West Arden Village,

  The Triangle,

  Central Province.

  -

  “AAAhhhhh, finally!” Tenha shouted as they rolled into the first village.

  The gate was small, nothing impressive. Just a few rusted plows and unused farming tools piled up beside it. A handful of villagers greeted them as the soldiers marched through.

  More people lined the streets, their eyes fixed on the newcomers. The contrast couldn’t be clearer — the villagers in ragged, faded clothes, the soldiers in polished armor, like night and day.

  They were led to the village hall where the chief waited to welcome them. After a quick change into simpler clothes, the soldiers dropped their heavy armor.

  “You going in with me?” Arthur asked, looking over his shoulder.

  “I’m good. I’ll ask around. You take someone else with you,” Tenha replied.

  Arthur gave a curt nod, then waved Vorkin to follow him.

  Tenha watched for a second, then peeled off without a word. Nobody stopped him. Nobody even looked up.

  He slipped a hand into his side pouch, pulled out a strip of dried meat, and tore a piece off with his teeth.

  Tough. Tasted like dust. Good enough.

  The village paths were barely there, just veins of packed mud between sagging huts.

  He chewed and walked, eyes skimming the edges—old wells, rusted shovels, a fishing net tangled in a thorn bush.

  Rot floated in on the breeze.

  Villagers avoided him, their faces blank and brittle. No one met his gaze. No one spoke. A woman yanked her child behind a doorway when he glanced their way. Really? I’m here to save you all.

  Tenha spat a sliver of meat into the mud and wiped his mouth with the back of his glove.

  He veered off the main path, drawn toward a sagging storage yard slumped against the marsh edge.

  Half-flooded.

  Rusted plows half-drowned in standing water. Crates cracked open, spilling rotten grain. A wheelbarrow lay on its side, a broken handle jutting out like a snapped bone.

  He yanked another bite off the dried meat and kept moving.

  That’s when it hit him.

  Sharp prickle, right at the base of his neck.

  He stopped chewing. Wind? No, it's dead still.

  But the reeds by the collapsed fence shifted slowly.

  Carefully, his fingers drifted to the hilt on his hip and loosened it, just enough.

  He let the silence stretch and forced his breath quiet.

  Then he spun in an instant.

  What he saw was not what he had expected. It wasn't a bandit nor a beast.

  But just a kid.

  Barefoot, skin clinging to bone, the kid watched from behind a stack of shattered barrels.

  The boy flinched, bare toes curling against the mud. His eyes—too big for his face—gazed toward the open road behind Tenha. Seemingly, he was measuring the chances to bolt.

  Tenha dug into his pouch again and found another strip of dried meat.

  He held it out with two fingers casually. His other hand raised to show he bore no ill intention.

  The boy hesitated. But, inch by inch, he crept forward and snatched it, stuffing it into his mouth so fast he nearly choked.

  "Easy," Tenha muttered, tearing a fresh piece for himself. He leaned against a shattered cartwheel with non-threatening and loose posture.

  The boy chewed, swallowed hard, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

  Now that he was closer, Tenha could see the dirt caked under the boy’s fingernails, bruises blooming along his forearms. The kind you didn’t get from just tripping in the mud.

  The boy's fingers twitched up, jerky and stiff, a sign language.

  Crawlers. His fingers stuttered awkwardly, then swept downward—Fields. His hands dropped, small shoulders curling inward—Bad.

  Tenha frowned. “Yeah, figured something’s bad.” He chewed slowly, eyes flicking past the boy to the empty road behind them. “You hiding from crawlers?”

  The boy hesitated. Then his hands moved again, faster, frantic.

  Everyone. He tapped his chest, then pointed back toward the village. Fingers spread wide—Afraid.

  He shook his head sharply, breath hitching, lips pressed tight.

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  Help. One hand curled into a fist over his chest, then opened like something slipping away.

  Tenha's mind scraped together his memory of learning sign language in the past. “No one’s coming to help?” he guessed, signing back with stiff fingers.

  The boy’s gaze darted to the huts, then to the fields beyond the marsh. He nodded once sharp and desperate.

  Gone. The boy slashed his hand through the air, eyes glassy. Screams. His fingers clawed at his throat.

  Tenha exhaled slowly, letting the information settle in his chest. No one had said a damn thing when he came in, just those blank, brittle faces. No wonder Commander Reinhardt issued this expedition.

  “Crawlers took them?” he asked, quieter now.

  The boy’s hands moved again—Night. Fields. His lips pressed into a thin line. No return.

  Tenha rubbed at his jaw, glancing toward the marshline. “Crawlers. Fields. Bad.” He repeated the boy’s first signs, piecing it together. Ok, I can work with this.

  His hand dug into his pouch again, pulling out another strip of meat. He tossed it over.

  The boy caught it clumsily.

  Tenha leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “So… you want to help me check it out?”

  The boy’s hands stilled for a heartbeat, then lifted slowly—Yes. Please.

  Tenha let out a long breath, tipping his head toward the marsh. “Alright, kid.”

  He adjusted the strap on his cloak, eyes narrowing toward the fog-choked fields. “Let’s see what’s got everyone so damn scared.”

  The boy led him down a half-sunken path, weeds strangling what was left of the village’s outer farms.

  Dead rows of turnips were half-swallowed by the marsh. Broken tools jutted out of standing water like rusted spears.

  Tenha kept a hand loose near his blade.

  The whole place smelled strongly of rot and old blood under the marsh.

  The boy walked a few paces ahead cautiously.

  He stopped where the fields dipped into a shallow gully and pointed.

  Tenha followed the line of his arm.

  Beyond the gully, a twisted copse of trees leaned against each other like drunkards. Most were dead, snapped halfway up, bark stripped clean by something. No birds. No insects.

  The boy turned back, signing fast and choppy.

  Night. Crawler. Come.

  Tenha rubbed his chin, piecing it together. "Crawlers come out after dark?" he said aloud, half-signing it back.

  The boy nodded. His hands shaped a broken plea.

  You. No go. Alone.

  Tenha barked a soft laugh through his nose. He fished several coins from his pouch — not much, but enough for a village kid.

  He flipped it underhand.

  The boy caught it, staring at it like it might vanish. But he still shook his head, hands jabbing frantically. Danger. Danger.

  Tenha reached out, tapped two fingers to his own chest.

  I know.

  Then he pointed at the boy, stabbing the sign for Wait into the air.

  The boy hesitated — then crouched low near a log.

  Tenha adjusted the strap on his cloak, flexed his fingers once, and started toward the dead copse alone.

  The trees closed around him.

  He worked his way through the thorns, shoving aside brambles with the flat of his blade. He caught a glimpse — there — scratches on the roots, half-concealed by dead branches.

  He crouched, rubbing his finger against the root. There was a familiar smell.

  Near it, there was an opening. Similar smell reeked from the inside.

  It was barely wide enough for a dog, or a fool with no sense. Should've brought Arthur. Let him get stabbed first.

  As he entered, a narrow path dropped steep between broken roots, slick with black mud.

  Tenha slid down sideways, boots scraping bark and muck.

  Now that he was deeper, light thinned to a sour grey. And beyond it all, a sound — wet, snorting.

  He paused, hand against the ground, listening. Nothing human made that noise.

  Tenha thumbed the strap of his sheath loose. Just in case.

  The path wound tighter. Roots overhead were like a cage, the ground was waterlogged.

  He kept going.

  One step at a time.

  At the bend, he caught movement — low to the ground.

  Tenha froze, dropping into a crouch behind a rotten stump.

  Out from the shadows, it skittered into view — A crawler.

  But this one was different from the descriptions in the guidebook.

  Eight legs, thick as shovel handles, more and thicker than the sketches showed, bulkier through the chest. Its carapace and mandibles shimmered in unnatural shiny purple and blue.

  Tenha’s hand slid to his sword without thinking.

  The crawler sniffed the mud, its mandibles vibrated the water.

  Tenha’s lip curled. He whispered under his breath, A crawler alone? Where's your friends? No way these things hunted solo.

  He approached slowly and drew his blade..

  Sensing a prey, the crawler’s head snapped up and it charged.

  Tenha stepped sideways, blade slashing against its serrated, double jointed arms.

  But the ground betrayed him. Mud gave under his heel and his leg got ensnared by the waterlogged roots.

  It charged again, and he drove his sword into its mandibles.

  The shock jarred up his arm. His boots slipped again, sliding him back toward the broken edge of the path. FUCK, I didn't see this one.

  Another lunge — Tenha twisted, blade kissing the crawler’s side — it created a shallow cut, but not deep enough.

  The thing shrieked and retreated for a moment.

  Terrain was killing him. No space and no comfortable footing.

  He adjusted his stance, hunting for higher ground before the thing could rip him apart.

  His boot slipped. The mud near the edge eroded.

  A sharp, wet scrape was heard as his foot nearly slid off the edge.

  For a moment, Tenha was weightless.

  The rocks beneath him gave way, tumbling down into the abyss below. He reached out—grasping at air—desperately clawing for anything that would anchor him.

  But there was nothing.

  The crawler screeched again, its feet pounding the earth as it lunged forward.

  Tenha twisted, fighting the pull of gravity, sword raised to strike, but his body was sliding toward the edge faster than he could move.

  The crawler didn’t hesitate. It closed in on him. Its teeth gleamed, dripping with some vile, acidic substance.

  “No,” Tenha hissed under his breath.

  Another slip and he was so close to falling.