The house was quiet, save for the faint rustling of leaves outside and the creak of the wooden beams as the wind shifted. 

Morning light filtered through the single, square window, its glow soft and muted as if it, too, hesitated to disturb the silence.

Micah stirred first, her body shifting beneath the patchy quilt draped over her. 

Micah

Her head felt heavy, as though stuffed with wool, and her limbs sluggish, unresponsive to the faint commands of her mind. 

Meanwhile, their dao swords aremerely lounging against the wall.

She blinked against the pale sunlight, her gaze locking on the wooden ceiling above her.

Her voice cracked, barely audible, as she tried to push herself upright.

"Where...?" 

She felt the pull of stiff muscles and the uncomfortable itch of dirt clinging to her skin. 

Her tunic, torn at the shoulder and smeared with mud, hung awkwardly against her frame.

Across the room, she heard a low groan. 

Turning her head slowly, she saw Killian, her older brother, lying on a matching bed to her left. 

His broad frame seemed too large for the simple cot, his legs nearly dangling over the edge. His shirt was just as torn and grimy as hers, his face streaked with dried mud.

"Killian," Micah croaked, her voice stronger this time.

Killian's eyes fluttered open, his brow furrowing as if in protest to the light. 

 His deep voice sounded groggy, as though it hadn't been used in years. 

"Ugh... Micah?" 

Killian

He sat up abruptly, then winced, clutching his side. 

"What the hell happened?"

"I was... hoping you'd know," Micah muttered, glancing down at her hands. 

They were smudged with dirt but otherwise unhurt. 

She flexed her fingers experimentally, testing for any pain or stiffness, but found nothing beyond a strange weariness.

Both siblings shared a glance, their confusion mirrored in each other's eyes.

Before either could say more, a soft knock on the door interrupted the quiet. 

The sound was hesitant but firm, and moments later, the door creaked open to reveal Lyra's familiar face.

"You're awake," she said, her tone a mixture of relief and exhaustion. 

She stepped inside, carrying a clay jug of water in her hands. 

Her hair, usually neatly tied back, was slightly disheveled, and faint dark circles shadowed her eyes. 

"How are you feeling?"

"Weak. Confused," Killian replied bluntly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"Where are we? What happened?"

Lyra set the jug on the small table between their beds and pulled up a rickety stool. 

"You're in your house. We brought you here after..." She paused, her expression clouding as if she were searching for the right words. 

"...After everything that happened."

Micah tilted her head. 

"Everything that happened? What do you mean? The last thing I remember was... the ground swallowing us."

Killian added, his voice tinged with frustration.

"And then nothing."

Lyra let out a soft sigh, pouring water into two wooden cups. 

"It's a long story," she said, handing the cups to them. 

"But I'll start at the beginning."

As they sipped the water, Lyra recounted the events of the past few days. 

She spoke of the Renaissance Band, a group of warriors who had arrived unexpectedly at EmberWind Village, their presence heralded by danger and chaos. 

She described how the band had rescued Haerak and Aina from the bandits' ambush, how they had fought side by side with her and Seraphina against Selene's creatures, and how the battle had ultimately cost them one of their own.

"Nert?" Micah repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. 

"He died?"

Lyra nodded solemnly. 

"He did. And they mourned him, just as we mourn our fallen. They're not just strangers, Micah. They're..." She hesitated, searching for the right word. 

"They're fighters. Survivors. And they came to our village not to bring trouble but to help us."

Killian leaned back against the wall, his expression unreadable. 

"And Evelori?" he asked. 

"What happened to her?"

"She's gone," Lyra said softly. 

"For now."

The room fell silent, the weight of her words settling over them like a thick fog.

Micah set her cup down, her hands trembling slightly. 

"It sounds like we missed everything," she said, her voice tinged with guilt. 

"While we were unconscious, everyone else was fighting for their lives."

Lyra reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Micah's shoulder. 

"You were taken out of the fight, Micah. It wasn't your fault. None of this was your fault."

Killian, however, clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. 

"Still... it doesn't sit right. We should've been there. We're the village's top hunters, for crying out loud."

"And that's why you were targeted," Lyra said gently. 

"Selene knew who you were, knew how much you meant to this village. She wanted to take you out of the equation before the real fight began."

Micah looked down at her hands again, her mind swirling with a mixture of emotions—guilt, anger, and an overwhelming sense of helplessness.

"Where are they now?" Killian asked, his tone firm. 

"The Renaissance Band?"

"They're still here," Lyra replied. 

"Resting, recovering. Just like you."

Killian nodded, his expression softening slightly. 

"I guess we owe them our thanks."

Micah managed a small smile. 

"Yeah. We do."

The three of them sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the past few days hanging heavy in the air. 

Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the window slightly, but inside, the room felt warm, safe—a stark contrast to the chaos they had endured.

"Rest for now," Lyra said, standing up and smoothing her skirt. 

"There's still time to process everything. You don't have to figure it all out today."

Micah and Killian exchanged a glance, then nodded. 

The silence in the room didn't last long. 

Just as Micah and Killian exchanged another glance, their thoughts heavy with everything Lyra had shared, the door burst open with a loud bang that made all three of them jump.

"Auntie Micah! Uncle Killian!"

A small blur of movement shot into the room before anyone could react, and the next thing Micah knew, tiny arms were wrapped around her waist. 

She barely had time to register the familiar soft, straight hair pressed against her before Aina's voice rang out, both high-pitched and jubilant.

 Aina said, squeezing Micah tightly before turning to Killian. 

"I missed you!"

She darted over to him and threw her arms around his neck, nearly knocking him back into his cot. 

"And you too, Uncle Killian! I waited and waited and waited for you to wake up!"

Killian blinked, his grogginess dissipating as he gave the girl a faint smile, patting her back awkwardly. 

 He said, his voice still gravelly.

"Well, uh... I guess we're awake now, kid."

"You have no idea how worried I was," Aina went on, her words tumbling out in a rush. 

She stepped back and put her hands on her hips, her small face scrunched up in mock sternness. 

"I kept asking Papa, sis Lyra, and Auntie Seraphina when you'd wake up. I even sat here yesterday all day just waiting! I thought you'd never open your eyes!"

Micah, feeling a warmth spread through her chest despite the confusion still swirling in her mind, smiled and ruffled Aina's hair. 

She said gently.

"We're sorry to make you worry, sweetheart."

Aina immediately brightened, her stern expression vanishing. 

"I missed you both so much!" she said again, bouncing slightly on her toes. 

"You were asleep for so long! I thought you'd never talk to me again!"

"We missed you too, Aina," Killian said, his voice softer now. 

"But we're here, okay? Everything's fine."

Aina looked between the two of them, her big eyes shimmering as though she might cry. 

But then she suddenly grinned and plopped herself onto the stool Lyra had vacated. 

"Good! Because I have so much to tell you!"

Aina's response was immediate—she darted over to Killian and threw her arms around his waist, hugging him with just as much fervor. 

"And you, Uncle Killian! You scared me too! You're supposed to be the strong one, but you just—just fell asleep like a log!"

Killian let out a low chuckle, ruffling her hair as he knelt to meet her at eye level. 

"Guilty as charged, Aina. But hey, I'm awake now. See? All in one piece."

Aina stepped back, putting her hands on her hips in a pose that reminded them both too much of Haerak. 

"You better not do that again, you hear me? I stayed up every night just to check on you two! Every night!"

Micah repeated, glancing at her with a raised brow.

"Every night?" 

"Well, okay, not every night. But I wanted to! Papa said I needed to sleep, but I couldn't help it! I missed you both so much." Her voice wavered slightly on the last word, and her hands dropped to her sides. 

"I was scared..."

Micah's heart clenched at the sight. She immediately knelt, pulling Aina into another hug. 

"Oh, sweetheart, it's okay. We're okay now. You're safe. We're all safe."

Killian placed a gentle hand on Aina's shoulder. 

"Micah's right, kiddo. We're not going anywhere. Not if I have anything to say about it."

Aina sniffled, rubbing her eyes with her fists before quickly perking up again. 

"Good! Because if you leave me again, I'm gonna be really mad next time!"

Before they could respond, a familiar voice cut through the moment.

Haerak's frame seemed to fill the doorway, his expression equal parts relief and exasperation.

"Aina," Haerak said in a gentle but firm tone.

"I told you not to run so carelessly. You might trip."

Aina turned toward him with a sheepish grin. 

"Sorry, Papa. I just wanted to see Auntie Micah and Uncle Killian!"

Haerak shook his head, but his eyes were soft as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. 

"I'm glad to see you both awake," he said warmly, addressing Micah and Killian. 

"You had us worried for a while."

"Thank you," Killian said, standing up and giving Haerak a nod of respect. 

"And... sorry for all the trouble we've caused."

"None of that," Haerak said, waving a hand dismissively. 

"What matters is that you're here now. Safe and sound."

Andhur, who had been lingering behind Haerak with a curious grin, stepped forward. 

His boyish energy was immediately apparent, his bright eyes scanning the room with excitement. 

"Oh! So you two must be Micah and Killian!" he said, his voice chipper. 

"I've heard so much about you! Aina's been talking my ears off since the moment I met her."

Micah blinked, slightly taken aback by the young man's energy. 

She said cautiously.

"Uh... yes, that's us."

Andhur beamed and gave a theatrical bow. 

"And I, dear Micah and Killian, am Andhur! Aina's new best friend! Or at least, that's what she tells me. Isn't that right, Aina?"

"Yep!" Aina chimed in, grinning. 

"Andhur's the funniest!"

Andhur said, puffing out his chest dramatically.

"I try my best."

Killian raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching as though trying to hold back a smile. 

"Funny, huh? I'll have to see for myself."

"Oh, you will," Andhur said with a wink. 

"I'm not just funny, though. I'm a warrior too, you know. Part of the Renaissance Band."

At the mention of the Renaissance Band, the air in the room shifted slightly. 

Micah and Killian exchanged a glance, their expressions growing more serious.

"We're really sorry about Nert," he said quietly, his voice carrying a sincerity that cut through the room. 

"Lyra told us... he gave everything to protect us all."

Micah nodded, her gaze lowering to her lap. 

"It must've been... so hard. Losing someone you've fought beside for so long."

Andhur's usual brightness dimmed further, his shoulders sagging slightly as he let out a slow breath. 

He looked down at his hands for a moment, as if seeing memories there, etched into his skin. 

"Nert... he was more than a comrade. He was a brother to all of us. Stubborn as hell, sometimes too quiet for his own good, but... dependable. Always dependable."

His voice softened, almost cracking, as he continued. 

"We fought together for years. Side by side in battles most people can't even imagine. He wasn't just a warrior; he was... steady. Always there to back us up when things got rough. And he never complained, even when the odds were stacked against us. He was the kind of person who could look at chaos and somehow make it feel manageable."

Killian shifted uncomfortably, guilt creeping into his expression. 

"It's not fair... that he had to die for us. People like him... they shouldn't have to make those sacrifices."

Andhur shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. 

"He wouldn't have seen it that way. Nert wasn't the kind of person who thought about fairness. He did what needed to be done, every single time. And this... this was no different. If anything, he'd probably just tell us to stop moping and get back to work."

The room fell into silence, the weight of Andhur's words settling over them. 

Even Aina, who had been fidgeting beside her father moments ago, sat still, her wide eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Micah broke the quiet, her voice soft but resolute. 

"You all carry his memory now. Everything he fought for, everything he stood for... it lives on through you."

Andhur gave her a small, appreciative smile, though his eyes still held the shadow of grief. 

"Yes, that's the thing about Nert. He'd want us to keep going, not for his sake, but for everyone else's. He always believed in protecting what mattered, no matter the cost. And that's what we're going to do."

Haerak placed a hand on Andhur's shoulder, a rare gesture of comfort from the usually reserved village leader. 

"He was lucky to have comrades who respected and cared for him so deeply. And it sounds like you were just as lucky to have him by your side."

Andhur nodded slowly, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. 

"Yeah. We were." 

He took a moment to compose himself, running a hand through his hair.

The silence lingered again, but it wasn't awkward or strained. 

It was a moment of shared understanding, of mourning someone none of them had truly known but all could deeply respect.

Finally, Andhur exhaled and forced a small grin, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. 

Despite the lingering sadness, there was warmth now—

A sense that, even in the face of loss—

Life would move forward, carrying Nert's memory with it.

"Anyway! Enough sadness for one day. You two are awake, Aina's happy, and Haerak doesn't have to worry about dragging me out of bed to check on you anymore."

Haerak repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Dragging you out of bed?" 

"Well, not literally," Andhur said, waving his hand dismissively. 

"But close enough!"

The room settled into a softer mood after Andhur's words, a kind of unspoken agreement to move forward without forgetting what they'd lost. 

Micah shifted her weight slightly, looking toward the doorway, and then back at Lyra. 

"I think I'd like to step outside for a bit. Some fresh air... maybe a morning bath."

Killian stretched his arms, his muscles still sluggish from sleep, and nodded in agreement. 

"Same here. I think it'll help us clear our heads."

Lyra hesitated, her brow furrowing with concern. 

"Are you sure? You've both just woken up. Maybe you should rest a little longer. It's only been a couple of days since—"

"It's no problem," Killian interrupted with a reassuring smile. 

"We're not hurt, just a little... out of it."

Lyra glanced at Haerak, who gave her a small nod of understanding, though his face mirrored her worry. 

Still, she handed over the clay jugs of water she had been holding, one in each hand. 

"At least drink this before you go. You'll need it."

Killian took both jugs, tilting one to his lips and drinking deeply. 

The cool water felt like life itself, washing away the lingering haze of exhaustion. 

After he finished, he handed the second jug to Micah, who drank just as eagerly.

Micah said, her voice a little lighter now as she placed the empty jug on the nearest table.

"Thanks."

Killian did the same with his, and the two of them moved toward the door, Aina quickly falling into step beside them. 

Haerak and Lyra followed as well, their movements measured, while Andhur trailed behind, his hands clasped behind his head in his usual carefree posture.

Outside, the morning sun greeted them warmly, the air carrying the faint scent of earth and distant flowers. It was the kind of day that hinted at renewal, at the possibility of healing. 

Micah took a deep breath, savoring it.

"This is... nice," she murmured, her eyes scanning the horizon. 

"It feels like it's been forever since I've just stood outside like this."

Killian stretched again, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the weight of the last few days. 

"Yeah. No chaos, no fear. Just peace. We needed this."

Aina smiled up at them, her usual exuberance returning. 

"I'm so glad you're both awake! You've been asleep for so long, I thought you'd never get up. I missed you so much!" 

She wrapped her arms around Micah first in a tight hug, then turned to Killian and did the same.

"We missed you too, Aina," Killian said with a chuckle, ruffling her hair affectionately. 

"But I think you've been holding down the fort just fine without us."

Aina pulled back, beaming. 

"I have! But still, it's not the same without you."

The group began walking leisurely toward the village's communal bath area, the cobblestone path crunching softly beneath their feet. 

The morning was alive with the distant sounds of villagers going about their routines, a comforting hum of life returning to normal.

Micah broke the comfortable silence. 

"Lyra mentioned... your group. The Renaissance Band." She glanced at Andhur. 

"I heard your captain, Zach, was the one who killed Selene. I'd like to meet him."

At the mention of Zach, Andhur's face lit up, his previous somberness melting away. 

"Oh, you have to meet him!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up animatedly. 

"Zach's not just our captain; he's... well, he's the heart of the band, you know? A little quiet sometimes, but when it comes down to it, he's the one who keeps us together. And when it comes to a fight—well, let's just say Selene didn't stand a chance once captain's got serious."

Micah and Killian exchanged a glance, intrigued.

Andhur, clearly warming to the subject, continued.

"He's not all stoic and commanding, though. Captain's got this way of making you feel like you matter, even when you're just one piece of a bigger puzzle. He listens. Really listens. And when he gives orders, it's not just about winning—it's about making sure we all make it through, together. Except..." 

His voice faltered for a moment, the shadow of Nert's loss creeping back in. 

"Except when it's not possible."

There was a brief pause, the group acknowledging the weight of that statement in silence.

But Andhur quickly rallied, his tone brightening again. 

"Anyway, you'll like him, I'm sure. And he'll definitely want to meet you two, especially after everything you've been through. I mean, you got swallowed by the ground and lived to tell the tale! Not many people can say that."

Micah smiled softly. 

"We're looking forward to it. If he's anything like you, I'm sure he's someone worth knowing."

Andhur said with a wink, earning a laugh from Aina and a fond eye roll from Haerak.

"Oh, I'm one of a kind," 

As they neared the village square, the atmosphere shifted slightly. 

It wasn't just a new day; it was a new beginning. 

The air felt lighter, the shadows of the past few days beginning to fade, replaced by a sense of quiet hope.

For the first time in a long while, there was no battle to fight, no war to win. 

Just a morning to embrace—

A village to rebuild—

And lives to piece back together.

═════ ◆ TO BE CONTINUED ◆ ═════