VILLAGE PART 2

The four figures emerged from the treeline, dragging a massive boar behind them.

Its enormous size cast a shadow over the broken huts, and the half-starved villagers froze, their hollow eyes widening in disbelief.

At first, there was confusion. Then came disbelief. And finally—hope.

A murmur spread through the survivors before it erupted into weak, raspy cheers, barely audible over the hunger that gripped them. Children clung to their mothers, pointing at the beast in awe.

Shimei remained silent. He simply raised his hand, allowing a faint flame to flicker across his palm. With a gentle flick, the fire spread beneath the boar, enveloping it in a controlled warmth.

The rich aroma of roasting meat filled the air, thick and savory, drawing the entire village closer, their stomachs growling louder than the crackling flames.

The first bite transformed tears into smiles. For the first time since everything fell apart, they were truly living—not just surviving.

Shimei leaned back, observing the villagers as they feasted. His gaze caught movement at the edge of the crowd.

A scrawny boy, ribs visible through his tattered shirt, was inching closer to the boar. His hands shook as he snatched a small piece and darted away into the shadows.

Shimei didn’t intervene. Instead, he stood and followed quietly, his steps so light that the boy remained unaware.

The trail led to a crooked hut on the outskirts. Inside, the boy knelt beside another child—smaller, weaker, barely able to sit up. He handed over the stolen meat, his eyes filled with desperate hope.

Shimei’s voice sliced through the air like a cold wind.

“…Stealing food?”

The boy spun around, dropping the meat in sheer panic. Both kids froze as Shimei stepped inside, his expression icy and unreadable, the faint glow of fire still flickering at his fingertips.

“I should burn your hands for that.”

Their faces went pale. The smaller child whimpered, clutching the older boy’s sleeve tightly.

Then, just like that, Shimei let the fire die down. He dropped a bundle of roasted meat at their feet, his voice softening just a bit. “Next time… just ask. You’ll get more this way.”

Without saying another word, he turned and walked away, leaving the two in stunned silence until the younger one finally broke down into quiet sobs of relief, hugging the food like it was a precious treasure.

Outside, Shimei let out a breath, his face once again a mask of unreadable emotions.

The four of them gathered around a smoldering firepit, with smoke drifting lazily into the crisp mountain air.

The villagers had brought whatever they could spare scraps of dried roots, a few shriveled beans, and some wilted herbs.

It wasn’t a feast, but in B’shara’s capable hands, it transformed into something resembling a meal. She stirred the bubbling pot with a steady rhythm, adding pinches of spice from her pouch.

“Never thought I’d see the day you’d actually cook, Jett,” B’shara teased, a playful smirk crossing her face as she watched the boy’s awkward attempts at chopping vegetables.

“Hey,” Jett replied, waving the knife a bit too close to his fingers, “I’m a natural. Just look at these cuts—perfectly uneven!”

Even the villagers, with their thin frames and hollow eyes, chuckled softly at the lighthearted banter. It was the first sound of laughter they’d heard in what felt like weeks.

B’shara set bowls in front of them, making sure to serve the children first, her gentle smile easing the fear that lingered in their eyes.

Ilan, of course, grumbled about the portions but still ended up serving the oldest villager before himself.

As the last bit of stew was scraped from the pot, a cozy warmth more than just from the fire wrapped around the group.

That’s when the old man from earlier stepped forward again, leaning heavily on his cane. His voice was shaky, but his words held firm. “You… outsiders. You’ve given us more than just food. You’ve given us a moment to feel human again.” His eyes sparkled with gratitude. “For that… I thank you.”

Jett leaned back, arms crossed, but his sharp gaze remained fixed on the man. “Then maybe you can repay us with some answers.”

The man stiffened, his smile wavering. “Answers…?”

“Why are your people starving? What happened to turn this village from thriving to desolate?” Jett’s tone was blunt, cutting through the air, and even B'shara shot him a warning glance.

But Jett didn’t back down; he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Show me where it all began.”

The man’s hands shook on his cane. For what felt like an eternity, he remained silent. The villagers shifted nervously, murmuring among themselves.

Finally, he let out a long breath, as if releasing years of fear in that single exhale. His gnarled finger rose and pointed across the valley.

“There,” he murmured.

The four turned to face the scene before them. Through the swirling fog, nestled against the rugged cliffside, stood… a structure. Stone walls, towers jutting out like jagged teeth. A fortress.

B’shara frowned. “On a mountain…? That doesn’t add up. No supply lines, no farmland… How could it even be there?”

The man shook his head in a panic. “It’s not on the mountain. It’s below. It appeared one night, carved right into the rock. A fortress that shouldn’t even be there.”

Jett’s lips curled into a mischievous grin, the kind that hinted at trouble. He stood up, stretching his arms. “Well, looks like we’re going to pay it a visit.”

The others exchanged uneasy glances, confusion thick in the air. A fortress beneath the mountain? It didn’t make sense… yet the man’s fear felt all too real to ignore.

Despite their apprehension, they followed Jett’s gaze to the imposing structure, their course already set.

As the four made their way toward the fortress, the villagers rushed after them, breathless, their faces marked by desperation.

The old man Rurik stepped forward, his cane trembling in his hands. Tears shimmered in his eyes, and his voice wavered as he pleaded.

“Wait! Please… don’t go there!”

Jett turned his head, a nervous grin on his face. “Why not? It’s just a big fortress, right? What’s the worst that could—”

“Don’t!” a woman’s voice sliced through the air, raw with fear. She held her child tightly, swaying back and forth. “You don’t understand! That place… it’s not for the living. It’s… it’s cursed!”

Shimei narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to the villagers, taking in their pale, hollow faces. They were trembling—not just from hunger, but from sheer terror.

B’shara frowned, her usual playful spirit vanished. “Cursed? Come on… we’ve faced worse.”

“Not like this!” an older man shouted, tears carving paths through the dirt on his face. “People who went near it… they never came back. Or if they did… they were different. Not alive, not really.”

Ilan, ever the calm one, placed a reassuring hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Please, tell us clearly. What happened? We need to know the details.”

Rurik’s hands trembled uncontrollably. “The fortress… it just appeared one night.

At first, we thought it was a blessing a refuge from the storms, a safe haven. But those who dared to enter… they came back screaming, or… not at all.

There are shadows that shouldn’t be there… voices that whisper tempting promises… and an insatiable hunger. Always hunger. The very air… it consumes you.”

A young mother wept, burying her face in Shimei’s arm. “Please… if you value life, don’t go there. Leave us here. Just leave me here.”

For a brief moment, Jett’s grin faltered, the weight of their fear settling in. B’shara’s fingers twitched nervously on her blades.

Even Shimei, who usually kept his emotions hidden, tilted his head slightly, observing the raw terror in their eyes.

Rurik sank to his knees, hands clasped together as if in prayer. “You outsiders… you saved us once, and we’re grateful. But this… this fortress is a death trap.

Please… for your own sake, turn back. Let the mountains keep their secrets.”

Silence enveloped them for a moment. The wind swept through the highlands, carrying the faint scent of ash and stone, and the fortress in the distance seemed to loom larger, darker, almost alive with some unseen force.

Jett’s hands clenched at his sides, a rare shadow crossing his features. “We can’t just walk away. Someone—or something—is hurting people here. We can’t turn a blind eye.”

B’shara let out a slow breath, her eyes softening as she watched the villagers collapse in relief, grateful that someone cared. “He’s right… we can’t.”

Shimei’s gaze flicked between the trembling villagers and the fortress looming beyond. The corners of his mouth twitched—a faint, almost imperceptible smile, as if to offer them reassurance. “We will be cautious.”

Ilan’s voice, calm yet authoritative, sliced through the tension. “We will confront whatever comes our way, but we acknowledge your fear. We won’t take it lightly.”

Rurik looked up with swollen eyes, hope and terror battling within him. “Then… please… come back. All of you. Promise me.”

The narrow path twisted downwards, with jagged rocks looming close on either side.

A faint metallic scent wafted through the air, and even the mountains seemed to hush, as if they were holding their breath.

Jett, as always, took the lead, stepping boldly onto a loose stone. He nearly lost his footing but managed to catch himself with a chuckle. “Whoa! These mountains really want to swallow us whole, huh?”

B’shara shot him an exasperated look. “Try not to get yourself killed before we even reach the fortress, Wind-Walker.”

Shimei walked in the middle, Yoshiinune safely sheathed but humming softly against his hip.

His gaze darted to the shadows, taking note of every rock, every gnarled tree root, and every subtle movement around them.

Ilan brought up the rear, moving quietly, his blind eyes scanning in a way that sent a slight shiver down the spines of the others. “The air here… it feels charged,” he murmured. “Not from animals. From something else.”

“Something else?” B’shara echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. “You mean like… ghosts?”

“Not exactly ghosts,” Ilan replied. “But whatever lurks near that fortress… it’s watching. And it’s aware.”

The group continued onward, and slowly the path opened up to reveal the fortress for the first time—perched precariously on a jagged outcrop, its dark stone glinting faintly under the highland sun.

Even from afar, it radiated a presence cold, oppressive, almost as if it were alive.

Shimei tilted his head, curiosity etched on his face. “How… how does something this enormous even stay up there?”

Jett flashed a smirk, though a hint of unease flickered behind his grin. “Magic, mountains, questionable engineering… take your pick. Either way, it looks like an adventure waiting to happen.”

As they drew nearer, the signs became more elusive.

The wind shifted in a strange way, carrying distant, distorted echoes that could have been screams or maybe laughter. Shadows danced where they shouldn’t, and the rocks along the path seemed to shift slightly, as if nudged by an unseen hand.

B’shara murmured, almost to herself, “This place feels off… even for the Yarna Highlands.”

Shimei’s small hands tightened around the hilt of his sword for a moment. “I don’t feel fear,” he said quietly, “but… we should be cautious.”

Jett, unable to hold back, jumped onto a boulder, his grin widening. “Caution? Nah, let’s just wing it! That’s where the real fun begins!”

B’shara shot him a sharp look, muttering under her breath, “Somehow, ‘winging it’ always leads us into trouble…”

Ilan’s calm voice sliced through the tension. “Watch your step. And remember—the fortress isn’t just made of stone and mortar. It’s… something else entirely. Don’t underestimate it.”

As they neared the base of the outcrop, a sudden chill swept through the air. The wind stopped abruptly, and for a moment, even the highland birds fell silent.

Shimei tilted his head, his flame-kakurei humming softly, almost as if it were trying to warn him. “Something’s here,” he whispered.

Jett twirled his blade, a mix of a grin and a frown on his face. “Something big, something mean… sounds like just the kind of fun I’m looking for.”

B’shara chuckled, even with the tension hanging in the air. “You’re out of your mind.”

With that, the four of them stepped onto the path that led straight to the fortress each one feeling a knot in their stomach, knowing that once they crossed that threshold, nothing would be straightforward, nothing would be safe, and the Yarna Highlands would challenge them in ways they hadn’t even begun to imagine.