Last night, when the villagers' whispers had finally begun to settle, Eda called for her. The village headman's house stood slightly north of the village center—a stone structure, two stories tall. The broad room on the first floor served as the council chamber. Evening light slanted through the windowpanes, drawing thin orange streaks across the space. A map lay spread across the table, and four candelabras flickered faintly despite the absence of any breeze. When Kestra opened the door, Eda and Darius were already seated. Eda Persson—sixty-two years old, a former teacher, a woman who had stood in this place as village headman for more than a decade—sat with her hands clasped at the edge of the table. Her chestnut hair, threaded with white, was bound at the back of her neck. Her gray eyes regarded Kestra quietly. They were eyes that did not reveal emotion easily. Yet beneath that gaze lay an unmistakable will. Darius stood before the map, arms crossed. Dark chestnut hair cut short. A small scar on his left cheek. His amber eyes gave Kestra a single glance before returning immediately to the map. "[serious]You're late," "[serious]Only three minutes," Eda cleared her throat softly. "[gentle]Well then, shall we begin," The map depicted Helda Village and its surroundings. From the hilly terrain twelve kilometers to the northwest—the Chasm encampment—two red-inked lines marked the advance routes to the village. One followed the highway along the Miren River; the other wound through the hills, skirting Moswood Forest. "[serious]From the Ironpang Brigade's front line to the village is half a day at the fastest. Even if the highway is blocked, using the hill route will get them here within a day," His finger tapped the map. A dry sound. "[serious]The eastern and southern sections of the outer wall are weak. The soil is dried out—it will crumble if pushed. We need to reinforce those areas while securing evacuation routes for the villagers. Using the Miren River crossing to move people to the pastureland on the far bank is the most practical option," Eda nodded. "[serious]Three hundred and forty villagers. How long to move them all across," "[serious]Two hours. An hour and a half if we increase the ferry boats," "[serious]The blacksmith Klev can build rafts quickly if we ask him. There's spare timber in the storehouse," As the two continued their discussion, Kestra studied the map. Her gaze settled on the southern side of the village—toward Moswood Forest. There stood one sealing pillar. Crumbling. Fractured. Her altered magical power resonated with those cracks. She knew that much. Which meant the problem was not simple. If she deployed a magical barrier, it would give them an overwhelming advantage against the invasion. The Ironpang Brigade's force of forty-eight hundred soldiers would take time to breach a precise magical ward. In that time, the villagers could escape. But. The memory from three years ago returned without sound. The flames that had spiraled out of control in a moment of passion—they had melted stone, pierced walls, burned the very things meant to be protected. That sensation. "[serious]Kestra," She looked up. Eda's gray eyes were fixed directly on her. "[serious]Your silence—is it because you're thinking about magic," There was a pause. "[serious]……Setting up a barrier carries risk," Her voice was flat. The voice she used when suppressing emotion. "[serious]My magical power moves differently from the standard magical system that flows through the sealing structures of the earth. When my emotions surge, control slips away. In the worst case, my own barrier could catch the villagers in its blast," "[serious]Are you speaking of worst-case scenarios," "[serious]It's entirely possible," Eda paused before answering, considering. "[serious]Without you here, what becomes of the probability of that worst case," Kestra's mouth closed. "[serious]The Ironpang Brigade numbers roughly forty-eight hundred. Darius's mercenary company cannot match that force. The villagers cannot be protected. Isn't that the true worst case—without magic," In the quiet room, the candelabra flames wavered. Darius opened his mouth. "[serious]You don't need perfect control," He lifted his eyes from the map and looked at Kestra. "[serious]Your presence alone changes the village's position. That's enough," The words were brief. There was no air of persuasion about them, no tone of encouragement. Simply a statement of fact. Dry and plain. Yet somehow, it settled quietly into Kestra's chest. She nodded slowly. "[serious]……I understand. I'll prepare the barrier. But I want to set conditions for deployment and criteria for withdrawal," "[serious]Of course," The three talked for another hour. The order of evacuation, the placement of the magical barrier, how to explain things to the villagers. Eda was practical, decisive, and brought no emotion into her reasoning. Darius spoke in concrete numbers and movement patterns. Kestra outlined the range and danger zones of her magic. The meeting ended when darkness had fully settled outside. --- After that, Kestra and Darius set out to inspect the outer wall. Dusk was fading. Orange lingered at the edge of the sky, shifting to purple above it, and the zenith deepened to a rich blue. The sound of wheat stalks swaying in the wind continued low and steady. Darius stood before the eastern outer wall—a soil embankment two and a half meters high, reinforced with wooden palisades—and pressed it with his finger. Dried earth crumbled and fell. "[serious]Here. And just before the southern corner. We start reinforcement tomorrow morning," Kestra ran her hand along the wall's surface. The texture of parched earth. A section that had received almost no maintenance in three years. "[serious]The southern side is close to Moswood Forest. I'm concerned about magical beast activity. There have been more reports of ash-horned deer lately," Ash-horned deer—creatures corrupted by the magical power leaking from the sealing pillar's cracks. Body height of one point eight meters, they released gray mist from their horns. Being approached while vision was obscured was troublesome. "[serious]I've already informed the mercenaries about the deer. No problem," The two walked side by side along the outer wall. A small distance between them, perhaps half a step. Kestra recalled yesterday's moment at the well. "After you." "No, you first."—that foolish exchange. She smiled inwardly. Today, it felt like they could talk a little more normally. As Darius turned the corner, he spoke. "[serious]……Are you afraid of using magic," The sudden question made Kestra pause. "[serious]Not afraid, exactly—I can't trust it. My own power," "[serious]Since three years ago," "[serious]Yes," Darius said nothing. He simply continued walking. Kestra was beginning to understand that this was his habit—not speaking when there was nothing necessary to say. "[serious]But—what Eda said tonight was right. Having me is better than not having me," "[serious]I think so too," A brief reply. But nothing unnecessary mixed into that brevity. Kestra looked at the sky. The orange had faded, and stars were beginning to appear. --- Night watch was from the watchtower. Helda Village had two watchtowers. Tonight they would use the northern one. A simple wooden structure, with a wooden platform about five meters above the ground. Climbing the ladder, the view opened wide. Wheat fields, river, the edge of the forest. In the distance, the black silhouette of hills. The sky was vast. Clouds were sparse, and stars emerged densely. Looking up, particles of light overlapped and spread across the expanse. Because Helda Village had little extraneous light, on nights like this the stars were truly visible in abundance. Kestra had lived here for three years, but seeing it again made her want to hold her breath. The sky was that beautiful. Darius was already on the platform. His arms rested on his knees, his gaze fixed quietly on the northwest direction—toward the hills where the Chasm encampment lay. Kestra sat at the edge of the platform. No fire tonight. Only a single candelabra, its flame wavering small and low. "[serious]There are many stars," She felt a little embarrassed the moment she said it. She had stated the obvious. But Darius did not mock her for it. "[serious]The watchtower has a wide sky," For a while, the two watched the sky in silence. Then Darius spoke. "[gentle]When I first became a mercenary, my judgment was slow," It was an abrupt topic. Kestra turned to face him. "[gentle]One of my comrades slipped on a cliff. Before I could pull him up, I wanted to check the surroundings first. I was thinking about the possibility of enemies nearby. It might have been a rational decision. But—there wasn't time," His voice was lower than usual. The irony had drained from it. "[gentle]After that, my judgment became faster. I stopped hesitating. Whether that was right, I still don't know," Kestra listened in silence. This was the first time she had heard Darius speak like this. Or rather—last night, she had heard him speak briefly about losing comrades in the Ashfall Campaign. This felt like a continuation of that night. "[gentle]What you're hesitating about with magic is probably similar," "……Yes," "[gentle]When someone has experienced trying to protect something and failing, there's a gap the next time they use that power. That's not a defect. It's just a wound," The word *wound* struck something deep in Kestra's chest. Not a defect, but a wound. A defect should be removed. A wound—it simply exists. "[serious]Have you made peace with yours," "[gentle]Peace, or rather," Darius considered for a moment. "[gentle]It's more like moving forward while carrying it. You can't remove it. If you try to, you end up unable to move at all," Kestra lowered her gaze to her knees. Moving forward while carrying it. She still did not know if she could do that. But—it felt like she could think about it from a different angle now. For three years, she had thought, "If only I could erase this power." But that was the same as "trying to remove it." A star fell across the sky. Both of them saw it. "[serious]……Once, one of my students said they would practice incantations every time they saw a shooting star," "[serious]Why," "[gentle]They believed that if they could finish chanting before the star disappeared, their magic would improve faster. They really believed it, so every summer night they'd go outside. Most of the time the star would disappear before they finished, and they'd be frustrated," A small laugh escaped her. Muffled, quiet. "[sarcastic]……That's a strange person," "[gentle]They were. But their magical skill did improve," Another silence. This time, a warmer kind of silence. The wind blew. An early summer night breeze, slightly cool. The wheat stalks swayed with a soft rushing sound. At that moment, Darius's hand came to rest on Kestra's shoulder. Not to say anything in particular—simply, his hand was there. Not heavy, not light. His body heat transmitted through her shoulder. "[gentle]You're not alone," A low, quiet voice. Something shifted deep in Kestra's chest. Her pulse quickened. Two beats, three beats—faster than necessary. Heat spread gradually across her cheeks. This was not from the night's chill. Absolutely not. Her gaze did not know where to look. She looked at the sky. She looked at the stars. But everything blurred. （Why am I so unsettled right now） Her own agitation seemed ridiculous. A mercenary captain had simply placed his hand on her shoulder. That was all. Just that. Yet that "just that" was shaking a larger place inside her than she had expected. Kestra quietly looked away. She gazed toward the northwest hills. Dark, nothing visible. She looked anyway. "[serio