Thomas. Julian. Ol' Lucia. One by one, they fell before me, crushed by the monstrous moss-hopper.

  I stood frozen as the world smeared into a dark, suffocating haze.

  Only the beast remained—massive, malicious, its garnet eyes burning into mine.

  It grinned, crooked and cruel, as if mocking my weakness.

  I screamed as agony tore through me—

  I jolted awake, already falling.

  The floor struck hard, shattering the nightmare's grip. I lay there, heart pounding, slowly realising—I was in an unfamiliar room.

  It was a vast room, boxed in by new wooden walls that didn't quite reach the ceiling. Only the outer wall was stone, pierced by narrow slits that acted more as lookouts than windows.

  The ceiling was a dizzying height above me, crisscrossed by thick, shadowy rafters where cobwebs danced in the wind.

  I scanned the dim surroundings until the weight in my chest began to ease.

  There, safe in their own beds, my friends lay sleeping. Thomas was to my left, Julian to my right. Millie and Fiorella were tucked away against the far partition, separated from us by a wide expanse of flagstone—an aisle broad enough for a merchant’s cart.

  I paused to stretch my limbs, surprised to find my body nearly whole again. The pain was gone, and there were no visible wounds—only a deep, bone-weary exhaustion that refused to fade.

  The wooden door before me creaked open.

  A flash of tangerine hair caught the light as Xanthia rushed in and wrapped her arms around me.

  I held her close, feeling her tremble.

  "Don't worry, Tia. Everyone's okay," I whispered, gently ruffling her hair.

  Relief washed over me as I met her eyes.

  "I'm just glad you're safe. Thank goodness you were at the library when it happened."

  Later, I stepped out with her. Two more rooms lined the hallway, both partitioned with the same hasty timber walls. I followed Xanthia down a heavy stone staircase where we gripped a thick hemp rope bolted to the wall for balance.

  The ground floor was a miniature castle hall. It was far too large for a house; every footstep echoed. A central rug lay before a massive stone hearth, the only thing capable of fighting the constant chill seeping through the stone.

  We settled onto a couch before the hearth. The hall fell quiet as Xanthia began to tell me what had happened.

  Nolan informed Xanthia only once the grim procession of moss-hopper carcasses began winding its way back into town. She was struck by equal parts awe and horror at the sheer size of the giant specimen.

  At Nolan's insistence, she remained at the shrine while guards and hunters were dispatched to subjugate the remaining beasts.

  Her anxiety lifted when she saw us return alive, though battered and bearing wounds.

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  Yet relief was short-lived. The orphanage on the hill had been partially destroyed, and with winter approaching, it was no longer habitable. Worse, the surrounding woodlands had become too dangerous.

  When the Merchant Guild moved to claim the carcasses, Ol' Lucia confronted them. The negotiation was so fierce that Xanthia shuddered at the memory—"Like two ogres clashing over a kill," she said.

  That ferocity secured us an unthinkable prize: a home near the North Gate.

  A stone warehouse—dusty and heavy with the scent of old grain—yet it was ours. A permanent anchor in a town where, only yesterday, we couldn't afford a night's shelter.

  Though much of the precious moss was lost, the giant specimen remained a rare prize, igniting a quiet bidding war between the guilds. With Hailstorm and Lune the Blademaster waiving their claims, the entire windfall fell to us.

  Despite her wounds and exhaustion, Ol' Lucia continued to fight on our behalf. She painted us as brave children under Lord Levia's blessings—words that won hearts, Nolan's included.

  He dispatched skilled priests to restore our vitality free of charge, an act bordering on the miraculous.

  Even Yarissa, pressed by circumstance, provided potions of "premium quality" for all of us.

  That explained why I felt no pain—why not a single wound marked my body.

  Moreover, the Guild had clearly been busy while I was unconscious. I'd heard stories that the Mason and Carpenter Guilds could build a town in a week; I’d always thought that was a myth, but looking at these sturdy partitions, I realised they’d transformed a cold warehouse into a home in a single blur of efficiency.

  I looked at the mark in the middle of the stone hearth—a golden eagle with its wings spread wide. Its sharp, cold eye was fixed forward, its talons clutched a heavy iron balance. The sigil of Merchant Guild.

  Yarissa, that calculative guild mistress. The mark was a silent sentinel, reminding us exactly who had provided this "charity".

  ??????????

  "Kitchen's done!" Julian shouted, his voice bounced off the high stone walls, carrying easily from the back of the building to the common hall.

  "Rooms are spotless!" Millie said, poking her head out from the second-floor railing.

  Fiorella wiped down tables and chairs, while Xanthia and I cleaned the hall.

  Ol' Lucia had taken Thomas to the Merchant Guild right after breakfast.

  "Still have some business with them," she'd said with a smile—yet her eyes were cold and sharp, like a predator's.

  We gathered in the hall near the hearth. Fresh scents of crushed herbs lingered in the air—Millie's resourcefulness. She'd found wild herbs in the stone-walled yard behind the house and hung them in pouches.

  It was a quiet effort to turn the unfamiliar house into a warm home for us—especially for Fiorella, who still clung tightly to Lala and jumped at sudden noises.

  "We have many issues before the High Table," I announced solemnly, raising my cup, "but first—let's celebrate our survival!"

  Everyone drank the chamomile tea Millie had prepared.

  Julian raised his hand. I nodded.

  "Speak, General Julliano!" I declared, chin lifted, playing Thomas's favourite role.

  BAM!

  His fist slammed onto the table beside me. "We need more power, Your Excellency Allen!" he roared. "Look at Hailstorm! Look at Lune! We must get stronger!"

  Fiorella jolted at his voice. Millie narrowed her eyes, fixing him with a piercing glare.

  "Indeed, General!" I rose, arms raised dramatically. "Our slings were no different from the hunters', but the gap between us isn't a step—it's an ocean! We must hone our skills and secure lead bullets!"

  Everyone clapped.

  I turned to Millie on my left. "Deliver your report, Chamber Lady Millie!"

  She fiddled with her pigtail. "We need more firewood. We had enough stored back at the old house…" Her shoulders slumped.

  That reminded me—we'd collected fallen branches for daily use and winter. Now that the woodlands were off-limits, we'd have to buy them.

  "I'll consult our Dowager Ol' Lucia. No worries," I replied, arms crossed. "We'll work in town for coin—it's more convenient now."

  "Anything to report, Emerald Sage Xanthia?"

  Across the table, Xanthia shook her head vigorously.

  Then her eyes widened. Her hand flew to her mouth. She rose and climbed the stone stairs to the upper floor.

  She returned with her satchel and withdrew a silver medallion—broken cleanly in two.

  "This belongs to you." She fitted the pieces together. "Where did you get this?"

  She pointed to the inscription: an emblem of a rampant gryphon.

  Ah. The old gentleman.

  I'd almost forgotten that petrifying encounter.

  I had no idea it possessed such power. We'd narrowly escaped because of it. Why would an old gentleman give something like this so casually to a child like me?

  Xanthia flipped it over and pointed to the reverse—a single eye, its gaze imposing and unblinking.

  Julian's jaw dropped. "That…!"

  "The Oculus of the Firmament," she said calmly, meeting my eyes.

  Her lips curved into a rare, smug smile.

  "The sigil of the Shrine of Truth."