Back inside the tavern, they gathered near the hearth and shared what they’d heard over the phone. The explanation passed from Kyrie to David, then filled in by Casey where needed, the details settling over the group like a thin, uncertain veil.

It didn’t change their plan. Not really. They were still going with Captain Nikolaus and his men. Safety, if that word even meant anything anymore, was reason enough.

But the message lingered. Someone knew where they were. Someone was trying to reach them. And most importantly… there might be another way out.

That thought didn’t settle so much as it hovered, fragile and dangerous. Hope, but the kind that could break if held too tightly.

“Convenient,” Erica muttered, arms crossed. “Mysterious voice on a crackling line telling us to ‘keep going.’ That’s not ominous at all.”

“It’s better than nothing,” David replied quietly, adjusting the strap of his bag. His tone wasn’t dismissive, just grounded. Practical.

Kyrie didn’t argue. She wasn’t sure what she believed yet.

Across the room, Casey had already dragged the ladder into place with a dull scrape against the floorboards. She steadied it with one hand, glancing up.

“Alright, Robin Hood,” she said. “Try not to fall and die before we even leave.”

Phillip huffed a quiet laugh as he climbed, one hand gripping the ladder while the other reached toward the mounted bows. Dust shook loose as he carefully lifted them free from their brackets.

“They actually feel balanced,” he said, a note of surprise in his voice as he climbed back down. “Not just props.”

He handed one to David, who immediately checked the tension of the string with practiced hands.

“Yeah,” David murmured, giving a small nod. “These’ll work.”

Nikolaus stepped closer, holding out a quiver. “Then you’ll need these.”

Phillip took it, weighing it briefly before shaking his head. He passed it over to David instead.

“You take it,” he said. “I’ve only ever shot at targets with nice, big red circles painted on them. You’ve actually hit things that move.”

David gave a faint, humorless smile as he accepted it. “Not something I ever thought would be relevant again.”

“Welcome to the new normal,” Casey muttered under her breath.

Nearby, Alicia and Amanda stood surveying the aftermath of breakfast. Plates, cups, half-eaten food, and overturned items cluttered the tables and floor. The remnants of something that had briefly resembled normalcy.

Alicia let out a quiet breath, hands settling on her hips. “Well… this is a disaster.”

Amanda glanced toward the door, then back at the mess. Her expression flattened slightly.

“Yeah,” she said. “And it’s not like we’re getting our deposit back anyway.”

Alicia snorted softly.

“Seriously,” Amanda added, turning away. “Screw this. They can do their own dishes.”

“Bold of you to assume there’s anyone left to collect them,” Casey called from across the room.

That earned a few dry, tired laughs, but no one moved to clean. The moment had passed. Whatever obligation they might have felt to the “experience” was long gone.

One by one, they turned their attention to leaving.

Bags were gathered. Straps tightened. Weapons, improvised or otherwise, were checked and adjusted. The quiet murmur of preparation filled the tavern, replacing the earlier chaos with something more focused. More deliberate.

Kyrie adjusted the weight of her backpack, her fingers tightening briefly on the straps. Her eyes flicked once toward the clock above the hearth, then back to the door.

This was it. A few of the soldiers moved first, lifting heavier supplies and carrying them outside. The group followed, stepping out into the gray morning light.

In the yard, a cart waited. It looked simple enough; wooden, sturdy, the kind meant to be pulled by a single horse. Except there wasn’t one.

Instead, two of the soldiers stepped to the front, each taking hold of a handle. Without a word, they leaned forward and began to pull, the cart rolling with a low creak as its wheels found the packed dirt road.

More supplies were loaded in: spare gear, preserved food taken from the tavern’s stores, anything that might keep them going a little longer. Practical. Efficient. Necessary.

Kyrie’s gaze drifted as she stepped away from the doorway, drawn toward something off to the side of the tavern.

A shallow pit had been dug there. Smoke curled slowly upward, thin and gray against the pale sky. The earth around it was darkened, disturbed; not fresh, but not old either. It had been burning for a while. At first, she didn’t understand what she was looking at. Then it clicked.

Her stomach dropped. Color drained from her face as the realization settled in, cold and heavy. That’s where they went. The bodies. They burned them.

Kyrie swallowed hard, her gaze lingering for just a second too long before she forced herself to look away. The faint smell in the air, something she hadn’t quite registered before, suddenly made sense. Her grip tightened on her bag. Whatever this world was… it didn’t leave room for hesitation.

Behind her, the cart creaked forward onto the road. Ahead of them, the forest waited. And somewhere beyond it, if the voice on the phone could be trusted, there was a way out.