We got a late start the next morning. We hadn’t exactly slept in, but by the time everyone finished packing up and getting things in order, the sun had already risen. Rilla had improved a lot overnight – his cuts had mostly healed – but he still looked a little rough around the edges. I figured it had less to do with his injuries and more to do with him spending the night experimenting with his new death echo. I had a feeling he’d been up trying to figure out what it was, testing it, pushing it, trying to understand it.

Whatever it was, Kazrik didn’t seem concerned about it. When he saw Rilla looking a little bleary-eyed, he just gave him an encouraging nod as if to say ‘that’s normal. Every new hunter does that.’ I guess that made sense. If I had a new power grafted onto my body that could give me super agility or armor or whatever, I’d be curious too and be okay with losing a couple hours of sleep playing with it.

As we got ready to leave the camp, Kazrik came over to me, his posture slightly more relaxed than it had been the day before. “No need to rush today,” he said. “We’re close to where Zypha is leading you. No need to push ourselves like yesterday.”

That was a relief. The blistering pace from yesterday had been…tiring. It wasn’t as bad as constantly sprinting, but the pace and the heat of this world had combined to wear me out. Now that we didn’t have the same sense of urgency, we could take our time.

With the slower pace, Zypha was able to explain a little bit more about all the lands we were crossing. She explained that our trip was crossing through territories that belonged to several different clans of the Agawo, each with their own rules, histories, and customs. She pointed out the invisible lines that separated one clan’s territory from another, weaving together a story of the Agawo that explained the patchwork of rivalries, alliances, and grudges that were held for generations. Her tone was steady and calm as she spoke, as if the whole complex web of tribal politics and the tangled history where every hill, tree, and river had meaning tied to the people was a natural, everyday part of her daily life. But then again, as someone training to become the shaman of a village, it probably was a normal part of her daily routine.

“As a traveler, you are protected by custom,” she explained as we walked. “It’s an unspoken rule among the clans. Travelers are respected. They see you as part of something larger than the day-to-day conflicts. And any group that is guiding a traveler to the old men of the Tarro is usually granted safe passage.”

Her tone was calm, almost detached, like she was discussing the weather. But I could tell by the way her eyes flicked across the landscape, along with how the other hunters kept their eyes fixed on the horizon, that none of them were complacent. “Usually” granted safe passage wasn’t a guarantee.

“Usually?” I asked.

Zypha nodded slightly. “Customs are traditions. They’re strong but not unbreakable. And not everyone is keen to follow them.”

“Why are travelers so respected?” I asked. There were so many questions running through my mind at the moment. What stories had the Agawo passed down about travelers that made everyone around me – with the exception of the first four assholes I’d met – treat me with such respect? How could I walk through the tangled web of tribal politics of the Agawo with barely any restrictions?

Zypha paused, her brow furrowed as she tried to find the right words. “I don’t know the full story,” she admitted. “The old men of the Tarro are the ones who could tell you exactly what happened. But it’s been tradition for as long as anyone can remember – the Agawo don’t interfere with a traveler’s journey. We are allowed to help you. Occasionally. And we can offer to guide you to the old men. But we can’t interfere with your trials or your travels.”

She hesitated, her gaze sharpening as she added, “But you should know, things can still go wrong. Customs hold power. Until they don’t. If we stumble into an ambush, you won’t have time to explain you’re a traveler before someone decides to attack. And a spear doesn’t care about tradition. It doesn’t know you’re supposed to be untouchable.”

Her words hung in the air. Yea…tradition wasn’t a perfect shield, and relying solely on it felt reckless. That was probably why the village had sent so many hunters along with Zypha and I, to try and minimize the danger we’d face as we made our way to the old men. Even if I was supposed to be given safe passage by the Agawo, there were still a bunch of chances for everything to go wrong.

As we continued on, the hours slipped past quietly. I noticed how the land started shifting around us, gradually transforming from the familiar terrain around the Ilna village into something altogether different. Here and there, small signs of different clans’ presence began to appear – carved stones and painted markers, standing like silent sentinels along an invisible path. To me, they were nothing but odd symbols that were indecipherable and foreign. But to Zypha and the hunters, they were clearly loaded with meaning.

I could tell we were getting close to wherever Zypha had been leading us. The ground beneath our feet started to feel different. The air grew thicker, almost suffocating, and an eerie silence seemed to settle over everything, broken only by the occasional whisper of the wind through the grass. Even that felt muted, as if it didn’t really belong here. The whole area had a strange, unsettling vibe of a place forgotten in time, as if nobody had dared to set foot here in years.

As we neared wherever it was that Zypha wanted me to see, the rest of the hunters silently spread out, creating a protective formation around Zypha and me. They didn’t need to say anything for me to understand that we were entering somewhere dangerous.

Kazrik had gone ahead, making sure there wasn’t anything dangerous lurking in the area. Even though everything around us seemed still and empty, I could tell he wasn’t taking any chances. He’d been keeping an eye out the entire time we’d been traveling, and it seemed he was even more focused now that we were where Zypha was leading us to. I could feel him on edge. His attention was narrowed to what could potentially harm Zypha and me. The land seemed devoid of any wildlife, so it made me wonder what kind of threat he thought we needed to be protected from.

The ground started telling its own story as we pressed forward. It was uneven, scarred by deep gashes and craters, like we’d wandered into the aftermath of some ancient battle. Furrows had been torn into the earn, and I could see where chunks of land had been tossed aside like debris. Dark, charred patches of soil marred the landscape, black scars standing out against the muted terrain.

What struck me the most was how the signs of destruction all around me hadn’t fully healed. Despite how old the place felt, despite all the layers of time that covered the land, whatever had happened here had been violent enough to leave scars that couldn’t be erased.

It was…unsettling; like the land itself had been traumatized by whatever had caused the destruction and would never recover from it. Whatever had happened here had been violent enough to leave its mark for centuries, if not longer.

“Not many people come here,” said Zypha softly, breaking the heavy silence between us. “Most consider it cursed.”

It certainly felt like it. The deeper we went, the more the whole area seemed abandoned. There were no birds in the sky, no rustling leaves, no distant calls of wildlife. The whole place felt like the land itself had given up and was just waiting to die.

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And then I saw it.

Half-buried in the dirt, a capsule lay sunken into the ground. My breath caught in my throat as I recognized it immediately. It was nearly identical to the one I’d crash-landed in. The only difference was that this one was much older. The metal was battered and worn, covered in a thick layer of dust and dirt. It looked like it had been here for years. Maybe longer. Faded markings covered its surface. Strange symbols dotted the metal and I couldn’t read them but they felt…familiar.

I stared at the symbols, trying to make sense of them. I squinted, trying to will the codex to activate. Normally, it just seemed to flicker to life on its own, providing me with whatever information I wanted when I focused on something long enough. I’d gotten used to the strange feeling that happened when data popped up in front of me. It felt like it filled gaps in knowledge that I didn’t even know I had. But this time…nothing. The codex was silent.

Frustration bubbled as I focused my attention harder on the capsule, trying to will some kind of response. This was the same thing that had brought me here. Who made it? Who’d been inside? Why was it older than mine? Why weren’t there any markings on my own capsule?

But the codex refused to give me anything. It was just a blank, heavy silence that hung in the air with those symbols staring straight back at me.

I stepped back from the capsule, trying to take in the rest of the scene. The metal was pitted and scratched, scarred from who knew what kind of abuse. Around the capsule were scattered remnants of what might have once been a camp. Broken supplies lay half-buried in the dirt, rusted tools were thrown haphazardly about. It was a mess.

Why weren’t there any tools in my own capsule? Why didn’t I have any of this stuff when I fell on an alien planet?

There was nothing in my capsule that hinted at a prolonged stay, let alone anything that could help me survive. But here, there were signs that whoever had arrived in this capsule planned on being here for a while.

I glanced back at Zypha who was watching me with an expression that was hard to read. But she gave me a small nod, as if urging me to continue exploring. So that’s what I did.

I circled the capsule. There was a small panel partially buried under the dirt. When I crouched down to brush away the soil, I found what looked like a manual release for a hatch. But when I tried opening it, I found the whole thing had been welded shut by rust.

Standing again, I ran a hand over the cold metal, tracing the dents and scratches with my fingers. My own capsule had been obliterated when I landed. It hadn’t really survived the impact. But this one was more intact. Kind of. Age had broken it, but it looked like it had been designed for a longer stay. It looked sturdier than my own capsule. And it seemed like it had been the center of some kind of base, like someone was meant to live here for years.

I focused again, trying to kick the codex into activating, demanding answers. I was just about to give up when I felt that familiar pressure at the back of my head. The codex flickered to life and data flashed in front of me.

[Capsule]

This is a capsule.

“What the shit!” I yelled in frustration. That was all it wanted to give me? I already knew that.

“It belonged to a sky-fallen,” said Zypha, her voice pulling me away from my frustration with the codex. “Like you, it came from the sky, crashing here. But…not all who fall from the sky are like you.”

I ran a hand through my hair, squinting at the battered craft. “It looks like the one that dropped me here,” I admitted. “But there are small differences. This one has markings. And…mine didn’t survive the landing like this.”

The craft was still somewhat whole despite having laid here for what felt like years.

Zypha tilted her head slightly, as if she wasn’t surprised. “And it also didn’t have tools or supplies.”

My eyes snapped to hers. “How did you know that?”

Her lips curled into a small smile. “The old men of the Tarro could explain better. They’ve seen many like you over the years. All I know is what I’ve pieced together from the stories passed down by my people.”

She paused, clearly trying to decide whether it was okay to tell me anything more. “Not all sky-fallen are travelers. I’m sure the elder has already told you that. You, and those like you, usually meet with the old men and then…leave. But some,” she gestured to the capsule, “stay. They try to carve out a place for themselves here. That almost always ends in violence.”

The wind whistled through the silent landscape as I stared at her. “This one,” she said, nodding towards the half-buried capsule, “wanted more than just to survive. He tried to set himself up as an elder.”

I could see the shift in her expression as she walked around the capsule, her tone darkening. “He built fortifications, hunted local wildlife, and for a time, the Agawo left him alone. This place is isolated, and no one wanted to challenge a sky-fallen. He had…weapons and tools far beyond us.” She folded her arms. “But it wasn’t enough for him. He started attacking hunting parties, kidnapping people from the surrounding tribes. He demanded that the Agawo bow to his authority, that they serve him. He wanted to rule.”

I glanced back at the capsule. The rusted tools and broken camp now painted a far darker picture than I’d previously believed. “And the Agawo let him get away with it?”

Zypha shook her head. “No. It reached a point that the clans joined together. They put aside the rivalries that split them and drove him out.” She gestured around us. “This place is all that’s left. The remnants of that fight.”

I stood for a moment, letting it all sink in. Everything that I could see, the tools and the capsule and the scars that were carved deep into the earth, it all came from a person like me – a person who’d fallen to this world and tried to bend it to his will. And the world fought back.

I crouched down to get a better look at some of the scars from the battle. There were still charred pieces of earth that should have regrown in the time since the battle.

Zypha seemed to know what I was thinking, and her expression turned grim. “He had weapons. Powerful ones. Stronger than the Agawo had ever seen.” Her eyes flicked back to the capsule. “But even those weren’t enough.”

&&&&&

We left the capsule behind, heading north toward where Zypha claimed the old men of the Tarro lived. As we moved away from the site where the sky-fallen had tried to build his twisted kingdom, Zypha kept up a steady stream of conversation. She tried to explain to me how each of the Agawo tribes sent people to work for the old men and delivered food and goods to them. From the way she spoke, it was considered a great honor for the tribes, and a way for them to show respect to the old men.

But honestly, I wasn’t really listening.

My mind was stuck back at that scarred patch of earth and the capsule half-buried in the dirt. The codex had failed me, offering nothing more than a bland and unhelpful “this is a capsule.” That was it. There weren’t any extra details or insights given. Usually, the codex would bombard me with information even when I didn’t ask for it. But now, when I desperately wanted to know more, it had gone completely silent.

I kept thinking about the sky-fallen and how Zypha said he had weapons that were powerful enough to tear the land apart and to leave scars that still lingered. How was it that he had that kind of tech? When I arrived, I had nothing but a pair of cotton shorts that didn’t even last a day. I didn’t even get my memories, and this guy had tools to build fortifications. What made him so special? Why did he get the means to build a tiny fiefdom and I got…nothing?

Zypha must have noticed that my attention was elsewhere because she eventually fell silent, giving me space. I guess she realized that I wasn’t listening to anything she was saying. The entire group seemed to sense it and simply moved away from me, not trying to interact with me at all as I wrestled with my thoughts.

The day wore on and the sun sank lower in the sky, casting shadows across the land. Kazrik finally called for a halt and all the hunters started getting to work. They found a small clearing and began setting up camp. I wanted to help them. But every time I tried to step in, my mind just wandered back to the capsule. Questions kept bouncing around my head, making me feel like I was drifting and disconnected from everything around me.

So, I stayed at the edge of the camp, pacing in circles while everyone else worked. Zypha kept a watchful eye on me, but she didn’t push. She probably had more stories about the sky-fallen – more hints and fragments of old tales that could explain some things to me – but she seemed to sense I wasn’t ready to hear them yet.

Night fell, and we gathered around the fire. The flames flickered, casting a warm light on the group as we all ate in near silence. Occasionally, one of the hunters would murmur a joke or a comment, but they all seemed to be okay with the silence.

Kazrik, who’d been sitting across from me, suddenly tensed. His head jerked up and he focused on something beyond the firelight. Without a word, he stood and slipped into the darkness, vanishing like a shadow. I didn’t give much thought to it and the rest of us kept eating, but there was still a shift in the air. Rilla was still fiddling around with his new death echo, but all the other hunters and Zypha seemed aware that something was moving out there in the dark.

After a few minutes, Kazrik reappeared, but he wasn’t alone. Another man followed him into the light of the fire. His arms were covered in blue tattoos, intricate patterns that spiraled down his muscular arms in a way that seemed almost ritualistic. It was immediately clear he wasn’t with the Ilna. He had to have been from a different Agawo clan.

Zypha seemed to tense before leaning over to whisper to me. “He’s from the Tefsu. They roam this area often. They’re a more nomadic Agawo tribe than the rest.”

The man had a smirk on his face as he caught Zypha speaking to me – the kind that made you want to slap it off. He looked like he knew he was in control here. We were in his territory, and he was letting us know it. But as his gaze swept over the group, it eventually landed on me and I saw his expression change. His smirk faltered as he studied me – my clothes, the satchel slung over my shoulders, the fact that I clearly didn’t belong with a hunting party traipsing through dangerous territories. His eyes shifted from casual amusement to something more respectful.

He raised his hands, palms open, in a gesture I’d seen before. It was exactly what the elder had done when he came over to greet me in the village on the first day. With his right hand, he touched his forehead, then his nose, and finally his chin. “This one welcomes the traveler,” he said.

I blinked, taken aback by the sudden formality, but gave him a nod in return.

The man turned back to Zypha, his tone shifting as he spoke. “This makes things…difficult.”

“Why?” she asked, her tone steady with a hint of caution.

The Tefsu hunter raised his hands again, this time to show he meant no harm. “The Tefsu obviously offer free passage to the traveler and his guides,” he said, his eyes flicking back to me briefly. “But…we’re not the only things out there this night.”

The last sentence hung in the air as Zypha looked to Kazrik who gave her a quiet nod.

“What is it?” Zypha finally asked.

There was no hint of amusement in the face or voice of the Tefsu hunter anymore as he locked eyes with Zypha. “Eaters.”