The young man who had taken Grey's ID plate gestured toward the largest building—a longhouse with a steeply pitched roof. "The Chief is waiting. Leave your beast here; it won't be harmed."

They entered the longhouse. Inside, a large hearth crackled in the center of the room, casting dancing shadows against walls decorated with old hunting trophies and faded tapestries.

Inside the dimly lit longhouse, Grey and Harlon were now across an elderly man. The rest of the group remained with the carriage, maintaining a defensive perimeter in the village square.

At the far end sat the elderly man, his face a map of deep wrinkles and old scars. His eyes, however, were sharp and clear, reflecting the firelight.

He looked at Grey's group, lingering for a second on Elena's hood and then on Harlon's Elven features.

"Veridian Academy," the Chief rasped, his voice like dry leaves. "It has been many years since we had 'Gilded Scholars' pass through these woods. I am Olden. Welcome to Oakhaven."

"Thank you for the hospitality, Chief Olden," Grey said, stepping forward. "We only seek a safe place to rest and feed our lizard before we continue toward the mountains at dawn."

Olden leaned on his gnarled wooden staff. "Safe? There is no such thing as safe in these woods once the sun dips below the horizon. You saw our guards. We are... a village under a shadow."

He gestured to the empty seats around the fire. "Sit. Eat. We have pottage and bread. But tell me, young leader—why does a Shadow Guard of the Elven Court and a group of first-years of the academy traveling together? These are not normal times."

Harlon narrowed his eyes, his hand drifting toward his sword hilt. "You know a lot for a village chief in the middle of nowhere."

Olden let out a dry, wheezing laugh. "I know that when the wolves are restless, the shepherds grow sharp eyes. Something is coming, isn't it?"

"I've also served at the world tree palace gardens as a slave in my youth, so I know when I see a special one from the palace." Olden said with a smirk.

Hearing that Harlon softened his grip on the hilt as his face relaxed.

"Lodging will be prepared for the nine of you," the Chief said, his smile kind but weary. "I expect two rooms will suffice—one for the young ladies and another for you young men."

Grey immediately shook his head. "We appreciate the offer, Chief, but we have a specialized carriage. We wouldn't want to impose."

"Nonsense," Olden insisted, leaning forward. "Rarely do warriors of your caliber grace our humble village. We wish to show you proper hospitality. Please, accept the rooms."

Seeing the sincerity in the old man's eyes—and knowing the group could use a night of actual sleep before the trials—Grey and Harlon shared a glance and nodded.

"Chief," Grey asked, leaning in. "How do you survive out here? We are deep in the woods. Do the Eclipse Beasts not find you?"

Olden let out a heavy sigh, the firelight catching the moisture in his eyes. "We have lived under the protection of the Guardian Spirit of the Forest for generations. It creates a sanctuary where the shadows cannot easily reach. But..." He paused, his voice trembling.

"For several days now, the Spirit has been silent. It no longer answers our rituals. Low-class beasts have begun to test our walls. We have held them off so far, but we are tired."

"If the sanctuary is failing," Harlon asked, his brow furrowed, "why stay? You must move to a fortified city like Veridian or the Elven fringes."

The Chief's smile turned tragic. "It is not that we choose to stay, Shadow Guard. We cannot leave. We are bound to the Guardian. Our life force is entwined with its domain. The moment any villager crosses the boundary of this forest, they simply... wither. We would die before we reached the outskirts."

The revelation hit Grey and Harlon like a physical blow. These people weren't just villagers; they were prisoners of their own sanctuary. There was a heavy silence as the two warriors realized there was no easy solution—no rescue mission could save people tied to the land itself.

Just then, a young boy hurried into the room, bowing low. "The rooms are ready, Grandfather."

Grey and Harlon stood, offering their thanks to the Chief before stepping out into the cool night air. They gathered the group and explained the situation.

Upon hearing they would have actual beds and a roof over their heads, a collective sigh of relief went up. Lenore and Elena looked especially grateful, the fatigue of the constant tension finally showing on their faces.

The young boy led them to a sturdy timber building near the center of the village.

The Girls were ushered into a room filled with the scent of dried lavender and fresh hay while the Boys took the larger adjacent room.

The boys' room was filled with the rhythmic sound of gear being unbuckled and bedrolls being laid out. Aeron, always the most observant of the trio, paused with his cloak half-off, looking at Grey's rigid posture.

"You've been wound tight since we crossed the gate, Grey," Aeron noted, his voice low. "What did the old man say in there? Why the long faces?"

Grey leaned against the wooden frame of the window, the moonlight catching the bandage on his hand. He and Harlon exchanged a silent, heavy look.

Finally, Grey spoke, recounting the Chief's story: the silent Guardian Spirit, the villagers who vanished into dust, and the terrible curse that bound their lives to the forest floor.

Blaze stopped midway through unpacking. "Bound to the land? So they're basically cattle in a pen, waiting for the Eclipse Beasts to get hungry?"

"That's what it sounds like," Harlon replied grimly, crossing his arms. "The Chief calls it a 'sanctuary,' but a sanctuary you can't leave is just a well-decorated prison."

Zenon and Solmon nodded slowly, their skepticism echoing Grey's. In a world where Eclipse Beasts were becoming more daring, a "silent" protector was rarely a good sign.

"Don't dwell on it too much," Grey said, sensing the mood in the room darkening.

"We're guests for one night. We aren't here to solve the mysteries of the forest; we're here to keep Elena moving. Get some sleep. We move out at first light."

The others muttered their agreement and climbed into the sturdy wooden beds provided by the village.

The room soon filled with the steady breathing of tired warriors.

But Grey didn't move. He pulled a heavy wooden chair to the window and sat down, his eyes fixed on the treeline.

Deep in the forest, where the moonlight couldn't reach, the shadows seemed to pulse. He felt a strange, vibrating hum in the back of his mind—not quite a sound, but a pressure.

He thought about the "Guardian Spirit." If it had truly stopped protecting the village, why were there only low-class beasts attacking? It felt less like a failure of protection and more like... a baited trap.

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