The day began quietly.
Lindsay and Kraft were on patrol again, boots tapping softly against the cobblestone streets of the village just outside the main town. The faint clinking of armor and hushed conversations filled the air. Guards from the capital had set up near the local café, laughing gently over warm drinks, exchanging gossip and trivial banter. The villagers went about their routines, nodding politely as they passed the two officers.
Lindsay stood with Kraft near the edge of the square, exchanging quiet words and smiles with a baker they had come to know over the last few months. Kraft was unusually relaxed for once, letting the late afternoon sun ease his usual tension. A peaceful moment, brief and delicate.
Then, everything changed.
The shift was sudden. Both Lindsay and Kraft felt it. A pressure, like the sudden drop in air before a storm. Lindsay turned, eyes narrowing. Her gaze fell upon him. The same boy from two weeks ago, now standing across the street in plain sight. His expression unreadable, his form cloaked in that same robe, loose and weathered, shadowing his upper frame. He wasn't hiding—he never had.
Kraft's hand immediately went to the hilt of his blade.
Too late.
In the blink of an eye, the boy stood before them. Lindsay hadn't even seen him move. Kraft froze, not because of fear, but because something instinctive screamed at him not to act. The boy's hand was already on Lindsay's shoulder.
A single breath passed. No one else dared intervene.
Then the boy spoke, his voice calm, dissonantly gentle.
"You need to come with me."
Lindsay stiffened. Her mind raced. She weighed her options, her hand hovering near her waist. But something about his eyes held her still. This wasn't a request. Yet, oddly, it wasn't a threat either.
She gave a small nod. Reluctant, but composed.
And in that same split second, they vanished. No light, no noise. Simply gone.
They reappeared in silence. The wooden floor beneath Lindsay's boots creaked faintly. She looked around, disoriented for a brief moment, then registered the interior. A modest home. Sparse, old, forgotten. Books stacked against the wall, an old coat flung over a chair, a cracked window letting in filtered forest light.
She turned to face him.
"Why did you bring me here?"
He said nothing at first. Instead, he raised his hand and pointed behind her.
Lindsay turned slowly.
On the floor, partially hidden behind a makeshift curtain, lay a girl. Young. Shivering. Her skin pale, forehead beaded with sweat. Her breaths were shallow and rapid.
Lindsay knelt beside her immediately, instinct taking over. She touched the girl's forehead, then checked her pulse.
"She has a fever. She's not doing well."
The boy's voice came again, barely above a whisper.
"She's sick. She needs help."
Lindsay glanced back at him, the pieces beginning to click into place.
"Is this why the doctors have been disappearing? Are you the reason?"
He nodded slowly.
"I brought them here. I let them leave after."
She studied him carefully. The words were simple, but her gut told her there was truth buried inside them. Not the full story. But enough.
"Most of them never came back."
He didn't answer.
She turned back to the girl.
"I need medicine. Real medicine. Fever reducers, antibiotics if this is worse than it looks. I don't have anything on me."
He looked down, visibly frustrated.
"I don't have money."
She bit her lip. Thought quickly.
"Take me to Regin Village. They have a real pharmacy. I can convince someone there."
He hesitated for the first time. Then nodded.
Back in the village square, chaos slowly spread.
Kraft stood alone, stunned. One second Lindsay was there, and the next—she wasn't. The moment replayed over and over in his mind. He could still feel the pressure in the air, still sense the presence that now vanished. He shook it off and rushed to the nearest guard, his voice urgent.
"She disappeared. He took her. Just vanished. We need to notify the castle."
The guards scrambled, some scattering into alleyways, others locking down the immediate area. Kraft didn't wait for confirmation. He sprinted back to the capital, cape flying behind him, heart pounding in his chest.
Inside the castle, tension hung thick in the air.
Kraft stood before the Chief Officer. The room was lit by only a few overhead lamps, casting sharp shadows across the marble floor. The Chief listened in silence, face unmoved as Kraft reported every detail.
When Kraft finished, he expected questions. Instead, the Chief turned away, eyes distant, fixed on something unseen.
"So he's back," he murmured.
Kraft blinked.
"Sir?"
The Chief turned back, but not to Kraft.
"Bring me the prisoner," he said to one of the subordinates standing at the edge of the room.
Kraft opened his mouth to ask, then thought better of it. Something bigger was moving, far beyond what he'd been told.
But one thing was certain:
Lindsay was gone, and he wouldn't rest until he got her back.