The seasons which marked the passage of time were no longer, but time still continued to flow regardless, unaffected by anything in the world.

Nearly five years had passed since his escape from the fourth village. One the grand scale, it may have as well been a single speck of sand dropping down the hourglass of history, but to Alz, it was a period of time which had brought about a large change to his life.

Alz looked around the archives before him with a sentimental gaze as he slowly recalled the time he had spent here. Even with the astute body clocks of elves, Alz had long since lost track of the time he had been staying here.

Every moment spent here had been a memorable one, a piece of memory he would probably carry with him for the rest of his life.

When he first arrived, this place protected him from the wolf.

When he was almost overcome by negativity, this place provided him with books to occupy his time, distracting him from the negative thoughts in his mind.

While he was feeling sad and miserable, this place provided him with fairytales which eased his heart and soothed his soul.

When he was feeling lost without a direction in life, this place provided him with a dream, of an adventure he could look forward to, and tools to help him along the way.

As far as he was concerned, this place was now one which he could call home, one of the two most important places in his heart, the other being his home back in the fourth village.

But all things came to an end, and this segment of his life was about to conclude. He had finally decided to leave, equipped with the many new tools and knowledge he had acquired over the past five years.

Alz had located the way to the fourth village during the first year and frequently went to scout the area near the village. On one of his scouting trips recently, he noticed that the wolves were finally starting to clear out of the village.

As he looked upon this, Alz inwardly thought “It’s about time” and begun to prepare for his departure, confirming the knowledge which might come in useful with the books for the last time, as he did not know when or if he would ever have a chance to return.

If he could, Alz wanted to bring the entire archive with him, but naturally, this was not possible. After an intense internal struggle, Alz finally decided to bring only the “Wondrous Sights of Nature” photography book with him as it was among the lighter books and would not weight him down too much.

The book also contained many pictures which might come in useful in jogging his memory during his journey. Above all, it was a keepsake of remembrance, a memento of the years he spent here.

Memories from the past played out in his mind as his gaze wandered around the archive. Memories of the time the realised he could read, the time he first made charcoal, when he first preserved meat by smoking, how he finally managed to make glass, and many more.

He started to recall the precious moments one by one as he sincerely bowed towards the library in gratitude, tears forming in the corner of his eyes, his first tears in a long while.

He held himself in this position for more than five minutes before righting himself, throwing one final look at the archives before walking out the exit. Before he left, he also shot a quick look at one of the tables in the archive, the one which had a note on it.

Too much time had passed, and the note was not protected, so Alz could not make sense of any of its contents, but he managed decipher three words that were on the note.

‘Tower of Hope”. These were the only words Alz managed to extract from the note, as these words were repeated numerous times across the note, allowing Alz to piece the letters from separate sections together, obtaining it.

Alz did not know what this meant but given this and the empty scattered boxes in the supplies room of the archives, he deduced that it was probably left behind by a survivor of the incident which changed the world, the one thing incident the archives held no information on.

He had attempted to restore it using paper restoration methods recorded in the books, but the note was far too brittle and scattered into dust at a single touch. Alz could only hang his head in disappointment as he committed this term to memory.

Alz steadily pushed the metal door inwards, shutting the door which had been left open for the past five years. *Dong* The metal door slammed firmly into place, leaving only the familiar scent of books in the air.

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After Alz rotated the wheel and locked the door, he heaved a long heavy sigh before walking towards the exit, heading out to the forest.

As he exited the hole, he looked towards a clear open area by his right with a nostalgic smile. There was a mound, a furnace, his leather tanning workbench, a smokehouse and various other furniture around this area, a workspace which Alz went through great pains to create, something he was extremely proud of.

As he was undergoing the warrior’s trial, he had not been taught the tanning methods of the tribe, so he picked it up from the books in the archive. However, he later discovered that the leather made by the tribe was superior in quality to those he prepared himself.

This discovery first disappointed him, but it turned into a sense of pride after he thought it through, as it showed that they had technology which was superior to that of humans in some respects.

He quickly retracted his glance and started heading off in a direction as he always did, except that this time, he was not going to return.

Meanwhile, back at the central village of the Calla tribe, they were also preparing to move towards reclaiming the area around the fourth village.

Ever since the attack nearly five years ago, they had been closely monitoring the situation at the village. Naturally, the wolves beginning to clear out would not escape their detection and they had found out about it even before Alz.

However, they were a tribe. As such, they had much more planning and preparations to make beforehand and had coincidentally finished their preparations a day ago.

Today, they were sending out a squad of twenty warriors, spearheaded by Blain, Lein and Polon, the ‘only’ survivors of the fourth village as they strongly volunteered themselves for this task.

They were the vanguard squad meant to clear out any remnants left in the village so that the non-combatants could safely arrive at the village after. When the non-combatants arrived, they would then begin to patrol and protect the village as part of the new residents of the village.

These elves were gathered from volunteers, elves who knew full well what it meant for them to participate in this rebuilding project and still chose to do it.

They were now standing at the same field where Alz, Link, Polon, Cailia and the other four elves were being lectured at during the first day of their trial. Blain, Lein and Polon were standing in front of the seventeen elves, with their right hands placed on their chests in salute.

Blain’s powerful voice rang out across the field, “We sincerely thank you on behalf of our village.” His voice filled with sincerity and his gaze slowly moved across the each of the seventeen elves who stood before him.

Polon and Lein also lowered their heads slightly while tightening this posture as Blain addressed the other volunteers. However, in the middle of these, the two of them also sent worried gazes towards Polon occasionally.

Polon, like Alz, was forced to bear the pain of separation soon after being reunited with his parents. On top of that, Polon knew for a fact that everyone else was killed, having even witnessed Link being killed right in front of his eyes.

Alz had been fortunate, for he had an endless supply of books to drown himself in, numbing the pain. Within these books, he also found fairytales which soothed his soul and he found books which inspired him, giving a new direction to his life.

Polon on the other hand, had not been so fortunate. After bawling his eyes out in grief when he arrived at the central village, he started isolating himself, not going out except for duties. He also stopped speaking almost entirely, only revealing traces of his former self when he was around Lein or Blain, something which worried them to no end.

They had tried various means to help him snap out of it but nothing worked, some of them even backfired, creating some distance between Polon and the two of them. In the end, they could only watch silently as Polon begun to distance himself from everyone, shutting off his heart to everything.

In direct contrast to his social situation, his fame on the battlefield had been growing larger and larger since he returned. He earned the nickname of “The Silent Killer” for his lack of verbal communication and ruthless blows when fighting with wolves, yet it was an ironic nickname considering the way he fought.

He was extremely well known for charging in with his spear directly into groups of wolves, ruthlessly killing them down without any regard for his own body, instilling fear and respect in the elves who hunt with him.

However, despite achieving much success in the battlefield, many were unwilling to patrol the area with him as he had an extremely bad habit. He did not listen to instructions and pursued wolves even after they ran, not willing to let them leave.

He had been punished many times for his conduct but showed no signs of changing, given his circumstances, the village council was also unwilling to be too harsh towards him and kept giving him chances.

They were doing this in hopes that he would learn from his mistakes and step out of his depression as he was currently the youngest, most talented warrior they had in the tribe, and they had high hopes in Polon.

Yet despite the many chances he was given, Polon refused to change and refused to even speak when he was called in by the council after causing a comrade to receive heavy injuries due to him rushing into a pack of eight wolves alone when they only numbered three about nine months ago.

This battle brought both fame and infamy to his name as he slayed six of them with his spear in that battle while only the other two were slayed by his two comrades, creating mixed feelings towards Polon among the council.

In the end, they decided to suspend him from duties indefinitely while trying all they could to get to him, but all he did was remain silent, refusing to speak even to Lein and Blain who were sent to talk to him.

When the council received the report of the fourth, they decided to send him there, hoping that something would change in him during this task.

Things might have probably turned out differently had any one of the initial group of four been by his side, to get through to him, but there are no what ifs in life, only what happened, as the once ever cheerful Polon grew into the elf he is today.