Chapter 27 – The Chronicles of Suo (2) Prologue
The next day, X545, November 6th, 7:49 AM
The black sun had already risen over the horizon when Arnold invited Suo to accompany him into the forest.
— "Come, Eric. If you want to stay more than a day here, you need to learn to feel this land."
Suo hesitated, then followed, keeping up the guise for the sake of his cover. They ate a quick breakfast and set off. The Black Continent's forest was unlike those of Britania: the trees twisted skyward, covered in glowing lichens, their roots snaking like serpents ready to choke the ground. Every step was a threat.
Arnold carried a large axe, worn from years of use. Suo, meanwhile, kept his blades hidden, ever ready.
Silence accompanied them for several minutes, broken only by the sharp crack of splitting wood. Then Arnold spoke:
— "You've seen it too, haven't you? The empty villages?"
— "Yes," Suo replied. "I passed through several. The houses still furnished. Plates still full. The inhabitants… gone."
Arnold nodded, striking a trunk with a heavy blow.
— "Here, they call it the devouring wind. Some say it's a breath that tears the soul from people."
Suo furrowed his brow slightly.
— "Do you believe that?"
— "Hm. Not really," Arnold said with a bitter smile. "I think it's a beast. Maybe a silver panther. Or a swamp boa. Those monsters swallow everything, leave nothing behind, I swear! That would explain it all."
— "You speak with too much certainty," Suo replied calmly. "But what I've seen… it's not the work of an ordinary beast."
Arnold planted his axe into a tree trunk and wiped his forehead.
— "Then what, Eric? A demon? Forbidden magic? No… I don't believe in that."
Suo turned his gaze slightly away.
— "I don't know yet. But something is working in the shadows."
A heavy silence fell between them. The wind whistled through the branches, producing an almost human sigh.
Arnold continued, in a softer voice:
— "Here, every family has lost someone. A brother, a neighbor, a child. The disappearances aren't recent… they're accelerating."
Suo froze for a moment. He knew that feeling: the fear that devours from within.
They resumed their task. Blow after blow, the wood piled up. Arnold recounted life as it once was: the laughter in the markets, the lantern festivals. Suo listened, impassive, but his mind recorded every detail.
— "You're not very talkative, Eric," Arnold finally said.
— "I observe," Suo replied simply.
— "Ha! You observe too much. People will think you're hiding something."
— "And you, you talk too much. People will think you're hiding your fear."
Arnold stared, surprised… then let out a hearty laugh.
— "Ha! You're not like the other travelers. I like that."
Suo looked away, but a faint smile flickered across his lips.
They returned early that evening. Arnold explained that wolves prowled at dusk. As they approached the village, Suo observed the small flames lighting up inside houses, silhouettes huddling within, seeking safety.
When they crossed the threshold of the Rosarios' home, Morena greeted them warmly.
— "Finally! There you are. I thought you'd be stuck outside longer."
Nathalie ran up, laughing, and almost threw herself on Suo.
— "Eric! You chopped wood with Papa?"
Suo nodded.
— "Yes. And he's quite skilled."
Arnold laughed.
— "Listen to that, Morena! Even Eric says so."
Morena shook her head, amused.
— "Go wash up. Dinner's ready."
The meal was simple: black bread, vegetable stew, and a little dried fish. Yet to Suo, it felt like a feast.
Sitting at the table, he observed the scene. Nathalie described her day, gesturing wildly, making her parents laugh. Morena scolded her gently when she got too excited. Arnold interjected heavy jokes, making his wife sigh.
Suo remained silent for a long time. But when Nathalie made a funny face imitating a monster, he let out a brief, true laugh.
The room froze.
Arnold stared, astonished. Morena paused her meal. Nathalie, however, grinned from ear to ear.
— "Eric… you can laugh!"
Suo blinked, taken aback.
— "…It seems so."
A silence passed, then the table erupted in laughter. Even Morena joined in. The mood lightened.
After dinner, Arnold took out a bottle of liquor.
— "Drink with me, Eric."
— "I don't drink."
— "Then at least taste it. Tradition."
Suo accepted a glass, silently. The liquid burned his throat. Arnold laughed at his expression.
— "There! Now you're part of the household."
Morena rolled her eyes.
— "Don't drag him into your mischiefs, Arnold."
Suo watched the scene. For the first time in years, he felt something… familiar. A home. A home he had never had.
Nathalie sat next to him, her eyes shining.
— "You'll stay, right? You'll be our friend forever?"
Suo looked down.
— "I never stay long in one place."
— "But I want you to stay," she insisted.
Morena placed a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder.
— "Don't be selfish, Nathalie. Eric has his path."
Suo turned his gaze away. Yet a part of him wanted to remain.
---
That night, as he prepared his report for Britania, he hesitated a long moment before writing:
"I've found something precious here. Something I never thought existed."
But he crossed out the line before sealing the message.
After dinner, in Suo's room:
The candle cast flickering shadows on the walls of the small room. Suo sat at the simple table, writing the final lines with a steady hand. The sentences, short and precise, recorded every detail: the village's state, the reactions of its inhabitants, the strange atmosphere of distrust, and the foreboding sense of a larger threat lurking beyond mere curious glances.
When finished, he carefully rolled the parchment and sealed it with a discreet symbol, invisible to ordinary eyes.
— Come, he murmured.
A rustle of wings answered his call. The small griffon appeared in a swirl of air, its iridescent feathers catching the candlelight. It perched on the table, tilting its head with a soft, hoarse cry. Suo attached the cylinder to the creature's collar, checking that it was firmly secured.
He briefly laid a hand on its warm plumage.
— "You know the way. Fly fast and don't stop."
The griffon gave a more confident cry and darted out the half-open window. Suo watched for a moment until its silhouette became a distant point.
He collapsed onto the bed, sighing. But barely had he closed his eyes when the door creaked open.
— "Eric? Are you asleep?"
He almost jumped. Nathalie entered, clutching her rag doll, her bare feet brushing the cold floor. Her voice was low, as if she feared waking anyone.
— "Not yet," Suo replied, sitting up. "What are you doing here?"
The little girl hesitated, then stepped forward.
— "I wanted… a story. Mama always reads me before bed… but Papa is tired, and you… you can read, right?"
Suo remained silent for a few seconds. No infiltration mission had ever planned for this. Yet, faced with her wide, expectant eyes, he felt incapable of refusing.
— "Alright," he said finally, almost against his will.
The girl's smile lit the room. She climbed onto the bed beside him. Suo grabbed an old, forgotten book from the table and began to read. His voice was initially dry, monotone, but Nathalie's reactions—her giggles, corrections, exclamations—forced him to modulate, to add intonation. Slowly, he found himself entering the role.
Eventually, she rested her head against his arm, her eyes closing gently with the rhythm of his reading. When the book slipped from Suo's hands, she was already asleep, a peaceful smile on her lips.
A soft silence settled in the room, almost unreal. Suo remained still, staring at the ceiling, torn between an unfamiliar warmth and a silent unease.
Outside, far above the rooftops, the griffon flew through the night. Its wings sliced the cold air, eyes fixed on the horizon. It knew its path perfectly; nothing must distract it.
Until a shadow appeared.
A hooded figure perched atop a massive tree, motionless like a statue. Its lips whispered guttural, nearly inaudible words.
The griffon, hesitant at first, beat its wings harder. Suddenly, its eyes were shrouded in a reddish veil, and its flight became unsteady. As if guided by an invisible hand, it veered off course.
The man raised his hand gently, and the creature landed on his arm, docile despite its trembling. Its talons sank into the thick fabric of the black cloak.
— "There… a precious messenger… yet so easy to redirect," murmured the shadowed voice.
His fingers brushed the cylinder attached to the griffon's collar. An unseen smile curved beneath the hood.
— "Suo… always playing the perfect spy. As if your reports could change what's already coming."
The night seemed to darken around him. The branches bent as if recoiling. And in the silence, only the anxious breath of the griffon, captive to another's will, remained.
To be continued…