Chapter 40 - A Quiet Day
The western gate of Ravenhold stood wide open. The sound of galloping hooves and rolling wheels rang clearly through the air.
The Guild’s emergency response unit moved out.
No shouting.
No excessive commands.
The medical staff rode in the rear of the formation. Litters were secured tightly. Cloth bundles, water skins, and sealed crates were checked at a glance while they continued moving.
Nine mounted personnel took the lead.
Swords. Spears. Shields.
All in position.
Their objective was simple.
Reach the western medical post.
Aid anyone still breathing.
Count the rest.
The western road stretched pale beneath the afternoon light.
No sound carried on the air.
No caravans returning to the city.
No merchants pressing their luck before nightfall.
The forest on both sides of the road stood dense and still.
Wind moved low along the ground, pushing dust aside.
Leaves hung rigid. Branches did not sway.
One rider adjusted his grip on the reins.
Another glanced briefly to the side, then returned his gaze forward.
No one commented on the silence.
Ahead, on the opposite side of the road, they spotted a cart sitting at an angle near the roadside. One wheel had sunk slightly into damp soil.
The horses slowed on instinct.
A hand was raised.
The formation tightened.
One Guild member leaned down slightly from the saddle, eyes scanning the ground, the wheels, and the load.
“Empty,” he said quietly.
“Smells like grain and a trace of medicine,” another said as he moved closer. “Just a courier’s cart.”
“Mark the location,” someone ordered.
Small nods passed through the group.
They pulled on the reins and moved forward again.
The road narrowed further west. Trees closed in tightly. Shadows stretched long, pressing thin against the ground.
The sense of urgency grew—not because of sound, but because of its absence.
No birds.
No insects.
Only the rhythm of hooves and wheels, sounding far too loud in the stillness.
Someone in the middle of the formation swallowed.
Another tightened the straps on a litter, fingers tense, knuckles paling.
No one spoke the thought they all shared.
Ahead, the fence line of the medical post began to emerge between the trees.
Broken shapes disrupted its silhouette.
The riders leaned forward slightly.
Hands moved closer to weapon hilts.
The Guild formation did not slow.
The scent of iron reached them first.
Zio returned to the road as the sunlight began to tilt westward.
The trees thinned out. Forest soil gave way to a flatter path.
His cart was still where he had left it.
Standing at the roadside. Slightly crooked.
Zio grasped the wooden handle, pulled it aside, then corrected the wheel’s position with a single push of his foot.
The wood creaked softly.
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Zio took a short breath, then started walking again.
The cart wheels turned slowly over dry ground.
Zio emerged from the forest.
A light wind brushed against his face.
The shadows of Zio and the cart stretched long ahead of his feet.
The western gate of Ravenhold came into view not long after.
Several guards stood at their posts, spears resting against the stone wall.
One of them turned when he heard the sound of approaching wheels.
“Where are you coming from?”
“Delivery,” Zio answered briefly.
Another guard stepped closer, looking over Zio and the cart.
“You’re the one who delivered to the medical post earlier, right?”
Zio nodded.
The guard looked back at him more directly.
“I took the wrong route on the way back,” Zio said calmly.
The guard’s gaze paused for a moment on the lower part of Zio’s trousers, still darker with moisture.
“Why are you wet?”
“Was in the water,” Zio replied.
The other guard let out a small snort.
“Spring’s been oddly warm lately.”
He glanced west for a moment, then gestured with his hand.
“Go on in.”
Zio pulled the cart through the gate.
After he had taken a few steps into the city, the other guard looked after him a moment longer than necessary. His brow furrowed slightly, then relaxed.
No one said anything.
Inside the city, the sounds of daily life greeted him as usual.
Footsteps. Short conversations. Merchants beginning to close their stalls.
Zio walked along the same streets as earlier that day. The cart moved steadily.
He turned toward the warehouse where he worked.
The building was still busy. The door stood half open. The sounds of wood and conversation drifted from inside.
Zio pulled the cart forward and set it down in front of the warehouse.
The entrance to the western medical post was no longer in place.
The air inside the yard felt heavy.
A sour, metallic stench clung to the throat, strong enough to make several Guild rescuers hold their breath without realizing it.
The wooden fence was no longer intact. Some sections had been torn free completely, broken inward and outward.
The ground was marked by chaotic footprints, mixed with dark stains that had already begun to dry.
The rescue unit at the front dismounted. The horses pulling the litters remained behind.
“Move.”
“Search for signs of life.”
Short commands. No shouting.
They moved quickly, with practiced coordination.
Some entered the yard. Others held position outside. Weapons were drawn.
Sunlight reflected faintly off dark red liquid that had not yet fully soaked into the ground.
A figure stood on the upper balcony. She waved weakly, a hoarse sound escaping her throat.
Two people rushed into the building.
Inside, the damage was immediate.
The door hung loose from its hinges. Windows were shattered. Tables and shelves lay overturned, some reduced to splinters.
Red stains were everywhere.
Floor.
Walls.
And torn remains of cloth.
There were no intact bodies.
Only formless remnants. Too little to count. Too much to ignore.
One member moved up to the second floor.
In the corner of the balcony, a female medical staff member was found sitting on the ground. Her hand still clutched the remains of a flare, burned down to ash.
Her eyes were open, but empty.
Her body shook violently.
The Guild member crouched in front of her.
“Steady. We’re going down.”
They descended slowly together.
“Get her outside,” a short order followed.
“Blanket. Water.”
Medical staff moved in, guiding the woman toward the medical wagon.
Several members remained in the yard, sweeping every corner.
One of them crouched low.
He examined a section of the fence that had collapsed outward.
Blood trailed through the grass. Bushes had been torn apart. Tree branches lay snapped, some stripped down to raw wood.
“Over here,” he called, following the trail.
Four others moved in behind him.
They advanced without sound and entered the forest. Weapons remained sheathed, but ready.
The forest inside felt quieter than before.
Irregular tracks stretched ahead as they moved deeper.
Not far in, the metallic stench thickened again.
Bodies lay scattered ahead of them. Creatures strewn across the ground without order.
They halted briefly.
Then advanced more slowly.
Their gazes swept left and right, counting the fallen shapes.
The number grew as they went farther.
The creatures had died in different ways.
Some without heads.
One missing both arms.
Another split from the top of the skull down to the neck.
They stopped near the last body.
“Seven,” one member said.
Another Guild member knelt, studying the wounds longer than the rest.
The cuts were clean. Too clean for claws or teeth.
“This wasn’t done by their own kind,” he said at last. “A blade.”
One person glanced down beside the final corpse.
He crouched and picked up a sword hilt. The blade was shattered beyond use.
“Human,” he said.
No one spoke.
Several swallowed.
“Harvest the cores,” the unit leader ordered.
“Then we return.”
They turned back toward the medical post.
The forest fell silent again.
Back near the medical wagon, the surviving woman sat wrapped in a blanket atop the wagon. Her arms were locked tightly around her trembling legs.
“Where are the others?” someone asked quietly beside her.
She did not answer.
She remained still, then slowly raised her hands and covered her ears.
Moments later, the rest of the unit returned.
“We’re heading back to the city,” one of them said.
Horses were turned.
Wagons followed.
The wheels began to roll.
Behind them, the ruined medical post stood motionless.
The air remained heavy.
The ground stayed stained.
The forest watched without a sound.
The warehouse grew quiet as the sun sank low.
Zio stacked the last crate onto the shelf. Thomas closed the delivery ledger and slid it into a wooden drawer.
“Why are your clothes a bit wet?” Thomas asked, standing nearby.
“I stopped by the river,” Zio replied shortly.
“Haha.” Thomas let out a small laugh.
“Well, you’re from the north. Makes sense if Ravenhold feels hot to you in spring,” he added.
Zio glanced at Thomas and gave a faint smile.
“Let’s head back,” Thomas said.
Zio nodded.
The large warehouse door was pushed shut.
Wood and iron slid together, then settled with a heavy sound.
Thomas secured the bar, making sure the latch locked into place.
They walked away from the warehouse.
The streets were washed in orange light. Shadows of buildings stretched across the stone road. Some merchants began packing up their stalls. Children were pulled home by their parents.
The wind carried sweet scents. Grilled meat. Sugared treats. They drifted into Zio’s breath.
Zio inhaled softly, then let it out slowly.
Thomas walked beside him, his steps unhurried.
The sound of the city gradually slowed as afternoon slipped into dusk.
A small bell chimed gently as the inn door opened.
Warm air greeted them, mixed with the scent of tea and hot water.
“Oh, you’re back already,” Myra said.
“Have a seat.”
Zio and Thomas stepped inside. The door closed behind them. The bell faded.
They sat at the same table as always.
Myra placed cups on the table in front of them. Thin steam rose from the surface.
“Thank you, auntie,” Zio said.
Myra nodded with a faint smile.
Zio lifted his cup, blew across the surface once, then drank. His movements were calm.
