The first rays of dawn broke through the lingering mist, casting an eerie glow over the battered village of Hallowglen. The night’s battle had left its scars walls splintered, ground charred, and bloodied weapons scattered across the field. Inside the town center, Kalenor lay unconscious, his body wrapped in bandages soaked with medicinal herbs. The village healers worked tirelessly, their whispered prayers to Morbitral blending with the rhythmic sound of pestles grinding in mortars.

  Kalenor’s amber eyes fluttered open as dusk approached, his mind sluggish but alert enough to notice the dull ache pulsing through his body. His wounds were healing, thanks to his heightened Scalesworn resilience, but recovery was far from instantaneous. A healer noticed his movement and rushed to his side, gently pressing a hand to his shoulder.

  “Rest, Scalesworn,” she said softly. “You’ve done enough. Your body needs time to recover.”

  Kalenor gave a faint nod but could not bring himself to stay still for long. The weight of the village’s survival pressed on him more heavily than his injuries. As the healer moved to check his bandages, the door to the town center creaked open, and three elders stepped inside. Their expressions were grave, their movements slow and deliberate as they approached Kalenor’s bedside.

  “You should be resting,” one elder said, her voice carrying both concern and reproach.

  Kalenor propped himself up slightly, his jaw tightening against the pain. “I’ll be ready by nightfall,” he assured them. “I can’t leave the village defenseless.”

  The eldest among them, his face lined with years of worry and wisdom, shook his head. “Kalenor, we cannot take another attack like last night. The village is at its breaking point. The people are scared, the walls are weak, and our supplies are dwindling. We must consider leaving.”

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  Kalenor’s gaze hardened. “You don’t understand. The mist out there it’s not just a nuisance. It’s a shroud that conceals dangers far worse than what we’ve faced. If you leave now, you’ll be walking blindly into death.”

  The elders exchanged uneasy glances. “And if we stay?” the elder asked. “How long can we endure this? We don’t know when or if reinforcements from Ignisaros will arrive. We don’t know if this plague can be stopped.”

  Kalenor sat up fully, ignoring the protests of the healer beside him. “I understand your fear. But leaving will only scatter the village, making everyone easy prey for the corruption. Here, we have defenses. Here, we have a chance. We’ll be more prepared for the next attack.”

  The elder opened his mouth to argue but stopped, sensing the conviction in Kalenor’s voice. Instead, he sighed and stepped back. “For now, we’ll stay. But if another night like last night comes, you may not have a village left to defend.”

  The elders left quietly, leaving Kalenor to wrestle with their words. As the light outside faded into darkness, he stood slowly, his legs shaky but determined. He donned his armor, strapped his weapons in place, and stepped out into the cool night air.

  The walls were alive with activity. Warriors and hunters worked tirelessly, repairing the damage from the night before. Torches flickered along the perimeter, their warm light a small comfort against the encroaching mist. Kalenor made his rounds, checking the defenses and exchanging words of encouragement with the men and women on watch.

  To his surprise, there was no sign of the Noblewoman. No ominous figure in the mist, no shadowy outline of her corrupted form. The absence was unsettling, a silence that screamed louder than any battle cry.

  Kalenor paused at the northern wall, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His eyes scanned the forest, searching for any sign of movement. The mist was thick, curling around the trees like ghostly fingers. The calm before the storm, he thought grimly.

  He turned to one of the patrol leaders. “Stay sharp tonight. The absence of the Noblewoman doesn’t mean she isn’t watching. It could be a trap.”

  The patrol leader nodded. “Understood, Scalesworn. We’ll keep our eyes open.”

  As Kalenor continued his rounds, the unease in his chest grew heavier. The village was quiet, but it was the kind of quiet that preceded chaos. He gripped his blade tightly, vowing to himself that no matter what came, he would stand between Hallowglen and its destruction.

  And so, the night wore on, the village holding its breath as the mist swirled and the shadows deepened.