---
The world returned slowly.
Not with clarity.
Not with understanding.
But with weight.
---
Nocth's first awareness was not sight.
It was movement.
A steady, uneven rhythm beneath him.
Wood creaking.
Wheels grinding softly against stone.
Something alive breathing nearby.
---
Then came sound.
Voices.
Too loud.
Too normal.
Too… unbothered.
---
"…I'm telling you, old man, I didn't even hit you that hard!"
"That's because you don't know how to hit properly, you brainless stray!"
"Oi—watch your mouth!"
"I'll watch your face when I fix it!"
---
Nocth's eyes opened.
Slowly.
Heavy.
---
The sky above him shifted with motion—framed between wooden bars and stretched cloth, sunlight flickering in uneven patches.
He was lying on something hard.
A cart.
---
The scent hit him next.
Iron.
Dust.
Sweat.
And something faintly unfamiliar—like burnt herbs mixed with something colder… unnatural.
---
He pushed himself up slightly.
Pain followed.
Not sharp.
But deep.
Like his body remembered something his mind did not.
---
"—and then he just collapses like he's already halfway dead!"
"YOU collapsed first!"
"That's because someone hit me from behind!"
"Yeah? And who hit me from behind then?!"
"Don't look at me, I was busy being beaten!"
---
Nocth blinked.
Focused.
---
They were all there.
---
Imuis sat near the edge of the cart, arms resting on his knees, looking irritated but intact.
Heron leaned against a side rail, one eye half-closed, his usual expression dulled by exhaustion.
Doro.
His older brother.
The rest of their group.
Even—
---
Nocth's gaze shifted.
---
Karkos.
The old alehouse owner.
Bruised.
Swollen.
Wrapped in rough cloth strips that barely held together.
And still complaining.
---
"—my ribs are gone! I can feel it! I breathe and it sounds like broken furniture!"
"You always sound like broken furniture," one of the drunkards muttered.
"I heard that!"
"Good. Means your ears still work."
---
Nocth frowned slightly.
Something felt off.
Very off.
---
"…What happened?" he asked quietly.
---
The voices paused.
Just for a moment.
---
Then—
---
"THAT'S WHAT WE'RE TRYING TO FIGURE OUT!"
---
Heron threw his hands up dramatically.
---
"You tell me! One second we're having a nice, peaceful disagreement—"
"That wasn't peaceful!" Karkos snapped.
"—and the next thing I know, I wake up with my face arguing with the ground!"
---
Imuis exhaled slowly.
"…We remember entering the Alehouse."
He glanced around.
"…After that… nothing is clear."
---
Doro scoffed from the other side.
"Yeah. Same here."
He rubbed the back of his head, wincing.
"Last thing I remember is walking in and seeing this ugly old man—"
"I'M NOT—!"
"—and then darkness."
---
His older brother frowned.
"…Doesn't add up."
---
Nocth stayed quiet.
Listening.
---
Karkos groaned again, clutching his side.
"…Those punks… they came in, started breaking things… I tried to stop them…"
He winced.
"…then after that… it's like my head just… stopped."
---
One of the drunkards leaned closer, whispering loudly enough for everyone to hear.
"…maybe you blacked out from fear."
---
Karkos froze.
"…what?"
---
Another one nodded seriously.
"…yeah. Like… your body gave up being conscious to protect itself."
---
A third chimed in.
"…or maybe you fainted because of them."
He jerked his thumb toward Doro's group.
"…you know… intimidation."
---
Karkos slowly turned his head.
Very slowly.
Toward Doro.
---
His expression changed.
---
"…Don't tell me…"
---
The drunkard leaned in, grinning.
"…old man… maybe you like that kind of thing."
---
Silence.
---
Then—
---
Karkos recoiled violently.
"…GET THAT IDEA OUT OF YOUR HEAD!"
---
Doro blinked.
"…What idea?"
---
"…NOTHING!"
---
Heron burst out laughing.
"Alright, alright, that's enough."
He wiped his eyes.
"Whatever happened, it knocked all of us out."
---
Imuis nodded slightly.
"…Which means…"
He looked around slowly.
"…there was a third party."
---
That thought lingered.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
---
Nocth said nothing.
But his chest tightened slightly.
---
Something about that idea…
felt wrong.
---
Not because it was incorrect.
But because—
---
it felt incomplete.
---
The cart jolted slightly.
---
Nocth's attention shifted forward.
---
The creature pulling them came into view.
---
It was not a normal beast.
---
Its body resembled something between a horse and a long-limbed predator, but its proportions were too precise—too deliberate.
Its skin carried faint patterns, like embedded sigils burned beneath the surface.
Lines of dim green light traced across its form, pulsing softly with each step.
Its eyes—
---
Nocth focused.
---
They were not animal eyes.
They were calm.
Too calm.
---
Like something that understood obedience as a concept, not instinct.
---
"…Artificial thread-bound," Imuis muttered quietly.
---
Heron followed his gaze.
"…Yeah."
He exhaled.
"Saeverath make weird things."
---
Ahead of them, several more carts moved in formation.
Each one carried similar structures.
Elegant.
But not warm.
---
The design was intricate—curved frames reinforced with metallic runes, glowing faintly in a greenish hue.
Symbols marked along the sides—clean, precise, almost ceremonial.
---
Noble craftsmanship.
But with something colder beneath it.
---
On the side, guards rode alongside the carts.
Their attire was structured—layered garments reinforced with thread-embedded patterns.
Their presence was calm.
Controlled.
---
One of them turned slightly.
Holding something.
---
"…Oi."
---
A voice cut through.
---
One of the Saeverath members raised an object.
Oval-shaped.
Metallic.
With a faint, rotating mechanism embedded within its structure.
---
"…Where did you get this?"
---
Heron froze.
---
"…Ah."
---
The guard narrowed his eyes.
"…This is Saeverath craft."
He tilted it slightly.
"…Not common either."
---
Another one spoke.
"…Could be a runaway."
---
Heron forced a smile.
"…Or a very talented admirer?"
---
Silence.
---
Then—
---
THUD.
---
The back of his head snapped forward.
---
"Shut up."
---
Heron groaned.
"…Worth a try."
---
The carts slowed.
---
Ahead—
more figures waited.
---
One stepped forward.
---
"…Maya's signal stopped here."
---
Another voice responded.
"…We tracked it."
---
A pause.
---
"…We found her."
---
Silence fell.
---
"…Dead."
---
The word settled heavily.
---
"…Impossible," one muttered.
---
"…Not impossible."
The first voice continued calmly.
"…Just… unacceptable."
---
A shift in tone.
---
"…Everyone here is a suspect."
---
Nocth's eyes narrowed slightly.
---
"…You will be taken for questioning."
---
A guard leaned closer to the cart.
---
"…Failure to cooperate…"
---
He drew a finger slowly across his throat.
---
"…will be treated accordingly."
---
Heron exhaled slowly.
"…Great."
---
Doro clicked his tongue.
"…This is getting annoying."
---
His older brother frowned.
"…Stay quiet."
---
Nocth leaned back slightly.
---
His hand moved to his chest.
---
Something pulsed there.
Faint.
Uneven.
---
Not pain.
Not exactly.
---
Something else.
---
He frowned.
---
"…Something's wrong."
---
Not with the situation.
---
Not with them.
---
With him.
---
Something inside felt—
---
different.
---
Not stronger.
Not clearer.
---
Just…
---
wrong in a way that felt dangerous.
---
Nocth closed his eyes briefly.
---
"…What is this…" he thought quietly.
---
No answer came.
---
Only silence.
---
And something beneath it—
---
waiting.
---