Flight of The Harpy's Heart

Chapter xx: Wailing Woe

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As they filled their baskets with the precious herbs, a haunting sound pierced the air, echoing through the narrow canyon walls. A woman's cry, mournful and chilling, seemed to reverberate from all directions, freezing the foraging on their feet. Their hearts pounded with a mixture of fear and grim anticipation. They knew the mountain pass was treacherous, but such an eerie, unsettling wail was beyond their expectations.

"Do you hear that?" Gilbert's voice broke the tense silence, his finger pointing toward the source of the ominous sound.

"What?" Hjalmar's gruff tone betrayed a hint of unease.

Aden and Ser Percival instantly snapped to alert, their weapons at the ready.

"A woman's voice," Gilbert explained, his brow furrowed with concern. "It's like a woman crying."

The group fell silent, straining to pinpoint the origin of the haunting cries. The sound seemed to shift and distort as it bounced off the rocky walls, making it impossible to discern its source.

Maeda's hand tightened around the hilt of his katana, his eyes narrowing as he scanned their surroundings for any sign of danger.

Hjalmar's grip on his hammer was white-knuckled, the seasoned warrior bracing himself for an ambush or some unseen threat.

Aden's spear swept from side to side, his movements fluid yet tense, like a coiled spring ready to unleash its deadly force.

Ser Percival muttered a silent prayer, his sword held firmly before him as he sought divine guidance in the face of this unnerving mystery.

The wailing grew louder, more desperate as if the unseen woman were begging for aid or warning them away from some impending doom.

Gilbert swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. "What...what do we do?"

The crying grew louder and more intense, filling the air with a sense of dread and horror. The defenders could feel the weight of the spirits' sorrow and despair, their hearts heavy with the knowledge of the tragedy that had befallen them.

And then, suddenly, the crying stopped, replaced by an eerie silence that was almost more unsettling than the sound itself. The defenders exchanged a glance, their eyes wide with fear and uncertainty. They knew that they had to be careful, for the pass was known to be a place of great danger and mystery.

"All right, everyone! double your pace so we can leave this place as quickly as possible," Ser Percival didn't want to risk anymore, the more time they lingered around the more they got dangerous place.

As the foraging party worked their way through the treacherous terrain of the wailing widow pass gathering the rest of the herbs, their senses were on high alert for any signs of danger. Ser Percival had to speak up.

"They call this path the Wailing Widow Pass," he explained, his voice steady and measured. "The air flows through the cracks and gaps in the mountain, creating a sound that can be heard for miles around."

The foraging party exchanged a glance, their eyes wide with curiosity and intrigue. They had heard stories of the Wailing Widow Pass from the villagers, of its eerie reputation and its ghostly apparitions, but they had never heard an explanation quite like this.

Sir Percival continued, his voice filled with wisdom and insight. "The sound can be unsettling, especially for those who are not familiar with the area," he said. "But it is simply the result of the natural forces at work in the mountains."

"Did you hear that?" Gilbert's voice cut through Ser Percival's explanation, laced with urgency.

"Again?" Aden asked, his brow furrowing in concern.