When the forger arrived, he didn't meet the machinations of war he had expected to. No shrieks, no clangs of steel, and above all, no movement.
All that confronted him was the silent swim of mist. The battlefield stretching across the cave entrance was dead, littered with the unfortunate corpses of the humans and beasts alike. Weapons laid broken and sinking in thin mud. Bark and chitin torn and sprinkled generously along every which way. Blood from both species pooling to form a pugnacious river. It was morbidity at its finest, yet the mist drifted lazily as if nothing but a usual night had happened.
And that was too odd to be true. Whether the mist or the battlefield had been right about the events that had transpired, something should have remained to tell him.
No writhing beasts, no people. Even if the ushers had been overwhelmed, it was impossible for all to have died. Someone would have slipped through. That was how humans worked.
So this couldn't have been extinction.
"They had planned to leave anyways..." he muttered.
Then frowned. As far as he knew, the chamber had not settled on another location in favour of this. So for the time being, the surviving ushers would be left to wander out, vulnerable and desperate.
And the chain reactions that would cause, could be quite serious.
The forger let out a huff as he looked at the mutilated bodies. They symbolised fruitless conflict. It wasn't their fault, but it was their cross to carry.
With yet another huff, he walked towards the cave entrance. The tunnel was dark, lacking the sparse torches that usually lent it light. Worse was the crowd it now hosted.
The mains of the battle had been held here, and he didn't need anyone to tell him so. Bodies woven together by brutal means cluttered the descent like a bumpy red carpet.
Despite the sinister topography, he kept moving because he knew why he was here. The cave was silent, but that didn't mean it was empty.
Several minutes passed by as he hopped between the seams on the organic soil in his descent. Eventually he noticed the faint orange flickering, crawling out from one of the side rooms.
Fire.
He stepped in without hesitation and beheld Godfrey. He was sitting upon a stone slab, lazily staring into the dim flames. His guard stood a foot behind, resembling a manuqin with his emotionless and unmoving features. The forger had been quite surprised as to how the man always managed to remain like that, but what surprised him even more, was the wisps of smoke floating around.
Godfrey was smoking.
"Do you know what you're smoking?" he asked.
Godfrey glanced at him, exhaling another slow cloud of smoke his direction with a thin smirk.
"Something harmful I suppose, but a man needs his bad habits to remain human."
His casual reply was annoying, but the forger's shroud hid his expression. He hummed approvingly.
"....your lungs were already bound to rot away. So you have nothing to lose."
Godfrey's expression cracked for a brief instant. "Cut to the chase. What news brings you here?"
"Nothing actually," the forger turned towards the tunnel. "I was just here to check if anyone remained under rubble, waiting to be saved."
He began walking away.
"I'll be on my way now."
"...wait."
The words echoed with dull resonance, but the forger felt his limbs stop a fraction of a second before he had.
Godfrey did his thing for another long eight seconds. He leaned in as the roll of whatever he was smoking fell from his lips.
"How's the forge coming along?"
The forger caught his cough. "Quite nicely, but I was delayed but a bit of this and that," he replied with calm. "...a few days at worst."
Godfrey stepped down on the stick of indigenous cigarette. "Disappointing, but what can I do besides nod?"
He glanced at his guard, then back to the forger. "You can have your leverage. The recent fiasco bought us some time," he straightened up. "But not enough, so hurry."
The forger snorted beneath his shroud, but nodded still. His eyes briefly shifted onto the guard.
Then he left without looking back.
***
They had spent a few weeks now together, but neither knew the other's name. It didn't really matter though, friendship had not formed the alliance in the first place.
They were shoulder-to-shoulder, crouched atop a ridge as they watched a small band of predators limp through the forest, leaving a small fraction of their insides on the floor with every step.
The beasts were sluggish with their movements,
trudging through mud like they had just had a litre of alcohol.
"They are badly injured," said the taller entrant as he adjusted his grip on his javelin. His acquaintance nodded, setting for a quick lunge.
They descended in synchrony, moving at blurring speed fast enough to beat the predators reaction time.
The javelin thrower struck first, his weapon pinning the head of the rear end beast before it pivoted its hanging limbs. The shorter entrant rushed in, burying his blade into the eye of the nearest one, then ducked beneath the sluggish swipe of the next attempting to salvage the situation.
The beasts fought back, hardwired never to retreat. But exhaustion ruined them. The instinctual coordination that had always been present in their numbers was lacking, much to the delight of the attacking men.
The flashed ended quickly. Few flashes of steel was all it took to set up a new grave site under the canopies of trees. The two men didn't waste they time in the open, they quickly disassembled the ribs of the dead beasts and extracted the glowing cores. When they were done, six cores rested dully inside a leather pouch.
In the forest, such sights were the only things that could bring joy, especially if gotten with little effort.
They returned to their shelter shortly after. The camp was a shade of broad leaf trees felled and tied tightly together like a roof, leaving a house of space under its cover. Inside, it swallowed both men comfortably, with enough room for five more.
"Something is wrong."
"Something is always wrong, that's the holy grail of this goddamned place."
The shorter man stared out, peering past the locks of draping vines and into the mist. "Yes, but this is different."
"What makes you say so?"
"Didn't you hear the tape of war that has been playing? We've stayed long enough to know that that's not regular. Maybe it's the compression."
The taller entrant shook his head. "Unlikely..."
"...the Owl said the forest changes constantly, but slowly enough that it irritates no one. So whatever caused whatever happened is probably not the forest itself."
"Then what?"
The taller entrant followed his eyes, staring into the darkness too. "Something else. Who knows? You could be right. But either way, it isn't tonight's problem...I'm tired."
With that, they settled into their hay made beds and let sleep wash over them.
***
Morning arrived like a child sneaking into their room. Light filtered through mist, beautiful and pale. For those who had endured the darkness, this wasn't just dawn.
It was proof.
Proof that they could cheat death. Despite the furnace of blood and steel they had been thrown into–
They had survived. Not because they were extraordinary. But because they were no longer ordinary humans.