The morning came with gray skies and the distant toll of a bell.
Bell awoke first, sitting up in his bed at The Moon's Respite. The sound was faint—one long, low ring echoing across the lake. It came from the abbey they'd visited the day before.
He rubbed his face, trying to make sense of it. "I thought the bell tower was broken…"
Seria stirred in the bed across from him. "I heard it too."
Cid rolled over on his pile of blankets in the corner. "Who rings a haunted bell at dawn? That's just bad manners."
By the time they finished breakfast—flatbread, mushrooms, and boiled eggs—the innkeeper stood waiting near the door.
"The bell," she said, eyes sharp. "Did you hear it?"
Bell nodded. "Yes. You know what it means?"
She hesitated. "It only tolls when the abbey wants something remembered."
Seria narrowed her eyes. "The abbey wants?"
The innkeeper didn't elaborate. She simply handed them a basket of supplies and said, "You should leave before nightfall."
Cid took a bite of bread. "She's full of sunshine."
They left Hollowmere shortly before noon. The mist clung low to the ground as they rode along a narrow woodland trail heading east. Bell led the way, cloak fluttering slightly, armor hidden beneath travel garb.
"We've been near obelisks, ancient ruins, and now haunted bells," he muttered. "Do either of you feel like we're being followed by... something older than us?"
"No," Seria said. "I feel like we're chasing something older than us."
Cid, riding in the back of the cart again, hummed an off-key tune. "I feel like I've got pine needles in my socks."
By midday, they reached a stone ridge overlooking the valley. The trees thinned out to reveal an open plain—and far in the distance, the spires of Ironhollow Fortress glinted in the sun.
Bell paused on the cliff's edge. "We'll need to stop in Fairhollow first for supplies."
"Fairhollow?" Seria smiled. "That's where you wrestled a drunk minotaur in a tavern last year."
"It was a misunderstanding."
"He thought you were flirting with his wife."
"She was a goat," Bell said defensively. "Like, literally a goat."
Cid nodded wisely. "You've got a type."
They laughed, and for a moment, the weight of mystery and ruins seemed far away.
That night, they camped beneath a twisted oak near a shallow stream. The fire crackled, and Bell sat polishing his sword while Seria scribbled notes beside him.
Cid laid on his back staring at the stars.
"Do you ever wonder," he said, "if all this ancient doom stuff ever ends happily?"
Bell looked over. "You mean legends?"
Cid nodded. "The powerful ones. The forgotten ones. The ones like Evelyne."
Seria's hand froze briefly on her journal.
Bell said, "I think they end in silence. Or worse—burial."
"That's not very romantic," Seria said.
"Truth rarely is," Bell replied.
Cid made a soft snore. "You're both killing the mood."
Far behind them, deep in the forest of Hollowmere, the abbey stood silent again.
But something had changed.
The vines had withered along its stone walls. The bell tower, long thought broken, swayed gently in the wind.
And beneath it, in the crypt beneath stone and silence, the figure in shadow opened a scroll.
The parchment was brittle, but the ink remained.
It read:
She who burns remembers still. The sun may hide her name, but shadow does not forget.
The figure stood.
The serpent coiled once around his arm.
Then both vanished into the dark.