Momon took a deep breath, letting the residual spiritual energy ripple off him like a tide.
His golden tattoos dimmed slightly but remained faintly luminous, veins of power still humming beneath his skin.
"Prepare the runners," he said, voice low, commanding.
"Brenner. The boy bring them to me"
Two guards, broad and heavily marked, bowed sharply.
They were seasoned warriors of the village head's personal corps, each capable of fending off threats most would flee from.
They didn't speak, only nodded and vanished down the stone paths toward the village.
Turak watched him go, curiosity flickering in his green eyes.
"So what are you going to do about the boy ," he said.
Momon smirked, wiping blood from his chin. "I want to see if this one truly survives the sea, or if he's merely a gift waiting to bring trouble."
Lila and Caelumn returned as the sun climbed higher.
Mist had begun to thin, revealing the brown-gold stretch of fields and the pale line of the sea far below the cliffs.
The village had settled into its daily rhythm — hammers ringing softly, goats bleating, women calling to one another over boiling pots.
Brenner was waiting outside the cottage.
He stood with his hands resting on his staff, eyes narrowed slightly as they approached.
"You've been gone awhile," he said. "Where did you wander off to?"
Lila hesitated.
"I was just showing him the ridge stones," she replied. "And the old path."
Brenner's gaze shifted to the boy. "You walk steady."
"I… felt like I needed to," he said quietly. "I'm sorry if—"
Brenner shook his head. "No harm. But next time, you tell us.
The forest isn't kind to strangers."
He nodded, unease stirring in his chest.
Before another word could be said, the air changed.
Not with sound.
With weight.
The breeze slowed.
The goats quieted.
Even the bone charms above the door stilled.
Two men stood at the edge of the path.
They had not been there a moment before.
Tall.
Broad.
Their shoulders were bare despite the chill, and dark markings spiraled over their arms, necks, and chests — spirit-sigils burned into flesh.
The air around them pulsed faintly, like heat above firestone.
First Grade Wardens.
Every nearby villager lowered their gaze.
One of the men stepped forward.
"Brenner of Hearthmere," he said. His voice carried without being loud.
"You are summoned."
Brenner straightened slowly.
"By who?"
"By the Chief."
His breath stilled.
"And the boy," the man added, eyes settling on the stranger.
"He comes as well."
Lila stepped forward instantly. "I'll go with—"
Brenner's hand lifted.
"No."
She looked up at him, startled.
"But—"
"This isn't for you," he said firmly. "Go inside. Stay with your mother."
Her jaw tightened, but she obeyed.
The wardens waited — unmoving — as Brenner and the boy stepped onto the path.
The palace lay beyond the ridge.
And the village did not watch them leave.
It bowed.