The sun had barely risen when the horns sounded. Lyra, half-awake, grabbed her bow and ran out of her hut. Smoke already curled above the far edge of the village—the Dark Forest side.

  “They’re here again!” someone shouted.

  Villagers scattered as shadows spilled out of the tree line. Varkhul’s soldiers, faces covered, weapons drawn, moved like wolves in black armor.

  Lyra’s heart pounded. Another raid. Another day of death.

  She pulled back her bowstring and fired. Her arrow struck one of the raiders, but the man kept walking, eyes blank, dead long before she shot.

  “Dead warriors…” she whispered. “Why are they using corpses now?”

  Across the field, Varkhul himself stepped forward—towering, hooded, pale eyes glowing like moonlight.

  Time froze. Literally. The wind stopped. Fire paused mid-air. Shouting villagers hung motionless. Only Lyra could still move—protected by a divine charm Aureon had once given her. Varkhul’s cold gaze swept the village. He said one word.

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  It felt like thunder: “Where?”

  His crew searched frantically—ripping huts apart, overturning carts, digging through soil with bare hands They ignored the frozen villagers. They weren't killing. They weren't stealing gold or grain. They were searching.

  Searching for what? Lyra wondered, her hand trembling on her bow.

  She tightened her grip. For the first time, something felt… off. This was not a mindless raid of evil. This was desperate.

  Just as quickly as it began, a signal passed through the dark ranks. The raiders suddenly retreated, moving back into the forest shadows as fast as they came.

  As the last shadow vanished, time unfroze.

  Whoosh. The fire crackled again. The shouts continued exactly where they left off. Villagers gasped, stumbling as life returned to their bodies.

  “What did they want this time?” a farmer yelled, dropping the axe from his hand. “Why didn’t they kill everyone?” “Why did they burn the healer’s hut but leave the livestock?”

  Lyra lowered her bow, staring at the empty path where Varkhul had disappeared. She didn't join the panic. She stood frozen, replaying the moment in her head.

  “He wasn’t attacking us,” she murmured to herself, a chill running down her spine. “He was searching for something.”

  She looked down at her hands. The village was safe for now, but the silence left behind by the Dead God felt heavier than the raid itself.

  And somewhere deep in the dark forest, underneath roots and bones, something else stirred. Something waking. Something that had been calling.