But still no people.
Narrow streets wound between the structures, their dusty cobblestones worn smooth, choked with old refuse. A rank odor of decay tainted the air, mixing excrement and rot in a noxious brew.
Empty Night shook her head, snorting.
“No one has cleaned for at least a month,” Rynna agreed. “They left it all to putrefy.”
She slid down from her saddle and stood tall in the empty road.
“Go wait outside the city, girl.” Her sense of unease deepened. “Something’s not right in here. I’m not sure this is something you can fight.”
Empty Night pawed the ground, tossing her dark mane. They had fought countless beasts together, faced horrors side by side.
“I know you can handle anything, girl,” Rynna murmured, stroking the mare’s cheek. “But this place isn’t right. If things go bad, come back for me…or find the Horsemen.”
Empty Night’s ears swiveled, and she gave a sharp toss of her head.
Then she stepped forward, nuzzling her muzzle into Rynna’s chest, the warm weight of her breath pooling through the fabric.
“I mean it.” Rynna dipped her head, brow brushing against the mare’s. Her voice dropped lower. “I need to see what happened here.”
She didn’t know why that mattered, only that it did.
“I’ll meet you by the river tomorrow morning.” She placed a hand on the mare’s shoulder and gave it a firm push.
Empty Night resisted at first, hooves rooted, eyes searching her face. Then, with a long exhale, she shifted her weight and began to walk, each step reluctant. Her flank lingered in Rynna’s reach for a beat longer, then fell away as she moved toward the city gate.
Rynna watched until the fae horse disappeared around the corner, then squared her shoulders and strode into the market square. The sun beat harshly overhead, lengthening shadows across empty stalls and silent buildings. Mud and waste clung stubbornly to her boots.
No bodies lay in the streets. No signs of battle. Just an unsettling emptiness.
With her sword strapped firmly to her back and a growing knot of tension in her chest, Rynna moved deeper into the silent city.
Pausing outside a nearby structure, the subtle sound of a child’s giggle washed over her. She inhaled, stepping forward, approaching the door, which was now creaking open.
“Hey there.” A smile eased onto her face. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Rynna caught the glimmer of movement just beyond the warped wooden seam. A small hand moved against the inside of the door, fingers splayed, pushing tentatively.
The gap widened.
An eye appeared first, wide and watchful, followed by a tousled spill of yellow curls. The child’s face emerged next, peeking through the narrow opening with a brightness that didn’t belong in a place like this.
Rynna’s heart skipped as she knelt down closer to the child's height.
“Is that you?”
The door creaked open wider, and the child stepped into view.
Her voice trembled. “You’re not one of the monsters, are you?”
Rynna’s mouth pulled up. “Not a monster,” she said, then winked. “At least not today.”
The child’s eyes fell to the sword on Rynna's back before returning to her face.
“Are you going to save us?” she whispered.
Compelled by a force she couldn’t name, Rynna knelt to meet the child’s gaze directly. “I will try.”
