Chapter 292: Graveyard of Bones

The wind whips at his delicate face. His brows are drawn into a frown—a slight crease between his eyebrows. His fingertips are curled around the soft silvery fur of the beast's back as he rides. Moulin's trust on Snow was great. He knew there was definitely something bothering the Kier and Snow. Whatever it was, they were going to find out.

Silver eyes glanced at the massive wolf beside him. Kier was huffed like a wolf in the hunt, chasing down its prey. His jaws are bared and angry. The man atop the back of the giant beast showed nothing of his emotions as he rode. His golden eyes are sharp as if suspicious of the wind brushing his face. However, Moulin knew what indeed was the reason for the lord's stern expression.

Not long after, the stench of something burning entered their noses. Snow scrunched up his face, shaking his snout as he continued forward. No doubt the smoke was irritating his nose. The young man raised his silver eyes and paused, spotting a tiny light not far from them.

Could it be...

He instinctively turned to Hadrian, who met his gaze. Hadrian was frowning.

Something was amiss...

The stench was growing stronger and stronger. To the point, Moulin wanted to cover his nose and bail. The closer they neared the light, the stronger it became.

Whoosh!

A sudden wave of heat suddenly brushed past them.

This Moulin was certain something terrible had occurred. And he was right.

Before them, a massive fire towered over them. Its flames are growing higher than the tower it had engulfed. The sound of the scorching fire as it devoured the wood and stone echoed in Moulin's ears. The outpost is burning.

"No..." Moulin stared with wide eyes. Disbelief marred his elegant countenance as the orange light caressed his face. The sparks and blazes were reflected in his silver eyes as the building burned down.

....................

Crack! Snap!

A sigh escaped tight lips as the man placed down the charged wood, remnants of the fire smothered a few minutes ago. His sword belt made a sound as he rose from the grass. Emlen looked around, at the wandering dazed men, at the burnt objects and ashes around them, and at his little brother, who was sitting on a black rock with an unknown expression.

Frustration was brimming inside Emlen. Exhaling deeply, the man rubbed his face with his hands, ignoring the smears of coal from his fingers.

'What were they going to do now?'

At the far side of the burnt tower, Jagra lowered himself to the ground. He picked up a small piece of burnt parchment, probably the last bit left in the archive of the building. He lowered his gaze and stared at it while rubbing off the burnt edges of it.

"Everything is gone." Ghana carefully shifted the pile of stone before her with a frown. "No food, no water, no documents, no shelter, no weapons."

"And no bodies..." One of the men said with a sigh. "What in the world happened?"

"It couldn't be the work of a malibreed. We have not sensed even a single one of those damn creatures for miles." Ghana said. The butt of her spear pierced the ground.

"Thieves..." Moulin abruptly opened as he raised his head.

Emlen sighed. "Could be..."

...

A few seconds of silence passed, the cloud of gloom and hopelessness enshrouds their figures.

"What should we do now?" One of the men asked. Despair clouded his voice as he spoke.

Moulin clenched his fists. Even he, too, was unsure about how they would survive. Suddenly, he felt Snow nudge him with his long snout. Moulin smiled faintly as he furrowed his brows. Raising his hand, he reached out to caress the golden-marked crown of the Mystic beast's head. Snow made a low sound as he sat on the charred earth. Blinking, he rested the weight of his head in Moulin's lap, aiming to comfort his depressed master.

"It is getting dark..." Hadrian finally spoke. "We will keep moving. If we do not find any shelter by the hour, we'll head to the forest."

There was the faint presence of anxiety in the air the moment Hadrian's words sank in their ears. They only have the last of their rations, and their water had run out. Exhaustion had worn them out. If they do not find any food and water soon, they would be too weak even to defend themselves. He thought of this worried Moulin. However, Hadrian's words were true.

If they do not keep moving, how will they survive? This place wasn't entirely safe yet. Malibreeds could be heading their way right now. The fire was too bright. It should've caught the attention of some beasts.

"Let's... keep moving."

Emlen nodded, dusting off his knees. His eyes swept around the area one last time before he went to Moulin. The others exchanged glances but soon rose and readied themselves for departure.

"Ao?"

Snow slightly lifted his head, curiously. Watching the other men rising from the ground, Moulin patted Snow's head gently. "Let's get going, Snow. We have to keep moving." We can't give up.

"Ao!" Snow barked loudly. Then in the next instant, Snow's body glowed brightly, and the once massive beast transformed back to his miniature form. Snow hopped into the open satchel on the ground and peeked at Moulin, waiting for his master to pick up the bag.

"..." Moulin blinked. He was already too late to warn Snow. In the end, he could only sigh as he wore the strap over his shoulder.

The rocks and wood crumbled beneath his boots as he walked. When he raised his head, all he could see was the usual darkening. The dull clouds appeared to loom over their heads, following them like a sign of misfortune. Moulin concealed his nervousness before he went to the others.

They kept walking and walking, keeping their senses sharp for any sign of danger. At night, it would be hard for them to see. Sometime later, they started to encounter small shrubs. The grass had grown taller, and cool air began to envelop them. At last, they reached the edge of the forest. However, they made not one step forward.

Bones of different sizes littered around the area. Broken skulls of animals looked like they were crushed to death before being gnawed alive. The stench was too much, and there was even some meat left on the bones. Everything screamed of a warning, like the smell of something rotten and dead. A menacing aura swirls around them like a creeping ghost tapping on your shoulder, sensing chills up their spines.

Moulin narrowed his eyes. He clutched the strap of his satchel subconsciously as he stared at the area before him. They didn't have time to change their routes, and darkness was fast approaching. They were losing light. Moulin heartbeat quickened. He was sure he wasn't the only one pretending to be calm.

"Are we really going in there?" Jagra spoke worriedly. He glanced at the bones around them. "The place explains itself really well."

"Where else are we supposed to go?" Ghana sighed, massaging her temples before unstrapping her spear from behind her. She weighed the weapon in her hand as if to prepare herself for a fight. "There's no other way than forward."

The men began to talk. They turned restless as they waited for the command of their leader. Lord Hadrian was too quiet as he surveys the entire scene before him. Emlen wasn't less calm as he swept his eyes around him.

"Something's not right..." Emlen spoke.

Hadrian lowered his head. After a while, he spoke. "The bones are arranged."

Moulin and the others scrutinized the bones. Silver eyes eyed the positions carefully. Then he noticed the distinct ways they were positioned. There were too many skulls. The bones around them looked as if they were scattered randomly. Moulin approached one of the animal skulls and crouched down to have a closer look. This one was completely intact, with no scrapes or cracks.

There was a red smear beneath one of the eye sockets. Dark red and dry. Blood. It appeared to be just the size of a fingerprint. Moulin raised his hand and called his brother about his finding.

"There's one here too..." Jagra pointed at one of the broken skulls near him. Soon after, the others began to notice more of the marks.

"What is this?" Ghana whispered as be kneeled on one knee before one of the larger skulls.

"Is it a trap?" One of the men asked.

Moulin shook his head, "If it were, Kier would have alerted us." And Snow would have alerted Moulin if he'd sense anything abnormal.

"Ao!" Snow barked as he popped his head out of the pouch.

"The thieves?" Moulin spoke once he arrived beside Hadrian.

"It is not impossible," Hadrian replied. "It doesn't seem to be the tracks of the survivors of the fire."

Moulin nodded. There was not a single human bone among the skeletons. Perhaps, the people who had created the graveyard were expecting them beyond the forest.

...

All the more reason to be vigilant.

Moulin stopped when he felt a warm hand enclose around his. The youth raised his eyes and stared at the side profile of the Hercullian Lord beside him. Hadrian's expression remained cold as he kept his eyes forward as if he was trying to decipher the clue left behind by the creators of the graveyard of bones and rotten flesh.

But the only way to find out... was to go in.