On the very same night as Empress Yuzui’s Proclamation, a dreadful noise awoke the villagers of an inland clay-mining outpost. Their houses were rigid and thick yet still the noise rumbled brutally through the walls, in some places leaving cracks.

Hundreds bounded through their doorways in order to catch sight of whatever made the noise, and one, whom had stayed up late in order to write a response was the mononymous Guilaq.

Given his single name by the villagers who had found him as a baby, he had used his difficult upbringing as an orphan to whet his mind like a knife. He had written responses to many of the Empress’ Proclamations in the past, even having a few submitted to the imperial palace directly. But so far, this one had been a struggle up until this distraction, so he welcomed it as he stomped through muck to gather with the others in the street.

“There!” One of his neighbors, a young man named Kilas Buing announces while erecting his finger towards the south-eastern sky.

Following his indication, Guilaq looks to the dim patch of starry sky and sees a pair of deep fiery eyes looking back at him. The sight sent a chill up his spine as he first glimpsed it, but as he watched he saw the fires twinkle and drift distant as if moving uneasily.

Just as the other neighbors around he and Kilas began yelping and shouting questions, another dim light flared up from the distant aircraft.

“What was-” Guilaq began to mutter but another enormous sound interrupted his voice.

A ball of fire turned the night to noon as the distressed aircraft collided into the thick pine forest south of the village.

Some in the village screamed but many others just sat agape as they watched the plume of flames stretch into the sky.

In the few moments that the last drops of aerosolized fuel lit up the sky, a brightly colored swatch of fabric was visible drifting in the direction of the previous flares. A small chair hung beneath the fabric parachute as it slowly drifted a few hundred feet away from where the plane had exploded.

Most in the village had been far too focused on the explosion itself to notice, but Guilaq and Kilas, who had been looking in the direction immediately caught sight of it.

“That’s…” Kilas began to say, glancing around to see if anyone else had noticed the parachute.

Guilaq nodded as the two caught sight of one another. Nothing more need be said, the two in silent agreement began to sprint down the muddy path without a thought. They had to see what had been jettisoned in that last moment.

Kilas’ first thought was of the Darts and Demons that had been all the talk these past few years, but Guilaq was less sure. He’d seen a dart attack before while shadowing a scholar in one of the northern villages. Those aircraft sound different, and they certainly hadn’t shot flames when they crash-landed.

Neither knew exactly where they were running to, but they felt it was important, so they didn’t worry about the thorns and brambles they had to pass to enter the forest. They simply cut through leaving blood and curses as their toll.

“You see it too?” Another voice joined as the forest cleared out and another villager intersected their path. “I last saw the light flashing near grandfather oak but after that it went into the canopy.”

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“Lead the way, we couldn’t see after it went behind the mill. All we could tell was it went back here somewhere.” Kilas noded, recognizing the man as one of the woodmen who frequented the area.

Falling in behind the rugged trailblazer, the trio raced through the forest, watching closely for signs of what might have been jettisoned. Although familiar, the path wasn’t without difficulty.

Fortunately, nothing was impassable and they eventually reached a few hundred feet away from the massive oak tree some referred to as ‘Grandfather’. There they found what they were looking for.

Still gushing smoke and faintly flickering was a large metal chair and shredded remains of the parachute which had smoothened its fall through the brush.

“What do you suppose it is?” The Woodsmen who’d lead the two asked, glancing between them.

Kilas, being mostly interested in the fabric, was clutching a torn piece of parachute and pulling at its fraying threads. He had a theory but he didn’t have the courage to say it. “Hard to say”

“It was the-”

“Don’t move!” A panicking voice interrupted from a thick brush behind the trio. Turning to see the source, they saw a man in his early thirties with matted black hair and a bloody face. In his outstretched hand he held a small metal handle, that you might have called a Glock 19 if you’d saw.

“You’re injured.” Guilaq exclaimed, ignoring the pistol and looking to the thick branch stuck deep in his left thigh.

The pilots landing hadn’t gone perfect, the moment his parachute caught hold of a thick branch it swung him roughly into the trunk of another, if not for the helmet and seat he was safely strapped into, he likely wouldn’t have been able to limp away from the landing. In his mind a small twig stabbed into his leg was a breeze compared to what he’d run from.

“Stay back.” The pilot continued to warn as Guilaq stepped towards him, his heart was pumping with adrenaline and shock. He didn’t know where he was, he hadn’t known for hours, and now the panic of everything coming together at the same time was overwhelming. He felt the pain again surge in his leg as his brain failed to hold back the screaming nerves.

“Careful!” Guilaq shouted as the Pilot topples to the side as his leg gives out. He cried out in pain as the fall shoved the branch deeper into his leg awkwardly.

Ignoring the shouts from the pair he’d arrived with, Guilaq raced to the man’s side and tenderly shifted his leg to get a better look at the damage. Muttering to himself, he gripped the branch in one hand and began to tighten his grip around the man’s upper thigh with the other.

“Wha… Yo…?” The pilot mouthed through grunts of pain. He still held the pistol limply in his hand, but his arm gave out as soon as he tried to raise it threateningly. The pilot felt defenseless and wondered if this was his final moment; with a sadistic local tearing his leg off.

His consciousness faded in and out, only hearing the soft muttering of the man each time he came too.

“Why are you healing him? He must be a demon!” Kilas called out as Guilaq continued slowly extracting the branch while muttering an ancient chant he’d learned from a scholar.

“You think?” The woodsman asked, thinking back to the scene of the explosion that’d preluded the pilots arrival.

It made sense to him, but he also knew that Guilaq was incredibly wise for his age, he would have considered this possibility. So, he chose to be silent and simply observe this rare opportunity.

“He must be. We saw the dart and after he fell out of it, it blew up. He was probably controlling it.”

“Shut it.” Guilaq growled without seeming to miss a single syllable of his low chanting. With a final careful twist of the branch, he plucked it completely from the deep gash and watches as the blood pool condenses into a thick gel-like scab. Once satisfied, and noticing the light returning to the pilot’s eyes, he completes his chant and allows his rough breathing to settle.

Noticing what had taken place once Guilaq released hold of his leg, the Pilot stammered in shock as his fingers finally release the cold metal. “What did- How?”

“It’s okay. The pain will return soon, but the danger is gone.” Guilaq assured him before turning to look at the reluctant pair behind him. “Help me carry him back.”

“Did you not…” Kilas began to moan, but Guilaq’s expression silenced him as the words came out. “Fine, but we have to question him, and he’s not staying at my place.”

“I’ll tell you what happened.” The pilot quietly said with a quivering brow. “I’ll tell you what I saw.”