Uzi swallowed hard; the air tasted like a mouthful of burnt paper. He forced himself down the gangplank; boots thudding onto the warped dock planks that groaned under even his slight weight. Ash puffed up around his ankles with every step; soft and weightless and wrong. Guntic followed slower; cane tapping deliberate; each breath a rasp that worried Uzi more than he wanted to admit. Garnet came last; tall frame bent slightly against the heatless wind; scarf already pulled high over nose and mouth. They had packed light but thorough: water skins; dried fish; hard bread; strips of smoked meat; a small medical kit; two lanterns; oil; rope; and three scarves soaked in mint water to press over their faces when the air turned too foul. Guntic had moved like an old turtle while packing; deliberate; wheezing; but he refused help with stubborn pride.
The moment their boots left the dock and touched the land proper the smell slammed into them full force. It wasn't just smoke anymore; it was the reek of a thousand things that should never burn: plastic melted into black puddles; rubber tires fused to the ground; paint blistering off walls in long curling strips; toys warped into grotesque shapes; dolls with half-melted faces staring up from the gray drifts. Uzi gagged; bile rising sharp in his throat. Garnet pressed her scarf tighter; eyes watering above the cloth. Guntic coughed hard enough that he had to lean on his cane; shoulders shaking; face turning red beneath the soot already collecting in his beard.
"Keep moving," Garnet muttered; voice muffled. "Standing still just lets it settle in the lungs."
They pushed forward; boots sinking ankle-deep in places; ash billowing like dirty snow. The town was simply gone. Where houses had stood only charred ribs remained; beams collapsed inward; roofs caved; windows blown out by heat. A child's tricycle lay twisted on its side; red paint bubbled and blackened; wheels melted into the ground. A market stall's awning hung in tatters; the cloth fused into brittle lace. Food had burned too: loaves turned to charcoal bricks; fruit shriveled and blackened; a crate of apples reduced to fist-sized lumps of carbon. The plastic smell was the worst; chemical and sweet and nauseating; clinging to the back of the throat like syrup.
They hurried as fast as Guntic could manage; stopping every few minutes so he could cough into his sleeve; face purple; eyes streaming. Uzi hovered close; hand half-raised to steady the old man but never quite touching; unsure if help would be welcomed or swatted away. Garnet walked point; long legs eating distance; occasionally glancing back with worry she tried to hide behind the scarf.
Uzi's mind kept drifting even as his body moved. Yesterday's questions gnawed at him like rats in the walls. The face in the water; the voice; Rathra's scratches; the stone petal; the way his own reflection had stared up blank and accusing. He shoved the thoughts down hard; focus on the now; focus on breathing; focus on not vomiting from the stench. Later; he told himself. Think later when the air didn't taste like death.
Uzi did not say anything, he didn't know why, but; why where there no bodies here. Its wierd, but its not a great question to ask really.
They reached the far edge of the town in what felt like hours but couldn't have been more than twenty minutes. The buildings thinned; then stopped entirely; giving way to the burned forest. Here the ash was different; finer; tree-ash instead of plastic-death; still choking but not quite so poisonous. The ground rose gently; the charred stumps grew farther apart; and the air; while far from clean; no longer clawed at their lungs with quite the same viciousness.
They walked for nearly two hours after that; boots crunching over brittle branches; ash puffing up in soft clouds. The forest pressed close; black skeletons of trees leaning like drunks; some snapped halfway up and hanging by splinters. The sky above stayed a dull; oppressive gray; the sun a smudged coin behind smoke that never quite cleared. Uzi's legs burned; the half-healed scar across his torso pulled with every stride; but he kept pace; eyes scanning the shadows between trunks.
Eventually Garnet raised a hand; they angled toward a narrow creek that cut through the ruin like a pale scar. The water itself was gray and thick with ash; sluggish; unappetizing. But the trees along its banks told a different story: on the side facing the creek many still lived; bark scorched but intact; a few stubborn leaves clinging green. The opposite halves were blackened skeletons; as if the creek had drawn a line the fire couldn't fully cross. It was the first hint of life they'd seen since docking.
Garnet dropped her pack with a sigh; rolled her shoulders. Guntic eased himself down onto a fallen log; coughing into his scarf before pulling it down to breathe the marginally cleaner air. Uzi stayed standing a moment longer; turning in a slow circle; eyes drinking in the half-alive trees like they were a miracle.
"Sit, kid," Guntic rasped; patting the log beside him. "Feet'll thank you."
Uzi obeyed; lowering himself carefully. The log was warm from trapped heat; rough bark flaking under his palms. For a while they just breathed; scarves loosened; water passed around. The creek gurgled softly; ashamed of its own filth.
Garnet broke the silence first; voice softer than Uzi had heard it. "Used to picnic here; you know. When the trees were proper trees. Rowan would bring that awful lute of his and play until the birds complained." She laughed; small and sad. "We'd swim in that creek when the summers got brutal. Water so cold it hurt your teeth."
Guntic grunted agreement; eyes distant. "Built our first house not half a mile east of here. Little thing; two rooms and a leaky roof. Garnet near killed me when the chimney smoked backward." He smiled at the memory; then coughed again; softer this time. "Good years."
Uzi nodded like he understood; like he had memories of picnics and leaky roofs and summers that ended. He didn't; of course. His memories were of endless white halls and souls pleading their cases and the cold certainty of judgment. But he smiled anyway; small and careful; and said, "Sounds nice."
They talked for a while after that; easy stories traded back and forth. Guntic told about the time Rowan accidentally set a tavern on fire trying to impress a barmaid with spark-magic; Garnet countered with the winter they'd kept a baby deer in their kitchen because its leg was broken and the snow was too deep. Uzi listened; chin propped on his fist; letting the words wash over him like warm water. He laughed in the right places; asked small questions; pretended the ache in his chest was just smoke irritation and not longing for something he'd never had.
He was mid-laugh at Garnet's impression of Rowan drunkenly serenading a goat when the arrow came.
It sliced the air with a hiss Uzi felt more than heard; a line of cold fire across his left cheek. He jerked back hard; hand flying to the sudden sting; warm blood already slick between his fingers. The world narrowed to that single burning line; then exploded outward again as instinct took over.
He threw himself sideways off the log; shoulder hitting ash; holy magic flaring gold around his fists even before he registered the danger. Guntic swore and scrambled for his cane; Garnet was already up; dagger flashing into her hand; tall body angled between Uzi and the direction the arrow had come from.
Another arrow whispered past; embedding in the log where Uzi's head had been a heartbeat earlier. Violet fletching; shaft dripping with something that hissed where it touched wood.
Poison.
Uzi's blood ran cold; then hot with recognition. He rolled to his knees; eyes scanning the blackened trees. There; thirty yards upstream; half-hidden behind a half-burned trunk.
A knight.
Taller than any man; easily ten feet; armor black and purple and wrong. The plates looked melted and reforged a hundred times; edges glowing with that same sickly violet light that dripped like liquid starlight. No sword this time; a bow of twisted bone and venomous crystal; another arrow already nocked. The helmet was a smooth; featureless oval; but where a face should be a cloud of purple mist swirled; forming eyes and a mouth that smiled without warmth.
Guntic's voice cracked like a whip. "Poison knight; same breed as the one in the woods. But that bow-"
Garnet finished for him; low and furious. "Didn't have a ranged weapon before. They're learning."
Uzi's cheek burned; blood dripping down his jaw in steady pulses. The cut was shallow but already the edges tingled; numbness spreading slow. He pressed his palm to it; golden light flaring bright; forcing the poison back inch by inch. His heart hammered so hard he felt it in his teeth.
The knight drew the string again; violet light gathering like a storm along the arrow's length. The purple mist-face tilted; studying them the way a cat studies a half-dead mouse.
Uzi rose slowly; knees trembling; holy magic crackling around both fists now; brighter than it had any right to be in this dead place. The half-alive trees along the creek caught the glow and threw it back in fractured gold.
He met the knight's misty gaze across the ash and ruin and whispered the only thing that mattered.
"Come on then."