Rain that cleanses

The rustling embers faded, their glow dimming beneath the growing storm clouds. The acrid scent of burning wood and flesh still clung to the air, but the night was no longer ruled by fire. Now, only the cries of the villagers echoed through the ruined village. Their voices wove together—a chorus of sorrow, relief, and exhaustion.

The torment was over.

Yet, what remained were not just the ashes of Couger Village, but the scars of its history. The memories of suffering, of blind devotion, of blood spilled in the name of tradition—those wounds would not vanish as easily as the flames that had consumed the village.

The last of the stabbing had slowed, the act no longer fueled by rage or vengeance but by necessity. The chief's body, now an unrecognizable mass of flesh and exposed bone, lay sprawled on the ground. Blood soaked the dirt beneath him, turning it into a dark, muddy pit.

The final dagger, gripped tightly in hesitant fingers, sliced through the air before plunging into his unmoving corpse.

Schlick.

The sound was sickening, yet no one flinched. The people of the village simply stood, staring at the remains of the man who had once ruled them.

Kartia let out a soft exhale, as if she had been holding her breath through it all. Without hesitation, she slid her daggers back into their pouches, turning toward Aisha's parents. Her gaze was cold, yet there was something else—something deeper—hidden beneath her hardened exterior.

"Your daughter is safe," she stated flatly, nodding toward the east. "She's in the direction of the sunrise."

The mother clutched her husband's hand, relief flooding her face. But before they could utter their gratitude, Kartia took a step closer, her expression darkening.

"If I hear that you failed to protect her…" Her voice was a blade, sharp and unforgiving. "I will end you with my own hands."

Aisha's father swallowed hard, nodding rapidly. "You have my word," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

They turned without another word, rushing toward the direction she had pointed them in, vanishing into the trees.

Kartia remained still for a moment, her eyes lingering on the place where Aisha had been taken. Then, she turned to Azuya. He had been watching her, unmoving.

Their eyes met.

Azuya sighed deeply and lifted his gaze to the sky. The clouds had gathered thick and heavy, darkening as if mourning the loss of the past. He inhaled deeply, his breath shaky but steady.

"The rain is coming," he murmured.

A single droplet fell, landing on the back of his hand.

Then another.

Within moments, the sky opened up, and the heavens wept.

The first drops of rain splattered against the scorched earth, hissing as they met the lingering embers. A heartbeat later, the storm surged, the rain pouring in thick, heavy sheets.

Water streamed through the ruined village, seeping into the broken soil. Blood, soot, and ash mixed into the rivers of rain, carried away as though the sky itself had chosen to cleanse the land of its sins.

The villagers did not move.

They stood in silence, faces lifted, letting the water drench them completely. As if, somehow, the storm could wash away their guilt, their grief—their connection to the ritual that had shackled them for generations.

Azuya's lips parted slightly as he whispered to himself, "The rain that cleanses…"

The storm raged through the night.

By the time morning arrived, the fire was gone. The ashes had been dampened, buried beneath the mud. The village that once was Couger Village—was no more.

The villagers gathered in the clearing at dawn. The thing—an old tradition, a meeting of importance—was being held to decide their fate.

Before the meeting, Azuya sought out Bon.

Bon stood near the remains of a half-burned tree, one foot propped lazily against the trunk. His sword rested against his shoulder, his expression unreadable. Azuya approached with measured steps, his presence announced only by the sound of wet soil squelching beneath his boots.

"So… you were the plan all along," Bon mused, tilting his head slightly as he regarded Azuya.

Azuya met his gaze evenly, unsure of the meaning behind his words.

"The old man told me to meet someone arriving this morning," Bon continued.

Without hesitation, Azuya extended his arm. In his hand, he held a tightly rolled parchment.

"The chief instructed me to give you this," Azuya said. "Even I don't know what's inside, but I do know this—it was the greatest treasure of the Couger family."

Bon reached out, fingers curling around the parchment. He turned it in his palm, feeling its weight, before looking back at Azuya.

Azuya, however, wasn't done.

"The chief asked me to do this, but…" He exhaled deeply, lowering his head.

To Bon's surprise, Azuya bowed deeply, his forehead nearly touching the damp earth.

"I beg you," Azuya said, voice unwavering. "Take Kartia with you."

Bon's brows lifted slightly.

"She needs to leave this place," Azuya continued. "She needs to find her origins. She needs to see the world beyond this village."

For a long moment, Bon said nothing.

Then, his lips curled into a smirk. "Hah. You didn't even need to ask."

Beneath the trees, the villagers ate in silence, their laughter softer than before. The weight of the past still lingered, but there was something new in the air—a quiet sense of hope.

Azuya stepped forward, calling for their attention.

"I stand before you today as the new chief," he announced, his voice steady. "And with that title, I make my first decree. This village shall no longer be known as Couger Village."

Murmurs spread through the crowd.

Azuya's gaze swept over them, then turned toward the flowing river in the distance.

"From this day forward, we shall be known as Nile Village."

The people nodded, accepting the change. A name to symbolize a new beginning, free from the chains of their past.

But then—his voice hardened.

"Secondly…" Azuya continued, his tone darkening. "I hereby banish Kartia from this village."

The air went still.

Kartia's eyes widened in disbelief. She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could speak, she saw something—no one was arguing.

Even Aisha…

The little girl sat nearby, clutching a small cup in her hands. Kartia's heart clenched as she realized Aisha wasn't looking at her.

Her fingers trembled. She felt dizzy. Something was wrong.

Before she could take another step—her vision blurred. The world around her spun, and her knees buckled.

The last thing she saw was Bon, appearing beside her in an instant, catching her before she hit the ground.

The villagers watched in silence.

Bon exhaled, adjusting Kartia in his arms before turning toward Azuya.

"Thank you," one of the villagers said, stepping forward. "For carrying this burden alone."

Bon didn't respond.

He already knew what they meant. The Ranger Society would come. They would demand justice for the destruction of the village. Someone had to take the blame.

Bon had already decided.

He turned, loading Kartia onto a wagon. Supplies were handed to him—food, water, a map of the Great Jungle.

Without looking back, he took the reins and rode away, leaving Nile Village behind.