The next few days followed the same pattern. Illara spent her mornings training with Jenna, and then in the afternoons the two of us were thoroughly dismantled by Cain. In between, I stayed inside and continued working on my wooden playing cards, carving and burning whenever I had the time and warmth to do so.

  By the fourth day I finally finished the full set. Each tile was marked by carefully burned symbols and numbers. Crude compared to proper cards, but sturdy, readable, and functional. Good enough to play with.

  That evening, after we returned sore and muddy from training with Cain, I brought Illara over to where I had hidden the tiles and placed them in her hands.

  “These are what I’ve been working on,” I said.

  She turned them over curiously, rolling one between her fingers as she examined it.

  “What are these symbols?” she asked, squinting at one. “This one here.”

  “That’s a seven of clubs.”

  She nodded slowly, then picked up another tile, this one more ornate.

  “And this?” she asked, tapping the burned letter. “What does the K mean?”

  “A King of Hearts.”

  Illara looked up at me, brow furrowed. “Alright… but what do we do with them?”

  So I explained.

  I taught Illara, Theo, and Ash the rules of Five Hundred, starting from the basics and working upward. At first there was confusion, plenty of questions, and more than a few misplayed tricks, but after about an hour it started to click. The table grew livelier as everyone began to understand the rhythm of the game, the quiet competition settling in.

  By the end of the night, Ash and I won.

  Theo laughed as he helped gather the tiles afterward, clearly in good spirits.

  “Thank you for making these,” he said. “I really enjoyed it.”

  “You’re welcome,” I replied. “I have a few more games I can teach you while we’re here.”

  Once everything was tidied away, we turned in for the night, tired in the good way.

  The rest of our stay in the village followed a steady rhythm. Each day Illara and I trained with Cain, and slowly, unmistakably, we improved. What had once been humiliating losses became hard-fought exchanges, and eventually there were moments where we could best him, if only briefly. More importantly, we began to move as a unit. We learned each other’s habits, timing, and instincts, and where once we had been obstacles to one another, we were becoming complementary.

  Evenings were quieter. Warmer.

  We spent them around the table, playing cards. I taught them rummy, last card, and solitaire, watching as the rules became familiar and strategies emerged. It was strange how quickly something so simple could feel comforting.

  I noticed another change during those nights. Illara was almost always close to me. Sitting nearer than necessary. Leaning into my shoulder. Finding small excuses for contact. I did not push her away. I did not question it aloud. Her warmth was welcome, and after days spent cold, bruised, and tested, it felt grounding to simply exist beside someone who wanted to be near me.

  The fear the villagers held never truly faded. Doors still closed when I passed. Conversations still hushed. Aside from those in Theo’s house, the only other person I regularly saw was Sera, who came nearly every day to spend time with Ash. I taught her a few card games as well, and she picked them up quickly, laughing whenever she lost and pretending she hadn’t cared.

  Eventually, the time came to leave.

  We gathered our equipment and supplies, preparing for the road ahead. The final party took shape naturally: Cain, Norman, Illara, and myself. It felt balanced in a way our earlier travels had not. Cain’s presence brought a steadiness I had been missing, and knowing he would be with us eased a tension I hadn’t realised I’d been carrying.

  For the first time in a while, the road ahead felt survivable.

  We set out at first light. Somehow, I knew exactly where to go. Much like when I had first arrived in this world, my sense of direction was unnervingly precise. I could not explain it, only trust it.

  We quickly left the relative safety of the fields and entered the forest. The trees were unchanged from the last time two scouts had passed through here twenty years ago, before blood was spilled beneath their branches. The familiarity unsettled me more than it should have.

  The sun climbed high into a clear winter sky. It was mercifully bright, but the cold was unrelenting. Snow lay frozen beneath our boots, hard and slick, making every step deliberate.

  “You must have an excellent memory for landmarks,” Cain said at last, breaking the silence.

  “It’s not memory,” I replied. “It’s more like… I know where to go. Some sense of direction I don’t fully understand.”

  Cain nodded once. “Let’s hope that feeling leads us where we need to be.”

  “Don’t worry,” Norman said with a grin. “Drisnil hasn’t led us astray yet.”

  As we pushed deeper into the forest, the quiet grew heavier rather than comforting. The only sounds were our own footsteps and the wind threading through bare branches. It felt like the forest was listening.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Cain seemed to sense my unease.

  “This kind of quiet is good,” he said calmly. “It means we’re unlikely to be surprised. Most creatures don’t attack during the day anyway. Night is when things get dangerous, so you can relax for now.”

  “Always the optimist,” Norman said dryly.

  “Don’t start,” Cain replied, laughing despite himself.

  Illara glanced between them, then asked, “What sort of creatures do you think we’ll find out here?”

  Norman didn’t miss a beat. “Large, terrifying ones that crawl straight out of your nightmares.”

  Illara went pale instantly.

  Cain sighed. “Norman, please don’t scare her.” He turned to Illara. “More likely wolves. Possibly goblins. If we’re unlucky, bandits or the occasional zombie.”

  Illara visibly relaxed.

  Norman laughed. “This reminds me of travelling with Jenna. She was a delight on the road.”

  “I think she eventually learned to tolerate your humour,” Cain said. “After the party broke up.”

  Norman chuckled, unoffended.

  The forest seemed endless as we continued onward, every path blending into the next. When the light finally began to fade, Cain called for us to make camp. He assigned tasks efficiently, without hesitation, and within minutes we had a fire going and shelter prepared.

  Illara took first watch, Cain second, and I took the final one. I didn’t mind the last shift. My night vision would be useful if anything tried to move after dark.

  We fell asleep quickly. A full day of walking had left us exhausted enough that even the cold couldn’t keep us awake for long.

  I don’t know how much time passed before I felt a hand on my shoulder.

  I came awake instantly.

  Cain was crouched beside me, careful not to wake the others. He leaned close and whispered, “There’s something out there. I can feel it, but I can’t see it. Can you take a look?”

  I nodded and rose quietly, keeping low and skirting the edge of the firelight so my eyes could adjust properly. The forest beyond the glow felt unnaturally still, like it was holding its breath.

  I scanned the darkness slowly.

  And then I saw it.

  An almost human shape, standing just beyond the trees. Its outline was wrong in subtle ways. The arms were too long, too rigid, tapering into points like spears rather than hands. It didn’t move like an animal. It didn’t move like a person either.

  Recognition hit me like ice.

  A silent stalker.

  I had used them in my old TTRPG campaigns more than once. Patient. Clever. Night hunters that isolated their prey and killed quietly, one at a time. They were terrifying on paper.

  Seeing one for real was something else entirely.

  “It’s a silent stalker,” I whispered to Cain.

  His expression tightened immediately. “I’ll wake Norman. We may need his skills. Can you keep eyes on it?”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t dare look away.

  The creature shifted, just slightly, and then froze. I had the distinct sense it knew I could see it. After a tense heartbeat, it turned and slipped back into the forest with alarming speed, vanishing between the trees without a sound.

  “It’s gone,” I said quietly.

  Norman stirred as Cain woke him. “What’s gone?” he asked groggily.

  “A silent stalker,” Cain replied flatly.

  Norman’s eyes sharpened at once. “Fascinating. I’ve never seen one. This could be an incredible opportunity to study—”

  “I think we should prioritise survival over curiosity,” Cain cut in.

  Norman sighed, but didn’t argue.

  “What do you suggest?” I asked.

  Cain considered for a moment. “From what I’ve read, they avoid attacking groups. We double the watch. Two people awake at all times. No one wanders alone.”

  “That reduces the chance of it striking,” Norman admitted reluctantly.

  “And if it comes back,” Cain added, hand resting on his sword, “we’re ready.”

  The forest remained silent.

  But I didn’t believe for a second that it had truly gone.

  I remained awake with Norman, watching the shadows beyond the firelight. Staying alert was far more exhausting than I expected. As the adrenaline faded, it took conscious effort to keep my eyes moving, to keep my thoughts from slipping into that dangerous half-dream where mistakes were born.

  The night stretched on endlessly.

  When the sky finally began to lighten, relief washed over me so strongly my knees felt weak. Dawn meant safety, or at least the illusion of it.

  “Good morning, Drisnil,” Cain said as he rekindled the fire and began preparing breakfast. “Any sign of the creature?”

  “No,” I replied. I was too tired to offer more.

  After eating, we packed quickly and set out again. Even at a steady pace, we still had a day and a half of travel ahead of us.

  The day was cold and overcast, with light snow falling now and then, just enough to sting the skin without softening the ground. Walking became mechanical. One foot in front of the other. Breathe. Don’t slip. Don’t fall behind.

  Conversation dwindled to nothing. I doubted any of us had the energy for it.

  We reached our next campsite as the light faded again and settled in with practiced efficiency. Dinner was unremarkable, little more than rations eaten for necessity rather than enjoyment.

  Cain and Illara took the first watch together. Norman and I were assigned the second.

  I was woken far too soon.

  Sitting up felt like dragging myself out of deep water. Every sense had to be forced back into focus. Norman, for his part, managed to doze upright between long stretches of silence, making him a poor conversation partner and a worse distraction from the creeping fatigue.

  The forest remained quiet.

  Too quiet.

  Nothing emerged from the darkness, but I could not shake the feeling that the silent stalker was still out there, watching, waiting for us to make a mistake. It felt patient. Calculating.

  The morning came without incident.

  The next day was overcast but mercifully dry. Once we set out, it only took a couple of hours to reach the abandoned settlement.

  The moment it came into view, unease settled deep in my chest.

  The trees here felt wrong. The ground carried a weight that had nothing to do with snow or cold. I had been here before. Not with my body, but with memory. With knowledge I wished I did not possess.

  This was where the massacre had happened.

  Not a village. Not homes filled with laughter and life.

  Just forest.

  And blood.

  All of it born from fear, pride, and the desperate need of someone to save face.

  Standing here again, knowing what had happened, I felt the past press in from all sides.

  And I knew this place was not done with us yet.