The valley appeared beyond the mist. Or perhaps the mist shifted just enough to let it be seen. I couldn't tell. We descended along a narrow path until the first houses began to take shape among the trees. Steep roofs. Chimneys without smoke. Windows too dark for that hour… though in this place there never seemed to be a different hour. It never dawned. It never truly became night. The sky was a sheet of gray with no intention of changing.

  —Is it early? —the man of steel asked. I looked up.

  —I don't know

  And it was the truth. The village in the valley was silent. Not a natural silence, but a sustained one. As if someone had ordered stillness and everyone had obeyed. I began counting people. One, sitting on a bench in front of a house. Two, standing beside a well. Three, walking slowly down the main road. Four, leaning from a window. Five. I saw no more. They looked more like mannequins posed in place than real people. The green-eyed one, still bandaged at the side and breathing with effort, stopped walking.

  —I don't hear birds.

  It wasn't a minor observation. The woman stepped forward and looked at the man on the bench. He looked back at her. He didn't blink. He didn't frown. He didn't tilt his head. He only watched.

  —Good afternoon —she said.

  The man took a moment to respond. His mouth opened slightly.

  —Afternoon.

  Nothing else. He didn't ask who we were. He didn't ask where we came from. He didn't look at the blood seeping through the wounded man's bandage. The man of steel whispered,

  —I don't like this place.

  —It's not the place, —said the man of rings —It's what's missing.

  I looked at him.

  —What's missing?

  He kept his gaze fixed on the woman in the window.

  —Soul.

  We continued toward the tavern. The sign hung crooked, though there was no wind to move it. The entire village felt like a large model placed on a table. The door stood open. I pushed it. Inside were four more people. Sitting perfectly still. A man behind the bar, drying a mug that was already dry. A woman with her hands resting on a table. An old man staring at the cold hearth. A young man with his back to us, facing the wall. They all looked at us when we entered. At the same time. No one blinked. The man of steel stepped forward first, as if discipline alone could impose order on the unseen.

  —We're looking for food and lodging —he said.

  The innkeeper nodded once.

  —There are rooms.

  His voice was flat.

  —And food? —asked the green-eyed one.

  —There is.

  Nothing more. We sat at a table in the center of the room. The wood was cold. The woman was the first to break the silence.

  —The girl wasn't a simple spirit —she said.

  No one in the tavern reacted. The man of rings rested his hands on the table, fingers intertwined beneath the dark metal bands.

  —No, —he said quietly —she was bait.

  —For the sorcerer? —the man of steel asked.

  —For the adversary —corrected the man of rings.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  The man of steel clenched his jaw.

  —Call it what it is.

  —Every culture does, the woman said calmly —Master of Shadow. Father of Deceit. Lord of the Valley…

  The green-eyed one murmured

  —The Ancient Wolf.

  The words echoed somewhere deep in my mind. The wolf heads in the cellar. The glass eyes.

  —The Devil —said the man of steel at last.

  The word hung in the air. No one in the tavern reacted. Not a muscle. Not a mistake. I leaned forward.

  —What was in that house wasn't just a ritual. It was a door —the man of rings nodded slowly. —. And someone opened it.

  I looked around the room. Every pair of eyes was still fixed on us.

  —Or someone is keeping it open —the woman added.

  The innkeeper set the mug down on the bar. The sound was sharp. Too loud for that silence.

  —You shouldn't speak like that —he said.

  His voice hadn't changed.

  —Like what? —I asked.

  He turned his face toward me. His eyes were pale. Too pale.

  —About him.

  I didn't ask who him was. There was no need. The man of steel rested his hand on the hilt of his weapon but did not draw it.

  —How many people live here? —the green-eyed one asked.

  The innkeeper took a moment before answering.

  —As many as necessary.

  —For what? —the woman pressed.

  The man did not reply. The old man by the hearth slowly lifted his head.

  —It's not good for strangers to be here when it never dawns.

  —Something tightened in the air between us.

  —And when does it dawn? —I asked.

  The old man smiled. They all smiled. It wasn't a human smile. Silence again. I looked through the window. The sky hadn't changed. Not brighter. Not darker. And then I noticed something I hadn't seen when we arrived. There were no shadows. I looked back at my companions. They had noticed it too. The man of rings spoke softly, almost to himself.

  —The adversary doesn't only hunt.

  —What does he do then? —the man of steel asked.

  —Administers.

  —Administers what?

  —Territory.

  The valley. The village. Five people counted outside. Four inside the tavern. Eleven in total. Were they inhabitants? Or pieces on a board? The woman looked at me again.

  —What are your orders, Captain?

  I felt the weight of the question. It wasn't tactical. It was direction. I looked at the villagers. Their open eyes. Their measured movements. This world frozen in an hour that refused to move.

  —We stay tonight —I said.

  The man of steel frowned. The green-eyed one took a slow breath. The man of rings closed his eyes, as if listening to something far away. The woman did not argue. The innkeeper nodded. "There are rooms" He repeated the same words. As if he had no other lines. As if someone else were writing them for him. The food never came. Neither did the drink. We decided to go upstairs to rest. As we climbed the stairs toward the rooms, I looked out one of the upper windows. Something strange was happening. Outside, the sky was growing darker. And dozens of people were gathering around the tavern.