The journey back to Vistow was tense, their horses creeping through the night as the group rode in silence, minds focused on the task ahead. The darkened road seemed longer now, the weight of what they might find in the village pressing down on them. Quin led the group, his thoughts swirling with determination and dread. He couldn’t shake the image of the mayor from his vision—those cold, calculating eyes.
They slowed and dismounted a few kilometers from the village, leading their horses off the road and into a small clearing they had noticed on their first pass through. The thick trees provided ample cover, and they tied their horses to a low-hanging branch, ensuring they were hidden from view.
"We’ll come in from the side," Cal whispered, eyes scanning the surrounding forest. "Less likely anyone will see us coming from there. We sneak around and enter through the village’s outer edges."
Zach nodded, rubbing his chin in thought. "And once we’re in? Do we head straight for Elisa’s home?"
"Exactly," Quin whispered back. "We get in, we confront her. She has to know something, and we’ll get her to talk—either through persuasion or... the threat of violence. Not that we’ll hurt her, but she doesn’t need to know that."
Westin smirked. "If she complies, we tie her up and leave her. If not, we knock her out, drag her out of the village, and stash her with the horses. Then we reassess our options."
Sam nodded in agreement, gripping the hilt of his mace. "Let’s move."
With the plan set, they crept through the forest toward the village, their steps slow and deliberate. The shadows of the trees cloaked them as they approached the village's outskirts. The air was heavy with tension, and the closer they got, the more ominous the town seemed. The moonlight barely filtered through the clouds, casting everything in an eerie, silvery glow.
Once they reached the outer edge of Vistow, they moved silently along the fence line, creeping around the side of the village as planned. The streets were eerily quiet, and no guards or patrols were in sight. The only sounds were the rustling leaves in the breeze and their footsteps on the dirt path.
As they snuck through the village, a growing sense of unease emerged. The streets were utterly deserted—not a single soul was visible, and very few lights flickered in the houses. The village, once bustling with life during their daytime visit, now felt like an abandoned ghost town.
Quin, his instincts on high alert, began peering into windows left ajar or through cracks in the shutters. In every house he passed, he expected to see the dim outline of a villager sleeping or perhaps sitting quietly by the fire. But house after house, the interiors were empty—no people, no movement—only dark, silent rooms, devoid of life.
He leaned back toward the group, his voice a low whisper. "There’s no one inside... I’ve checked a few houses. It’s like the whole village is gone."
Sam frowned, casting a wary glance around. "That’s... not normal. What kind of village is empty at this time of night?"
The others, now equally unsettled, began checking the houses, peeking through gaps in shutters and windows. The eerie silence pressed in around them as they confirmed Quin’s observation. No one was in the houses. Every home was dark, cold, and empty.
"This doesn’t make sense," Westin muttered, his brow furrowing. "Where is everyone?"
Quin’s grip on his sword tightened as they pressed forward, the eerie atmosphere gnawing at him. His earlier fear—that something sinister was happening here—felt more real with every step. Whatever was happening in Vistow, it was darker than he had imagined.
Eventually, they reached Elisa’s house, which was just as dark as the others. Not a single candle flickered inside. The windows were closed, the curtains drawn, and the door appeared to be shut tight.
Quin stepped up to the door, his sword at the ready. His eyes narrowed as he prepared to slice through the lock with a quick, precise strike. But Westin stepped forward before he could make the move, shooting him a disapproving look.
Quin paused, raising an eyebrow. Westin rolled his eyes and simply reached for the handle. With a quick turn, the door creaked open with a soft squeak.
"Really?" Westin whispered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Try the handle first next time, hero.
Quin shot him a look, rolling his eyes in return, but a slight smirk tugged at his lips. "Next time, I’ll let you take the lead," Quin whispered back, stepping inside the house.
The others followed, moving quietly and quickly into the darkened home. Once everyone was inside, Zach, who was last to enter, shut the door softly behind them.
The group moved silently through Elisa’s house, each step cautious, their breaths barely audible in the oppressive quiet. Every room they entered was devoid of life, just like the other homes they had seen, no trace of Elisa. No notes, no signs of hurried departure, nothing. The house had been left in perfect order.
When they regrouped in the main room, the tension in the air was palpable. Quin’s jaw tightened as he looked at the others. “She’s not here. No sign of anyone, anywhere.”
“This whole village,” Zach muttered, glancing out the dark window. “It’s like they vanished. Everyone’s gone.”
Westin leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Where could they all be? It’s not like they could just disappear into thin air. We saw all of them mere hours ago."
“Maybe they’re gathered somewhere?” Cal suggested, though his tone was skeptical. “For an evening prayer service or something?”
Sam frowned, shaking his head. “At this hour? I doubt it.”
Quin spoke up. “Even if it was a service, would every single villager be attending? There’s no one in their homes—no children, no elders. It doesn’t make sense.”
Cal sighed. "But we can’t just assume they’ve all vanished. The children disappeared earlier in the day so they clearly were moving throughout the day. We need to keep investigating."
They mulled over their next steps, and it wasn’t long before they agreed on two primary locations that might provide answers: the church and the town hall. Both were key landmarks in the village, and either could hold a clue as to where everyone had gone. Granted they all thought the church being the location of everyone was far fetched, but it was better to be thorough.
“The church is closer,” Cal pointed out. “We’ll start there.”
With a nod of agreement, they left Elisa’s house as silently as they had entered, creeping through the deserted streets. The village was unsettlingly quiet, and the only sound was the faint rustle of wind in the trees. The church soon came into view. It was a relatively large structure for a village of Vistow, its stone walls weathered but sturdy. The building was plain, lacking the ornate carvings or elaborate stained glass windows often seen in the temples of Cremoor. Its simplicity spoke of practicality rather than grandeur, though its size indicated that the village once held a substantial population, enough to fill the pews within.
They paused outside, scanning the area before creeping up to the entrance. The wooden doors were slightly ajar, creaking as Quin gently pushed one open. Inside, the church was as simple as its exterior—rows of wooden pews lined the stone floor, leading up to a modest altar. A few candles sat unlit at the front, their wicks cold stating that they had not been used recently.
No one was inside.
Quin stepped forward, the soft thud of his boots echoing in the space. “No one here either.”
“Looks like the church is as deserted as the rest of the village,” Westin murmured, glancing around at the empty pews.
“Where could they be?” Zach asked, his voice barely above a whisper, more to herself than anyone else.
“They’re not here,” Sam stated, glancing at Quin. “That leaves the town hall.”
The group left the church without another word, their pace quickening as they made their way toward the only other landmark of note: the town hall. As they neared the large stone building, they slowed again, taking their time to scout the perimeter. It was eerily quiet, just like the rest of the village. No lights shone through the windows, and no movement could be seen from within.
They circled the building, staying in the shadows, eyes scanning for signs of life. But the town hall, much like the rest of Vistow, appeared abandoned. The stillness was unsettling, the emptiness too complete to be natural.
Zach whispered, “There’s no way the entire village just packed up and left because we asked a few questions, right? This is overkill.”
“Unless they’re trying to cover their tracks,” Cal muttered, his eyes narrowing. “If they’re involved in something dark, they might’ve evacuated to avoid us discovering it.”
"But if they sent the assassins," Westin pointed out, "wouldn’t they want to stay hidden? Killing us would have been the easier solution rather than abandoning their whole lives here."
Quin rubbed his chin, his brow furrowed. “Unless they knew the assassins failed. They might have some way of tracking them—something we don’t know about.”
Sam frowned, his eyes troubled. “It still doesn’t add up. Even if they evacuated, they would’ve left something behind. Evidence, signs of departure. It’s like they just... disappeared. They left all their belongings in their homes.”
With no answers presenting themselves, they decided to take the next logical step. Weapons drawn, they moved toward the entrance of the town hall.
Quin gripped the hilt of his broadsword as they crept up the stone steps. The building loomed ahead of them, dark and silent. He paused before the doors, glancing at the others. “We’ll search the mayor’s office,” he whispered. “Maybe we’ll find something there.”
With a collective nod, they entered the town hall, the door creaking slightly as it swung open. The dim light from the moon barely penetrated the gloom within, casting long shadows over the stone floor. The tension was thick as they moved through the corridors, their footsteps eerily silent in the oppressive quiet.
They were stepping into the heart of whatever mystery had taken over Vistow, and the air felt heavy with the weight of the unknown.
The door creaked open, but the group moved with practiced stealth, slipping into the town hall with as little noise as possible. The darkness was almost suffocating, the shadows seeming to press in around them. But a faint light flickered in the distance, casting a dim glow deeper into the hall.
Quin signaled them to move forward, and they followed the faint light toward its source. The closer they got, the more details they could make out—a single lantern left lit on a small side table. It was strange, standing out in the otherwise pitch-black building. They exchanged wary glances but pushed onward, passing the lantern and moving into the darker hallways.
The eerie silence weighed on them as they crept through the narrow passages, their footsteps muffled by the stone floor. Periodically, they encountered more lit lamps hanging from the walls, but the rest of the building remained deserted. There were no sounds, no signs of life—just the flicker of dim lights in an otherwise cold, empty building.
After an eternity of creeping through the maze-like halls, they finally reached their destination: the mayor’s office.
The door was unlocked, and they slipped inside, weapons ready. But once inside, they were met with an odd sight. It was exactly as they had left it earlier that day. The room was elegant and organized—far too tidy. Every surface was spotless, and the furniture was positioned with precise care. Cabinets lined the walls, filled with neatly organized stacks of paper. Yet, something felt off.
"Search everything," Quin whispered. "There has to be something here."
The group spread out, methodically searching the office. Drawers were opened, cabinets rummaged through, but nothing seemed unusual—except for the extreme lack of helpful information. Every file they pulled out contained nothing of substance: no harvest reports, no drafts for new policies, no financial accounts. Just blank papers, neatly organized, as if someone had gone through the trouble of making it look like an office without actually running one.
"Nothing," Zach muttered, frustration creeping into his voice as he flipped through another stack of blank documents. "It’s like this office was set up just for show."
"Where are the files they showed us before?" Westin asked, searching the cabinets. "The ones about Elisa and Loma?"
"They’re gone," Quin replied, his brow furrowed. "Whoever cleared this out didn’t want us finding anything useful."
The realization settled over them, and they regrouped near the mayor’s desk. The eerie silence was broken only by the occasional creak of the old building. They exchanged troubled glances.
"Well," Quin began, his voice low, "if the missing villagers didn’t already confirm something is seriously wrong in this place, the fact that the mayor’s office has no records certainly does."
Leaning casually against the wall, Westin tried to lighten the mood with a dry chuckle. "I don’t know about you guys, but the moment a bunch of assassins tried to kill us was my first sign that something was wrong."
Cal shook his head. "We don’t know those assassins came from this village. It’s possible they were sent by someone else."
Sam, ever the pragmatist, crossed his arms, his voice grim. "Come on, Cal. We haven’t done anything recently to provoke the wrath of anyone else—especially not followers of Serenity. The only thing we’ve done is visit this village."
Quin nodded in agreement. "Sam’s right. The assassins didn’t come after us for no reason. We have to assume Vistow is involved in whatever is going on here. The village is empty, the records are gone—it’s all too suspicious."
They fell silent again, the weight of their realization sinking in. Everything pointed to Vistow being at the center of something dark, something hidden. But what it was exactly, they still didn’t know.
"What now?" Zach asked, his tone tense.
"We keep looking," Quin replied firmly. "There has to be something here. We just haven’t found it yet."
The sound of the door creaking open and then shutting echoed down the hallway, piercing the tense silence that had settled over the group. Immediately, their eyes snapped toward one another, sharing the same thought: they weren’t alone.
Zach and Sam moved quickly, positioning themselves on either side of the door. Their movements were quiet and calculated—predators waiting for their prey. Quin raised his sword, the blade gleaming faintly in the dim light, his stance firm as he prepared to strike. Westin and Cal positioned themselves behind Quin, ready for whatever was coming. Cal's sword gleamed at his side, and Westin, wand in hand, had his magic at the ready.
The footsteps grew louder, faster—whoever was walking toward them was in a hurry. Quin's heart pounded in his chest, his focus narrowing as the sound drew closer. The footsteps stopped right outside the door. For a heartbeat, there was silence, the air heavy with anticipation.
Then, the door handle turned.
In an instant, the group sprang into action. Sam lunged forward as the door cracked open, grabbing the figure who had stepped through and throwing them to the ground with a swift, practiced motion. The man hit the floor hard, the air rushing from his lungs as he released a startled yelp—the papers he had been holding scattered everywhere, drifting through the air like falling leaves.
Before the man could even catch his breath, Quin’s sword was at his neck, the cold steel pressing lightly against his skin. The threat was clear: one wrong move and it would be his last. His broad, terrified eyes locked onto the blade at his throat, his body frozen in shock.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
He was a thin, nervous-looking man with short, sandy hair and a scruffy beard. His skin was pale, his features sharp, and a faint sheen of sweat glistened on his brow. His eyes darted wildly between Quin and the others, clearly overwhelmed by the sudden, violent confrontation. He wore a simple brown tunic and pants, both slightly wrinkled, as though he hadn’t expected to be seen by anyone tonight. A leather pouch hung loosely from his shoulder, its contents likely the source of the scattered papers now strewn across the floor.
Quin’s voice was low and dangerous. "One sound, and you're dead. Who are you, and what are you doing here?"
The man gulped audibly, his chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths. His hands twitched slightly as though he wanted to reach for the papers, but the sword at his neck kept him entirely still. When he finally managed to speak, his voice was shaky and full of fear.
"I-I... I’m just a clerk! Please! I didn’t know anyone was here!" he stammered, his eyes wide with terror. "I w-was just gathering some papers, I swear!"
Quin pressed the sword just a fraction closer, enough to make the man wince. "Gathering papers? At this time of night?"
The man’s breath hitched as he desperately tried to explain. "I... I work late sometimes! The mayor... sh-she asked me to gather some files for her. I didn’t know! I didn’t know anyone was in here!" His voice cracked with fear, his words tumbling over each other in panic.
"Identify yourself immediately." Quin spoke, his tone suddenly shifting from cold threat to the commanding voice of authority.
The man, clearly overwhelmed by both fear and the sudden official tone of the group, swallowed hard and stammered, "M-my name is Varis. Just Varis. P-please don’t hurt me!" His voice quivered as he pleaded for mercy.
Quin, now realizing the man was a mortal—no spirit energy, weapons, or threat—relaxed his grip on the sword and lifted the blade from Varis’s neck. The man immediately tried to sit up, but before he could, Sam placed his boot on Varis’s chest, gently but firmly pushing him back down to the floor.
"Not so fast," Sam muttered, keeping the man pinned. His voice was calm but laced with warning.
Cal stepped forward, crossing his arms as he regarded the quivering man with cold scrutiny. "What are you doing here, Varis?" he asked, his voice measured but sharp. "And where are all the people in this village?"
Varis’s eyes darted around the room, searching for a route of escape. Sweat dripped down his temples, and his breath came in shallow, panicked gasps. "I-I don’t know where they went!" he exclaimed, his voice strained. "I was just trying to find help! I came to the town hall because I thought maybe someone was here who could tell me what happened!" He paused as though hoping his words would be enough to convince them.
The group exchanged knowing glances. It was a poor lie—too frantic, too desperate, and the tension in his voice gave him away immediately. They could see through it as quickly as they could see the fear in his eyes.
Cal’s gaze hardened, and his voice dropped to a cold, commanding tone. "We know you’re lying," he said, stepping closer. "And if you don’t tell us the truth right now, we will be forced to take action. You’re facing serious punishment under the law if you don’t start cooperating."
Varis’s breath hitched, and he swallowed hard, eyes wide as he looked from Cal to the others. "I’m not lying!" he insisted, his voice pitching. "I swear! I don’t know anything! I’m just one of the villagers—"
"Enough," Sam interrupted, raising a hand to signal Cal to stop. His gaze fixed on Varis, a deep, unwavering disappointment settling in his eyes. "I cannot stand those who lie," he said softly, but there was no warmth in his tone. "Especially those who continue to lie when they’ve been caught. As a follower of Justicar, I live by the Laws of Justicar. And one of those laws is that truth must always prevail. To knowingly lie and deceive is a violation of those laws."
Sam knelt, his eyes boring into Varis with an intensity that made the man tremble even more. "You’re standing in violation of those laws right now. And as a follower of Justicar, I cannot abide it."
Varis’s face paled further, his lips trembling as he stammered, "I-I didn’t mean—please, I’ll tell you what you want to know, just—"
"You will tell us the truth," Sam said, his voice cold as ice. "Now."
The man’s facade crumbled under Sam’s unyielding gaze, the weight of his fear pressing down on him. He began to sob, realizing that his lies would not save him. He had been caught; the only way out was to tell the truth.
Sam’s face darkened with grim resolve as he stepped closer to the man lying on the floor. "I invoke The Law of Absolute Justice upon you," he declared, his voice steady and filled with righteous authority. The air around him shimmered, and a brown glow of spirit energy surrounded him as his Laws of Justicar ability activated. The power gathered at his fingertip before racing out in a streak of light, striking the man squarely in the forehead.
The man blinked, confused, as the energy disappeared without a trace. He stared up at Sam, disbelief etched across his pale features.
Sam’s expression remained cold and unyielding. "You are now under the influence of Justicar himself," he explained calmly. "If you speak, and Justicar determines that what you say is a lie, then you will be punished for each and every falsehood."
Varis's eyes widened in disbelief, the sweat on his brow gleaming in the dim light. "You’re bluffing," he spat, clinging to his lie. "I don’t know anything!"
But before he could finish his sentence, his body convulsed violently. He let out a strangled cry as searing pain ripped through his stomach. He writhed on the floor, gasping in agony as the burn of Justicar’s punishment coursed through him. The group watched in tense silence as Varis squirmed, his hands clutching his stomach as he fought against the pain.
When the pain finally subsided, he lay panting, his chest heaving. Slowly, with shaking hands, he raised his shirt. There, on his skin, was the symbol of Justicar—the scales of justice, perfectly balanced—branded into his flesh, glowing faintly with an ethereal heat and taking up the space of a coin.
Sam’s eyes were dark, completely unamused. "That, Varis, is the punishment for violating The Laws of Justicar. A lesson, I hope, you will not soon forget."
Quin, who had watched the entire scene unfold, stepped forward, a deep frown creasing his brow. "Sam, this isn’t necessary. Hurting him just for lying… it’s a step too far."
Sam turned to Quin, his face still etched with the conviction of his faith. "I did not hurt him," he said firmly, his voice steady. "He did this to himself by violating the law. He is hiding something—something potentially evil—through his lies. Would he be lying if there wasn’t something dark at the heart of this?"
Quin opened his mouth to argue but stopped. The weight of Sam’s belief and the certainty in his tone made him pause. Sam truly believed in what he was doing, and Quin could see the unwavering conviction in his eyes. With a sigh, Quin stepped back, unsure how to respond to the strength of Sam’s faith.
Cal spoke up before the silence could stretch further, his voice cutting through the tension. "Sam, next time, you need to consult us before doing something this drastic. We weren’t at the point where this was necessary."
Sam bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment. "You're right. I should have consulted the rest of you before invoking the law. I will do so in the future."
With the tension between the group momentarily diffused, they turned their attention back to Varis, who now lay on the ground, blubbering in pain and shock, his fingers gingerly tracing the fresh burn on his stomach. Tears streaked down his face as he sobbed, the reality of his situation crashing over him.
"I’m sorry!" he wailed, his voice cracking. "I’m sorry! Please, I’ll tell you the truth! No more lies! I swear!" His breath hitched as he glanced fearfully at Sam, his voice a desperate plea for mercy. "Just... just please, don’t let it happen again!"
Sam remained impassive, his eyes hard. "Then speak the truth," he said quietly. "Or face the consequences."
Cal’s expression remained stoic as he resumed the interrogation. "Tell me your name again," he commanded, his voice firm but without cruelty. The man on the ground, still writhing from the brand's pain, hesitated, then muttered a new name—one without a surname, a name he had been trying to hide.
“My name is Felix,” the man said between sobs.
Cal nodded, signaling his approval. "Do you reside in this village?"
Felix, drenched in sweat, nodded rapidly. "Y-yes. I do." His voice shook with fear, but there was no searing pain this time, no brand from Justicar’s punishment. He had spoken the truth.
"What do you do here?" Cal pressed.
"I’m an accountant," Felix stammered, blinking rapidly. His breath came in shallow gasps, his chest still heaving from the agony he had just endured.
Cal’s gaze narrowed slightly. "Elaborate," he said coldly. "What exactly does an accountant do in a village like this?"
Felix hesitated, his eyes flicking nervously between the group. He knew that anything he said now would be met with scrutiny. "I... I was hired to manage the village’s finances," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
Cal didn’t move, his eyes locked on the man as though seeing right through him. "An accountant," he repeated slowly. "Managing finances in a small, remote village like Vistow. That sounds like a job fit for someone wealthy with powerful connections in Cremoor. Why would you leave that life to come here?"
Felix opened his mouth, clearly searching for another lie. "I... I wanted to live in the countryside, away from the noise and politics—" Another scream abruptly cut off his words as he convulsed violently on the floor, the unmistakable scent of burning flesh filling the room. The scales of Justicar branded themselves into his skin once more, the punishment for his lie manifesting as he writhed in pain.
Quin, standing nearby, felt his chest tighten. He was about to step forward and end it when Zach, who had silently made his way to Quin’s side, placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Let it play out," Zach whispered into Quin’s ear. "This is necessary. If we want to know where the children disappeared to, we need him to talk. They’re our top priority."
Quin clenched his jaw, his instinct to stop this pressing against the logic of Zach’s words. He knew his friend was right. The children—their safety—had to come first. He bit his tongue and stepped back, choosing not to intervene.
After a moment, the Felix’s screams subsided, leaving him panting on the floor, his face pale and slick with sweat. He looked up at Cal, eyes wide and desperate, tears forming at the edges.
Cal gave him a few moments before continuing—his voice, calm and controlled, cut through the tension like a blade. "Let me ask you again," he said slowly. "Why would you leave the comforts of the city for a life in the countryside?"
Felix trembled, clearly beaten down by the weight of the interrogation and the pain of the punishment. He hesitated, then finally broke. "I... I embezzled money," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. "From a large merchant company in the city. When they found out, I... I had to run. I knew they'd come after me, so I fled."
Cal nodded, urging him on. "Go on."
"I met someone when I was leaving," Felix continued, his voice shaking. "They... they offered me a job here, said they knew about my criminal background, and it didn’t matter—as long as I served them faithfully and didn’t ask questions."
"So you took the offer," Cal said flatly.
"Yes," Felix whispered, defeated. "I came to Vistow. They needed someone to manage the village finances and falsify the records. To hide where the money was going—so the charities wouldn’t suspect anything. I... I don’t know what’s happening here, I swear. I knew I was supposed to make sure no one could trace anything back."
The group exchanged dark glances. It was becoming clear that Vistow’s peaceful facade was a cover for something far more sinister. The man was part of a scheme to hide the village’s actual activities, falsifying records to keep up appearances for the donations the town received. But what was the town hiding?
"Who hired you?" Sam asked, his voice cold.
"I... I don’t know who she truly is," the Felix sobbed. "It was a woman. Her name is Eloria, she is the mayor. She found me on the road out of Cremoor and said the village needed someone with my skills. She brought me here, and I never asked any more questions after that."
Sam narrowed his eyes. "And you’ve never questioned what was happening in this village? The gathering of so many children? The disappearance of its people at times? It seems like you noticed a lot of suspicious activity."
"I didn’t want to know!" Felix cried, shaking his head violently. "I just wanted to be left alone, to live in peace! I didn’t think—"
"You didn’t think period," Sam finished for him, his voice dripping with disdain.
Cal’s face darkened as he leaned closer, his voice calm but laced with menace. "What exactly do they do here in this village that requires such illicit activities?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the trembling man on the ground.
Felix shook his head vigorously, his lips pressed tightly together. "I... I can’t say," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. "They... they’d kill me."
Sam stepped forward, his large frame casting a shadow over the man. His presence alone was enough to send a shiver down Felix’s spine, but the stern look on Sam’s face made it clear that he was not to be trifled with. "You’d better start talking," Sam said coldly, his voice steady and terrifyingly quiet.
The man swallowed audibly, panic flickering in his eyes. He was trapped, cornered, and he knew it. But fear of whoever controlled this village weighed heavily on him, and he hesitated.
Quin, watching the Felix’s growing desperation, finally knelt beside him. His voice softened, losing the cold edge it had carried before. "Listen," Quin said gently, touching Felix’s shoulder. "No one will hurt you if you tell us the truth. We’ll protect you. Whoever is running these illegal activities won’t be able to harm you once we get you out of here. I promise."
The sincerity in Quin’s voice seemed to shake the man, but Felix’s eyes remained filled with doubt. He shook his head again, his lips trembling. "You don’t understand... they’ll find me. They always find those who talk."
Before Quin could say more, Cal stepped forward, his tone firm but more measured now. "If you help us, we’ll speak to the city officials in Cremoor. If your assistance is genuine and satisfactory, we’ll ensure they consider wiping your criminal record clean. You’ll have a chance to start over."
Felix’s eyes flicked nervously between them. The guilt and fear in his expression were palpable, and it was clear that he had been living with the weight of his decisions for years. The strain had taken its toll on him, and for the first time, he appeared to waver, the cracks in his resolve growing deeper.
He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Alright... if you promise to help me, I’ll tell you what I know." His voice was weak, but there was an underlying tone of relief, as though he had been waiting years to reveal this secret.
Quin smiled softly, offering the man a glimmer of reassurance. "It’s a deal, then. Just tell us what you know."
Felix took a deep breath, his eyes flicking nervously toward the door as if expecting someone to burst in at any moment. "I’ve been... covering up strange purchases for the village," he began, his voice strained. "They’ve been buying things no orphanage or village would need on a regular basis—medical equipment for nonstandard procedures, weapons, potions, stones containing spirit, custom lab equipment, strange herbs, and other supplies. I don’t know all of it. But... based on the financial records it appears to me that the village has been experimenting on children. I occasionally see their wounds from whatever they have been doing and sometimes they don’t ever return from where they disappear to. I don’t know for what purpose they are doing this; they’ve never told me. I’ve been here for about ten years, but from what I can tell, this has been going on for decades. Long before I arrived."
The group exchanged grim looks, the gravity of what Felix was saying settling over them like a dark cloud. Experiments on children? The very thought of it sent a chill through Quin, his hand instinctively tightening on the hilt of his sword.
Felix continued, his voice trembling. "Almost everyone in the village is involved. The adults... they’re all part of it. They pose as normal villagers, tending to the crops and caring for the children, but they have other roles behind the scenes. They’ve kept me out of most of it, but I know... they’re all in on it."
He paused, glancing around nervously before lowering his voice even more. "Every month or so, most villagers and the children disappear. They all gather at the town hall and go down into a hidden tunnel in the basement. I don’t know where it leads, and I’ve never dared to follow them. They’re gone for hours—sometimes all night. And by morning, they’re all back as if nothing happened."
The room was tense as Felix’s words hung in the air. The group exchanged uneasy glances, the total weight of the situation bearing down on them. The village wasn’t just involved in some minor crime or corruption—it was far darker, far more sinister than they had imagined.
Felix lowered his head, his voice barely audible now. "I... I’m sorry. That’s all I know. I’ve kept my head down. I didn’t want to be involved in whatever they’re doing, but I had no choice."
The group stood in silence for a moment, the magnitude of what Varis had revealed settling in. Quin felt a storm of emotions brewing inside him—disgust at the experiments, anger at the villagers for their collaboration, and a renewed sense of purpose. They couldn’t leave without saving the children.
Cal’s voice was cold and sharp when he finally spoke. "The tunnel. We need to find it."
Sam nodded his jaw tight with resolve. "And figure out what’s going on down there."
Quin glanced at Felix, his expression softening slightly. "You’ve helped us a lot, Felix. We’ll keep our word. But we need to see this through."
Felix gave a shaky nod, clearly relieved but still weighed down by fear. "Just... be careful," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "They won’t stop if they know you’re onto them.”
Cal nodded to the man, his tone firm but not unkind. "Thank you for your assistance," he said. "Now, take us to the basement."
Felix, still shaken but eager to comply, nodded quickly. He stood on unsteady legs, glancing at the group with fear and gratitude before leading them down the narrow hallway. The group followed him silently, the tension palpable in the air. Quin’s hand never left the hilt of his broadsword, and the others moved with quiet purpose, weapons at the ready.
They descended a rickety wooden staircase into the basement of the town hall. The air grew thick with dust, and the dim light from their lanterns flickered against the stone walls. The basement was cluttered with old wooden crates stacked haphazardly in every corner. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and the ground was immaculate without a speck of dust compared to the ceiling. The faint smell of mildew lingered in the air, adding to the eerie atmosphere.
Felix approached a wall where crates were stacked high against the stone. With trembling hands, he began to pull them down, one by one. The group watched silently as he worked, revealing a small, narrow tunnel behind the crates. The opening was too dark to see anything beyond a few feet. It looked old, the stone walls damp and moss-covered.
The group gathered around the tunnel’s entrance, peering into the darkness, but there was no way to see what lay ahead.
Cal turned to Felix, his voice steady but sharp. "If you want a chance at starting over in Cremoor as a law-abiding citizen, here’s your shot. Leave the town now. There is a clearing about three kilometers to the east. Do you know it? Our horses are there and its where we will return upon investigating a bit further. If you wait for us there, we will take you back to Cremoor."
Felix nodded eagerly, relief flashing across his face. "Yes, I know it. I’ll go there right now. Thank you—thank you for this chance."
With that, Felix scurried up the stairs, disappearing into the dim light of the hall above. The group watched him go in silence, each lost in their thoughts.
Once Felix was out of sight, Westin was the first to speak, his tone dry. "You know he’s probably just going to run for it, right?"
Zach shrugged, adjusting his sword. "If he does, there’s nothing we can do. He’ll likely run into beasts between the villages and be torn apart. We gave him a chance—that’s more than he deserves."
Still peering into the dark tunnel, Westin asked with a hint of humor, "You think he’ll try to steal the horses?"
Zach scoffed, shaking his head. "Those warhorses? They’d kill him if he tried."
There was a brief silence, the gravity of the situation pressing in on them again. They all stood at the tunnel's threshold, staring into the unknown.
Westin broke the silence with a half-hearted chuckle. "Well, nothing says fun like delving into a creepy, dark tunnel in a village full of child experimenters. Who’s ready?"
No one laughed. Instead, they all steeled themselves, their weapons raised, the flicker of the basement lantern casting long shadows across the basement. They stepped forward into the tunnel one by one, the darkness swallowing them whole as they ventured into whatever was hidden by this town.