After evening training, Zeni would often join the village children as they played games or listened to the stories told by the village elders. She found herself particularly drawn to the tales of the Rahhalah and their daring exploits, and her thoughts often drifted back to her encounter with Amara, Tarek, and Faris.

As she lay in her simple bed each night, Zeni would ponder the mystery of her arrival in this world. She still had no idea how she had come to be here, and the life she had left behind seemed like a distant dream. Yet, in spite of the uncertainty that hung over her, she couldn't deny the sense of belonging and purpose she had found among the villagers of Kephri’s Rest.

This warm thought would usually cause her to drift off happily, content with the fact that, despite being a fish out of water here, she didn’t feel as though her life were in danger. At least until the moments just before sleep when the strange voice would talk about the dungeons.

One day, as Zeni helped Hesira gather herbs for her remedies, she shared her thoughts on her past life and the confusion she felt. Hesira, with her keen understanding of the natural world, listened intently as Zeni spoke.

"Life's a big ol' bag of mysteries, dearie," Hesira grumbled—though still with a hint of warmth, as they strolled through the sun-dappled forest.

"Full of twists, turns, and more than a few surprises. Sometimes we just have to admit that there's a whole heap of things we might never wrap our noggins around. What truly counts is the path we pick to amble along, and the lives we nudge, poke, and occasionally upend as we go," she added, a glint of sagely mischief in her eyes.

Zeni nodded, intrigued by Hesira’s crotchety wisdom.

"I guess you’re right. I dunno why I'm here, but I suppose that means I can just choose to make the most of the life I've been given."

Hesira's lips curled into a smile, her eyes crinkling like well-worn parchment.

"That's the ticket, my dear. Give the present an uncomfortably tight bear hug and let the past scuttle off to its corner. You've been plopped down in our little village for some reason or another, and I'd wager my favorite hat that you'll sniff out your purpose when the time's ripe."

And so, with each passing day, Zeni continued to grow stronger in body, mind, and spirit. She embraced her new life in the village, grateful for the opportunity to learn from this world’s denizens.

Zeni was perched upon a stout wooden stool outside the village blacksmith's workshop, her gaze firmly fixed on the burly man laboring over the incandescent metal. Aken, a gentle giant of a man with patience in abundance, had taken Zeni as his apprentice, guiding her through the intricacies of metalworking and the artistry of forging both tools and weapons. This knowledge would be crucial when the time came for her to venture into the dungeon.

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"Pay heed, Zeni," Aken advised, halting his work momentarily to swipe the sweat from his furrowed brow. "The secret lies in striking the perfect harmony between heat and vigor. Excess heat will render the metal brittle and fragile, while insufficient heat results in an edge that's dull and ineffective."

Zeni nodded, her attention unwavering as Aken resumed his task of shaping the metal. She had devoted innumerable hours to the workshop, absorbing the blacksmith's wisdom and assisting with minor chores. It was a world away from the life she had once known.

With a careful hand, Aken guided Zeni in shaping the heated metal into an elegant yet sturdy trowel, the sort that would serve well for both gardening and excavation. Under his watchful eye, Zeni learned how to properly temper the metal, imbuing it with the perfect balance of resilience and flexibility. As she watched the trowel take form, she felt proud.

As Zeni continued to work under Aken's guidance, she accidentally nicked her finger on the still-sharp edge of the trowel. She winced and drew her hand back, blood beginning to well up from the small cut.

Aken noticed her injury immediately and urged her to stay calm.

"Hold still for a moment," he said gently, raising his hand toward her injured finger. A soft, warm light emanated from his palm, and as the light enveloped her finger, she felt the pain subsiding and the cut healing.

When the light faded, Zeni stared in amazement at her fully healed finger. Aken appeared bashful about the display of his power.

"Aken!” She exclaimed. “What was that? How the hell did you do that?"

The blacksmith hesitated for a moment before explaining.

"Well, I have a minor-tier healing ankh. It's not much, but it can heal small injuries like yours."

Zeni's eyes widened. She had only recently learned about ankhs and their crazy powers.

"That's incredible! Can you tell me more about it? Where did you get it?"

Aken scratched the back of his head, his cheeks reddening slightly.

"Picked it up when I was a pup—probably not much older than you. Happened by accident, really. I was apprenticing for Youssef—the old smith master in my hometown. I was out delivering a sword Youssef had forged for some aristocrat in the sticks of the Kolta region. In any case, I was accosted by some bandits who demanded the sword and my valuables.”

“Oh my god, Aken,” Zeni breathed. “That had to be terrifying. So, what happened?”

“Well, the kindly blacksmith you see before you now is not the boy I was. Had a bit of a temper, young Aken did. That, joined with the fact that I’d been forging steel like a ragged wraith all day, every day for well over a year before that, and, well…there was a fight, but it wasn’t much one.”

Zeni looked at the older man’s thick forearms, broad shoulders and huge biceps.

Yeah, I can definitely imagine him being a holy terror when he was younger.

“Well, afterward, I picked this ankh up off the leader when I saw he had some glowing bits outlining his body. Figured I’d strengthen it some day, but…well, didn’t really come up.”

“Why not?” Zeni asked. “Couldn’t you use all that muscle to go wipe the floor with a dungeon? That would earn you more power, I’m sure.”

Aken chuckled and rubbed the back of his head.

“Truth be told, I never had the chance to advance my ankh's powers. You see, I still had my apprenticeship—and no self-respecting blacksmith would abandon their training to go dive into one of the dungeons, not with good work to be had on the outside. Even so, a few months after my apprenticeship was done, I met Bes, and Nefertari was born not long after that. So, I never got the opportunity to explore a dungeon. And, in all honesty, it was probably for the best. The life of a Rahhalah can be thrilling, but it's also fraught with danger. Many of them don't have the luxury of settling down with a spouse or raising children. I’m lucky."

Zeni listened intently, her curiosity piqued by the revelation of Aken's untapped potential. She now understood that the simple life he had chosen was a conscious decision made out of love for his family.

I better not meet anybody, she thought. The last thing I need is love when I’m trying to do my thing in a dungeon.