Morning came slowly to the village.
Mist clung low to the ground, curling around the charred remains of homes and the newly grown greenery that marked the graves of the fallen. Dew clung to leaves that should not have existed, vines still faintly glowing with residual mana, moss too lush for the season, white flowers blooming where blood had soaked the soil only hours before.
Amon stood at the edge of the village, watching the survivors move.
They were quiet. Not broken, but bent. Men reinforced shattered doors with scavenged planks. Women cleaned wounds and soot from children's faces. A few villagers stood silently at the graves, heads bowed, fingers brushing petals as though afraid the peace before them might vanish if acknowledged too loudly.
Amon exhaled slowly.
He had not slept.
Not because his body could not, but because his mind refused to rest.
[You are experiencing emotional overload,] Lilith observed calmly. [This is expected following mass casualty exposure.]
"…I know," Amon murmured. "But that doesn't make it quieter."
Behind him, footsteps approached.
"You're awake early," Vanessa said.
Amon turned. The elder, no, the woman looked older in daylight. The grief had not faded, but it had settled into her posture, her shoulders squared beneath the weight of responsibility.
"I never really slept," he replied.
Vanessa nodded as if she had expected that. "Neither did I."
They stood together in silence for a moment, watching Abigail help another child carry water from a barrel. The girl noticed Amon and waved shyly. He gave a small wave in return.
Vanessa followed his gaze and allowed herself a faint smile. "She hasn't let go of your name since last night."
"I'm glad she seems to be doing okay," Amon said quietly.
"I know," Vanessa replied. "That's why I trust you."
The words landed heavier than any praise.
Vanessa turned to face him fully. "You asked last night to help this village. To rebuild it. To protect it."
"Yes."
"And you meant it."
Amon met her eyes. "I did. I do."
She studied him carefully, not as a desperate villager now, but as a leader weighing a dangerous decision.
"You are not from here," she said at last. "Not truly. You carry power that does not belong to this land, and enemies that will come for you once word spreads. If you stay… You paint a target on us."
"I know," Amon said. "That's why I won't."
Vanessa blinked. "You won't?"
"I can't remain here permanently," he continued. "If I do, this village becomes my weakness. Someone will use it against me. Monsters. Nobles. Gods."
His jaw tightened slightly. "I won't allow that."
Vanessa folded her arms. "Then why ask to help at all?"
"Because leaving you like this is no different than what the kingdom already did," Amon said. "Abandonment dressed up as necessity."
The wind stirred, rustling the leaves of the unnatural plants around them.
"I will leave," Amon said. "But not before ensuring this village can stand without me."
Vanessa was quiet for a long moment.
"And how," she asked carefully, "do you intend to do that?"
Amon lowered himself to one knee, not in subservience, but in respect. The motion startled her.
"I will become this village's co-ruler," he said. "It's shield. Its foundation. Not a king, but something closer to a warden."
Vanessa inhaled sharply.
"I will rebuild its defenses," Amon continued. "Strengthen the land. Improve food production. Train those willing to fight, and fortify those who cannot. But leadership, true leadership, must remain here."
He looked up at her.
"With you."
Vanessa stared at him, disbelief and caution warring across her features. "You would give power… and then walk away from it?"
"I don't want to rule people," Amon said simply. "I want to make sure they are never helpless again."
Silence stretched.
Then Vanessa laughed, soft, weary, almost broken. "You are a strange young man."
"So I've been told."
She rubbed her temples, eyes closing briefly. When she opened them again, they were sharp.
"If you do this," she said, "you do it openly. No shadows. No secret savior nonsense. The people must know who protects them."
"They will," Amon agreed. "But they will also know that you speak with my authority when I am gone."
Vanessa hesitated. "You would leave decisions in my hands?"
"I don't understand crops. Or trade. Or how to guide grief," Amon admitted. "You do. I trust that."
The word trust seemed to unbalance her more than any offer of power.
"…Very well," she said at last. "On one condition."
"Name it."
"You do not treat this village as a tool. Or a base. Or an experiment." Her voice hardened. "These people are not resources."
Amon's eyes darkened, not with anger, but with something colder.
"I know what it means to be treated as one," he said. "I won't allow it."
Vanessa searched his face, then nodded once. "Then I accept."
A subtle shift passed through the air, not magical, but real. A decision had been made.
Vanessa turned toward the village center and raised her voice.
"Everyone," she called. "Please gather."
The villagers hesitated, then slowly approached. Faces tired, wary, hopeful.
Vanessa placed a hand on Amon's arm and guided him forward.
"This young man," she said, "is Amon. He saved our lives last night when no one else came."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"He has offered to rebuild this village. To protect it. To ensure we are never left defenseless again." She paused. "I have accepted his offer."
Gasps. Whispers. Fear and hope tangled together.
Amon stepped forward.
"I will not stay forever," he said plainly. "But I will leave this place stronger than I found it. Food will grow here again. Walls will rise. And if monsters return..."
His eyes glinted like a burning ember.
"They will die."
A shiver ran through the crowd.
"But Vanessa remains your elder," Amon continued. "Your voice. Your guide. When I am absent, her word carries my authority."
Vanessa straightened, visibly steadying herself.
The crowd was silent.
Then a man stepped forward, the same one who had asked Amon's name the night before.
"If you leave," he asked, voice trembling, "how do we know you'll come back?"
Amon considered the question.
Then he turned and pressed his palm to the ground.
The earth trembled, not violently, but deeply.
From beneath the soil, thick roots surged upward, weaving together into a sturdy wooden post at the center of the square. Flesh-like bark hardened into living timber, veins pulsing faintly beneath the surface.
"I've bound myself to this land," Amon said. "As long as this village stands, so will I."
The villagers stared in awe.
Vanessa swallowed hard.
"Very well," she said. "Then by the authority entrusted to me… I name Amon co-ruler and protector of this village."
One by one, the villagers bowed, not out of fear, but gratitude.
Amon did not bow back.
He simply placed a hand over his chest, over the scar at his neck.
"I won't fail you," he said.
And for the first time since his awakening, the words felt like a promise he truly believed he could keep.