The marketplace stretched before them like a battlefield after retreat, banners fluttering like tattered flags above the carnage of trade. Each overturned barrel and discarded crate seemed to mark the path of an unseen marauder, an invasion waged without a single foot soldier. Ana navigated the chaos carefully, each deliberate step coaxing secrets from the neglected stones.

  The cluttered square seemed to hold its breath, suspended in a fragile silence that teetered on the brink of chaos. Scorch marks marred the walls, stark against the weathered wood and stone. They told a story of destruction, deliberate and cruel, but not of what had caused it.

  Caden hesitated, picking his way through the debris. "What do you think happened here?" he asked, his voice filled with both apprehension and the eager need to know.

  "Looks like you've had some company," Ana remarked, her voice low and edged with grim certainty. Her gaze swept over the broken remnants of the marketplace, noting the way even fear had left its imprint on the cobblestones.

  The old man nodded, his face lined with exhaustion as he examined the ruin. "They came in the night," he said, the weight of memory sagging his voice. "No warning, no mercy. We didn't hear them until it was too late."

  Ana's eyes narrowed, her suspicion honing to a sharp point. "Demons?"

  "At first we thought so," he admitted, hesitating. "But there were men among them, too. Moving like shadows—organized."

  A sharp voice cut through the distance, drawing their attention. "It's worse than we thought," a man said, his tone tight with urgency. Garin, the lead merchant, beckoned them closer with a trembling hand. He stood at the edge of the square, flanked by other townspeople whose eyes shifted with anxious anticipation.

  Garin's eyes darted from Ana to Caden and back, the nervous energy around him palpable. "We tried to fix it ourselves, but it's beyond us," he confessed.

  Ana regarded him with a mix of understanding and impatience. "Show me."

  He nodded, leading them to a wall where the scorch marks were deepest. The stone bore strange, dark symbols, each stroke etched with purpose and haste. Ana's eyes narrowed as she recognized the design—runes meant to mark and claim.

  "This is the Syndicate's mark," Garin said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, as if speaking the words aloud might invoke the danger they feared.

  Ana bent closer, her fingers tracing the rough carvings. "Looks like they wanted to make a statement," she said, her tone sharp with suspicion. The runes glared back at her, taunting with their crimson defiance.

  Caden knelt beside her, his curiosity overcoming his caution. "I thought they were just a rumor," he said, eyes wide as he studied the symbols.

  "They're real enough," Ana replied. Her jaw clenched, memories of the Syndicate's reach and ruthlessness rushing back to her with unwelcome familiarity. "And they don't make threats lightly."

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Caden picked up a scrap of cloth from the ground, the fabric stained with deep red markings. He showed it to Ana, her voice hushed with discovery. "They're summoning something."

  Ana took the cloth, her expression darkening. The pieces fell into place.

  "How can you tell just from this?" Caden asked in disbelief.

  "It's not what it is," Ana said, the ache of realization hardening her tone. "It's who it belongs to." She held up the cloth, letting him see the familiar weave and worn edges. "Look closely. They've got—"

  "Hostages?" Caden interrupted, his eyes wide with shock.

  Ana flicked his forehead again, frustration edging her movements. "No. Hostages you usually plan to trade or ransom. They aren't interested in either." Her gaze darkened, the truth settling like a stone. "These people are offerings."

  Caden's eyes widened further, the weight of her words sinking in. He looked back to the cloth, understanding dawning with grim clarity. "But why would they—"

  Ana cut him off, her expression taut with urgency. "To draw something bigger," she said. The enormity of what the Syndicate was attempting struck her, a darkness that now seemed to engulf the town.

  Caden paled, the enormity of her words sinking in. He is piecing together what it meant for those taken—and for the town left behind. "Then it's not just a raid! They're coming back."

  Ana tucked the stained cloth into her belt.

  Caden's words struck the villagers with visceral force, panic swelling in their eyes as if demons already clawed at their doors. Ana straightened, her spine stiff with resolve, and spoke before they could descend into desperate clamor. "We know what they're up to now," she declared, her voice slicing through the fear like a well-honed blade. "And we have an advantage they won't expect."

  Garin blinked at her, hope battling doubt across his furrowed brow. "An advantage? Against them?"

  The old man sagged against the wall, despair furrowing his brow as he absorbed Ana's conclusion. "They mean to take everything from us," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

  Ana shook her head, cutting through the old man's despair with a sharp look. "Not if I have anything to say about it," she countered, her defiance rekindling a flicker of hope among the townsfolk. She rested a steadying hand on Caden's head, ruffling his hair in a rare show of camaraderie. "You've got us," she said with fierce determination, glancing from one anxious face to the next. "But we need to move quickly."

  Caden nodded, shaking off his earlier shock and standing taller beside Ana.

  "Yeah! Don't worry, we're here!" he said, his voice bursting with enthusiasm, as if their mere presence could banish the looming threat.

  Ana allowed herself a wry smile, bemused by his unshakeable optimism. Garin looked at Caden, then back at Ana, and slowly nodded, as if daring to believe that the hope offered to them wasn't just another phantom.

  "If you have a plan..." Garin began, but Ana was already moving quick on her heels.

  Caden met her gaze, his resolve hardening despite the fear that lingered at the edges. "What's the plan?"

  She turned back to the old man and Garin. "Gather everyone. We need to know who's missing and what supplies we can use.

  Ana's command cut through the air with urgency that's impossible to ignore. Within the hour, a ragtag assembly of men and women stood before her, their faces masks of fear. The turnout was both heartening and disheartening—barely more than a dozen souls, each clutching tarnished weapons or rusted farming implements. Their clothes hung loose and tattered, like flags of surrender lashed by the wind.

  She scanned the small crowd, her mind working furiously to transform this desperate band into something resembling a defense force. "It's not enough," she muttered under her breath. Caden shifted uneasily beside her, sensing her hesitation.

  Caden nodded, his apprehension tempered by determination. He didn't know exactly what they were up against, but he knew Ana—and that was enough.

  But there was no turning back now; she was already too deeply entangled in their need.