The village emerged from the tree line like a wound in the landscape — a cluster of timber buildings hunched together as if for warmth, smoke rising from crooked chimneys, and a single stone tower rising at its center that had no obvious purpose.\n\nLyra stopped her horse at the tree line and studied the settlement. Something felt wrong about it, though she could not immediately identify what. The village appeared occupied — smoke from fires, a few figures moving between buildings — but there was no sound. No voices carried on the wind. No children's laughter. No hammers on anvils or merchants calling their wares. The silence pressed against her ears like a held breath.\n\nShe rode in through the main road, her hand resting on her sword hilt. The buildings that lined the way were shuttered, their windows dark, and the few villagers she passed did not look up. They moved with the mechanical efficiency of people performing the motions of life without the spirit of it.\n\nAt the village square, a well stood at the center, its wooden frame carved with symbols that Lyra did not recognize. She dismounted, her boots hitting the packed earth with a soft thud, and approached an old woman who sat on a bench near the well, rocking slowly back and forth.\n\n"I'm looking for information," Lyra said. "About a crown. Made of ember-stone. Carved with runes."\n\nThe old woman stopped rocking. Her head turned slowly, and her eyes — pale gray, almost white — fixed on Lyra with unsettling precision.\n\n"You're looking for trouble," the woman said. "That's what you're looking for."