she tilted her head, her expression thoughtful "—this could be an interesting problem to solve."

Del glanced down at her, lips quirking in faint amusement.

He had a feeling interesting was an understatement.