Chapter 247: Villagers gone

The group left the blackened clearing behind, the forest slowly swallowing the stench of ash and blood. No one spoke for a while, their footsteps crunching softly on the undergrowth.

At last, Serelyth broke the silence, her voice low but sharp. "I noticed something... in the hands of one of those goblins. A tool. Not their kind of craft—too fine for them. It looked like a farmer’s."

Lira’s head snapped toward her. "A farmer’s? Then there must be a settlement nearby."

"Or what’s left of one," Thalanir muttered, scanning the shadows between the trees.

Serelyth’s eyes narrowed, thoughtful. She turned her gaze skyward. "Little fire, do you want me to check it from the air?"

Lira nodded. "Yes. If there’s a village, we need to know."

The dragoness didn’t hesitate. With a ripple of magic, her form stretched and shimmered, scales unfolding like armor, wings unfurling wide until her majestic white dragon body towered above them. The air cracked with power as she beat her wings once, lifting from the forest floor.

A powerful gust blasted through the trees, sending leaves and twigs flying. Everyone staggered back, holding their cloaks and hair against the sudden storm.

Patricia squealed, ducking behind Maelin. Maelin laughed, holding her braid down. Thalanir shielded his face with one arm, stoic as ever.

Renkai cursed under his breath, running his hand through his already wild hair. "Every time," he grumbled, glaring upward as Serelyth’s massive wings carried her higher into the skies. "She takes joy in ruining my hair, I swear it."

Maelin chuckled and leaned closer to Patricia. "I think it suits him messy anyway."

Patricia muffled a giggle behind her sleeve.

Meanwhile, Lira shielded her eyes and watched Serelyth rise into the clouds, her heart beating with a mix of anticipation and unease. If there really was a village nearby, what condition would they find it in?

High above the treetops, Serelyth soared in wide circles, her keen eyes piercing the horizon. From her vantage, the endless forest stretched like a sea of green. But then—something darker broke its pattern. A scar of blackened wood and ash, where no birds stirred, no smoke rose. A village... or what once was.

Her heart clenched. She folded her wings and dove, cutting the air with sharp precision. When she returned, her massive form shook the branches as she landed. Dust swirled around her talons before she shifted smoothly back into her humanoid shape, her expression grim.

"There is a village," she said, her voice quieter than usual. "Or the husk of one. Burned to the ground. I saw no movement—no people, no livestock. Nothing alive."

The group fell silent.

Patricia’s face paled. "So the goblins...?"

"Perhaps," Serelyth answered with a curl of her lip. "Or worse. But it is dead now, whatever it was."

Renkai’s ears twitched, his sharp gaze moving toward Lira. "What do you think? We could move around it. Save time. Safer that way."

But Lira’s jaw was set, her eyes glinting with determination. "No. If there’s even a chance someone survived—or if we can learn what happened—we have to look. The goblins had that farmer’s tool for a reason."

Thalanir nodded slowly, his voice steady. "She’s right. A burned village still has answers hidden in its bones."

Serelyth folded her arms, studying Lira for a long moment. Then she inclined her head. "Very well, little fire. We’ll see the truth with our own eyes. But stay alert. Whatever destroyed that place may still linger."

With that, they set out, weaving through the dense trees. The air grew heavier as they approached, the scent of smoke and char clinging stubbornly to the soil even after the flames had long died.

And then the ruins came into view—blackened cottages collapsed into heaps, stone hearths cracked, the skeletons of wooden beams clawing at the sky. No voices, no footsteps, only silence.

The village was a graveyard.

They moved carefully among the ruins, the crunch of ash and broken wood underfoot the only sound. Lira crouched near a collapsed wall, brushing soot from a half-burnt carving that might once have been a family crest. Patricia stayed close, whispering about how heavy the silence felt, while Maelin traced her fingers along a scorched doorframe, her lips pressed tight.

Then Renkai froze. His ears flicked, sharp and alert.

"Wait," he said, raising a hand. His amber eyes narrowed as he tilted his head. "Do you hear that?"

The group fell still. At first there was nothing—just the hollow whistle of wind through broken timbers. But then, faint and muffled, came a sound. A trembling, uneven rhythm that tugged at the edges of their hearts.

A sob.

Serelyth’s eyes flashed. "It’s beneath us," she said, scanning the ruin of what had once been the largest building in the village. The roof had caved in, half the structure swallowed by rubble, but the sound was unmistakable now—coming from below, deep under the wreckage.

Thalanir stepped forward, pressing his palm to the scorched ground. "There’s space under here," he confirmed, his voice low. "A basement or storage room. Someone could still be alive."

Lira’s breath caught. She hurried forward, brushing aside a charred beam with both hands, ignoring the sting of splinters. "We have to get them out!"

Renkai grabbed her shoulder firmly. "Careful, little flame. One wrong pull and the whole thing could collapse."

Serelyth exhaled, annoyance flickering in her eyes, but she crouched beside them nonetheless. "Then we do this properly. Together."

Patricia and Maelin exchanged a look, their fear giving way to determination. All of them leaned in, peering toward the jagged gap where the soft sobbing drifted up like a fragile heartbeat.

"Whoever’s down there," Thalanir murmured, "they’ve been waiting in the dark a long time."

Together they pushed beams aside, Serelyth using her strength to heave the heavier stones while Renkai darted nimbly between the gaps, pulling away what he could. The sobs grew louder, echoing up through the dust until finally a broken hatchway was revealed.

Thalanir wrenched it open, the old wood cracking, and the group descended into the shadowed basement.

The air was damp and heavy with soot, the only light spilling in from above. Then they saw it—tucked against the far wall, behind iron bars crudely hammered together.

A cage.

Inside, a boy no older than ten huddled in the corner, his clothes torn and his face streaked with dirt. His wide eyes shimmered with terror as he pressed himself back, trembling.

Patricia gasped. Her fists tightened, and with a sudden surge she grabbed the barred door. Metal screeched under her grip, and with a sharp yank she tore it off its hinges like it was nothing. The sound echoed through the basement, making everyone stare.

Lira blinked, startled. "Patricia..." she whispered, eyes wide at the show of raw dragonborn strength.

Patricia tossed the twisted bars aside with a huff. "No child belongs in a cage."

But the boy only cried out and scrambled further into the corner, his tiny hands shielding his face. His breaths came quick and sharp, his whole body shaking.

"Wait." Lira reached out, gently catching Patricia’s wrist. "Stop. He’s terrified."

Slowly, she stepped forward. She crouched low, her movements calm and deliberate, her voice soft as a summer breeze.

"It’s alright," she said, her hand hovering just above the dusty ground. "We’re not here to hurt you. You’re safe now."

The boy’s tear-streaked eyes flicked to hers. His sobs quieted just a little, though he still pressed against the wall, watching her with the mistrust of someone who had only known cruelty.

Lira gave him a small, patient smile. "I promise. You don’t have to hide anymore."

The boy’s lips trembled, and for a long moment he only stared at her outstretched hand. Then, in a voice so small it was almost lost in the silence, he whispered,

"Will... will you put me in a cage too?" His shoulders shook as he clutched his knees tighter to his chest. "I don’t... I don’t want to be in a cage again."

Lira’s heart twisted. She shook her head firmly, her voice gentle but steady. "No. Never."

She lowered herself further, kneeling so she was eye-level with him, her hand still open in patient offering. "You’re free now. I won’t let anyone lock you away again. Come out... it’s safe. I promise."

The boy’s wide eyes shimmered with tears, searching her face for any sign of a lie. All he saw was warmth—the steady flame of trust.

His small fingers twitched, hesitant, before he slowly began to uncurl from the corner. One trembling hand lifted, hovering in the air.

Lira kept her posture still, calm, waiting. "That’s it," she murmured softly. "Come to me."

Finally, his little hand slid into hers.

The contact was feather-light at first, then desperate, clinging as if she were the only anchor in a storm. Lira closed her fingers gently around his and gave a reassuring squeeze.

"You’re safe," she whispered again. "You’re with us now."

Behind her, Patricia’s expression softened, guilt flashing across her features. Renkai’s eyes narrowed with quiet anger at what had been done, while Serelyth folded her arms, watching with a protective edge in her stance.

But in that moment, all that mattered was the boy’s shaking hand in Lira’s steady one.