As the group continued their journey, the oppressive weight of the Illusory Blooms lifted further behind them. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the vast, rolling landscape ahead. After hours of travel, they finally crested a hill, and in the distance, a town came into view, nestled between two towering cliffs.
Kaelen squinted, his sharp eyes catching sight of the settlement. "There," he pointed. "A town. We might be able to rest and gather supplies."
The others followed his gaze, taking in the sight. The town seemed peaceful, almost forgotten by time, with ancient, weathered stone buildings and narrow, winding streets. Despite its small size, there was something strange about it—something that made it stand out from the usual bustling villages they have seen before.
"That’s the Town of Old," Guinevere said softly, her expression thoughtful as she gazed upon it.
"The Town of Old?" Morris repeated, intrigued. "I’ve heard stories about it. No one knows how or when it was built, right?"
Guinevere nodded. "Exactly. The town’s origins are shrouded in mystery. There are no records of its founding, no legends that explain its existence. It’s been here for as long as anyone can remember, and yet, no one seems to know how it came to be."
Ethan frowned as they descended the hill toward the town. "That’s odd. You’d think there would be some historical account, especially for a place that old."
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Sofia glanced around warily, still feeling uneasy after their encounter in the Illusory Bloom field. "So, is it abandoned? Or do people still live there?"
"Oh, people live there," Guinevere replied, her voice steady but cautious. "But the town has a reputation. Travelers say it has an eerie atmosphere, like time moves differently within its borders. Some claim the inhabitants are… strange."
"Strange how?" Kaelen asked, his curiosity piqued.
Guinevere hesitated before answering. "Some say they’re too quiet, too detached. As if they know something the rest of the world doesn’t. Others claim they’re ageless—that they’ve lived in the town for centuries without aging a day."
"That sounds like something straight out of a ghost story," Ethan muttered, but there was a hint of unease in his voice.
"Whether the stories are true or not," Kaelen said, eyeing the town ahead, "we’re low on supplies, and we need a place to rest. We’ll just have to be cautious."
As they approached the outskirts of the town, the eerie atmosphere Guinevere had spoken of became more apparent. The streets were quiet, almost unnervingly so. There were no sounds of market stalls or lively chatter, no children playing in the streets. Instead, an odd stillness hung in the air.
The town’s buildings were made of ancient stone, worn by time and weather. Moss crept up the sides of some structures, and vines twisted around others. It looked as though the town had been here for centuries, untouched by the outside world. Yet, faint plumes of smoke rose from a few chimneys, and distant shadows moved behind windows, signaling that the town was indeed inhabited.
Kaelen led the way, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as they entered the main street. The others followed close behind, their eyes scanning the empty roads and silent buildings.
"Creepy place," Morris muttered, his grip tightening on his weapon. "I don’t like it."
Guinevere kept her voice low. "Just stay calm. We don’t know what kind of people live here, but we need to rest and replenish our supplies."
As they ventured deeper into the town, they passed a few townsfolk—pale, silent figures who watched them from the doorways and windows. Their eyes followed Kaelen and the group with an unnerving stillness, but none of them spoke or approached.
Ethan shuddered. "I’ve got a bad feeling about this."
Kaelen glanced back at his friends, his expression unreadable. "Let’s find a place to stay for the night. We’ll gather what we need and leave as soon as we can."
As they pressed on, the strange and ancient town wrapped itself around them, its silent streets and mysterious inhabitants offering no explanation for the secrets it held.
As Kaelen and the others wandered through the unnervingly silent streets, trying to decide where they might find shelter for the night, a figure appeared at the far end of the road. The man’s presence seemed to materialize from the shadows, and his slow, deliberate steps drew their attention instantly.
He was tall and gaunt, with an air of authority that couldn’t be missed. His clothing, though simple, was immaculately kept—a long dark robe with intricate, ancient symbols embroidered along its edges. His face, pale and lined with age, bore sharp, watchful eyes that seemed to pierce right through them. His approach was quiet, but the tension that accompanied it was palpable.
Kaelen instinctively placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, his body tense, but he made no move to draw it. The others followed suit, standing their ground but not making any sudden movements.
When the man finally stopped a few paces from them, he looked them over with a careful, almost calculating gaze. After what felt like a long moment of uncomfortable silence, he spoke, his voice calm but laced with suspicion.
"Who are you, strangers?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And what business do you have here in the Town of Old?"
Kaelen exchanged a quick glance with Guinevere before stepping forward to answer. "We’re travelers," he began, his tone measured and respectful, though his guard remained up. "We’ve been on a long journey, and we came across your town in need of supplies and a place to rest."
The man’s eyes flicked to each of them in turn, as if weighing the truth of Kaelen’s words. "You chose a dangerous path to arrive here," he said slowly, his gaze lingering on Kaelen for a moment longer. "This is no ordinary town, and outsiders rarely visit us."
"We’re aware," Guinevere spoke up, her voice steady. "We’ve heard the stories. But we mean no harm. We just need rest before continuing on our journey."
The man’s expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of something behind his sharp eyes. He seemed to consider their words for a moment before responding. "I am Doran, the chief of this town. You must understand, we are cautious of those who pass through here."
Kaelen nodded, keeping his tone respectful. "We understand, Chief Doran. We won’t overstay our welcome."
Doran studied them for a moment longer, his fingers idly brushing the edges of his robe. "Tell me, where exactly are you headed? Your kind does not simply stumble upon a place like this without a reason."
Ethan shifted uncomfortably at Doran’s scrutiny, but Kaelen didn’t falter. "We’re heading beyond this town, toward the capital, and perhaps beyond that. Our journey has taken us through many strange places, but this town is the first of its kind."
Doran’s lips thinned into a tight line. "The capital, you say? Interesting. Few venture that far. You must know, travelers rarely leave this town without consequences."
’Huh? Why did Kaelen lie to him?’ Ethan thought as he looked at Kaelen in a strange way. But Kaelen simply ignored him.
Morris stepped forward, eyes narrowed. "Consequences? What does that mean?"
Doran didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering. "The Town of Old is not like other places. Those who pass through are often… changed. I will allow you to stay the night, but be warned: this town is not always kind to those who do not understand it."
A chill ran down Sofia’s spine at his words, but she kept her composure. "We’ll be careful."
Doran’s sharp eyes lingered on Sofia for a moment longer than the others before he finally stepped back. "Follow me," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I will arrange a place for you to stay."
Kaelen nodded, giving a subtle signal to the others to follow. They walked in tense silence behind Doran as he led them through the winding streets, the eerie stillness of the town pressing down on them with every step.
As they walked, Ethan leaned toward Kaelen and whispered, "What do you think he meant by ’changed’? This place is giving me the creeps."
Kaelen kept his eyes forward, his hand still resting on his sword. "I don’t know. But we need to stay alert. Something about this town doesn’t feel right."
Guinevere, overhearing, nodded subtly. "We’ll take turns keeping watch tonight. I don’t trust this place."
Morris glanced around warily, his grip on his scepter which he has already brought out of his storage ring tight. "Let’s just get through the night without any trouble."
Doran led them to an old stone building near the center of town, its walls covered in moss and ivy. "You may rest here for the night," he said, gesturing toward the door. "But remember my warning: this town has its own way of dealing with outsiders."
With that, he turned and left them at the entrance, his form disappearing into the shadows of the town as quietly as he had appeared.
As the group entered the building, the air inside felt cold and damp, though the structure itself seemed sturdy enough. Kaelen looked around, the unease still gnawing at him.
"We’ll take turns keeping watch," he said, his voice low but firm. "No one goes anywhere alone."
The others nodded in agreement, each of them unsettled by Doran’s cryptic words and the strange atmosphere of the town.
Whatever secrets the Town of Old held, they weren’t about to let their guard down. Not now.