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Shadows of Farabane
Empty | Chapter 2

Empty | Chapter 2

Entering the forest wasn’t too different from the mud-ridden outskirts; the path was just as wet and destroyed. The foliage was odd though. Creaking trees that stretched to the sky, and entangled brambles that swayed on their own. Expectedly the wildlife was quiet, except for the occasional chirp or scuttle from the brush.

Strangely though, the outskirts of the village were... empty?

The few cottages didn’t seem like they were lived in for years. Dilapidated roofs made of thatch, decayed log pillars, cobble walls fitted with moss and vines, and not to mention the flooding...

They stood between two of these structures, pondering the environment. Garrick was on Aurin’s left and picked between the rocks with the tip of his blade. But Elia----she was next to the right building; fiddling with her belt pouch that would make a metal chime.

Aurin though, he was ordered to stand close and stay quiet, but that worked well for him: Keeping silent was a good way to stay out of trouble. While he looked around, he spotted a rather damp wood pillar that had collapsed near the left building.

'Finally...'

He nearly crumbled to the ground as he dribbled closer. His arms dangled as he did. But before he got close, an outstretched arm blocked his path. Garrick's arm...

“Where are you going?”

He slowly shifted his gaze to meet Garrick’s. The man narrowed his eyes, and his lips grew tense.

‘Does it look like I can go anywhere?’

As Aurin lifted a limp arm towards the fallen wood, Garrick shook his head abruptly. “No, not yet.”

Returning a blank stare, Aurin didn’t care much for his demands at that moment.

He Internally giggled to himself with a stupid expression painted on his face. Instead of listening, he continued his dreary march to his lavishly dreamed resting place. Though the crooked stones spread across the path, had other plans for Aurin. The third step he took was especially sloppy, and uncontrolled, resulting in a rather abrupt trip from one of the stones.

But before he was about to impact the ground, a strong grip tensed around his hood, planting him in place.

He was shocked still. Tilting his head back, he met Garrick’s distasteful and annoyed gaze. But within that hid a sliver of worry.

“We can’t rest yet, I’ll carry you if I have to, but we can’t stop…” His voice sounded relaxed but his fidgeting body language said otherwise...

Elia glanced from her tools and nonchalantly mumbled. “Why not? We can give the kid a break.”

Lifting Aurin by the hood, he pointed towards the forest, and responded, "You hear that?"

While Aurin tried to listen, he stopped trying to struggle from Garrick's grasp.

He darted his head from side to side.

Soon, that familiar pit of angst gutted through his stomach.

It was quiet...

And the woods reflected that in its agonizing stillness...

Garrick sighed.

“It would be nice to take a break, but as you can see, there isn’t a trace of smoke or recent camp nearby." He paused shortly before adding, "Nor is there any activity..."

"So we hurry on until we reach the village center. Xyph, let's hope this isn’t the only destroyed part…”

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He shuffled his scabbard to the waist; it dangled across the ground as he sheathed the blade clicking it in place. Bending down, he offered his back to Aurin. “Brat, let's go, I'll carry you if you can’t walk.”

'It's a trick isn't it!'

"Get on."

As he slowly approached Garrick, he hesitated when he was next to him. Garrick continuously waved his hands behind his back, insisting he hurry.

While he climbed on, he tugged the makeshift hood over his face. The moment he did, Garrick shot up with his hands under Aurin's knees.

Aurin clasped the orange tufts dangling in front of his face.

‘Is he going throw me to the ground for not listening?'

'No, maybe something later... No food?'

When Elia looked over to Garrick, the corners of her mouth broke in a humorous angle. She clicked her tongue and mumbled, “Getting protective with the merchandise are we?”

With a grunt, he said, “Of course, Xyph knows how long until we can reach those damn aristocrats."

Adjusting Aurin, he mumbled, "Quit being a nuisance, let's go…”

'Aristocrats?'

Hunched across Garrick’s back, the desolate cabins faded behind them into a cloud of trees. The further they went, the more the path narrowed. Strangely enough, even the trees and brush stood still. Not a single croak from the wavering trees, not a single rustle from the thorns. The usual jabbering stopped too...

“Go back...” Aurin weakly whispered.

While Aurin tugged on Garrick's shoulder, he grumbled, “Quiet... We keep going, it’s just because we are getting closer to the village…”

He figured the same, but the straining silence, along with the black-coated figure he saw earlier? Maybe it was just an illusion caused by his severe lack of Ather. But It gave him other impressions...

It was a rather quiet walk.

Garrick seemed to always have a hand on the hilt of his sword, and Elia's head was spinning. She twitched to any crack of a stone or stick under their feet. Despite their intensity, Aurin was actually quite entertained by them being on edge. He even went as far as to pick twigs in passing. Then while she was looking away, he would secretly chuck them at her feet to watch the reaction.

Besides her, there wasn't much for him to look at. The forest was already dark as it was and the moving storm clouds didn't help...

It was a journey that would put one to sleep.

And it did.

Methodically being carried without much worry except for the unusual silence was nice. Too nice…

His eyes became heavy countless times, and almost every time he blinked, he swore they traveled so much farther. After a while of this repetition, his senses grew numb. The sound became dampened, and the air felt cool yet warm. His anxieties, worries, and fear all seemed to be fading out into obscurity; like none of it mattered anymore.

Shutting his eyes once more, he faded into a mindless pitch-black scape.

No dream, not even a sound to wake him.

This was short-lived...

He was violently shaken awake by a sudden change in Garrick's pace. As he slowly looked up, thunder rippled through the distant clouds. A split-second passed and an ear-piercing screech echoed through the air. A cold sweat drifted down his neck. His chest rose and fell in rapid succession.

As he looked around two were just as startled. Because while they stood on a steep cliff, ahead of them stretched a giant clearing. The village.

It seemed so vast that you could barely even see the edge of it!

‘This is considered a small village?’

He strained to see it at all. Some of the buildings were two stories, built of stone bricks and proper shingled roofs. Others were built just like the pathetic huts they saw before, albeit a bit larger.

Some of the wider twisting roads had structures next to them too, but those were all flattened? It looked as though an inundated horror tore its way through... Along with all the destruction, there wasn’t even a single torch, lantern, or smoke trail among the wreck. Nothing. A ghost of a village.

The place was built with a chaotic amount of buildings, with only the neatly paved brick roads keeping it together. It was like the designers had built the roads for viewing afar at their exact location. Because they all led to the center of the village, luringly...

‘That’s… out of place…’

In the middle of the village was a massive clearing that housed a gigantic cathedral.

The tall glass windows were cracked head to toe. Vines crept across the decrepit walls, and the grand door entrance was crashed inwards. The towers weren’t connected to the base anymore either. Instead, they were lying on the crushed cabins farther out. Like someone ripped them off and then tossed them to the side.

None of them said anything, none of them seemed to move, but the drifting storm was indifferent. Past the village was a vast empty field, and the storm was above it. Rows of lightning struck across it every second, it was devastating. They got to see the front of the storm, but that wasn’t the sickening part. Since it was blowing south, the wind carried something foul. The smell of rot and iron was coursing through the air.

End of Chapter 2