Chapter 9 – The Village of the Unburdened

Chapter 9 – The Village of the Unburdened

Ymir and Ember approached the village cautiously, keeping to the tree line as they observed from a distance.

The sight was… peaceful.

Children ran barefoot through the fields, their laughter carried by the wind. Farmers tilled the land with wooden tools, their hands rough but steady. Women gathered around a well, drawing up fresh water while chatting in soft voices. A group of elders sat beneath the shade of a great oak, speaking in measured tones.

There was no fear. No battle cries. No chains or collars.

No Titans.

Ymir felt a strange tightness in her chest.

This… this was how life could have been.

Beside her, Ember flickered in and out of sight, his form visible only to her. His glow dimmed slightly as he observed the scene.

"Well, they don't seem like the type to throw spears at us," he mused. "That's a first."

Ymir didn't respond immediately. Her gaze lingered on the people—their easy smiles, their quiet existence. She had spent centuries shaping the world. Titans had been both tools and weapons, used to build and destroy in equal measure. She had seen the cycle of war play out endlessly, had been part of that cycle.

But these people… they were untouched by it.

They weren't warriors. Weren't conquerors or kings.

They were free.

The thought unsettled her in a way she couldn't quite explain.

Ember sighed. "You're overthinking again."

Ymir turned to him, her voice quiet. "They don't know what we are."

Ember tilted his head. "Exactly. Which means they won't be screaming and running away. Unless you suddenly sprout a Titan and ruin the moment."

She frowned at him, but there was no heat behind it.

Ember simply grinned. "C'mon, let's get closer. I wanna see how these people live."

Ymir hesitated, then stepped forward, moving carefully across the open ground.

Unlike her, Ember walked without hesitation, but no one noticed him. The villagers' eyes passed over him as if he didn't exist, their gazes settling only on her.

She was alone.

To them, she was just another traveler. To her, Ember was as real as the dirt beneath her feet—but only she could see him.

As they entered the outskirts of the village, the scent of fresh bread and tilled earth filled the air. Birds fluttered from the rooftops. The dirt path beneath their feet was well-trodden, lined with simple wooden homes. The closer they got, the more details Ymir noticed—the way the fabric of their clothes was rough but well-worn, the wooden trinkets children carried, the faint carvings on the village gate depicting ancient symbols.

Her gaze lingered on the carvings.

Some of them were simple—depictions of animals, the sun, the moon. But others…

Her breath caught.

There, etched into the weathered wood, was a figure she recognized.

Not a human. Not a Titan.

But something more.

A being with radiant energy, watching over the people. A presence stretching beyond time, beyond war.

Her fingers traced the symbol, recognition sparking in her mind.

Ember's voice was quiet. "That looks familiar."

Ymir swallowed. "…It's her."

Oris.

The one who had granted her power. The one who had watched her in silence for centuries.

Even here, in a village untouched by the wars of Eldia and Marley, there were whispers of the primordial being's existence.

A sharp voice broke her thoughts.

"Hey! Who are you?"

Ymir turned swiftly.

A man stood a few feet away, holding a wooden staff. His brow was furrowed in suspicion, his grip tight. Others began to take notice. A few villagers paused their work, exchanging glances.

Ember sighed dramatically. "Great. Here we go."

Ymir remained still, her expression unreadable. She wasn't sure what to say.

The man eyed her carefully, taking in her appearance—her long, unkempt golden hair, the faint scars on her arms, the way she carried herself—not as a common traveler, but as something other.

"…You're not from here," he said cautiously.

"No." Ymir's voice was quiet but firm.

The tension in the air thickened.

A woman, likely his wife, stepped forward hesitantly. She studied Ymir, her gaze flickering over Ember for a moment—but she did not react. She couldn't see him. No one could.

Only Ymir.

The woman's expression softened. "You look like you've traveled far."

Ymir said nothing.

Ember, however, chuckled beside her. "You could say that."

The villagers exchanged glances. Some whispered among themselves.

Finally, the older man sighed and lowered his staff. "If you bring no trouble, you're welcome to stay the night. But don't cause any problems."

It wasn't trust, but it wasn't rejection either.

Ymir nodded.

The villagers slowly returned to their tasks, though some still cast glances in her direction. The older woman motioned toward a small wooden house near the edge of the village. "There's an empty hut. You can rest there for now."

With that, she turned and left.

Ymir exhaled.

Ember grinned. "Well, that went better than expected."

Ymir barely heard him.

Her eyes drifted back to the carving on the gate.

Even in a place untouched by war, there were traces of the past.

Of her past.

And for the first time in centuries, she wondered—

Was she truly free of it?

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