The smell of smoke hit Emmet before the village came into view.

His steps quickened, pain shooting up his leg with every stride, but he didn’t care. Tabitha kept pace beside him, her expression unreadable, while the serpent slithered behind, its scales scraping against the dirt. The closer they got, the heavier Emmet’s chest felt, each breath strained by the dread clawing at his thoughts.

The trees gave way to a clearing, and there it was—or what was left of it.

The village was in ruins. Crumbled walls and burned-out husks of homes dotted the landscape. Ash and charred wood stained the ground, while shattered tools and discarded belongings lay scattered in the dirt.

Emmet’s stomach turned as he staggered into the remnants of the village square. The well was overturned, its once-clear water now a filthy puddle. Bloodstains marred the ground, trailing toward the nearby woods.

His knees buckled, and he dropped to the ground, his spear clattering beside him. This wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d told himself he would find them waiting, scared but safe. Not this.

Tabitha stood beside him, her staff resting against the ground. “It wasn’t recent,” she said, her voice low but firm. “Days, maybe more.”

Emmet’s eyes swept over the ruins, his throat tightening as he recognized pieces of his siblings’ lives scattered in the debris. A broken wooden toy. Mila’s favorite scarf, its edges singed.

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“They were here,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

“They’re not here now,” Tabitha said sharply, crouching down to inspect the bloodstains. “But this wasn’t a massacre. There are no bodies.”

Her words snapped Emmet out of his daze. No bodies. That meant there was hope. He scrambled to his feet, his eyes darting around for any sign of where Mila and Theo might have gone. His mind raced with questions. Who attacked the village? Why?

“The blood trails,” he said, pointing toward the edge of the woods. “They lead out.”

Tabitha nodded, already moving to follow the trail. The serpent hissed softly, coiling protectively around Emmet as he limped after her.

“Bandits?” he asked, his voice thick with anger.

Tabitha shook her head. “No. The damage is too methodical. Whoever did this was organized.”

Emmet clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. Organized. That meant slavers or soldiers—neither possibility boded well for Mila and Theo.

The trail led them deeper into the woods, the air growing colder with every step. Emmet’s mind replayed the sight of the ruined village, the broken pieces of his siblings’ lives. He couldn’t fail them. Not now.

“They’re alive,” he said aloud, as if speaking the words would make them true.

Tabitha glanced at him but said nothing. Her silence was heavy, a grim reminder of how uncertain everything was.

But Emmet couldn’t afford to think about that. He tightened his grip on his spear and pressed forward, his focus narrowing to the trail ahead. Somewhere out there, Mila and Theo were waiting for him.

And he wouldn’t stop until he found them.