Crossing into the village felt like stepping through a strange threshold: the silence was heavier than the desert itself, as if the place had swallowed sound long ago and refused to give it back. The houses were built of dark stone, many scarred with deep cracks, as if they had once collapsed and then been rebuilt in haste. The roofs were covered with pale slabs that reflected the dimming light, but nothing about the place suggested home. This was not a village for living — it was a village for enduring.
Six researchers awaited them. They were not lined up, but scattered, like shadows among stones. Their long cloaks were gray or bluish, and each bore some eccentric mark: one wore a copper mask without eyes, another kept both hands hidden within his sleeves, another walked permanently bent as if under invisible weight. The one who spoke said little, the one who listened seemed to hear too much. None of them gave a name.
Alexius dismounted, pulling back his hood, and turned to the students.
— Keep your names to yourselves. Here, names are not spoken. Do not ask. Do not answer.
Mia, still mounted, frowned.
— But… why?
— Because names are anchors. And here, anchors draw things we don't want near.
No one pressed the question further.
The researchers guided them through a narrow street lined with stone houses that seemed to watch through their broken windows. The air smelled of old dust mixed with burnt herbs — perhaps to hide other odors. Passing beneath a crumbled arch, Arthur noticed strange symbols carved into the walls: incomplete circles, lines that bent into impossible angles, as if mapping a world that didn't exist.
They were taken into a broader house, reinforced with new beams. Inside, the space was nearly bare: a few benches, long tables covered in parchment and faintly glowing crystals pulsing like tired hearts.
One of the researchers spoke, his lips barely moving:
— Stay here. The night dislikes curious eyes.
Arthur opened his mouth, but Alexius answered before he could.
— Listen well. At nightfall, they will raise the protective circle. A barrier of light and silence will cover the village. Within it, nothing enters. But what is outside… will not be ignored. Do not look. If you look, you'll see more than you wish.
The words pressed heavy on the air.
Arthur said nothing, but his heart beat in time with the small flames that lit the chamber. The village itself felt like it was holding its breath.
— So we'll be locked in? — Ayame asked, tightening her gloves.
— Not locked. Protected — corrected Alexius. — At dawn we'll depart for the teleportation circle that will take us near Mount Arf. For now, stay together.
The students split into small groups. Some sat down, some still trembled from the worms' assault. Ichika nearly fell asleep against a wall. Mia wrapped firmer bandages around her arm. Kidero sharpened his blade in silence, as if he hated the sound of his own breathing.
Arthur, restless, slipped out through a side door. He didn't go far — just two corridors away into a half-collapsed structure. Inside it reeked of rust and death. Bones lay piled in one corner, scraps of corroded armor scattered like discarded husks. But what froze him was the cell.
It was small, built not from common iron but bars of a black metal. In its center, unmoving, sat a shadow. Not like the living ones they had faced before, shifting and predatory — this one was dormant, crouched on the floor, head bowed. Four glowing artifacts, one in each corner, burned with steady light that pinned it down like nails.
Arthur stepped closer.
The shadow lifted its head. It had no eyes, yet somehow it saw him. Its edges wavered, threatening to dissolve at any moment. Slowly, it raised one trembling hand toward him.
— …Heeelp… — the word was drawn out, metallic, like iron grinding on stone.
Arthur staggered back, pulse hammering. The shadow stretched its hand until it touched the bars — and the instant it grazed the light, its outline sizzled. Black skin blistered, smoking. It convulsed with a guttural sound that didn't belong to any throat, then recoiled, slumping back into its static posture, frozen once again.
Arthur's legs felt heavy. He wanted to flee, but he also wanted to understand.
— Arthur.
The voice behind him was sharp. Alexius stood in the doorway, his face grave.
— I told you not to wander.
— What… what is that? — Arthur pointed at the cell.
Alexius stepped closer, but did not cross the runes etched in the ground.
— What's left of what once was someone. The researchers gather fragments. They study what darkness leaves behind.
Arthur clenched his fists.
— It begged for help.
— That wasn't a plea. It was memory, echoing. And memories, Arthur… can lie.
The silence that followed was colder than the desert wind.
When they returned to the hall, night had already fallen. The researchers stood stationed across the village, activating tall crystals that released circles of pure light. Slowly, a translucent dome rose over the settlement, humming like strained glass. A low vibration followed — and then everything beyond disappeared. No sound, no wind, only absence.
— Stay inside — murmured a passing researcher without meeting their eyes. — Do not look out.
The warning was enough to chill their bones. But not everyone obeyed.
Kazuko stirred during the night, eyes wide with the fear of someone who dreamed of death even while awake. He edged toward a narrow window and pushed it slightly open. Beyond the barrier of light, things moved. Dozens of them. Slender figures drifted across the sand, some dragging limbs like chains, others staring inward though they had no eyes. Kazuko's breath caught, but he could not look away.
One of them approached the barrier. Its face pressed against the glowing surface, distorting it like stretched glass. It had no fixed shape, but in the faint light Kazuko swore he saw a sewn mouth, and faint eyes smoldering behind the seams.
— N-no… — he whispered, backing away.
— Kazuko! — Alexius yanked him by the shoulder, slamming the window shut. — I told you not to look!
The boy crumpled to his knees, trembling violently. Alexius gripped him firmly, forcing him to breathe.
— Never again. Do you hear me? Never.
Arthur watched from across the room, his chest tight. He wanted to speak, to help, but remained silent. Something told him this moment would demand its price later.
The night dragged on with all of them confined, restless. The wind did not pass, the sounds did not return. It felt like a communal tomb walled in by fragile light.
At first light, the crystals dimmed and the barrier dissolved. The village exhaled once more. The researchers stood at their posts, unmoving, as if they had never rested. One pointed eastward.
— The teleportation circle awaits.
Alexius nodded.
— Prepare yourselves. We leave now.
The students obeyed. Most were weary, shaken, but relief stirred at the thought of leaving the heavy silence behind.
Arthur mounted, though before departing he glanced back at the house with the shadow. He could swear it still watched him, pinned by the glowing wards.
{Help.}
The word scratched through his mind again.
The group rode on, leaving the village — its secrets, its shadows, and the silence that swallowed names.
But Arthur knew it was not over. It was only another step. The step that avoided the abyss last night. The step that led closer to Mount Arf… and to what awaited them there.