Starless Nights

They struck without warning.

Vael blinked behind one of the charging soldiers, burying his rapier into the man's back before he could turn.

A sharp scream rang out as Kiera emerged from the shadows near a fallen rebel, her short sword flashing. Her injured leg slowed her slightly, but her tentacles made up for it—wrapping around the ankle of another attacker and yanking him off balance.

The fight ended quickly. Five Kingdom loyalists dead.

But the cost was more than a few blades.

The rebels turned toward them, weapons still drawn. One of them, tall and sharp-eyed with a jagged scar across his chin, pointed a spear directly at Vael.

"Who are you?" he barked.

Kiera was already raising her hands, breathing heavy.

"We're not with them," she said.

"We fought them," Vael added. "You saw it."

A short silence stretched. Then, from among the rebels, a woman stepped forward. Her cloak was darker than the others, her stance more confident.

She studied them, lingering on Vael's eye and Kiera's limp.

"You're hurt," she finally said.

Vael gave a strained smile. "We've been through worse."

The woman didn't smile back. "If you're with us, you'll need to prove it. Names."

"Vael."

"Kiera."

The scarred rebel lowered his spear slightly. "You from Rjkia?"

"No," Vael said, tone tightening. "But we know what happened there."

The woman glanced at her men, then nodded.

"Come with us. We're heading back to camp. You'll speak with the Commander."

Vael and Kiera exchanged a look.

It was time.

They stepped into the aftermath of a war, bleeding and exhausted—but not alone anymore.

They walked back in silence, two distinct groups naturally forming.

The first was made up of the majority of the rebels—around thirty in total. Some were limping, others on the verge of collapse. Exhaustion clung to them like a second skin.

The second group consisted of Vael, Kiera, the scarred man, and the dark-cloaked woman.

As they talked during the walk, they learned the woman's name was Linda, and the man's was Drako. Despite the lack of official titles, it was clear these two held considerable influence among the rebels—both in strength and leadership.

Eventually, they reached the village.

It looked even worse up close. The walls were crumbling, debris littered the streets, and a constant haze of dust hung in the air. It was more ruins than settlement.

After a few minutes of weaving through the wreckage, they stopped in front of a building that looked just as broken as the rest—half-collapsed, its walls scorched and windows shattered.

But when they stepped inside, they discovered it had once been a tavern. The first group wasted no time spreading out among the half-broken tables and benches. Some collapsed into chairs with a groan, others immediately began asking for food—no matter how bad it might taste.

Vael's group continued deeper into the building, eventually reaching a trapdoor at the back, partly hidden behind what was once a bar counter.

"Typical," Vael muttered telepathically to Kiera.

She didn't respond, but he could feel her amusement through their mental link.

They climbed down the hole, and walked for what felt like an eternity in almost complete darkness.

You'd think Vael would have trouble navigating with only one functional eye. And you'd be right—if not for his spatial affinity.

Since the moment he first awakened, he felt something change in the world around him.

Like he could feel differently.

Like a sixth sense had been born.

A sense he called Spatial Awareness.

Essentially, all objects, living or not, made a vacuum in space, since the spot where they stood had an absence of Space mana.

Therefore, with great focus, Vael could feel his surroundings, objects or magic alike!

As Vael focused on "seeing" without using his eyes, Kiera and Linda were deep in conversation.

"So, where exactly are we headed?" Kiera asked.

"Just outside the village," Linda replied. "It should take about ten minutes to get there."

"Yes," Drako added, "the Captain will definitely want to meet you two. Did you really come from the forest all by yourselves?"

"Yeah, we've been surviving in the forest for just under three months," Kiera answered confidently.

The adults' eyes widened in disbelief.

"You two aren't a day over eighteen, and you expect me to believe you survived the Mistwood Forest alone for three months?"

Kiera, suddenly irritated by their disbelief, decided to unleash the aura she had been restraining.

Kiera's eyes darkened as a faint shadowy aura began to swirl around her, barely contained but unmistakably powerful.

Linda and Drako immediately took a step back, their expressions shifting from skepticism to cautious respect.

Vael, suddenly snapping back to reality after sensing Kiera's aura flare, was immediately on high alert.

"Whoa, what's happening?" he asked, not yet aware of the tension in the air.

"Show them its head, Vael."

He didn't need to ask what she meant. He already knew.

The Horned Druid.

Normally, objects stored in spatial rings continued to age like anything else. An apple would rot just as quickly as one left on a table. But for some reason, Vael's personal pocket didn't follow that rule. Time inside it was… suspended.

That's why he kept the heads of the stronger beasts they'd killed in the forest—at least the ones worth remembering. Space wasn't unlimited, after all.

Without another word, he reached into the void and pulled it out.

The deformed, snarling head of the Horned Druid emerged, its twisted features and glowing white antlers radiating faint traces of residual wind magic.

Drako and Linda, who had looked on in awe at Kiera's display of power, now wore something else entirely on their faces—fear.

Not of danger, but of realization.

They had brought monsters in human skin into their territory.

"H-how is that possible? You're just… mid-second stage…" murmured Linda, more to herself than anyone else.

Vael and Kiera exchanged a knowing glance, the corners of their lips curling into mirrored smirks.

"We've got really good coordination," Vael answered casually, his smile laced with confidence.

Drako said nothing, but the subtle nod he gave as they resumed walking spoke volumes. Whatever doubts remained, they were now buried under a mountain of respect—and maybe a little caution.

After several more minutes of walking, the narrow tunnel finally came to an end. The group climbed the final ladder rung, emerging into fresh air.

They found themselves beside a stone house—surprisingly intact compared to the rest of the village. Tucked beneath the overhang of a small cliff, it was well hidden from above and out of sight unless you knew exactly where to look.