Chapter 22 - Why?

Ren had fallen asleep outside, his back against the cold stone wall of the Wasteland Tower. He hadn't moved all night.

When he finally opened his eyes, the sun was already up, and a quiet crowd had gathered nearby.

Villagers surrounded the tower, some casting uncertain glances his way. Not pity exactly, more the look people gave someone they depended on… and feared might be burning out.

No one dared to wake him up, except Kaela.

"Ren," she said softly, kneeling beside him. She gave his hand a light pat. "Come on, wake up. You'll catch something sleeping out here."

He blinked. Then slowly sat up, rubbing the stiffness from his neck.

"Ah… yeah. Just needed to think. Guess I passed out."

He stood, brushing dust from his coat, and went to find water to wash his face.

The smell of cooking drifted from the kitchen tent. Smoke, salt, and boiled roots. One by one, villagers trickled in, lining up for breakfast. The air felt a little less heavy today.

Ren didn't eat. Instead, he walked over to the kitchen and quietly asked for a bowl.

Not for himself.

For Tellan.

Tellan the bandit was still tied to the pole near the tower. Pale, weak, and silent, his lips dry and face drawn.

Ren approached and held out the bowl.

"Hungry?"

Tellan looked up slowly, eyes sunken but alert. "Yes… please," he croaked.

"I'll give you this," Ren said, stepping closer, "and I'll untie you. But you know there's no such thing as freedom without a price."

Tellan gave a bitter laugh, or maybe just a breath of it. "Of course. I wouldn't expect you to let me go just like that."

"Good. Then let's make a deal."

Ren crouched down and placed a hand on Tellan's shoulder.

"I want an information. You said it before… about slavers, about Ashen Lark out west."

Tellan tensed.

"I'll fund your travel west. In return, you gather what you can. Routes, names, contacts. Anything tied to that group. You send the reports back. You work for me. You stay alive. Simple."

Tellan hesitated, brow furrowed, jaw clenched.

"I'll count to ten," Ren added quietly. "Say yes, and I untie you now. Say no, and I'll let Caden deal with you. No hard feelings. I keep my coin, and you stay where you are if you're lucky. Or maybe he just… takes one of your feet."

He paused, counting silently.

"…Fine," Tellan muttered. "I'll do it. I'll be your eyes."

Ren nodded once, then knelt and loosened the ropes. The moment the last knot fell away, Tellan gripped the bowl with both hands and devoured the meal in a few desperate bites.

Ren turned toward the square.

"Mirana!"

She looked up from where she'd been watching the early work crews and jogged over.

"Sorry," Ren said. "Could you bring some water for him?"

"Got it," she replied without hesitation.

When she returned with a clay jug, Ren handed it to Tellan, who drank as if his life depended on it.

Mirana leaned close, voice low. "You sure about this? Letting him go?"

Ren watched Tellan silently, then he answered.

"I can't watch someone starve if there's still a path to redemption. If it's a mistake I can forgive, I will. But if it's not…" His voice cooled. "Then I'll do whatever I have to to repay it in full. Or maybe at a higher price."

Mirana gave a quiet nod, understanding.

They both looked out at the rising sun over the fields.

Another deal struck. Another move made.

And far to the west, something dark was waiting.

Not long after, with only minimal supplies and a handful of coin, Tellan was released.

Ren watched him go without a word.

He knew the risk. Tellan could vanish the moment he reached the edge of the Wasteland. Take the money and disappear forever.

But Ren didn't care.

Somewhere beneath all the decision, all the plans and calculations, there was still a thread of pity in his chest. A thread he hadn't cut away.

Maybe he deserves another chance. Maybe not.

But I'd rather lose coin than lose what's left of myself.

***

Later that morning, Ren gathered the field workers near the edge of the south trench.

Tobren helped set up the rough sketches Ren had made the night before, drawn with charcoal on thin bark sheets.

He'd mapped the blue-vein water line from memory, where the magical map had pulsed beneath the soil, and marked the depth as best he could estimate.

Beside the map, he placed the strange relic, the drill. It rested on a flat stone like a forgotten sword laid before a tribe.

Villagers circled it cautiously.

"This," Ren began, "is what we found last night. In a collapsed tower south of here."

He pointed to the sketch.

"We believe there's water below us. Deep, but real. This isn't guesswork. Kaela the magician felt something down there. This tool is the key."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

Kaela stepped forward, arms crossed.

"We're not sure what it's made of. But it's not just old, it's enchanted with some magic we don't know. Faintly. But it's there."

Ren nodded.

"This land is changing. Maybe because of this village. Maybe. We're not sure yet."

He crouched beside the drawing and tapped his finger to the marked location.

"If we dig here, and get lucky, we might strike the blue line. Groundwater. Enough to sustain this field and then some."

A hand went up in the back. One of the older workers, a carpenter from the second village.

"How deep?" he asked.

"Hard to say," Ren admitted. "I'm guessing five, maybe six meters. The ground's dry and packed. But if this tool does what I think it does… it might make the job easier."

He picked up the drill, testing its weight.

"It doesn't feel like stone. Doesn't feel like any metal I've worked with. But it fits the hand like it's meant to be used."

The villagers leaned in closer now, curiosity overtaking caution.

"This is where we start," Ren said. "We dig here. We rotate shifts, three hours each. Tobren will assign teams. We'll reinforce the pit as we go. We take no risks. One fall-in and it's over."

Tobren gave a sharp nod and began writing names in his ledger.

As the villagers dispersed to gather tools, Ren remained behind, kneeling beside the sketch. The drill in his lap once more.

He looked at the spiraled tip.

Then at the map, now dim again.

Why you? he wondered silently. Why show me the water… and leave the key right after?

It wasn't magic like the kingdom used. It wasn't divine like Solen's light.

It was something older.

He could feel it now. Under the dirt. Under the tower. Under all of them.

Something had been buried here, long ago.

And it was finally beginning to stir.