Chapter 84

Astrid

Day 74 of First Landing

Population of Thornhill - 71

Life goes on, with or without me. The building crew had expanded to include several former slaves, who contributed their labor to our growing community. Among them were Beastkin mercenaries, eyed warily because they resembled the raiders who had attacked us.

They were constructing a new brick tenement similar to the old one, symmetrical in its placement across the main road. Once completed, the building would house up to 60 people. Bianca had reorganized the living arrangements, mixing the newcomers with the established villagers to help them integrate.

Everywhere I went, people passed by, offering me worried or sympathetic looks I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge. No one dared shame me for being a slacker, even though I spent my days drifting in and out of my room, getting up only to eat occasionally.

My aimless wandering had led me to the river.

Staring at my reflection in the still water, I barely recognized myself. My shoulder-length hair, once neat, was now wild and unkempt, tied into messy side ponytails. Exhaustion hollowed my face. My nose was too prominent on my face, and the freckles I used to hide with makeup now made me look like a leopard. The only feature I ever liked—my beautiful hazel eyes, a gift from both my parents—was now a shadow of what it once was. A black leather eye patch covered the ruin of my right eye, a grotesque crater carved by the Eldrins into a cross-shaped scar.

As if to torment myself further, I removed the eye patch to stare at the disfigurement beneath. I winced at the sight of what I’d become, a stark reminder of what was taken from me.

I pulled out my Familiar: Husbandry Dog card. It lit up, shimmering as though eager for me to tap it and summon Aja again. But I hesitated. Why bother? She would only die again. I couldn’t protect her, and forcing her to return felt like a cruel, endless cycle. Life wasn’t so cheap that I could summon her repeatedly, only to see her suffer.

The cooldown for Aja’s re-summoning had doubled: what was once 12 hours was now 24. Even when the timer cleared, I couldn’t bring myself to summon her. I couldn’t face the guilt or the sight of her broken body, her pain mirrored in her eyes. How could I apologize again for letting her die?

It wasn’t just her—I felt the same way about everyone in the village. I wanted to hide, to avoid their pitying glances, empty gestures of sympathy, and meaningless words. I didn’t need it. I didn’t want it. I hated it. If only I could turn back time and undo everything. If only I could go home. Maybe this was all a dream, I thought, and the only way to wake up was to…

I didn’t belong here. I wasn’t cut out for this world. Maybe leaving was the only way.

Bianca had assigned two new workers—young women freed from slavery—to help with the animals. Bianca told me not to rush back to work. The women, once goat farmers, seemed docile and worn down by years of captivity. They looked as broken as I felt. I lingered by the animal pens, watching Ruth and the two new workers. They busied themselves sweeping, feeding the pigs, and brushing the elk. Life moved on, indifferent to my misery.

They didn’t need me. They were doing fine on their own.

“Astrid, honey!” Ruth called out, waving. “You’re back. Oh, we’ve missed you so much.”

She leaned her broom against the coop wall and hurried over to hug me. The two new workers, flaxen-haired and timid, bowed slightly in greeting. In thickly accented English, they attempted, “Good morning.”

“Looks like you’re managing just fine without me,” I muttered, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.

“Oh, don’t say that, Astrid. Your animals miss you so much. They need you, dear. Peaches has been crying all day for you.”

“Why does it matter?” I snapped. “I’m just raising them to be slaughtered for food anyway. It’s pointless.”

Ruth’s face softened, though a flicker of hurt crossed her eyes. “Honey… the village needs them to survive. And we need you too.” She reached out, gently brushing her hand along my cheek beneath the missing eye. I flinched away from her touch.

She gave me a sad smile, masking her pain. “I see you need more time, and that’s okay. We’ll be strong for you, dear. Don’t worry.”

With one last hug, she added, “If you need to sulk, go ahead and sulk, Astrid. No one will force you to come back. When you’re ready, we’ll all be here for you.”

I couldn’t stand it. The pity. The gentle understanding. I had to get out of there.

My self-loathing and despair had led me to the ruin of my silkworm hut. Only ashes remained. I wandered to a nearby tree stump overlooking the beach and stared at the ocean for what felt like an hour, letting dark thoughts consume me. The waves pulled at my mind like quicksand, dragging me down.

A voice suddenly broke the silence behind me, startling me—I hadn’t even noticed anyone approaching. “Where’s your dog?”

The sound grated on my ears. If there was one person I didn’t want to see right now, it was him.

I turned slightly to see Orion picking through the ashes of the hut, sifting through the charred remains of timber and debris. His movements were casual, almost careless. I ignored him and turned back to the waves.

If I just pretend he’s not here, maybe he’ll leave.

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“We’re making a dungeon run. Level four. You’re being promoted to the Varsity Squad, kiddo. Come with us,” he said, his voice light.

“I’m done. I don’t want to do it,” I mumbled, barely audible.

“It’s an order.”

“You’re not my boss.”

“I can drag you there if I have to,” he replied, a teasing edge to his voice.

That did it. I turned to face him, glaring. "What the hell do you want? Huh? I’m not some NPC you can bother every time you want eggs!"

“Don’t forget honey. You’re two weeks behind on that payment, by the way.” He smiled, his gaze flicking over me as if amused by my outburst.

I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to take the bait. Turning away again, I focused on the ocean and let the silence settle back between us.

“Nice eyepatch,” he said after a pause. “You know, if you tame a parrot with your Animal Keeper skill, you’d really nail the whole pirate vibe you’ve got going.”

“You’re a fricking asshole!” I snapped, springing to my feet with my hands itching for my whip. He didn’t flinch, just shrugged, as if expecting my reaction.

He stood there, completely unfazed, waiting for me to calm down. As if he had all the time in the world.

“Listen. The village needs you to snap out of this whole emo phase you’re stuck in. You can’t let your skills go to waste. I don’t care if you’re too moody to shovel hog shit, but we need your fighting ability against the Eldrins.” His amusement vanished, replaced with a stern glare.

I can't believe the nerve of this guy.

“I tried, Orion! Look what happened to me! I’m done.”

“You’re done when the Eldrins are done,” he shot back. “They won’t stop, Astrid. Not until they’ve enslaved every last one of us. We need every single Holder we have to fight them.”

“How are we supposed to stop them, Orion?” I snapped. “They’re a fricking empire! What’s like even the point of even trying to resist?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice cold but steady. “But if you don’t want Ruth, Ethan, and Bianca dragged off in chains to serve as pets for some foreign noble, then all of us have to keep moving forward. We can’t sit around waiting for you to sort out your little crisis. I’ve watched better people than you die defending this village without your abilities, Astrid. People like us don’t have a choice. We don’t have a choice. We have to keep moving forward.”

“Oh, spare me the responsibility lecture, Orion. Where were you, huh?” My voice was rising now, every word laced with venom. “Why are you always missing or sick whenever crap goes down? Like, you know, everyone thinks you’re a coward who runs away when we need you! Where were you when I lost my eye? Maybe I wouldn’t have had to fight alone if you'd been here!”

“I was doing my job, same as you.” He sighed, long and slow, like he was tired of this conversation.

“Your job?” I barked a bitter laugh. “I raised Rudolph so you’d use him to protect us, Orion! Why was I the one out there risking my life to save my animals? Why weren’t you there?”

“I’m sorry for what happened,” he said, shaking his head. He didn’t look sorry at all. “But you should’ve waited for the others. You should’ve let the animals die rather than charge in recklessly by yourself. Buildings can be rebuilt. Animals can be replaced. But we can’t replace someone like you, Astrid. You were lucky to lose only an eye.”

That was just like him. Fricking psychopath.

“Why is my life so important, huh?” I demanded. “Why is my life worth more than my animals? What’s the point of fighting if everything I care about just dies, anyway?”

“When I came back to the village, I counted the bodies you left behind, Astrid. Eight of them. You have the potential to be the strongest one of us, and with that comes a responsibility—to protect the people who don’t have the kind of power you do,” Orion said.

“I don’t want to!” I shouted. “I just want to raise animals and live a simple life, Orion!”

“We all want that,” he replied. “You don’t think I’d rather just cook and live in peace? None of us asked for this, but we don’t get to choose.”

“I do,” I said, my voice defiant. “And I choose to stop playing this stupid game. I want to go home.”

Orion let out a deep sigh and walked toward me. My fists tightened on my whip, bracing for him to drag me to the dungeon. Instead, he reached out, gently taking my wrists in his hands and guiding them toward his chest. Then he placed a small pile of ashes in my palms.

"If you’re angry," he said, his voice low, "take it out on the people who did this to you. Not on Ethan and Ruth. Not on the ones who care about you. This is just one battle in a long war, Astrid. The Eldrin will return, and when they do, you’ll have your chance. If you want an eye, there’s an entire empire of theirs you can take it from.”

Up close, I could see how the last month had worn him down. His scars and bruises told the story of being in several battles, making him look ten years older than he had before.

“You still have your birds, your elk, your pigs. You still have your friends and your home. And you still have two working hands and legs.” His gaze softened, though his voice remained firm. “You have to keep moving forward.”

Did he really think a speech was going to fix this? That I’d just salute and march off to play the good little soldier? Sir, yes, sir! Back to work, sir! It doesn’t work that way, asshole!

I fought the urge to snap back at him—or worse, throttle him—and watched as he turned and walked back toward Rudolph. The elk waited patiently for him, its massive antlers gleaming in the sunlight. As Orion mounted, Rudolph dipped his head toward me in acknowledgment before the two disappeared over the hill.

I sighed and leaned against the rough bark of the tree, the cool shade offering little comfort. My gaze drifted back to the ocean, its endless waves whispering their monotonous lullaby. Yet my thoughts lingered on Orion, replaying his words in my mind.

Opening my hand, I watched as the ashes he’d given me scattered into the breeze, swirling away like the shadows of my silkworm hut. When the last of them was gone, I noticed something left behind in my palm: three delicate silk cocoons, their soft, opalescent sheen catching the light.

One of them twitched, shifting in tiny, rhythmic jerks like a restless heartbeat. A small tear appeared in the silk, and I watched, transfixed, as a pale wing slowly emerged. Piece by piece, a ribbon moth fought its way free, unfurling its powdery wings with tentative grace.

It wasn’t like the silk moths I’d known before, the ones from Earth. This one’s wings were slate gray, crisscrossed with jagged black ribbons that formed no discernible pattern. It sat there for a moment, still and fragile, as though testing this unfamiliar world for the first time. Then its wings spread wide, and its tiny black eyes fixed on me, unblinking.

I understood the message. The metaphor was obvious, practically screaming at me. But staring at the creature, I couldn’t ignore the truth tugging at the edges of my mind.

What emerged from that cocoon was undeniably ugly.