When they arrived, Ravenbrook was in chaos.
Smoke billowed into the sky. Houses burned. Screams tore through the air as villagers fled in all directions. Dark creatures stalked the streets—vague and shapeless, with limbs like tendrils of smoke and glowing eyes that pierced the flames.
Arinn stumbled back, eyes wide. "Wh-What are those?!"
Rhys drew his axe, his expression grim. "Nightmare spawn. Seth's corruption is spreading faster than I feared."
Rey stepped forward, blade unsheathed in one clean motion. "Then we cut through them."
The battle erupted.
Rey struck first, his sword slicing through the nearest creature. It shrieked—a high-pitched, otherworldly sound—before dissolving into smoke.
Rhys moved like a storm, his axe crashing through skulls of shadow, each strike clean and merciless.
Arinn stuck close to Rey, dagger in hand. His grip trembled, but he held it firm. He wasn't ready yet—but the fire in his eyes said he was getting there.
Suddenly, an elderly man burst through the smoke, eyes wild with fear. "Please! My daughter—she's trapped in the library!"
Rey's heart stopped. "The library?! Show me where!"
The man led them through burning alleys and crumbling walls. More creatures surged toward them, but Rey and Rhys struck with precision, every blow pushing them closer to their goal.
Finally, they reached it—a stone building half-swallowed by flames, its great arched entrance blackened by smoke. Fire licked at the wooden beams above. Screams echoed from within.
A child's voice.
Without hesitation, Rey sprinted toward the door.
Rhys caught his arm. "Are you insane? It's going to collapse!"
Rey yanked free. "Then I'll make it quick."
He vanished into the fire.
Inside, smoke clawed at his lungs. Shelves crumbled. Paper burned. But through the heat and ash, he saw her—a girl no older than eight, with long yellow hair and wide, tear-filled brown eyes. Her clothes were tattered, her body covered in soot.
Rey grabbed a few books scattered near her—instinct or impulse, even he didn't know—then scooped her into his arms.
"Hold on," he said, voice hoarse from smoke. She clung to him.
The ceiling groaned overhead.
He ran.
Bursting through the door just as a beam crashed behind him, Rey emerged into daylight with the girl in his arms. "Is this your daughter?" he asked, breath ragged.
The old man wept with relief. "Yes. Thank you. Thank you!"
They didn't linger. As the fires roared behind them, the group made their way toward the edge of the village. At a crossroads where two paths split, the man stopped.
"Thank you again, young one," he said, his hand resting on his daughter's shoulder.
The girl smiled up at Rey, eyes shining through soot. "Thanks for saving me, mister!"
Rey gave her a quiet nod. "Yeah," he said, voice soft. "Take care of each other."
They parted ways.
The road stretched before them, endless and gray, as if the sky itself had been drained of color. Behind them, Ravenbrook smoldered. Ahead, the world grew darker.
They entered a forest thick with trees so black they seemed burned. Mist curled low to the ground, erasing the path behind them. Every step was swallowed by silence.
Then—a whisper. Soft. Familiar. Chilling.
"Rey… Arinn… my boys…"
Rey stopped.
Arinn's breath caught. "Did you hear that?"
The mist shifted.
Figures appeared—two shapes emerging from the fog. A man and a woman, their features blurred, but their presence warm and hauntingly familiar.
"My sons… you've come back to us…"
Arinn's eyes filled with tears. "Mom? Dad?"
He took a step forward, arms trembling. "It's really you—"
Rey's arm shot out, grabbing him by the shoulder.
"Don't move," Rey said, voice sharp.
Arinn looked at him, confused and desperate. "But… it's them!"
Rey didn't blink. His eyes narrowed. Observer was active, scanning every detail. The mist didn't move naturally—it clung to the figures like parasites. Their voices… too perfect. Too soft.
"That's not them," Rey whispered. "It's a trap."
Arinn's lips trembled as realization hit him like ice water. "But… how?"
Then—their faces changed.
The mother's smile stretched far too wide. The father's eyes hollowed into pits. Flesh melted into shadow. Their mouths gaped open, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth like shattered glass.
The air trembled with a chorus of screeches.
The nightmare attacked.