✦ 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞 ✦

The fog had already begun to swallow the village when Silas Thorne rode in, the sound of his boots silent on the wet cobblestones. Lantern light flickered through crooked windows, casting uneven shadows that danced across the streets. Eirvale smelled of smoke and damp earth, a faint tang of iron lingering in the air, the kind of scent that spoke of old wounds and unspoken fear.

He dismounted slowly, the leather of his gloves creaking, and ran a hand across the hilt of his blackened sword. The forest loomed close, dark and restless at the village’s edge, and he could feel it in the chill on his neck: something was watching, something that didn’t belong to the world he knew.

He walked past the inn, glancing at the half-lit windows. Voices hushed as he passed, eyes following him, whispering about the stranger in armor without a sigil. Let them watch. Let them talk. Silence suited him best.

The streets narrowed as he moved deeper into the village, puddles reflecting the dim glow of lanterns like shattered mirrors. The wind carried an eerie hum from the forest, threading through the crooked chimneys and rattling the shutters. Every shadow seemed to shift just beyond the corner of his vision, and Silas’s hand instinctively brushed the hilt of his sword.

He paused near the edge of the square, letting the silence press against him. The abandoned fountain gurgled faintly, the water catching the moonlight like liquid silver. Somewhere beyond the treeline, the forest breathed, heavy and patient, and he felt the old instincts rise, caution, calculation, and a spark of anticipation he hadn’t felt in years.

A chill ran down his spine. He adjusted his cloak, shoulders stiff, listening. Every sound seemed amplified: the distant drip of water, the scrape of a shutter, the faint rustle of leaves. Somewhere in the dark, something stirred unseen, waiting, and he welcomed the tension. It was the kind of night that demanded attention, and Silas was ready.

The village held its secrets tightly, but the forest… the forest never lied. And Silas Thorne had learned long ago to listen.