I stood among the gathered villagers as we laid our dead to rest. The weight of grief hung heavier than my mechanical frame, pressing down on all of us as we watched the simple wooden coffins being lowered into the earth.

  Sarah Goodmak's mother sobbed quietly, clutching her husband's hand. Martin's wife stood rigid, her face a mask of stone. Tomas's parents leaned on each other, age and sorrow bowing their shoulders. And there, in the center of it all, lay Mallie and Moskin, side by side in death as they had so often been in life.

  My Mind Sight caught every detail I wished I could ignore: the fresh-turned earth, the trembling hands holding flowers, the tears tracking down weathered faces. But I couldn't look away from Katherin. She stood apart from the others, swaying slightly, that terrible smile fixed on her face. Her lips moved constantly, forming words too quiet to hear.

  "The stars will dance for her," she whispered, her eyes focused on something far beyond the cemetery's boundaries. "They'll welcome her with open arms, yes they will."

  I moved to approach her, my mechanical legs creaking softly in the silence, but Antos caught my arm.

  "Let her be," he murmured. "Grief takes different shapes in different hearts. We'll watch over her."

  The village priest Ludwig spoke words I barely registered, his voice carrying across the cemetery as the first handfuls of earth fell into the graves. Willem led the mourners in a traditional song, though his usually strong voice cracked and faltered.

  I watched as the villagers worked together to fill the graves, taking turns with shovels, supporting each other through the task. Even in death, Weath stood united. They had lost so much: their loved ones, their trust, their sense of safety. Yet here they were, shoulders set against their grief, already beginning to rebuild.

  Katherin's quiet muttering continued throughout the ceremony, a discordant counterpoint to the priest's prayers. Her smile never wavered, but tears ran unchecked down her face. When the final words were spoken and the other mourners began to drift away, she remained, still whispering to the air, still staring at nothing.

  I felt the weight of my failure pressing down. I had protected the village from monsters and raiders, but I couldn't protect them from this. Couldn't protect Mallie from the cruelty of nobles and their ambitions. Now all I could do was watch as her mother slipped further into madness, lost in whatever strange comfort her mind had constructed.

  I worked methodically in Clarik's smithy, my four mechanical arms moving in perfect synchronization as I rebuilt my humanoid form. The more monstrous combat frame had served its purpose in hunting down Kolin, but now I needed something that wouldn't draw attention during my journey to the Academy.

  My fingers traced the shattered remains of my porcelain shell, all but destroyed by Themas's magic. Most of the pieces were beyond repair, splintered into fragments too small to reassemble. I salvaged what I could, focusing on reconstructing the mask and right hand, the parts that would be most visible to others.

  "Here's more bronze," Clarik said, setting down a heavy box of scrap metal. "Willem found some old pots nobody's using anymore."

  I shaped the metal through Assembly, watching it flow and reform into the curves and joints of my new body. Steel formed the core framework, while bronze panels created the outer shell. The work was precise, each piece fitted perfectly to the next.

  "The clothes are ready too." Clarik told me. "Sarah's mother insisted on sewing them herself. Said it helped keep her mind occupied. She'll be by later to help you dress."

  I paused in my work, touched by the gesture. Even in their grief, the villagers thought to help me. The clothes would cover most of my mechanical nature, leaving only my mask and hands visible.

  Time pressed heavily on my mind as I worked. Millbrook wasn't far, and news of Kolin's death would spread quickly once riders were sent to investigate. I needed to be well away from Weath before that happened, following Mallie's dream path to Kaldos City and its War Academy.

  I lifted the finished mask, examining its smooth white surface. Unlike my combat frame, this body was built for subtlety rather than strength. It would have to be enough to carry me through the human lands without drawing unwanted attention.

  I worked quickly throughout the night to complete my new body. As the morning sun rose, I stood before the smithy's polished bronze mirror and examined my rebuilt form. Gone were the delicate porcelain plates with their intricate blue patterns, replaced by utilitarian bronze panels that caught the morning light. The new body wasn't beautiful, unlike the first iteration had been, but it served its purpose.

  My fingers traced the salvaged porcelain mask, one of the few pieces I'd managed to save. I'd spent extra time restoring it, knowing it would be the face I presented to the world. The right hand too was carefully reconstructed from the original porcelain, its joints moving with fluid grace.

  The rest of my body was far more practical. Bronze plates covered a steel framework, following human proportions but making no attempt to hide their mechanical nature. The joints were visible, the seams clear and unadorned. I flexed my right arm, watching the bronze plates slide smoothly against each other.

  The clothing provided by Sarah's mother would cover most of it anyway. Only my mask and right hand would be visible, the two pieces I'd taken such care to make presentable.

  Time constraints had forced compromises. Where before I'd spent days perfecting each component, now efficiency took priority. The body was solid, functional, but lacked the artistic touches that had made my first form appear so human. The bronze plates were sturdy but plain, their surfaces unmarked by decorative etching or careful shaping.

  Still, it would serve. The basic human shape was there: two arms, two legs, proper proportions. Under clothing, few would look closely enough to notice the mechanical nature beneath.

  Emma Goodmak soon arrived, her hands full of the bundled clothing that she had sewn together. She greeted me warmly and seemed in good spirits, though my mental sight could still see the dried tracks of tears upon her cheeks.

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  I stood still as Sarah's mother helped me into the black traveling gown she had made. Her hands trembled slightly as she fastened each button, but she worked with practiced efficiency. The fabric settled around my mechanical frame, draping naturally despite the bronze plates beneath.

  "Sarah always wanted to travel," Emma whispered, smoothing the fabric across my shoulders. "She'd have loved seeing you wear these."

  The dark hooded cloak came next, its heavy wool perfect for keeping out rain and prying eyes. Emma showed me how to fasten it properly, the clasp sitting just below my throat. The weight of it felt reassuring somehow.

  I slipped my hands into the black leather gloves she provided. My mechanical right hand filled out the leather differently than my flesh left, but the difference wasn't noticeable to casual observation. The boots, originally belonging to Sarah, fit perfectly. Their polished leather reflected the smithy's lamplight.

  "The veil was mine," Emma said, holding up the delicate black cloth. "From when I lost my first husband." She carefully draped it over my mask, the translucent material softening its stark white surface. "There. Now you look like any other widow on the road."

  I studied my reflection. A grieving woman stared back, clothed entirely in mourning black. The veil cast subtle shadows across my mask, making it appear more like a grief-stricken face than the porcelain it was. No one would look too closely at a widow traveling alone as grief demanded privacy and respect.

  It felt appropriate, wearing these symbols of mourning. Mallie's death still burned fresh in my mind, along with Sarah's, Moskin's, and all the others we'd lost. The widow's garb wasn't just a disguise; it was truth.

  I spent my final morning in Weath breaking down my combat frame into its component parts. This way it could go into Depository where it would travel safely until needed. The four arms, reinforced plating, and specialized joints all disappeared into the mysterious dimensional space.

  Clarik had been generous with his metal stores, ensuring my Depository was almost filled to its 450-pound capacity. In return, I'd spent hours crafting high-quality steel ingots for him using my Assembly ability. He tried to refuse them, but I insisted. The smith had been one of my first allies in Weath; I wouldn't leave him empty-handed.

  As the morning wore on, villagers began gathering near the northern road. Their faces were familiar now; faces that had once shown fear, then acceptance, and finally friendship. Willem leaned on his walking stick, while Emma Goodmak clutched a handkerchief. Even the priest Ludwig stood among them, though his expression remained guarded.

  Farmer Joss's wagon waited at the head of the crowd, already loaded with trade goods bound for Cobb Town. From there, I would take a carriage to Remembrance, then book passage on a ship to reach the Kingdom of Swords and Kaldos City.

  Mayor Antos approached, carrying a heavy leather bag and a wrapped bundle. "The silver's from all of us," he said, pressing the coin-filled bag into my hands. "For your journey."

  I can't accept this- I began through Mind Speech, but Antos cut me off.

  "You can and you will." His voice was gruff but kind. "After what you did for us? What you lost defending us? Take it."

  He handed me the bundle next. The wrapping fell away to reveal Kolin's estoc, its enchanted blade gleaming in the morning light.

  "This too," Antos said. "The road's not always safe, even for a... person of your capabilities. An enchanted blade might make the difference."

  I carefully wrapped the estoc again and held the large bundle loosely in my arms. Hopefully, I wouldn't be needing it. The silver went into Depository, as the ability considering the currency as material for construction.

  "Take care of yourself, you hear?" Clarik told me. I nodded my hooded, veiled head at him. The large man surprised me by pulling me into a hug, his thick arms squeezing my mechanical body tight. "I mean it. Take care."

  After Clarik released me, Derek and Pippa rushed forward, wrapping their small arms around my waist. Their tears soaked into my traveling cloak as they clung to me. Derek's shoulders shook with quiet sobs.

  "You'll come back, won't you?" Pippa asked, her voice muffled against my clothes.

  Of course, I projected to them both. As soon as I can manage.

  Emma Goodmak was next, pulling me into a motherly embrace. The loss of her daughter Sarah still showed in her red-rimmed eyes, but she managed a warm smile. "You stay safe out there," she whispered.

  More of the village women approached: Henrik's wife Anna, Farmer Tull's sister Mary, even the tavern keeper's wife Beth. Each offered hugs and quiet words of encouragement. Their acceptance touched something deep within me, making my mechanical body feel strangely light.

  Old Willem shuffled forward next, his weathered hand extended. I took it carefully in my porcelain one, mindful of his arthritic joints.

  "You show those Academy folk what you're made of," he said with a wink. "Come visit when you graduate. Should be Level 80 or higher by then, eh? Strong enough to give that bastard Duke what's coming to him."

  I inclined my head, not trusting myself to respond. Willem's faith in me was both warming and painful. I wasn't sure I deserved such confidence after what I'd done to Kolin.

  Ludwig approached last, his priest's robes immaculate as always. He didn't embrace me or offer his hand, but his stern face had softened somewhat. The priest gave me a dignified nod.

  "May the gods guide you on your path," he intoned formally.

  I thanked him, and the gruff old priest shuffled off, heading back to his temple.

  Just as I turned toward Joss's wagon, Katherin came rushing through the crowd, her nightgown fluttering in the morning breeze. Her wild eyes found mine beneath my veil, and she lunged forward to grasp my cloak with trembling hands.

  "No, no, you can't leave!" Her voice cracked. "Mallie needs you here. She'll be so lonely without her friend to play with."

  My mechanical body went rigid. The sight of her disheveled hair and bare feet made my chest ache where a heart should be. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her skin had taken on a sickly tone.

  "She's waiting by the oak tree," Katherin whispered, tugging at my clothes. "She wanted to practice archery today. You promised to help her with her form, remember?"

  I couldn't project any words. What could I possibly say to a mother so lost in grief?

  Emma Goodmak stepped forward, gently taking Katherin's arm. "Come now, dear. Let's get you home and properly dressed."

  "But Mallie's waiting!" Katherin tried to pull away. "She'll think her friend abandoned her!"

  Anna Henrik appeared on Katherin's other side, speaking in soft, soothing tones. Together with Emma, they carefully pried Katherin's fingers from my cloak. She fought against their hold, her eyes never leaving my masked face.

  "You promised!" she screamed as they led her away. "You promised to protect her!"

  The women guided the struggling Katherin back toward her empty house, their voices low and comforting. The crowd of villagers parted silently to let them pass, faces drawn with shared pain.

  With no more words, I hopped up onto Joss's wagon. The wooden planks creaked under my mechanical weight as I settled onto the rough bench. I placed the wrapped estoc carefully on the floor by my feet, positioning it where it wouldn't slide during travel.

  I turned back toward the gathered villagers and raised my porcelain hand in farewell. The crowd responded with enthusiastic waves and calls that carried across the morning air.

  "Safe travels!"

  "Show them what you're made of!"

  "Don't forget us!"

  Joss clicked his tongue and snapped the reins. "Get on there, Bella." The old mare nickered and leaned into her harness, setting the wagon into motion with a gentle lurch.

  The wooden wheels crunched against the packed dirt road as we began moving north. I kept my gaze fixed on the villagers, memorizing their faces one last time: Willem's weathered features, Emma's kind smile, Derek's tear-stained cheeks.

  "Weath will always be your home!" Antos's voice rang out clear and strong above the others. "We'll remember what you did for us! All of it!"

  I lifted my flesh hand to wave again, surprised to find it trembling.

  The wagon continued its slow roll forwards, the village receding bit by bit. The familiar buildings grew smaller as my distance grew. I saw Clarik's smithy with its smoking chimney, the town hall where I'd first gained the villagers' trust, the oak tree where Mallie and I had spent so many hours practicing archery.

  Finally, we crested the northern hill. I watched until the last glimpse of Weath disappeared behind us, taking with it the only place I'd truly belonged to since clawing my way out of the earth.

  END: BOOK ONE. DIRTBORN.