[Location: Abandoned Island – Nusa Union – Morning – 2 Days before Sarjavah Festival, Year: 1092 Ad Felicitas]

The team stepped off their Stratos Alcherider, its gray, aerodynamic frame glinting in the light, onto the shore where the soft, white sand shifted beneath their boots.

In the distance, Drifter's weathered eyes settled on a peculiar sight. A dense cluster of palm trees stood like sentinels, their fronds interweaving with the branches of unfamiliar species he couldn't name.

The verdant canopy swayed in a lazy dance above wild, untamed grass that rippled like waves across the earth.

The settlement beyond drew his attention—a collection of buildings rising from the landscape, every inch of them fashioned from raw timber that had aged to a deep honey-gold under countless suns. Yet something about the scene made him uneasy. No walls encircled these wooden dwellings.

Nearby, children darted along dirt paths, their laughter carried on the breeze, while adults toiled in the fields, tending to crops close to the settlement. Only the rhythmic crash of waves and distant cries of seagulls broke the peaceful atmosphere.

Drifter scanned the area, his brow furrowing in confusion.

No golems? No defensive turrets? Is this really a separatist hideout? he thought.

Drifter's throat tightened as he watched a young girl chase butterflies near the wooden houses and villagers bent over their gardens, gesturing animatedly to each other between rows of crops, their movements easy and unhurried. Not a single guard patrolled the perimeter. The mission briefing's words—"eliminate the separatists"—now rang hollow in his mind.

Beside him, a familiar voice broke through his thoughts.

"Well, our worst-case scenario just came true," Jaxon muttered.

Friedrich’s sharp gaze swept over the village, his expression calm yet calculating. He turned to the others, his tone steady.

"Luna, Jaxon, Alma, we'll play the part of tourists. Blend in and get a feel for what's really going on here."

Finally, he met Drifter’s eyes, his voice low but firm.

"You stay back. Watch for anything suspicious. If things go south, clear our path."

The group nodded, and with a shared, unspoken agreement, they moved deeper into the village while Drifter moved towards woods near the village.

The stillness in the air grew heavier with each step, as if the land itself were holding its breath. Children stopped in mid-play, their wide eyes following the team.

The adults' expressions shifted, their conversations falling silent as they watched them pass.

"Keep your guard up," Friedrich warned, his voice low and tense. "These people don't like strangers. Something's not right."

"Dad... I don't think they're just nervous," Alma whispered, glancing at the villagers.

She noticed the way they exchanged anxious glances, the way one woman hurried her children inside with trembling hands. A feeling of unease settled in her chest, heavy and suffocating.

"There's fear in their eyes. They know something we don't," Luna observed, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the village.

"Let's stay calm and not jump to conclusions," Friedrich cautioned.

But his eyes kept flicking to Alma, who had stopped in her tracks, staring at a group of children peeking from behind a wooden fence. One of them met her gaze—and flinched, quickly ducking away.

"It's okay, I'm not—" Alma began softly, her heart aching, but the child was already gone.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the air. Friedrich clenched his jaw as he spotted a group of figures in the distance, their weapons and armor materializing as they approached.

"Get ready, on my mark," Friedrich commanded, glancing at Alma, Jaxon and Luna, who nodded in response.

The villagers' anxious murmurs grew louder, the fear in the air rising to a palpable crescendo. Just as the armed figures raised their weapons, a young girl's voice rang out from behind them—urgent and breathless.

"Wait! Please, don't hurt them!"

The team turned sharply. There, panting and frantic, stood the petite Nereid girl with silver-white hair they had seen earlier. Right behind her, the hooded Felidae girl grinned, undeterred by the danger.

image [https://i.ibb.co.com/chhSFy7T/06.png]

"Thank you... for what you did before," the Nereid girl whispered, catching her breath.

"So, you're the ones who saved her? Looks like we're not the only ones with a shared interest," the Felidae girl remarked, looking at Friedrich, Alma and Luna.

"It's good to see you again," Alma said warmly. She glanced around, her voice growing softer but more urgent. "But what's really going on here?"

Before anyone could reply, the sound of distant engines grew louder, quickly drowning out their conversation.

Drifter's voice crackled over the ARF comms, sharp and urgent:

"Everyone, we've got incoming. Alcheriders—lots of them. No insignia, no markings. They're coming in fast."

The team's heads snapped upward. Dozens of black Alcheriders—small, oval-shaped machines with aerodynamic designs and modular construction—approached, piloted by figures in armor and helmets.

The villagers scattered in every direction, their eyes wide with panic. The Evocaier combatants quickly moved into position, shouting orders and ushering civilians into nearby buildings and behind cover. The tension in the air was thick, crackling like static, as everyone waited for the inevitable clash.

"Should we engage first? They don't look like they're here to negotiate," Drifter's voice came sharp over the ARF comms.

Friedrich's mind raced. He knew the stakes—the Black Cube was the priority, but he couldn't risk innocent lives in the process. His hand clenched.

"We can't blow our cover," Friedrich replied over the ARF comms, his voice tight. "I'm almost certain this is government-backed—mercenaries. Probably, their mission is to wipe out this village."

He glanced at the others, his gaze hardening. He couldn't risk Alma, Jaxon, and Luna revealing themselves—they couldn’t materialize their armor, and their identities had to remain secret.

"Jaxon, Luna, Alma—hide. Protect the villagers, and don’t let anyone see you," he ordered firmly.

Everyone nodded and moved into position. Friedrich materialized his armor—an unusual dark gray with a menacing helmet and black cape. His Mace and Greatshield transformed into a dark gray color.

"Drifter, with me. We go in hard—keep your disguise tight. Don't give them anything to work with," Friedrich commanded over the ARF comms.

The unknown attackers landed with heavy thuds, their armored feet hitting the ground as weapons materialized in their hands.

A fully armored azure figure, its horned helm gleaming, stepped forward with an Azure Greatsword in hand

"These people are Separatists—kill them all. Show no mercy!" he sneered, his voice laced with contempt.

As the armored figures approached the village near the woods, dozens of spectral blue swords suddenly struck from above, catching them by surprise.

"Damn... an ambush! Find them!" the azure armored figure shouted.

The attackers, armed with daggers, moved swiftly, blending with the shadows, lightning, and wind until they spotted Drifter. He stood atop a tree, poised in his unusual dark teal armor, his helmet gleaming in the filtered sunlight.

"Target spotted. Seven o’clock, above," one of the armored figures reported.

Then Two armored figures, charged with wind and lightning energy, slashed their daggers toward him. Drifter dissolved into blue particles and countered from below with a barrage of Exalt Bolts, blue projectiles striking the two figures until they fell motionless.

On the ground, three armored figures with dark daggers launched a flurry of strikes. Drifter dodged their initial assault, but when one of the dark blades nearly found its mark, he raised his left hand."

"Exalt Barrier!"

A blue transparent dome parried the attacks, making one attacker stagger. Drifter seized the opening, unleashing a devastating series of strikes with his Exaltare, each blow flowing seamlessly into the next until his blade pierced through their natural barrier, leaving trails of blood on the grassy ground.

As he cleared his way along with his spectral swords, Drifter looked into the distance while running, witnessing the clash of colorful energies among the armored figures and villagers.

The warrior in azure armor carved through the air with his frost-laden greatsword, shattering the Defender shields like glass.

When Friedrich stepped in, his luminous greatshield met the icy blade in a explosive clash, sending crystalline sparks dancing through the air as light and frost collided.

Seizing the moment of weakness, Friedrich swung his mace at the azure warrior's chest, but his opponent recovered with startling speed, deflecting the blow with a sweep of his greatsword.

Before either could strike again, the Felidae girl launched herself forward, her Sattvaprahara igniting with power as crystalline blades materialized from her boots, sending the azure warrior flying backward.

"Sorry, but he's mine" she purred with deadly confidence.

Friedrich didn’t hesitate, shifting his attention to the advancing enemies. His shield became a radiant barrier of light, intercepting both the weapons of nearby invaders and the projectiles raining down from distant Venators.

The battlefield erupted into chaos as armored figures clashed with the village’s Evocaier defenders. Amidst the violence, the haunting notes of a crystalline harp rang out – the Nereid girl’s Echo of the Tide wove a melody of despair. Her song seeped into the invaders’ bodies like poison, slowing their movements until many collapsed to their knees, defenseless against the defenders’ ruthless counterattack.

From his vantage point in one of the village windows, Jaxon’s twin crossbows sang their own deadly tune, each flaming bolt finding its mark, cutting down armored figures where they stood.

At the front, an azure-clad figure swung his greatsword through the air, unleashing a wave of ice toward the Felidae girl.

"Devita!" the azure figure roared in rage.

Effortlessly, the Felidae girl sidestepped, the ice crashing into the ground and spreading a slick, frozen layer beneath them.

"Straight to the point, Lance? Why the disguise?" she taunted, narrowing her eyes.

The azure figure surged forward, swinging his massive greatsword in a wide arc, frost trailing behind the blade. Devita ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding the strike.

She retaliated with a barrage of Geo-Blades – jagged shards of stone erupted from the ground, hurtling toward him. But he pressed on, his greatsword carving through the air in relentless assaults.

Devita shifted the terrain beneath her feet, summoning crystalline obstacles to block his path.

The azure figure shattered them effortlessly, but as they crumbled, a thick cloud of dust engulfed them.

"Now you can’t hit what you can’t see," she teased from within the haze.

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A series of spinning strikes struck the azure figure’s back. His natural barrier flared, absorbing the hits, but her onslaught didn’t relent.

The azure figure swung his greatsword wildly, attacking with brutal, aimless strikes.

"Stop hiding, coward!" he shouted.

But the blows kept coming, relentless, until his natural barrier finally shattered. Her final move—a sharp, upward thrust—sent him crashing to the ground.

He forced himself back to his feet, slamming his greatsword into the earth.

"Winter’s Bite!" he roared.

Suddenly, towering ice spikes erupted from the ground around him.

But they struck only empty air—Devita had already leapt behind him. With a swift 360-degree spin, she delivered a high-speed kick to his back, cracking his armor and sending him hurtling into his own ice spikes. He crumpled to the ground, struggling to rise, his breathing heavy and labored.

He saw Devita standing in front of him, grinning with a proud and arrogant posture. All around him, his men were falling, overwhelmed by the relentless defenders. One by one, they collapsed.

Gritting his teeth, the azure figure clenched his fists. His body trembled as he surveyed the battlefield, his gaze dark with fury.

"I… I’ve already lost," he muttered, his voice cracking with disbelief.

He rose shakily, his resolve crumbling.

"Retreat!" he ordered, his voice filled with reluctant defeat.

With a snarl of frustration, the azure figure swung his greatsword one last time, conjuring a massive wall of frost between himself and Devita. He stepped back, his retreat evident in his movements.

"This isn’t over, brat," the azure figure spat, venom lacing his words, though his tone rang hollow.

The battlefield grew eerily quiet, the faint hum of Alcherider engines buzzing in the distance. Devita and the Nereid girl moved toward Jaxon, Luna, and Alma, who had finally emerged from the villagers' hideout. The tension lingered in the air, heavy as the dust began to settle. From the nearby woods, Drifter appeared, walking briskly toward the group.

"Thanks... for standing with us," Devita said, her breaths quick and shallow, beads of sweat clinging to her brow.

The Nereid girl, her voice low and strained, managed a soft, "Thank you…"

"I’m Devita, and this is Dheandita," Devita introduced, her gaze flicking between the group. "You all fight a little too well for civilians. So, who are you really?"

Drifter, Jaxon, and Luna exchanged glances, but Alma’s voice broke the silence.

"Nice to meet you. I’m Alma," she said with a polite smile, gesturing to her companions. "These are Jaxon, Luna, and Drifter. We’re from the Evocaier Order, Verm Evocaier Academy."

Luna shot Alma a sharp look of disapproval. Jaxon sighed quietly, crossing his arms, while Drifter remained stoic, his expression unreadable.

"Verm Academy? Wasn’t that the place raided not long ago? What happened?" Devita asked, her eyebrow arching as her gaze lingered on them.

"Uh…" The word hung awkwardly in the air. Alma's voice withered under their razor-sharp stares—especially Jaxon's hidden behind dark sunglasses, his expressionless face adding another layer of unnerving silence

Luna stepped forward, her tone sharp. "You knew about that? Who are you, really?" Her eyes narrowed, scanning Devita carefully.

Devita met Luna’s gaze without flinching, crossing her arms as she replied evenly. "I’m a member of the Evocaier Order here. Nice to meet you, Verm team."

Jaxon said nothing, but behind his aviator glasses, his eyes lingered on Devita as he crossed his arms.

Alma finally spoke, sensing Devita might be an ally from the Order who could help her. Her voice wavered with hesitation. "Actually... two mercenaries. They stole a dangerous artifact. If it falls into the wrong hands..."

Jaxon's hand dragged down his face, fingertips catching on stubble. A sound—part frustration, part resignation—rumbled in his throat.

Luna and Drifter stood motionless. No words passed, but the air crackled with tension. Luna's slight head tilt, Drifter's narrowed eyes—a silent conversation more eloquent than speech.

"An artifact, huh? What exactly did they steal?" Devita asked, her eyes narrowing.

Only the sound of distant waves filled the silence for a moment as Alma noticed the skeptical and distrustful expressions of her teammates.

Anxiety rippled through her. Her fingers knotted together, pressing and releasing, betraying the tension coiled beneath her skin. Her gaze darted briefly, then steadied—curiosity cutting through her unease.

She turned to the Nereid girl, her voice a delicate whisper—soft yet sharp, hesitant yet probing.

“Dheandita, who was chasing you? Why are they after you?”

The Nereid girl flinched slightly. “You can just call me Dhea, Alma.” Her voice was soft, trembling just a little. She hesitated, her gaze dropping to the ground, her fingers fidgeting nervously. After a long pause, she continued.

“It’s the Nusa Union government… They—” Her voice cracked, filled with emotion. “They force most of the Nereid people to work in the underwater Eterion mines. They claim it’s only criminals, but… it’s a lie. It’s… it’s not just the Nereid. People from isolated villages are taken too.”

Devita gave a sharp nod, cutting in.

“That’s true.”

Drifter frowned slightly.

“No way, really? So what’s the point of having the automatons?”

Devita glanced at him, her reply calm.

“You didn’t know? The automatons can’t work underwater.”

Jaxon raised an eyebrow.

“Really? All this luxury, and they’re still forcing people to work in the mines?”

Devita shrugged.

“Well, that’s the union for you…”

Luna’s gaze dropped, her voice barely above a murmur.

“So… the rumors were true…”

Jaxon, Luna, and Drifter lowered their heads.

Drifter’s brow furrowed as his mind worked through the details. He remembered reading in the Arcane Network about the Nusa Union—their claim to be the number one exporter of Eterion, translucent blue crystal with a faint inner glow.

The reports always painted a picture of prosperity, but he also recalled whispers about the Order branch. They were notorious for never reporting anything out of the ordinary. And now, looking at the pristine luxury of their headquarters, it all seemed to fit what Devita and Dheandita had said. The pieces clicked, making the whole situation feel all too familiar.

The sound of a familiar young girl’s voice broke his thoughts, and he shifted his gaze to Alma.

“All the luxury... all the festivals we've seen—built on the backs of people like you,” Alma said, her voice low but sharp, her anger palpable as she shook her head.

Dhea nodded, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She quickly wiped them away, but the pain in her voice was raw, trembling as she spoke.

"We have no rights. No one cares. My parents... they gave their lives to save me. But even the Evocaier Order here... they betrayed us."

Luna’s brows furrowed slightly, her lips pressing into a tight line.

Jaxon shifted uneasily, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

Drifter stood still, his jaw tight as he avoided looking directly at Dhea, his gaze drifting to the ground as memories of his history lessons flickered through his mind—the history of the Aurea Aetas era, of masses of people in chains and auction blocks from a time the mortals had supposedly left behind. Yet here it was again, taking on another form.

As he heard Devita’s voice, Drifter shifted his gaze from Dhea to her.

“I’m sorry, but the Order here is rotten,” Devita said bitterly, her voice laced with contempt. “The government bribes the Order to stay quiet. Most of them live in luxury, turning a blind eye to everything. Only a few of us actually do the job we're sworn to. It’s... shameful.”

Her brows were drawn tight, her lips pressed into a firm line—steadfast, unwavering. Yet something in her eyes made Drifter’s stomach twist.

Why does she do this? Is it really out of noble intention?

Then Drifter spoke, his voice low, eyes narrowing. "This village? Built by those who escaped?"

Devita glanced at him, a slight nod. "You nailed it... It was thanks to the resistance that this place was possible..."

"By the way, how'd you find this place?" Devita asked, turning her gaze to Alma, Drifter, Luna, and Jaxon.

Jaxon glancing for a while around before meeting Devita’s gaze.

"We actually disguised ourselves as mercenaries," Jaxon replied. "Took a job from someone with ties to a Union general. We were ordered to take you out, branding you as separatists. And now, here we are."

“As expected. It’s not a coincidence. They already know about this place,” Devita muttered.

Alma caught Devita's gaze, a subtle smile playing at the corner of her lips. Devita had shown genuine compassion for the villagers—perhaps she might be willing to help. What did she have to lose by asking?

"By the way, you wouldn’t happen to know anyone who could help us get to the Yuvaka cruise ship on the night of the festival, would you? We need to stop those mercenaries before they hand over the artifact to their contractor," Alma asked.

Devita hesitated, her eyes flickering between the group and the distance beyond them. She shifted her weight uneasily, clearly weighing her options.

"Well... I suppose I can help," she said after a moment, her voice thoughtful. "I actually have a contact who can get you there."

"I can introduce you to someone... uh, I’m sure it’ll work if you just say you’re my... college friends. You’re all young enough, they won’t ask too many questions."

Alma's eyes lit up. "Seriously? That would be incredible." She glanced at her teammates, a relieved grin spreading across her face. "See? Staying here was totally worth it."

"Thank you... but who exactly will be taking us?" Luna asked, her eyes narrowing with suspicion as she crossed her arms.

"I... I can get you to someone higher up, but... don’t mention the Evocaier Order, alright? Just... keep that between us," Devita lowered her voice, her tone awkward.

Luna furrowed her brow, still skeptical of the vague explanation, but she nodded anyway. "Alright. I’ll go along with it..." Her voice was steady, though caution lingered in her movements as her eyes scanned Devita’s face.

Drifter studied her, his expression unreadable. Something in the way she spoke didn't sit right, a hint of hesitation that didn’t match her earlier confidence. He glanced at Jaxon, then back to Devita, his mind racing. Let just hope she’s not lying.

A figure approached—Friedrich, flanked by members of the village’s Evocaier Combat Unit. His face was hard, his expression cold as he came to a stop before the group.

"I’ve heard the situation from them," Friedrich said, his voice measured.

"We’ll pull back for now. We need to report this back to Grandmasters. If the Evocaier Order here is compromised, it’s our duty to expose it," he continued, his tone firm as his eyes scanned the group.

He glanced around, his expression growing more serious. "We need to talk. Please excuse us."

As they neared the shore, they stopped.

"That girl... they say she can get us an invitation to Yuvaka," Drifter said, his voice hesitant.

"I see... How?" Friedrich asked, his brow furrowing.

"She claims to have connections to one of the higher-ups... but... the way she said it... didn’t seem too sure," Drifter replied, avoiding Friedrich’s gaze.

Friedrich’s expression darkened.

"It would be great if that’s true, but I’m not sure we can rely on her. I know it’s difficult, but staying in this village is a bad idea. Who knows when the Union will return?"

Alma’s hands clenched at her sides, her voice rising.

"You mean we just... abandon them? After everything?" Her eyes softened, but the hurt was clear.

"I’m sorry, Alma. But the mission comes first." He paused, his gaze flickering briefly to her.

"If that cube falls into the wrong hands, millions will suffer."

Alma bit her lower lip, her soft eyes searching his face. Instead, all she saw was the stern resolve. She felt the tightness in her chest, but her decision didn’t waver.

"I understand, Dad. But I can’t just leave them... not after everything they’ve been through." Alma’s voice trembled.

"I’ll talk to the Order leader here. A little persuasion might get us somewhere... but we’ll see." Friedrich exhaled sharply.

"We don’t have many options left."

"Are you sure he won’t sell us out?" Luna narrowed her eyes, her voice skeptical.

"There’s always a chance, but it’s the only lead we have. We’ll take that risk. If he does... we’ll deal with it when it comes." He met her gaze, his jaw tight.

"This is getting harder and harder... I’d rather be on a straight-up monster extermination mission than dealing with this political mess."

"And I’m not sure the Hunter’s going to give us any useful intel, either." Jaxon let out a frustrated sigh.

"We don’t have the luxury of time anymore. We’ll make do with what we have. Let’s move." Friedrich's voice was calm.

"I’m staying, Professor. Sorry." Drifter’s voice was low but firm.

Alma’s soft, relieved smile tugged at her lips as she glanced at Drifter, her eyes flicking back to Friedrich.

"I’m staying too, Dad." Her voice was warm.

"This isn’t our fight, Drifter. Alma." He exhaled slowly, trying to rein in his emotions.

"We have to stick to the mission, just as the Hunter suggested. Stay out of the politics."

For a while, only the sound of the waves filled the silence. Drifter’s gaze stayed ahead as he spoke.

"Our path ahead is uncertain... staying put might not be the best choice. Maybe if we gain Devita’s trust, she might reveal more. Splitting now could give us a clearer picture later."

"Besides, I can’t just leave these people behind. If we do... we’re no different than the ones who’ve been ignoring them for years." Drifter glanced toward the village.

The weight in his chest and the twist in his stomach—gnawing at him. Deep down, a memory rose—cries for help from Area Zero, once called the Verlumia region.

Villagers running, a mother clutching her baby, both falling to the swarm of black creatures with writhing tendrils as his healing couldn’t reach them in time.

He remembered sprinting for reinforcements, his voice desperate as he begged for more herbs and potions. But the nobles only glanced past him as he left empty-handed.

Another day, he met Lord Solvelyn, the elven man with long golden hair, renowned as the most virtuous among the nobles. His words were kind, brimming with promises of aid, sparking a fleeting hope in Drifter’s chest. But as Drifter cast spells against the swarm of black creatures, his breath growing heavier with fatigue, there was still no sign of the soldiers or supplies that had been promised. The other volunteer mages fought beside him, but they too were faltering.

As he retreated, realizing he was the only one left, his eyes caught something. Soldiers bearing the red lion emblem of the Solvelyn family weren’t rushing to their aid. Instead, they were laying siege to a city, clashing with Lord Iridiath’s forces, their blue eagle banners fluttering in the chaos.

Drifter’s chest tightened. Betrayal. The word lingered in his mind, cold and sharp. His gaze snapped to the darkening sky above, streaked with dark lightning, while the rifts continued to spread like wounds across the heavens. Below, the swarm of creatures surged, tendrils slashing through the air with relentless fury. One by one, villages fell. Then the cities.

Drifter’s lip curled in frustration.

I’m not like them... Never! The thought burned in his chest, but he clenched his jaw, pushing it down. He couldn’t afford to let it show.

A heavy silence settled over the group. Luna stood beside Drifter, her posture steady and unshaken.

"I’ll stay with him. Drifter has a point... I think this is our best chance." She shot Friedrich a small, apologetic smile.

"You’ll be fine without me."

Friedrich’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied them for a long moment. Disappointment and concern flickered in his gaze before he finally sighed, nodding once in silent acceptance, though his jaw remained tense.

“Alright… but remember, if this goes wrong, there’s no turning back,” he said, his voice firm but carrying a weight of caution.

“Don’t worry, Professor. We’ve got it covered.” Luna offered him a reassuring smile. “Good luck. We’ll stay in touch.”

“Well, I guess we’ll see each other soon. Just—take care of the girls, Drifter.” Jaxon smiled and casually waved at them.

“No worries, both of you. Stay safe,” Drifter smiled back at Jaxon.

“Take care of yourselves,” Friedrich’s voice was firm, but there was a hint of warmth in his parting words.

Friedrich glanced at Alma, who avoided his gaze.

“Take care.” There was disappointment in his tone.

“Stay safe, Dad,” Alma said, her voice quiet, feeling a pang of guilt as she avoided his eyes.

With that, they parted ways. Friedrich turned to leave, Jaxon following closely behind. The air between them shifted, the weight of their choices pressing down on them as they disappeared, their stratos alcheriders cutting through the distance toward the open seas.

Drifter stood motionless, his gaze fixed on their retreating forms. His jaw tightened, fingers curling into fists at his sides, as if trying to hold onto something. A storm raged inside him, conflicting thoughts battling for dominance, but a faint flicker of resolve anchored him, keeping his feet firmly planted.

Alma’s gaze drifted toward the distant sea, her eyes distant, lost in thought.

Luna, silent as ever, was the first to turn, making her way back toward the village.

The hum of the alcherider engines slowly faded into the distance, replaced only by the soothing rhythm of the waves and the distant cry of seagulls.