Chapter 22 – The Tolling Dread
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The Village of Ny’Kelos
The mist clung to the treetop pathways like a silent specter, curling through the wooden bridged and woven walkways as if it carried secrets of it's own. The torches sputtered against the weight of the night, their feeble light swallowed by the ever-thickening dark. Warriors patrolled in stiff, rehearsed strides—shadows in motion. The villagers gathered in the Hall of the Talking Fire, whispered as though afraid the night itself was listening.
Something was wrong.
Even unspoken, the tension in the air was palpable—thick enough to choke.
But for Elda, that feeling barely registered.
She walked through the dim-lit paths of the village, boots padding against the woven bridges and wooden walkways. Ren was talking beside her, something vague, half-muttered, but his words barely broke through the fog of her own thoughts.
Her mind was elsewhere.
It was on her teammates. Her temporary teammates and this mission.
It had been a miracle that they survived.
Elda exhaled, fingers twitching at her side. The image of their faces had burned itself into her mind—the barely concealed exhaustion, the injuries, the sheer weight behind their expressions.
Because she left them.
She had made the call. When that thing— that monster—descended upon them, she had seen the state of her team. Taren was barely standing. Ren was injured. She had to act fast, had to make the decision to retreat.
She left Soren and Ayola behind.
And yet—somehow, they had survived.
What if I had stayed?
Would they all be dead? Or would things be different? Would they be done with this mission already? Would they be far from this cursed place instead of wandering through the dark, checking houses for signs of something they still didn’t understand?
Her jaw clenched.
She stood by her decision.
And yet—the weight of it lingered.
It gnawed at her, clawed its way through her ribs like an infection.
This mission wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be a simple expedition. But things went south, when they ran into that thing.
If it wasn't for that thing. They’ve been back home already.
They were here to pay the village back, to make things right. Ny’Kelos had taken them in when they didn’t have to. Used their herbs, their time, their trust. And Soren and Ayola? They had already gone off to fix the mess themselves—into a camp that they had no clue of,led by a child, hoping to save their villagers.
And here Elda was. Wandering through the once quiet village, checking for threats that might not even be there.
Her breath slipped out, a quiet surrender to the night.
A sharp whisper of fabric and movement beside her barely registered.
“Elda.”
She ignored it.
“Elda.”
Still nothing.
Then—
A sharp flick to the side of her head.
“What.the.hell.”
She blinked, turning sharply toward Ren, who looked entirely unapologetic.
“Hello.” He smirked, rubbing his shoulder with his good hand.
Elda scowled, rubbing her temple. “What do you want?”
Ren let out a dramatic sigh, rolling his head back. “Just wondering how much longer you were gonna keep zoning like some kind of haunted doll.”
Elda exhaled through her nose, forcefully steady. “I was thinking.”
“Yeah, no shit. You do that thing where you walk like a ghost’s about to drag you into the trees.”
Elda rolled her eyes. “You’re paranoid.”
“I’m observant.” Ren huffed, glancing around. “This place is eerie as hell. You feel that?”
Elda frowned. “Feel what?”
Ren’s brows furrowed deeply. His hands twitched like he was resisting the urge to rub his arms.
“…Like we’re being watched.”
Elda gave him a flat look. “Ren. We are being watched. There are literal warriors stationed in the trees. We literally did battle not too long ago. ”
Ren shook his head. “Not them. Something else.”
Elda’s patience thinned. “You’re actually scared of ghosts, aren’t you?”
Ren tensed. “…I am not scared of ghosts. I just have a healthy and reasonable respect for them.”
Elda sighed. “This is ridiculous.”
“Is it? I mean, think about it—you ever hear those stories about spirits hanging around battlefields? How sometimes soldiers see someone they know is dead walking around the Camp?”
Elda shot him a sharp glare. “Not the time, Ren.”
Ren scoffed, raking a hand through his hair. “All I’m saying is, there’s a difference between fighting things that bleed and things that don’t. You can’t kill something that’s already dead.”
Elda rubbed her temples. “And you never take anything seriously.”
That was the wrong thing to say.
Ren’s smirk vanished.
His hands curled slightly at his sides. The tension in his shoulders changed—sharp, rigid.
“…And you overthink things so much, you probably dream in strategy charts.”
Elda’s lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s not the same.”
Ren chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “No? You act like you’re the only one who gives a shit about this mission, like we’re all just here as dead weight while you shoulder every burden alone.”
Elda stiffened. “I never said that.”
Ren’s eyes flickered with something sharp. “Didn’t have to. You carry it like a damn badge.”
Her hand twitched toward her dagger.
She forced herself to take a slow breath.
Then Ren spoke again.
“…You don’t have to pretend with me, Elda.”
That hit harder than it should have.
Her breath hitched.
Ren’s gaze never left hers. “You’re not as hard to read as you think.”
Stolen novel; please report.
Elda’s fingers clenched. “And what the hell does that mean?”
Ren sighed raggedly, shaking his head. “It means I know exactly what you’re thinking.”
Elda’s chest tightened.
She opened her mouth—
Then it came.
KRINNNNG
The sound tore through the night, hollow and shrieking, like a distant scream trapped in metal.
A bell.
It cut through the mist, faint, familiar.
Both of them froze.
Ren’s breath caught. His eyes darted wildly.
“…Okay. That wasn’t just me hearing things, right?”
Elda’s hand flew to her weapon.
“No. It wasn’t.”
And whatever they were about to walk into It wasn’t going to be good.
The silence didn’t settle—it loomed, waiting.
Not empty—heavy. Like something unseen had filled the space between them, pressing into their skin like an unseen weight.
Ren shifted, the unease curling through his spine like a cold hand pressing between his shoulders.
“The air feels different.”
Elda didn’t respond right away, but she felt it too. Subtle, but unmistakable.
The night air was cold and damp, the mist thick with the weight of unseen things. But beneath it lurked something else—a heat that didn’t belong, clinging to her skin like the breath of something just out of sight.
It wasn’t the torches.
It wasn’t the wind.
It was coming from the open doorway.
The black void of the house seemed deeper now, like something had soaked up all the light inside.
“I don’t like this,” Ren muttered again, his voice lower this time, tighter.
Elda finally moved.
Her grip on her weapon firmed, muscles coiled, ready.
She advanced cautiously.
Ren did not.
“…Elda. Seriously.”
She ignored him.
She was already at the threshold.
Something about the doorway felt off.
It wasn’t just dark inside. It was like the house had been swallowed by something—like stepping inside might mean she wouldn’t step back out.
Ren swallowed hard, forcing himself to move closer, just enough to hover behind her.
That was when the door behind them slammed shut.
A loud, violent CRACK of wood and metal echoed down the empty path.
Ren’s entire body jerked as he spun around, cursing.
“Fuck.”
Elda whipped around as well, pulse hammering.
The house door in front of her was still wide open.
It was the door behind them that had slammed shut.
The muffled voices they had heard earlier?
Gone.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then—
A sound.
Footsteps.
Not approaching.
Retreating.
Someone—or something—was running away.
From behind the shut door, then further, deeper into the village.
Ren grasped Elda’s arm, fingers ice cold.
“…Tell me you heard that.”
Elda inhaled slowly, turning her gaze toward the mist-choked path ahead.
“I did.”
And that meant someone else was out here.
Stillness thickened, pressing into their skin like the weight of an unseen hand. The air felt different now—thicker, charged with something unseen.
Ren’s grip lingered for a second longer before he let go, flexing his fingers as if to shake off a chill.
Elda turned toward the open door.
Every other house had been shut tight when they passed. But this one stood ajar—just enough to be wrong.
Just enough to feel intentional.
She hesitated for only a breath before stepping forward.
Ren shifted beside her. “Seriously? We’re doing this?”
Elda didn’t answer.
She reached for the door, fingers brushing against the rough wood. It was cold, slightly damp from the mist rolling through the village.
She pushed it gently, intending only to shut it—to reset things back to normal.
As the door creaked inward, a pale beam of light cut through the mist.
It was brief—just long enough to spill through the opening, casting a dim glow into the shadowed interior.
And for that single moment, Elda saw inside.
A table.
Rough-hewn wood, simple but sturdy.
A plate. A cup.
Food.
Not rotting, not abandoned for days—but fresh.
Half-eaten.
A strip of jerky lay across the plate, alongside a wooden bowl that had been tilted slightly, the remnants of something thick clinging to the edges.
Someone had been here. Recently.
Elda’s brow furrowed.
It was strange. Not because someone had eaten here—but because no one ate alone in Ny’Kelos.
She had seen the way they shared their meals, the way food was passed communally.
This? This wasn’t right.
Before she could dwell on it, Ren’s voice cut through the air behind her.
“Okay. Nope. I don’t like this.”
Elda released a breath and pushed the door closed, firm but controlled.
The latch clicked softly into place.
She turned back to Ren, who stood tense, arms crossed tightly.
“It’s just a house,” she said.
Ren scoffed. “Yeah and that bell, And we’re just two idiots walking around a haunted village waiting to die.”
She rolled her eyes, but before she could respond, Ren rubbed a hand down his face and exhaled roughly.
“Look, whatever weird shit is happening, let’s just finish up and get the hell out of here. We check the rest of this area, then we head back. Deal?”
Elda hesitated, then nodded.
“Deal.”
And with that, they moved forward.
The weight of the half-eaten meal sat heavy in the back of Elda’s mind.
Like something waiting to be understood.
Like something left behind on purpose.
She exhaled sharply through her nose, pressing the thought aside. This wasn’t the time.
Ren shifted beside her, arms still crossed tight. His usual smirk had long since vanished, replaced by something else—something more cautious.
He clicked his tongue, glancing back down the path. “So, uh… not to rush this lovely little house tour, but I vote we wrap this up and get back to the others.”
Elda rolled her shoulders, nodding once. “Agreed. We should head back to the meeting point.”
She didn’t miss the way Ren’s fingers twitched, or how his shoulders remained tense even as he turned to move.
He wasn’t the only one on edge.
The night was quiet again—too quiet. Even their footsteps felt muted against the wooden pathways. The mist had thickened, curling along the village’s edges, shifting unnaturally between the torchlight.
Elda glanced toward the village center, where the fire hall stood like a beacon in the dark. From here, she could barely make out the faint glow of flames flickering between the gaps in the trees.
They weren’t far now.
Ren exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. “Fun little ghost hunt, but I’d very much like to be somewhere that isn’t a damn horror story waiting to happen.”
Elda ignored him, keeping her eyes ahead.
But as they walked, she couldn’t shake the feeling pressing against the back of her neck.
The sense that, no matter how fast they moved—
Something—or someone was out there watching them.
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Vyn and Joran
Joran crouched by the nearest trap, fingers moving with practiced ease as he inspected the mechanism.
The taut string held firm. The stakes in the ground were undisturbed, the weight trigger untripped.
It was untouched.
And yet—
Something was wrong.
Joran felt it before he saw it. A sense of unease creeping up his spine, the hairs on his arms rising even though the night wasn’t cold enough for it.
Vyn knelt beside him, frowning. “It’s… untouched?”
Joran huffed, shifting his weight. “Looks that way.”
Vyn ran his fingers along the twine, brows furrowing. He paused.
“…It’s new.”
Joran’s head snapped toward him. “What?”
Vyn lifted the delicate fibers between his fingers. The twine was the same color, the same thickness—but it was smoother, slightly different.
Someone had reset this.
And they had done it perfectly.
Joran’s lips pressed into a thin line. His stomach churned. “…Alright. That’s unsettling.”
Vyn exhaled sharply, his gaze drifting beyond the trap. The mist curled low to the ground, heavy with moisture.
Then he saw it.
A small, unmoving shape near the base of a tree.
Vyn nudged Joran. “There.”
Joran followed his gaze, each step tightening the knot in his gut. The shape materialized through the shifting mist—a bird, small and lifeless, its delicate feathers ruffled unnaturally. Not torn by a predator, not stuff from decay, but limp. As though it had simply…stopped.
Joran exhaled. “Bird dying in a forest? That’s normal.”
Vyn tilted his head, studying the markings. “Yeah. That’s true.”
Then his expression darkened.
“But this bird doesn’t belong here.”
Joran frowned. “What do you mean?”
Vyn crouched, running a finger over the fine feathers. “This species— I’ve seen them before. But not in this region.” His voice turned sharper. “And when we took the test earlier, there were no animals. Not a single one. Remember?”
Joran’s breath slowed. He did remember.
The forest had been silent.
He straightened, scanning the trees, the mist-laden paths beyond. His hand hovered over his weapon.
“Shit.”
Vyn rose beside him, voice quieter now. “Someone’s been watching.”
Joran exhaled, sharp and tense. “Not just watching.”
His eyes flickered back toward the trap. The untouched-but-replaced string. The bird that shouldn’t be here.
The hush between them carried the weight of things unsaid.
“They’re studying us.”
A breeze rolled through the trees, shifting the mist just slightly. The torches guttered, their light swallowed in elongated fingers of shadow.
Joran swallowed. His throat felt dry.
He forced out a breath, tension knotting in his gut.
“We should go.”
Joran didn’t speak right away as they started walking. His steps were steady, but there was something tight in his shoulders, something coiled.
Vyn noticed. “You’re tense.”
Joran scoffed, shaking his head. “No shit. My village is getting picked apart by mercenaries, and now we’re dealing with whatever the hell this is.”
Vyn didn’t reply immediately. He adjusted the strap of his weapon, gaze flicking toward Joran. “…You think they’re connected?”
Joran sighed “I don’t know. I just know that when people go missing, we don’t find them again.”
A beat of silence.
Then Joran spoke again, quieter this time. “If it’s the same people behind this… then we’re already too late.”
Vyn didn’t have a response for that.
The mist thickened, curling along their path like creeping fingers. The torches ahead were hazier now, their flickering light barely visible through the dense air.
Joran flexed his fingers. “You feel that?”
Vyn nodded. “Yeah.”
Neither of them elaborated.
But both of them knew.
They weren’t alone.
And then—
A distant bell rang through the night.
Both of them stopped.
Joran’s fingers curled tighter around his weapon. His breath was steady, but only just.
“…We should hurry.”
And with that, they pressed on, the weight of unseen eyes lingering behind them.
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Ny’Kelos Storage Houses
Varis adjusted his gloves as he followed Kai toward the storage structures, glancing around at the winding paths of the village. The torches flickered unevenly, their light barely pushing back the mist curling at their feet.
The warehouse wasn’t like the kind he was used to—no stone walls, no stacked crates or iron locks. Instead, Ny’Kelos’ storage houses were built high among the trees, their raised wooden platforms supported by thick, carved beams, bound together with woven ropes. Suspended walkways connected each storehouse, swaying slightly underfoot.
It was smart, practical. Keeping food elevated helped protect it from ground moisture, pests, and larger animals. From here, a dense network of hanging woven baskets and wooden racks stored everything from food to tools to medicinal herbs.
Kai stepped forward first, her boots making a soft thud against the smooth wooden planks as she unhooked the woven door covering and stepped inside.
Varis followed, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior.
Woodsmoke danced through the air, mingling with damp earth and faint whisper of dried spices, each scent lingering, vying for notice.
The walls were lined with stacked earthen jars—some sealed with wax, others bound with tight cloth wrappings. Dried meats hung from the beams above, strung together in careful loops. Large woven baskets sat in neat rows, filled with grains, nuts, and dried fruit. Near the back, bundles of herbs were wrapped in twine, stored methodically along carved shelves.
Everything had its place. Everything was in balance.
It was a kind of efficiency Varis could appreciate.
Kai exhaled as she ran her fingers along the wooden racks, eyes scanning the supplies with an ease that came from years of familiarity.
“We don’t waste here,” she murmured. “Everything is used. If a beast is hunted, nothing goes to waste—meat, bones, hide, even the tendons. It’s part of our way.”
Varis nodded absently, stepping toward one of the sealed jars. “Efficient.”
Kai glanced over at him. “You don’t sound surprised.”
Varis smirked slightly, tapping the jar’s surface with his knuckle. “Because I’ve seen it before. There are villages in the Eastern Valleys that do the same—waste nothing, live in harmony with the land. Your people treat the world like an ecosystem, not a resource.”
Kai blinked, clearly not expecting him to know that. “…Yeah. That’s exactly it.”
Varis moved further in, trailing his fingers across bundled ropes and spare weapons stored near the back. His brows furrowed. “You don’t keep all your weapons in the fire hall?”
Kai shook her head. “Some. But extras are kept here. When the warriors return, they sharpen the old spears and store them back for the next hunt.”
Varis paused, eyeing the curved spearheads resting along the wall. He recognized the craftsmanship. The blade edges were slightly curved, built not just for stabbing but for twisting through flesh.
He tapped a knuckle against one. “These aren’t Ny’Kelonian made.”
Kai’s expression didn’t change. “We trade with others sometimes.”
“Huh.” He exhaled, running a hand over the smooth wooden shaft of one of the spears. “Didn’t think your people liked outsiders enough for that.”
Kai scoffed. “We don’t. But warriors respect warriors. And Ny’Kelonian spears last.”
Varis hummed, filing that information away.
Kai turned toward another rack, fingers trailing along neatly wrapped bundles of dried fish and jerky. “When I was younger, I used to steal from these.”
Varis raised a brow. “You? Stealing?”
Kai smirked slightly, but her gaze remained distant. “Not for myself. For my younger sister. She’d get hungry at night, and I’d take just enough so she wouldn’t cry herself to sleep.”
Varis watched her carefully. This was the most open he’d seen her.
“…What happened to her?” he asked quietly.
Kai exhaled, her shoulders tightening. “She’s not here anymore.”
Varis didn’t ask further. He understood the weight behind her words.
For a few moments, neither of them spoke.
Instead, Varis shifted toward one of the rationed grain baskets, running his fingers along the edge. And that was when he noticed it.
His gaze sharpened.
“Kai.”
Kai turned toward him, brow furrowing.
“What?”
Varis gestured toward the basket. “These rations are off.”
Kai blinked. “What do you mean?”
Varis crouched, pulling the lid back slightly.
“See the way it’s layered? Someone’s taken from it. Not in a normal way—this is deliberate.”
Kai moved beside him, eyes narrowing. “You sure?”
Varis nodded. “I know how people steal food. Someone’s been taking small amounts at a time—enough to be unnoticed at a glance, but over time?” He exhaled sharply. “It adds up.”
Kai’s expression darkened. “That doesn’t make sense. Ny’Kelos shares everything. No one needs to steal food.”
Varis looked toward the neatly tied bundles of dried meat hanging from the back. The knots were slightly different—not tied in the usual way.
“You keep saying no one needs to,” he murmured. “But someone is.”
Kai’s fingers curled at her sides. “…Then we have a problem.”
And before either of them could process what that meant—
A single, piercing clang split the silence, ringing out like a scream trapped in metal.
Varis tensed immediately. Kai’s posture shifted, hand flying to the weapon at her hip.
They locked eyes.
A breath shuddered out of him. His tongue clicked, his smirk nowhere to be found.
“That’s our cue.”
Kai nodded, already turning toward the door. “Let’s go.”
They moved quickly, leaving the storage house behind.
But the unease clung to them.
Because if someone in the village was stealing food in secret—
And in a place and time like this, that could only mean trouble.