As Adyr waited beyond the walls, a carriage bearing Vesha’s family crest erged from the gate and rolled toward him at a steady pace.
He watched it approach, eyes narrowing slightly as he recognized the figure holding the reins—it was Vesha.
"I expected a few guards with you," he remarked while stepping into the carriage.
She was a noble’s daughter. It didn’t make sense that her father would allow her to travel unescorted.
"Hehe. My father didn’t want to let go," Vesha replied with a sly grin. "But I stole the carriage and ran off." With a flick of the reins, the horses began to move. Oddly enough, she handled them with practiced ease.
Adyr exhaled through his nose. "And that won’t be a problem?"
If her father sent guards after them, her presence could beco more of a burden than a benefit.
"Don’t worry. He won’t do anything that’d upset . He’s... different now." Her voice faltered at the end, as if catching herself before saying too much.
She didn’t need to finish. Adyr had already pieced it together. She was likely referring to the Rank 4 Nether path practitioner she had been promised to.
He could see the drama. The daughter accepts a political marriage to save the kingdom. The father, heartbroken, watches as his only beloved child walks toward a fate she never wanted, powerless to stop it, offering her a brief mont of freedom before the prison called marriage shuts behind her.
Adyr leaned back in his seat, eyes closed, letting the breeze and the earthy scent of grass and soil mix into a calming lull as the carriage rolled on.
Roughly half an hour later, the carriage slowed. He opened his eyes to see they were crossing a wooden bridge over a narrow river, approaching a small village lined with modest hos.
"So this is the place," Adyr muttered, narrowing his eyes slightly.
The village looked ordinary. A few children played nearby, adults went about their daily routines, and at the center, a small crowd had gathered around a middle-aged man in priest robes, listening to a sermon.
So villagers glanced toward the incoming carriage with mild curiosity, then calmly returned to their tasks.
One of them, recognizing Vesha, quickly approached to help secure the horses. After tying the reins, he gestured for them to follow him toward the village square.
"Lady Vesha! What a welco surprise to see you in this quiet village," the priest called out, pausing his sermon as he approached with open arms.
"Priest Malthor, it’s a pleasure to see you," Vesha replied warmly, then turned to Adyr. "This is Malthor Aven—a priest from the kingdom’s church and also the head of this village."
"Hello, Mr. Malthor. I’m Adyr," he said, reaching out a hand in greeting.
But the priest had sothing else in mind. With a broad smile, he stepped forward and pulled Adyr into a brief, hearty hug.
"What a tall man," he said with a laugh. "You don’t see many your height around here. You must’ve co from far away."
"Yeah, I hear that a lot," Adyr replied, returning the hug with a slight nod. The overly warm welco caught him off guard—it wasn’t the kind of approach he was used to.
"So let guess, Lady Vesha—you’re here because of the rumors, am I right?" Priest Malthor asked, turning his gaze toward her. There was a hint of concern in his expression.
"Yes, Priest Malthor. If possible, I’d like your assistance. I want to visit the site and see if there’s anything we can do," she said, glancing briefly at Adyr as she spoke.
Malthor raised an eyebrow and looked Adyr up and down, his gaze lingering on the black tactical gear, the crossed blades strapped to his back, the small shield, and the grenades and throwing knives at his waist. Then he turned back to Vesha.
"Lady Vesha, I’ll gladly assist you," he said, his tone polite but cautious, "but I’m afraid the situation may be beyond what one man alone can manage."
He hadn’t expected a practitioner to accompany her—those were all currently overwheld, and he knew it. Still, he had assud she would at least bring a few capable guards with her, not a strangely dressed man who looked more like a rcenary.
To be fair, Adyr’s appearance gave off a certain presence. The black tactical outfit lent him a sharp, professional air. Combined with the weapons and his posture, he certainly looked like soone skilled in combat. But if a Spark was truly involved, even a well-trained man would have limits.
"Don’t worry, Priest Malthor," Vesha replied calmly, her tone composed and reassuring. "He’s quite experienced. And besides, we don’t even know for certain what we’re dealing with. There’s still a chance it isn’t a Spark, right?"
Priest Malthor placed a hand over his chest and spoke a short prayer aloud. "May God Astrael bless us—let’s hope the culprit isn’t a Spark."
Then, with a nod, he turned. "Follow ."
They walked down a stone path leading to a sparse forest behind the village. A few minutes later, Malthor stopped near a shallow pit and pointed to it.
"This is where the first strange incident happened," he explained. "There used to be a tree here—older than even . It had stood for decades, maybe longer. Then, one night, it vanished without a trace. The next morning, a villager ca to in a panic. His child had suddenly lost all mory."
"Are you certain the tree’s disappearance and the mory loss are connected?" Vesha asked.
Adyr gave her a subtle nod of approval. It was the right question.
"At first, of course not," Malthor said. "We didn’t see the pattern. But it didn’t stop there."
He continued walking, leading them a little deeper into the woods, then stopped at another identical pit.
"There are thirteen of these," he said. "Thirteen missing trees—and thirteen children who lost their mories. Every ti a tree disappeared, a child forgot everything."
Vesha paused, studying the area carefully. "Do you have any idea how the trees vanished? Did anyone see what happened?"
It mattered. Whether they had been pulled underground, dissolved into dust, or vanished into the sky, it could point to the nature of the culprit. Maybe even its Path.
But Malthor shook his head. "No witnesses. It always happened when no one was around. Judging by the soil, we assud they dried up and crumbled into dust."
Then, cutting through the logic they were all clinging to, a calm voice broke the silence.
"The trees didn’t go anywhere. They’re still here."
Adyr was crouched beside the pit, fingers trailing through the air as both Vesha and Malthor turned to him in stunned silence.
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