Two weeks had passed, and Nyx’s new life in the village had begun to settle into a routine. Slowly, she had established herself as someone who could speak the local language fluently. It was a revelation that had left the villagers impressed, though they chalked it up to her being a prodigy. After all, she was already so young and in possession of a skill—an achievement few in the village could claim.

Earlier that week, the priests had arranged a formal meeting with Nyx. She stood in the center of the room, her dark veil concealing her eyes as she introduced herself with poise.

“It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance. My name is Nyx,” she said, bowing slightly, just as Peacock had taught her long ago.

The priests exchanged surprised glances, whispering among themselves about her refined mannerisms.

“She’s been taught well,” Pastor Henry remarked, his tone filled with approval.

“Indeed. For someone so young, she carries herself remarkably,” Pastor Gabriel added, nodding in agreement.

Nyx smiled politely, keeping her hands folded in front of her. The questions began almost immediately.

“Do you remember where you came from?” Pastor Henry asked, his voice gentle yet probing.

Nyx hesitated, glancing down briefly before answering with practiced sincerity. “I’m afraid I don’t know or remember. I wish I could tell you more.”

Her carefully crafted response, courtesy of Uriel’s guidance, was met with understanding. The priests assumed she must have experienced something traumatic and refrained from pressing further.

As the meeting concluded, Pastor Seth commented, “For a child with no memory, she seems to carry an unshakable strength.”

Nyx offered a small smile, hiding the unease that crept beneath her calm exterior.

Later, Nyx reunited with Till, this time without the need for the enchanted bracelet.

“You… can speak now?” Till asked, his eyes wide with surprise.

Nyx nodded, her silver hair catching the sunlight. “Sister Clara taught me,” she said simply, a white lie guided by Uriel.

Till grinned widely, his excitement bubbling over. “That’s amazing! I have so much to show you now that you can understand me.”

Nyx felt a flicker of warmth at his enthusiasm. Despite the secrets she carried, Till’s earnest joy made her feel a little less alone.

Till eagerly took it upon himself to give Nyx a grand tour of the village. They strolled through cobblestone streets bustling with life, vendors calling out their wares as children darted between market stalls.

“This is the bakery,” Till said, pointing to a cozy shop with smoke curling lazily from its chimney. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, warm and comforting. “The baker makes the best pastries. I’ll buy you one someday!”

Nyx’s lips curved into a smile as she watched Till’s animated gestures. The village, with its vibrant energy and simple charm, was so different from the magical forest she had once called home. Yet, it felt oddly comforting in its own way.

He led her to a well in the center of the square, where villagers gathered to draw water and chat. From there, they wandered to a small hill overlooking the village. The view was breathtaking, the fields stretching out in vibrant greens and golds under the sun’s warm embrace.

“Isn’t it amazing here?” Till asked, his voice tinged with pride.

Nyx nodded, her silver hair catching the light as she gazed out at the horizon. “It is,” she replied softly, though her thoughts drifted to the forest and the family she had lost.

Nyx no longer stayed in the church. Sister Clara had arranged for her to move into the orphanage next door, giving her a small, cozy room all to herself.

The room was simple, with a wooden bed, a woolen blanket, and a small desk by the window. It was situated beside the library, a decision Sister Clara had made based on her assumption that Nyx loved to read.

“You seem like a curious child,” Sister Clara had said with a warm smile. “I thought you might enjoy being close to the books.”

Nyx had smiled politely, deciding not to correct her.

The days passed, each one filled with small discoveries. Till often dragged her on adventures, his excitement contagious as he introduced her to every corner of the village. They climbed trees, chased butterflies, and even explored the outskirts of the fields.

One afternoon, as they sat on the hill, Till leaned back on his elbows and gazed at the sky. “You know, Nyx, it’s funny. When I first met you, I thought you were from a storybook or something. But now that you’re here… I think you’re just like us.”

Nyx tilted her head, his words stirring a mix of emotions. She wanted to believe she could belong, but the truth of her past and the weight of her destiny lingered in the back of her mind.

Still, she smiled at Till and said, “Maybe I am.”

As the sun began to set, Till turned towards Nyx, his face lit with a shy smile. His hand reached into his pocket, pulling out the bracelet she had given him long ago in the forest.

“Here,” he said softly, holding it out to her. “I kept this for you. I thought… you might want it back.”

Nyx glanced at the bracelet, her heart warming at the sight of it. Uriel’s voice whispered in her mind, “Let him keep it. It means something to him.”

She smiled gently and shook her head. “No,” she said quietly. “You keep it.”

Till blinked, confused. “But it’s yours.”

Nyx reached out, pushing his hand back toward him. “It’s yours now,” she said, her tone firm but kind.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

For a moment, Till hesitated, then slipped the bracelet back onto his wrist. His smile returned, this time broader, brighter. “Thanks, Nyx,” he said softly.

Nyx nodded, her own small smile forming. No more words were needed. The moment was simple, but it lingered, a quiet affirmation of their bond.

Despite her growing comfort, Nyx couldn’t ignore the occasional whispers from the villagers. Many still marveled at her skill and her refined demeanor, speculating about where she might have come from.

Uriel’s voice reassured her whenever doubt crept in. “Stay patient, Nyx. You’re doing well. In time, they will accept you completely.”

And so, Nyx continued to navigate her new life, one careful step at a time. Though the shadows of her past loomed ever-present, the warmth of the village and Till’s friendship offered her a glimpse of hope for the future.

——————————————————

Nyx sat patiently under the shade of a tall oak tree, watching Till work. He was chopping wood for the village chief, each swing of the axe precise despite his young age. The rhythmic sound of wood splitting filled the air, blending with the occasional chirp of birds and the distant chatter of villagers.

Till often took odd jobs around the village to earn money, whether it was chopping wood for the village chief, carrying supplies, or helping merchants. Though he dreamed of becoming a hunter one day, he was still too young and unskilled to join the ranks.

Till wiped his brow with his sleeve, pausing to catch his breath. Nyx, meanwhile, nibbled on the treat Till had bought her earlier—a warm, golden bread roll filled with sweet berry paste. The filling oozed out with every bite, and she savored it slowly, relishing the sweetness. She wanted more but chose to wait patiently, her silver hair shimmering faintly in the sunlight.

“Almost done!” Till called over, flashing her a smile. Nyx nodded, finishing her last bite and brushing crumbs off her lap.

When Till finally stacked the last log and set his axe aside, he walked over to her with a grin. “Thanks for waiting, Nyx. I’ll be right back, just need to drop this off inside.”

Nyx nodded again, her gaze following him as he disappeared into the chief’s house. She glanced at the bread roll wrapper in her hand, a small smile playing on her lips. It had been a simple but delicious treat, one that reminded her of the berry pastries Len used to make in the forest.

Till returned moments later, dusting off his hands. “Alright, let’s go. I’ve got more to show you!”

Till led her through the bustling village streets, pointing out various places with excitement. The clinic stood at the corner of the square, its windows lined with neatly potted herbs. The scent of lavender and mint wafted through the air, and Nyx could hear the faint murmur of patients and healers inside.

“That’s where we go if someone gets hurt,” Till explained, gesturing toward the building. “The healers there are really good. They even fixed my arm once when I fell out of a tree.”

Nyx listened intently, her gaze darting from the clinic to the cobblestone streets where villagers bustled about. They passed the tavern next, a lively building from which laughter and the clinking of mugs spilled out onto the street.

“Over there’s the tavern,” Till said. “It’s where the hunters go after a long day. I’m not allowed in, but I hear it’s fun.”

Nyx tilted her head, curious about the lively energy coming from inside, but they moved on. Till pointed out more landmarks—the blacksmith’s forge, where sparks flew as a burly man hammered metal into shape; the bank, a quiet stone building with guards stationed at the entrance; and rows of quaint houses adorned with colorful flowers in their windows.

As they walked, Nyx’s eyes lit up with quiet awe. The village was nothing like the forest, but it had its own charm. The sights, sounds, and smells of daily life felt vibrant and alive, a stark contrast to the quiet isolation she had grown up in.

As they passed the village gate, Nyx noticed two familiar faces—the guards who had brought her into the village. Her hood was down, her silver hair catching the sunlight, and she hesitated for a moment before speaking softly.

Uriel suggested that she go and thank them. She nodded her head in agreement.

“Till,” she said, tugging lightly at his sleeve. “Those guards… They helped me when I first came here. I want to thank them.”

Till looked toward the gate, his brow furrowing in thought before he nodded. “Alright. I’ll go with you.”

Together, they approached the guards. The men were chatting idly, leaning against their spears, but straightened up when they noticed the pair approaching. Nyx stepped forward, her small hands clasped in front of her.

The guards were deep in conversation when Nyx’s voice interrupted them. “Excuse me,” she said, her voice quiet but clear.

They turned, surprised to see the little girl standing before them. “Yes? How can we—” The taller of the two stopped mid-sentence, his brows furrowing. “Wait a second… you look familiar.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft but clear. “For helping me that day.”

The guards blinked in surprise, exchanging confused glances. One tilted his head. “Do we know you?”

Nyx gave a slight bow, just as Peacock had taught her. “I’m Nyx. I wanted to thank you for bringing me here safely.”

The guards exchanged a puzzled look before realization dawned on their faces. “Wait… you’re the little boy—er, girl! The one we brought in that day!”

The other guard rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry about that. We didn’t realize at first.”

Nyx smiled gently. “It’s alright. Thank you for helping me.”

The taller guard chuckled. “Well, you’re welcome. Looks like you’ve settled in nicely.”

“How did you learn to speak our language so quickly?” the shorter guard asked, genuinely curious.

Nyx hesitated, then gave the answer Uriel had suggested. “Sister Clara taught me.”

The guards nodded, satisfied with the explanation. “If you ever need anything, just let us know,” the taller one said with a kind smile.

Nyx thanked them again before she and Till continued on their way.

Nyx thanked them once more, her tone warm but reserved. As she and Till walked away, the guards watched her go with a mix of curiosity and fondness.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Nyx was back at the orphanage. Till walked her to the door, a content smile on his face.

“I’ll come by tomorrow morning,” he said. “We can explore some more.”

Nyx nodded, her silver hair shimmering in the soft twilight. “Okay. Good night, Till.”

Before he could react, she leaned in and gave him a quick hug. Till froze, his face turning crimson as Nyx stepped back, her expression calm and innocent.

“See you tomorrow,” she said, disappearing into the orphanage. Till stood there for a moment, his heart pounding, before finally walking away with a dazed smile.

Inside, Nyx went through her nightly routine—a bath, dinner, and brushing her teeth. But as she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, a question nagged at her.

“Uriel,” she whispered. “Are you awake?”

“I am,” Uriel replied gently. “What’s on your mind?”

“My twin blades… where are they?” Nyx asked, her voice tinged with confusion and frustration. “You didn’t mention anything about them before.”

“They’ve been with you all along, Nyx,” Uriel said calmly. “You’ve been carrying them since the evolution process ended.”

“What? Where?” Nyx sat up, frantically searching around her bed.

Uriel chuckled softly. “They’re stored in the Infinity Sheathe, a gift from the Three-Horned Bull God of Greed. It’s synched with your skills.”

Nyx blinked. “Infinity Sheathe? Where is it?”

“It’s on your back,” Uriel explained. “The skill allows you to store weapons seamlessly. Look in the mirror.”

Skeptical but curious, Nyx got up and stood before the small mirror in her room. She turned, lifting her tunic slightly, and gasped. On her back was the faint, shimmering silvery outline of twin blades, their silver edges glowing faintly.

“They’re… beautiful,” she whispered, awe filling her voice.

“Would you like to take them out?” Uriel asked.

“How do I do that?”

“Simply withdraw them, as you would if they were in a normal sheathe,” Uriel explained.

Nyx hesitated, then followed Uriel’s instructions. She reached back, and to her amazement, the blades were drawn out of her back without any pain and into her hands, their silver surfaces gleaming in the moonlight.

“That’s… amazing,” Nyx said, a smile spreading across her face.

Uriel’s voice was calm. “They are part of you now, Nyx. Tools to aid you in the journey ahead.”

Nyx practiced drawing and returning the blades a few more times, marveling at how natural it felt. Finally, she climbed back into bed, clutching the faint warmth of excitement and curiosity.

“Good night, Uriel,” she whispered.

“Good night, Nyx,” Uriel replied, his voice steady and warm.