**The Grey Village**
Draven.
A forgotten village, covered in ashes.
The burned houses still gave off the smell of old smoke.
The people walked with lowered heads, like living shadows.
Souta walked in silence, the spoon tied to his belt.
Meliora held his hand tightly, as if afraid she would vanish if she let go.
Pikonota observed everything with sharp eyes, serious, suspicious.
An elder approached, leaning on a worn staff.
His voice was hoarse, broken by time.
— Strangers… beware.
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— This village has been cursed.
Souta narrowed his eyes.
— A curse?
The old man nodded, tears in his eyes.
— Every night, shadows appear.
— They take our young.
— We no longer have the strength to resist.
Meliora squeezed Souta’s hand tightly.
— Lord Kihara… we need to do something.
Souta sighed, looking up at the grey sky.
— It always falls on me.
The group was received in a simple house.
The people offered hard bread and water, as thanks.
But no one smiled.
No one dared to sing.
When the moon rose, the silence became suffocating.
No crickets, no wind.
Only the sound of the villagers’ restrained breathing.
Then, they heard it.
A whisper.
Low, dragging, like voices of the dead.
The shadows appeared.
They were specters.
Distorted bodies, red eyes glowing in the dark.
They moved like living smoke, sliding through the walls.
Pikonota raised her hand.
— **Ice Wall!**
The ground froze, raising a crystalline barrier.
But the shadows passed through as if it were nothing.
Intangible.
— Damn… — Pikonota stepped back, gritting her teeth.
Souta advanced, raising the spoon.
— **Dragon’s Dessert Spoon: Fire Roar!**
Green flames exploded, lighting up the night.
The shadows screamed, but did not disappear.
They only multiplied.
The entire village trembled.
The children cried.
The elder fell to his knees.
And the whispers grew louder.
— *Come… join us…*
