The sun barely pierced the clouds as Lucian and Daen approached the heart of the eastern territories. The land was wild and untamed, just as they had been warned, and every step felt like they were walking into the unknown. The chill in the air had become a constant companion, the wind carrying with it a faint, metallic scent that made the hairs on the back of Lucian's neck stand on end. Something was wrong—something darker than they had anticipated.
The journey had taken its toll on their small group. Tensions ran high, and though their path had been uneventful in terms of skirmishes, the oppressive silence of the land weighed heavily on them all. Every village they passed through was eerily quiet, with no signs of life, as though the people had been driven out or vanished entirely.
"We're getting close," Daen said, his voice carrying across the wind. "It's not just the land that's changed. Something's pulling at the fabric of this place."
Lucian nodded, adjusting the reins of his horse. His instincts had always been sharp, and right now, they were screaming at him to be cautious. His thoughts kept returning to the rumors Daen had mentioned—the whispers of factions stirring in the shadows, of powers waiting for the right moment to rise again. The further they traveled into the eastern territories, the more it seemed that those rumors were far from just idle talk.
As they pressed on, the landscape became more desolate. The roads were crumbled and overgrown with brambles, and the few remnants of civilization they passed seemed abandoned in haste, as if the people had left overnight. The absence of life was unsettling, but the growing sense of malevolence in the air was what truly made Lucian uneasy.
Finally, on the seventh day of their journey, they arrived at the outskirts of a small settlement. It was a place that seemed to have been forgotten by time, its buildings in disrepair, its streets empty. The air here was heavy with the stench of decay, and the only sounds that filled the silence were the rustling of the wind and the distant crackle of flames. It was as though this place had once been alive, but now it was little more than a shell, hollowed out and waiting to be swallowed by the earth.
"Stay alert," Lucian murmured, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he dismounted. His eyes scanned the perimeter of the village, looking for any signs of movement. "We don't know what we'll find here."
Daen dismounted beside him, his expression grim. "I don't like this. It feels… wrong."
The scouts, who had remained at a distance, circled around the village, their eyes scanning for any signs of life or danger. The rest of their party was spread out, each one keeping a watchful eye on the horizon, ready for anything.
Lucian motioned for Daen to follow him as he made his way toward one of the crumbling buildings. The windows were shattered, and the door hung off its hinges, swaying in the breeze. The remnants of a once-thriving marketplace were scattered on the ground—torn fabrics, empty crates, and discarded tools. It was clear that something had caused the people here to flee in a hurry.
"This doesn't feel like the work of bandits," Daen remarked, inspecting the area. "It's as though they were driven out… or worse."
Lucian crouched next to a broken piece of wood that had once been part of a door. The carving on it was faded, but he could make out a symbol—a serpent coiled around a broken sword. His heart skipped a beat. He had seen that symbol before, back when he had first encountered the Sovereign's forces, but it wasn't just a symbol of the old regime. It was something older, something tied to the very foundation of the land itself.
"What is it?" Daen asked, his voice low.
Lucian didn't answer immediately. He knew the implications of the symbol, but he wasn't ready to share his suspicions just yet. Instead, he stood up and scanned the area again. There had to be answers here, somewhere. They couldn't afford to turn back without understanding what had happened to the people who had lived in this place.
As they moved deeper into the village, a sudden noise broke the silence—a low, guttural growl that echoed from one of the buildings. Lucian's hand flew to his sword, but before he could make a move, a figure emerged from the shadows.
It was a man—ragged, covered in dirt and blood, his clothes torn and tattered. His eyes were wild, and his face was gaunt, as if he hadn't eaten in days.
"Who… who are you?" the man croaked, his voice hoarse from lack of use.
Lucian stepped forward cautiously. "We're here to help. What happened here? Where are the others?"
The man's eyes darted nervously, as if he were afraid to speak, before he collapsed to his knees in front of them. "They… they came. The Serpent's Children. They took everyone… everyone who stayed. They took them… and they made them into…" The man shuddered, his body wracked with a violent tremor. "Monsters. They made them into monsters!"
Lucian's heart tightened at the man's words. The Serpent's Children. He had heard of them in the past—an ancient cult, long believed to be nothing more than a myth. But the symbol he had seen earlier—the one on the broken door—it wasn't a myth. It was real.
"What are the Serpent's Children?" Daen demanded, his tone harsh. "What do they want?"
The man's eyes flickered with fear. "They want the land… they want to take it all. They want to return it to the old ways. The ways of the serpent. The ways of power. But they need the blood—blood to awaken the old magic. They've already started with us."
Lucian's mind raced. The old magic. That could only mean one thing—the ancient power that had once ruled the land, the power the Sovereign had sought to control. The same power that had driven the Sovereign mad in his pursuit of domination.
"Where did they go?" Lucian asked urgently. "Where are they now?"
The man's gaze flickered toward the mountains in the distance, his voice trembling. "They're in the caves. The caves in the mountains. They're gathering more. More to sacrifice. You can't stop them. They're too powerful. It's too late."
Lucian felt a chill run down his spine. The Serpent's Children were real, and they were preparing something—a ritual, a sacrifice. Whatever they were doing, it was far beyond anything he could have imagined. And it was only a matter of time before they unleashed it upon the land.
"We have to go," Lucian said, turning to Daen. "Now."
But as they began to move, the ground beneath their feet rumbled. The air grew thick with a dark energy, and a distant howl echoed from the mountains. Something was coming—and it wasn't the kind of storm that could be weathered. It was the kind of storm that would change everything.
Lucian felt the weight of the moment settle over him. They weren't just fighting for peace anymore. They were fighting for the very soul of the land.