Requiem of the Forgotten

The horses were bigger than I expected.

Not just normal big. Massive. Their fur had a faint, almost metallic sheen to it, catching the light in a way that made them look like something out of a fantasy novel. Which, considering our current situation, made sense.

Apparently, some of the surviving elves and dwarves had experience domesticating creatures similar to horses on their original homeworld before the darkness consumed it. When they arrived on this planet, they found similar creatures and began the process again. These beasts weren't exactly horses—at least, not the kind we knew from Earth. They had slightly longer limbs, broader chests, and thicker necks. Faster. Stronger. Wilder. But humans being humans, we took one look at them and went, Yeah, that's a horse.

Amina adjusted the saddle straps on her mount like a professional, completely at ease. The rest of us? Not so much.

"This thing is going to fucking kill me," I muttered, staring up at my assigned death machine. Its black eyes met mine with a level of patience I did not deserve.

Carmen, who was standing next to a chestnut-colored one, grinned. "If you fall, at least try to land on your head. Maybe it'll fix whatever's wrong with you."

"Thanks. Real supportive."

Daisuke, adjusting his glasses, studied the creature with an analytical eye. "Based on their skeletal structure and musculature, their center of gravity suggests a rider should maintain a balanced posture while—"

"Daisuke," Carmen interrupted, deadpan. "Shut up and get on the damn horse."

Caelith, the ever-unfazed elf, simply watched as we all struggled to mount up. He moved with eerie grace as he pulled himself onto his horse, perfectly balanced, as if he'd been doing it his entire life.

I grabbed the saddle and hesitated. My horse exhaled loudly, as if already regretting its existence.

"Alright, fine," I muttered and swung my leg over.

For about five seconds, I thought I had it under control.

Then the horse moved.

"Shit—!" My balance shifted wildly, and I clung to the saddle like my life depended on it. Which, honestly, it did.

Carmen cackled. "God, this is the best thing I've seen all week."

Amina rolled her eyes. "Just relax, Aleks. Let your body adjust to the movement."

"Easy for you to say," I gritted out, trying to stop myself from immediately flying off. "You actually know what you're doing."

Caelith, watching my struggle, tilted his head. "Statistically, first-time riders have a—"

"Don't finish that sentence."

Once we got moving, the initial panic faded. A little.

The world around us stretched wide, open fields giving way to rolling hills, patches of dense trees, and quiet rivers. It was weirdly peaceful—until you remembered that, in a few months, this whole planet might be fucked.

A few hours into the ride, Carmen sighed dramatically. "Are we there yet?"

Daisuke checked his notes. "Based on our pace, we should reach Seatown before sundown."

"Cool, cool. So, like, five more hours of ass pain. Great."

I adjusted in my saddle with a grimace. "I swear, if I survive this trip, I'm never getting on a horse again."

Amina smirked. "You said that about running too."

"Yeah, well, I stand by it."

Arriving in Seatown

The first thing I noticed was the smell.

Salt. Fish. Damp wood.

Seatown was built along the edge of a massive lake, its waters stretching beyond the horizon. Wooden buildings stood in tight clusters, docks jutting out into the water where boats bobbed lazily. Fishing nets hung everywhere, drying under the fading light. People moved through the streets, carrying baskets of freshly caught fish, repairing boats, or just shouting at each other over seemingly minor disputes.

It was rough, but it was alive.

"Smells like home," Carmen said, wrinkling her nose.

"If your home smells like dead fish, maybe rethink your life choices," I shot back.

As we rode in, people turned to stare. Some muttered under their breath, eyeing us like outsiders. Others just kept moving, uninterested. It was clear that Seatown wasn't the friendliest place for newcomers.

"They don't trust us," Amina murmured.

"No shit," I muttered. "We probably look like tax collectors."

Daisuke adjusted his glasses. "This is expected. A newly formed city like Dragontown will be viewed with skepticism by established communities."

Carmen rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. People are assholes. We get it."

A man with weathered skin and a thick beard approached. His clothes were stained with salt, and he carried himself like someone who had spent years on the water.

"You're the ones from Dragontown?" he asked.

Carmen sat up straighter. "That's us. Here for the meeting."

The man studied us, his gaze lingering on our horses. "You'll find the others in the main hall. Follow me."

The main hall was a simple wooden structure, its interior dimly lit by hanging lanterns. Inside, several figures stood in quiet conversation. Their voices hushed, calculating.

A stocky man with thick arms and a serious expression sat at the center. His clothes were simple, but his presence was heavy. Next to him stood a sharp-eyed woman, her posture firm, her gaze observant.

And then—

I saw him.

A tall figure stood near the back, arms crossed, his face half-hidden in shadow.

Nikita.

I stared.

He looked… different. Less rough, more composed. His usual cocky grin was replaced with something more measured, almost calculating.

He turned, his eyes meeting mine.

And he smirked.

"Well, well," he said. "Didn't think I'd see you again."

I didn't move. Didn't blink.

The last time I'd seen Nikita, he was just another survivor.

Now, he was standing among the city leaders.

And I had no idea what that meant.