The first sensation that returned was weight. Not the weight of my body nor of pain, but of iron. The helmet was still there, clutching my head like a familiar prison. Then came the murmur of voices, distant and distorted, as if the world were speaking from the bottom of a well.

  —We have to take it off.

  —We don't know if that will kill him.

  —We can't treat the wound like this.

  I felt fingers pulling at the base of the helmet. My hand reacted before my mind did. I grabbed the wrist tightly.

  —Don't even think about it.

  The movement sent a spasm of pain across my chest like a burst of flame. I opened my eyes sharply. The wooden beams of the tavern ceiling floated above me. Aldric was leaning beside me, his expression a mixture of relief and exhaustion. Serah rested against a nearby table, her sword planted on the floor. Maelor's hands were stained with dried blood.

  —Damn it… —Aldric muttered —. We thought you weren't going to wake up.

  I tried to sit up. The world protested.

  —What happened?

  My voice sounded rough, as if I had swallowed sand. Aldric exchanged a glance with Serah before answering.

  —We killed it.

  I frowned.

  —The beast?

  —Yes —he ran a hand through his damp hair—. And it wasn't easy.

  Serah stepped forward.

  —Aldric pierced its heart when it jumped on you.

  My gaze shifted toward him. Aldric barely shrugged.

  —Your sword had already left it half dead.

  I tried to remember the fight. The impact. The claw. The creature's eyes.

  —And the woman?

  Serah let out a short sigh.

  —Lyria.

  I nodded slightly.

  —Where is she?

  Maelor replied that she had escaped in the middle of the fight, when the beast fell. The silence that followed was brief. Something about that didn't quite fit, but the pain in my chest didn't allow me to press further. I lowered my gaze toward Eldan. He was sitting against the wall, pale but conscious. I asked about him. Eldan slowly lifted the bandage. The wound was still there. But something had changed.

  —It doesn't burn like before —he said.

  The skin around the cut had begun to darken. It wasn't dried blood or infection. It was a deep shade, almost like ink seeping beneath the flesh.

  —But it's getting worse —he added quietly. Maelor nodded. —The black wound keeps spreading.

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  Before I could respond, something caught my attention. A sound. Murmurs. Voices. I slowly turned my head toward the tavern windows. There was light outside. Movement.

  —What…?

  Aldric understood what I was seeing.

  —Yeah —his voice sounded strangely heavy—. We thought you were delirious too.

  I stood with effort and approached the window. The village was alive. Men walked through the streets. Women carried buckets of water. A cart rolled slowly across the square. Valdrem looked like a completely different place from the night before.

  —When did this happen?

  —After we killed the beast —Serah replied.— They appeared again as if nothing had happened.

  The sound of footsteps made us turn. The innkeeper was standing in the doorway. He was the same man who had welcomed us the night before. But his face no longer carried that forced hospitality. Now he was pale. Terrified. His eyes moved from one of our faces to the next. Then he spoke.

  —You have to leave —his voice was barely a whisper—. Now.

  Aldric frowned.

  —Why?

  The innkeeper shook his head.

  —You shouldn't be here —his gaze moved nervously toward the windows—. Please… go.

  We didn't insist. Something in his expression made it clear there would be no further explanations. We left the tavern a few minutes later. The village kept moving around us. But no one spoke. No one approached. The villagers simply stepped aside as we passed, keeping a rigid distance that looked more like fear than respect. We crossed the square. The well was still there. Dark. Silent. And then we reached the edge of the village. That was when I understood. The people were gathered. They were not walking. Not working. Not speaking. Dozens of them stood on both sides of the road leading out of Valdrem. Men. Women. Elderly. Children.All of them staring at us, motionless, their cold eyes following every step we took. No one blinked. No one breathed normally. They looked like statues. A human corridor. Absolute silence. We walked between them without saying a word. The wind barely stirred the mist in the valley. When we finally passed the last houses, I dared to look back. They were still there. Standing. Watching us. As if they were waiting for our return. Or our death.