Evelyne reached for his hand and stepped down from the carriage.
The trade outpost stood along the Mokkahli River, its wooden structures rough but sturdy, built for function rather than beauty. Though still many yards away, the river looked black and sluggish, barely moving, as if something unseen had stilled it. Wooden piers jutted into the dark waters, their lanterns flickering weakly, offering little warmth against the deepening shadows.
A strange silence hung over the outpost, unsettling in a place that should be alive with traders and merchants. The few buildings stood close together, some with doors slightly ajar, others shut tight as if trying to keep the night at bay.
And then there was the forest.
Mokkvyrn Forest loomed beyond the outpost, its twisted trees forming a jagged silhouette against the sky. The mist thickened as it clung to the treeline, curling between the branches like spectral fingers. Nothing stirred within the woods. There were no birds singing, no insects buzzing, only silence. It was as if the entire forest held its breath.
Evelyne couldn’t shake the unease clawing at her, or ignore the shadow on the map. Something was lurking here. But where?
“Come with me,” Alaric said. Evelyne followed without a word, trailing behind him as he led her toward the main trading lodge at the heart of the outpost.
The structure was solid and weathered, built from thick wooden beams with a slanted, moss-covered roof. Its doors hung slightly open, casting a warm glow from the hearth within.
“Go inside and get something to eat,” Alaric told her, pausing at the entrance. “I’ll be back in an hour. I need to speak with the trade master to better understand what’s happening here.”
Evelyne hesitated, eyeing him as he reached for the map tucked into his coat. Her stomach growled loudly, and she groaned, deciding food was more important than arguing. “Is the darkness still showing?” she asked.
Alaric glanced at the map. “No. The markings are gone.”
Relief trickled through her, and she gave a slight nod before stepping inside.
The lodge was modest, but sturdy. In the center of the main hall, a stone hearth glowed warmly, casting flickers of firelight across the walls. Several long tables stood in neat rows, though most were empty, save for a few weathered traders sitting quietly with bowls. The air smelled of smoke and roasted meat; a welcome scent after a full day of travel.
A woman with graying hair stood behind a makeshift counter, ladling steaming broth into wooden bowls. She wore a plain apron and cast Evelyne a sharp glance before gesturing to an empty seat. “You look half starved. Sit down and I’ll get you something.”
Evelyne didn’t argue. She settled onto a wooden bench as the woman returned, setting a bowl of thick stew before her. The broth was dark and rich with chunks of root vegetables, shredded meat, and crusty bread. It wasn’t a grand feast, but it was warm and filling, exactly what she needed. She ate silently, listening to the occasional murmur of voices around her and the crackling fire. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.
By the time Alaric returned, Evelyne had finished her meal, her hunger finally satisfied. He dropped into the seat across from her, rolling his shoulders as he set down his gloves and asked for the same stew and bread she had eaten.
“Anything?” she asked, watching as he sipped the broth.
“Nothing unusual,” he replied, shaking his head. “The trade master hasn’t seen anything strange in the past few days. There were no disturbances, no missing goods, just an unsettling quiet. Trade has been unusually slow, but that’s all.”
Evelyne frowned. Something still felt off. “That doesn’t explain what we saw on the map.”
Alaric met her stare. “No, it doesn’t.”
The fire crackled in the hushed space between them.
“We can stay here for the night,” he said finally, setting his spoon down. “The trade master said they have rooms available since it’s been so calm here. Reuben chose to stay in the carriage.”
Evelyne nodded, sipping from her glass of water as she waited for him to finish eating. She couldn’t blame Reuben for preferring the carriage; he was probably used to sleeping outside, and something about the outpost’s emptiness made it feel like an abandoned stage waiting for something to happen.
When Alaric finished, they rose and made their way to the sleeping quarters—a narrow hall tucked behind the trading lodge. Thick walls kept out the chill, though the floorboards creaked beneath their steps. The bunkhouse itself was simple, a two-story loft for merchants and travelers, with a rickety staircase leading to low-ceilinged rooms above.
Alaric gestured to the doors ahead. Two rooms, side by side. “Yours is on the left.”
Evelyne stepped inside and found a small but tidy space. A sturdy wooden bed with wool blankets stood against one wall, a single window was shuttered tightly against the cold, and a small washbasin with a water pitcher rested nearby.
Alaric took the room next to hers. The exhaustion of travel settled over them both, and after securing their doors for the night, they finally allowed themselves to rest.
At last, Evelyne was alone. The past twenty-four hours had been an endless cycle of travel, tension, and unwelcome company. She needed this. Needed a moment where she didn’t have to pretend to be composed. The small room wasn’t much, but it was hers—if only for the night.
She sighed as she unfastened her cloak, letting it slip from her shoulders before she reached for the washbasin. The water was cool against her skin, nowhere near the steaming bath she craved, but she didn’t care. It would have to do. This journey would be long and grueling. And she had no idea what she was doing. She had no plan or clear path forward, but at least she wasn’t alone.
She hated that thought. Alaric was the last person she wanted by her side right now. But as much as she loathed him, she had to admit, begrudgingly, that having someone else with her meant she wasn’t completely vulnerable, even if she could never forgive him.
