"Every bone half-buried on the battlefield was picked clean long ago, but still, crows land on them. At least… They look like crows from afar. Do you get closer? What do you see?"
✦
Archimedes stepped carefully over the uneven terrain, his hooves sinking slightly into the damp, spongy ground of the Moor. The fog clung to the air like a shroud, obscuring the horizon and lending the battlefield an eerie, timeless quality. Half-buried bones jutted out from the earth like accusing fingers, stark white against the dark soil. Even centuries after the war, the remnants of the fallen remained, a grim testament to the battles fought here.
Cerridwen trotted a few paces behind him, her gaze darting between the scattered remains and the gnarled trees that loomed like silent sentinels. “It’s unsettling, isn’t it?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Even after all this time, it feels… heavy.”
Archimedes didn’t respond immediately. His sharp eyes were fixed on a cluster of bones ahead, where a group of dark shapes perched like mourners at a graveside. From a distance, they appeared to be crows, their sleek feathers glinting faintly in the dim light. But something about them felt off—too still, too quiet.
He tilted his head, curiosity outweighing caution. “Cerridwen,” he said, his tone measured, “do those birds strike you as unusual?”
She followed his gaze, squinting at the shapes. “They’re certainly not acting like crows. Should we get closer?”
Archimedes hesitated. The Moor was notorious for its tricks, and every shadow held the potential for danger. But the scholar in him demanded answers. “Stay behind me,” he instructed, his voice firm.
As they approached, the shapes began to resolve into something more distinct. They were larger than crows, their wings angular and almost mechanical in their movements. The closer they got, the more apparent it became that these were no ordinary birds.
“Constructs,” Archimedes murmured, a note of intrigue creeping into his voice. The creatures were made of blackened metal, their surfaces etched with faint runes that glowed dimly in the mist. They perched on the bones with an air of purpose, as if guarding them.
Cerridwen stepped closer, her eyes wide with wonder. “Who would leave something like this here? And why?”
Archimedes didn’t answer immediately. He bent down to examine one of the bones, noting the faint traces of scorch marks along its surface. “These constructs are remnants,” he said finally. “Perhaps left by the kingdom that once ruled here. A deterrent, maybe, or a guardian for something they deemed important.”
Cerridwen’s ears flicked nervously. “Important enough to protect, even after all this time?”
Archimedes straightened, his gaze thoughtful. “Or dangerous enough to ensure it remains undisturbed.”
The constructs didn’t move as the two Coursers retreated, their glowing eyes fixed unerringly on the bones beneath them. Whatever secrets the battlefield held, it seemed they were not meant to be uncovered—not yet.
