"Ah, if it isn't our favourite villager, John Starwyn," Alexander said with a smug grin. "You know why we're here, don't you? I mean, just look at this place—it's still a dump."
John stared him down, fury burning behind his eyes. Rage coursed through him like wildfire. The Captains of the Hollow Flame had finally shown themselves again. They were around Lilian's age, maybe a bit older, but twisted—moulded by the corrupt influence of the city. That's what the villagers believed anyway. Why else would they come here demanding payment from poor, elderly farmers?
"Oh, are you mad, John?" Alexander mocked. "That look on your face—classic. Right, we're a couple days early. Not our fault. Big man up top—the king—decided you'd pay today instead. And if you didn't… Well, you know the drill. Something about killing all of you. So let's not waste time. Where's the village head?"
John clenched his fists, every muscle in his body tense. The city didn't need the meagre funds this village scraped together. They did this because they could—because the villagers were old, forgotten, and, in the eyes of the crown, expendable. No one was injured yet, just frightened by the knights—hence the screams. John made a quick judgment.
The village head had survived the Incident. That old man was tougher than most.
"I'm right here, Alexander," came a gravelly voice from behind.
The village head stepped forward from a cabin-like structure, his spine bent with age but his eyes sharp with resolve. He wasn't sure what he could do, but he knew this: they weren't supposed to be here today. The king couldn't just rewrite that.
From a distance, Jett watched it all unfold. He saw an elderly man emerge, weathered but proud, and John standing tense with barely contained hostility. He glanced at Lilian—her clenched jaw, her locked gaze—and his instincts screamed: Don't get close. This is about to go bad.
"Alexander. Liz," the village head began steadily. "You both know the agreed date. We've honoured every payment for the past two months. We haven't missed one. And we will pay again—on the agreed-upon day. Right now… we're just a bit short."
Alexander let out a loud, exaggerated sigh and rolled his eyes. "Ahhh, do you ever stop talking, old man?" he snapped. "Liz, please do us the honour. Tell our dear village friends what the king said we should do if they started whining—or refused to pay."
Liz, silent and sharp as steel, didn't respond immediately. She preferred to stay in the background, observe, execute, and be done with it. Now Alexander had dragged her into the spotlight, and the glare annoyed her. She shot him a look of irritation—he knew she hated this kind of theatrics.
"His Majesty has instructed us to collect payment today," Liz said calmly, her voice even but laced with finality. "If you can't pay… we've been ordered to wipe out the entire village. It's not something I look forward to—but Alexander does. So I'll ask again, Elder: can your village meet the requirements?"
John flinched—not at her words, but at the civility in her tone. She was composed, even respectful, but that didn't change the cruel reality. What could a village of elderly people possibly do against two Vessels? They could erase this place in seconds. Resistance was a fantasy. The only thing John could cling to was a thought he hadn't dared entertain in days: If this is how I go… maybe I'll see Emily again. What about Lilian… would she be…? He puzzled over.
"No, Liz," the elder said, his voice trembling. "We…" Tears streamed down his cheeks. "We do not meet the requirement… but if you could just—"
"Very well," Liz interrupted, her expression blank. "It's been an honour working with this village. You shall be missed."
She raised her hand slowly, glancing at the villagers one last time. Her fingers trembled—only for a second—as she hesitated. John saw it, and it gave him just enough time.
"Lilian! Run!" John shouted. "Don't come up here—take Jett and go! Leave the village! Jett, no matter what happens, take care of her. I couldn't keep my promise to Emily, but you can. Take her and run! Lilian—I love you!"
The light came like a second sun. In an instant, it was all gone. The village. The people. John.
Jett held Lilian tightly as he ran, his mind screaming in confusion and heartbreak. He didn't stop—couldn't. Behind them, a whole village was erased. The two knights had mimicked the power of the Incident. That same terrible erasure. As Lilian stumbled, he caught her, lifting her into his arms. Blood pulsed in his legs, giving him strength he didn't know he had. He kept running until, at last, a cave swallowed them in shadow.
Safe—for now.
Back at the clearing, or what remained of it, Alexander turned to Liz with a puzzled expression.
"Are you crying again?" he scoffed. "Come on, Liz. Every time we do this… Look, I get it—you've got a soft spot for these lowlifes. But pull yourself together. We've got to report back. And if you didn't notice, two got away. No big deal—they barely had any Nexus. They're probably dead."
Liz didn't look at him. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon, wet with tears she refused to wipe away.
"Alexander… shut up," she said quietly. "To you, they might've been nobodies. But they were still people. Just because we're Vessels doesn't mean we can do whatever we want. You do know—"
He cut her off, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Spare me the sermon. Let's just go. I'm not in the mood for your bleeding heart today."
In the cave, Jett gently laid Lilian on the cool stone floor. She had passed out from Trauma. He sat beside her, head against the wall, breathing hard. He'd only met her yesterday. And now… she was his responsibility.
Why? he asked in silence. Why is this world so cruel?
It took him a while to calm down, but once he did, the weight of what had happened came crashing in. An entire village—erased. Just like that. Those knights... they had to be Vessels. I actually thought I could fight back, Jett thought bitterly. I'm glad I didn't. never stood a chance.
He sat in silence, eyes fixed on Lilian as she slept. She looked so peaceful, but he knew that wouldn't last. He couldn't stop thinking about what would happen when she woke—what they'd need to do just to survive.
"It's going to be okay, Jett. We have each other. Lilian and I… we can make it through this."
The words were meant to reassure him, but they cracked something open instead. He began to cry, silently. For John. For the village. For everything lost. Am I cursed? he wondered. Will Lilian disappear too?
He shook the thought off, but the cave around him didn't help. It was unnaturally dark, almost as if the shadows swallowed everything outside the small radius of light around Lilian. Maybe it's the environmental shifts, he reasoned, though the unease didn't fade.
He thought of the creatures he'd heard rumours about—creatures said to crawl through the cracks of the world since the Incident. Maybe they were already here, watching. Waiting. The thought made him clench his fists, torn between fear and a rising fury. I'll protect her, he promised himself. No matter what.
Eventually, sleep took him.
Morning came, and Jett stirred first. The cave looked different now—lit by the soft glow of daylight. Every crack, every jagged stone was visible, but the eeriness from the night before still lingered. It clung to the air like a warning.
Lilian shifted beside him, slowly waking. Her eyes opened—red, puffy, bloodshot. It wasn't from lack of sleep. He'd heard her cry during the night. Everything they'd been through—her father, the village—had taken its toll.
She looked at him, eyes silently pleading. He didn't say anything. He simply opened his arms.
She fell into him, and they held each other tightly. Time stopped. He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, rapid and chaotic, like her body refused to accept what had happened.
At that moment, he made a silent vow: I'll protect her with everything I have. I don't care if I'm cursed. This is the least I can do. Eventually, she pulled away and looked up at him.
"Thanks," she whispered. "Can we… look for something to eat? I'm starving."
He nodded, taking her hand. It felt both warm and cold—a strange sensation. Maybe it's Nexus, he thought as they stepped into the sunlight. The light hit them hard after the darkness of the cave. Jett raised a hand to shield his face, squinting. Lilian did the same—and then she froze.
A deer stood nearby, unaware of them.
She turned to Jett. No words—just a look. He nodded. They moved in silence, crouched and careful. Jett reached the deer first, wrapping his hands around its neck, but felt his grip weakening. His strength was fading.
That's when Lilian moved in.
She picked up a rock—twice the size of her head, impossibly heavy—and crept up behind the animal. With one swift, brutal motion, she brought it down. The deer collapsed instantly.
Jett stared, stunned. How did she carry that?
He looked over at her—kneeling beside the deer, whispering a quiet prayer. Then she turned back to him, wiping her face.
"Are you gonna help, or just stand there gawking?"
He blinked. "Y-Yeah, I'll help," he muttered, still in disbelief. Maybe she doesn't need as much protection as I thought.
But then a darker thought crept in.
"It seems like Nexus is flowing through you more now," he added, eyes lowering.
She paused. "Is… is that a bad thing, Jett?"
He looked back up at her, conflicted. "Not exactly. But if the flow keeps increasing, you might… flicker."
"If you can't control it," he said quietly, "you… explode, Lilian.