After an exhaustive conversation, Cain suggested they explore the village in hopes of stirring Azrael's clouded memory. He agreed, understanding the superiority of firsthand knowledge from a local over any text or guidebook.

They left Azrael's home behind and headed towards the village square. As they ambled along, Azrael cast an extended gaze at the house - his house - where he would be residing for the foreseeable future.

The two-story structure stood tall and proud, a rare sight in the village where most houses were single-story dwellings. Unlike the surrounding houses' rough, unpainted wooden planks, his was made of sturdy, hand-cut stones with a rough and textured surface, weathered by years of exposure to the elements. The stones were arranged in a simple pattern, with horizontal rows that gave the house a sense of stability and strength. The roof was sloped and made of thick, hand-cut wooden shingles overlaid in a uniform pattern. The shingles were slightly weathered and worn but were still strong and durable enough to protect the house from the elements. The windows were square and evenly spaced, with thick wooden frames carved with intricate designs. The frames were painted a deep brown color that contrasted with the lighter stones of the walls, giving the house a sense of depth. The front door was a solid wooden plank reinforced with iron bands and hinges and set in a simple stone archway leading to a miniature garden.

As they weaved their way through the narrow streets of the village, Cain's arm sliced through the air, his finger pointing out an unassuming shop. "That’s the village meat shop.” his voice imbued with a casual familiarity. “There, you'll find a variety of animal meats, bones, hides, horns, and alchemy ingredients. If you're fortunate, you might even come across some albino monkey guts. I remember tasting it when my father bought some," he reminisced with a smacking of his lips.

Azrael merely grimaced in response, his facial features scrunching up in distaste. “Eww.”

Cain laughed, “I thought so too, but trust me, they were really tasty!”

Azrael allowed his gaze to dance across the village, drinking in the details of the village. The stylistic choices of the village were something he had not seen before. None of it resembled anything particularly found in the Abyssal Subcontinent. However, he could faintly discern some influences of the Dune Sea.

Many houses featured ornate decorations suspended above, primarily consisting of the village's emblem. The style of the insignia closely resembled the structure of clan crests in the Dune Sea.

True to its name, Sliverglade's insignia depicted a silver broadsword, its blade gleaming in the light, set against a background of vibrant green leaves and delicate silver branches. The sword's hilt was intricately designed, with a curved crossguard and a pommel adorned with a small silver gemstone. The silver branches surrounding the sword were delicate and drawn with a lot of detail. In the background was a map of the region where the village could be found.

The Dune Sea's clan crests were not just emblems but information that carried on the winds of commerce. As the continent most dependent on trade due to its harsh deserts, any updates to a clan crest signaled a shift in trading locations that other clans needed to be aware of.

As they ventured through the village under the spring heat of three suns, a voice echoed from the crowd, uncurling through the hustle and bustle like a tendril of smoke.

"How are you doing, Cain?"

Cain turned to meet the source of the sound, his facial features rearranging into a mellow smile. "Good day, Mr. Hambert," he reciprocated. His greeting was punctuated by a symbolic gesture – a clenched fist pressed to the heart, followed by a respectful nod. “May the blessings of the Hearthfather reside within you.”

Azrael couldn't help but notice the remnants of traditional customs from the Astral Peninsulas.

“He shall.” Mr. Hambert responded in kind, returning the gesture with a confident upward stroke of his hands. "May the blessings of the Hearthfather grace you this spring," he echoed,

“May he do so,” Cain replied, “How’s Celicia? I've heard she's started walking now," his voice, dancing on the edges of joviality.

"Oh, she's not just walking,” Mr. Hambert bellowed in return, laughter bubbling up from his chest and spilling into the air. “She's running, my boy. And always manages to find the strangest places to dart off to these days,"

“How’s your father doing?” he asked.

"Same as always. Engrossed." Cain's answer was brief, the endnote of a shared understanding.

Mr. Hambert waved a farewell, already hastening toward his destination, urgency casting ripples through the crowd. "Now, I must dash to the town hall. I'm running horribly late. Pass my greetings to your father, will you." With that, he became another receding figure against the village's rustic backdrop.

“Respected, rooted, connected," Azrael observed. Sign of a valuable pawn.

Cain continued to guide Azrael through various facilities of the village. While many of the buildings appeared luxurious, they were designed with practicality in mind. Azrael noted.

Cain brought Azrael to the village square, the bustling epicenter of the village's social and economic life. People gathered there to trade goods, share news and gossip, and socialize. The air was thick with the scent of fresh produce, baked goods, and roasted meats, and the sound of vendors hawking their wares could be heard throughout the square. With every step, the vista unfolded to reveal an ever-growing stretch of shops.

Cain's finger extended towards a peculiar building, his lips twitching in a roguish smile, "See that? That's where a certain someone used to douse unsuspecting passersby with surprise water attacks." His eyes twinkled at Azrael, who retorted with a smirk of his own.

The village square served as the community's heart, a lively hub of activity where villagers gathered. Encircling the square were various buildings, including a large inn, a blacksmith's forge, and a few shops and stalls that provided goods and services to the locals. The buildings, constructed of wood and stone with thatched roofs and ornate carvings, exuded character and charm. The square itself was a spacious open area, its dirt floor compacted by years of use.

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Cain pointed towards the center of the square, where a large wooden platform stood. "This is where important announcements are made, and public events are held,"

Cain led Azrael to the apothecary, brimming with a cornucopia of various herbs, potions, and remedies. "This is one of the ones we usually use," Cain said, gesturing to the store, "although there's no shortage of others sprinkled around the village."

The apothecary was a small, orderly shop tucked away in a tranquil corner of the village. The exterior of the building was composed of dark wood, with a modest wooden sign hanging above the door displaying the image of a mortar and pestle.

Cain pointed down the street and said, "If you continue in this direction, you'll eventually come across the village library."

Azrael squinted as he absorbed the information.

Cain swept his arm broadly towards the bustling marketplace that surrounded the village square, a lively canvas of color and noise, "You can purchase almost anything you need here.” he declared, “except for Practitioner-related items. For those, you'll have to wander a few winding streets away, and you'll need permission from the elders or the council members to even enter!"

He rolled his eyes, adding, "They're a bunch of strict bastards, those old coots."

“So, that's what they call the Awakened.”

The majority of the people in the village were mortals. However, occasionally, Azrael would spot Individuals donning the village insignia, a stark Rank 1 etched prominently on their sides. Not once did he sight a Rank 2 wandering amongst the populace. Despite the village's considerable size, even Rank 1's appeared sparse.

“As much as I would love to drag you to the academy now, the doctor prescribed rest for you," remarked Cain, his gaze slipping toward the sky. "Judging by the sun, it's roughly midday. The morning classes should have finished by now, anyway. I'll drop you off at your place."

Azrael nodded in silent agreement, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and new information to digest. He urgently needed to dissect this chaotic cascade of new knowledge and devise a plan for the future. The world, it seemed, had changed a lot.

One startling revelation, in particular that gripped Azrael's mind was the total number of celestial bodies burning brightly in the vast sky.

"Try as I might, I can only see three suns greet my gaze"

In his time in the Abyssal Subcontinent, the land was illuminated by the gentle light of eight radiant suns and the reflected glow of five loyal moons. The ballet that was once enacted by Fjellbrand, Skyrflame, Dimstjarni, Ashenray, Skuldrosun, Mórgunnsol, and Eclipsol was now a wistful memory.

Now he could only see one main sun, which he assumed was Dimstjarni, and two secondaries, which were further away, hiding their full presence.

As realization sank its serrated teeth into his consciousness, Azrael felt a chill of understanding.

The magnitude of this celestial shift was not only disconcerting, it was another ruthless reminder of the vast, yawning chasm of time that had passed since his demise.

The gentle whispers of the spring winds gently brushed against the travelers as they made their way back to Azrael's place.

As they approached Azrael's house, they noticed a small figure etched against the backdrop of his garden, a youthful silhouette on the precipice of expectation, seemingly waiting for someone. At the sight of Azrael and Cain, a spark of joy ignited in her eyes, transforming into a blazing comet of uncontainable excitement as she sprinted toward them.

As the young girl closed the distance between them, an instinctive rigidity seized Azrael's physique, the constant battle-readiness etched into the marrow of his bones. He quelled this primal impulse with the commanding authority of self-control. Survival was a game of adaptation and he needed to emulate his environment.

“The ruffled fur on the hide would be felt first.”

His vigilance was a wildfire he could not extinguish fully, but living in a state of heightened alertness would render him an anomaly. He needed to mirror the tranquility of the village, to blend in with the village's laid-back and unguarded demeanor. With this realization, he welcomed the girl's enthusiastic embrace, his coiled tension melting away.

"Osric, you had me scared out of my wits when they said you'd come down with that deadly fever! Tell me, how are you feeling now!?" The girl, named Glucia, exclaimed. Her hair, shimmering gold, ebbing and flowing down her back. Her deep, dark eyes contrasted strikingly with her fair skin and light hair. She wore a flowing blouse tied at the waist and a long skirt that swirled around her legs as she moved. A small scar on her chin gave her face a slightly asymmetrical appearance, making her all the more striking.

"I'm doing fine. Was feeling a bit fuzzy. But I'm much better now," Azrael returned her concern with a soft smile.

“All thanks to me, let me remind you,” Cain interjected, smirk playing on his lips “I basically helped him recover his memories. Who do you think told him about you??”

"Oh, certainly. My knight in shining armor, aren’t you?" Azrael rolled his eyes.

As the trio strolled towards Azrael's house, Glucia playfully nudged Azrael, her eyes sparkling with an intriguing proposition. "So, Osric, have you tried any of the food yet? If you can't remember how they taste, come with me sometime! We can tour the entire village, sampling everything in sight!"

Azrael chuckled, "Ohh, wow, someone is caring so much for me. I am sure it's not an excuse for you to eat like no tomorrow. How comforting to have such selfless friends,"

Cain chimed in, "Oh, that sounds fantastic! As long as you're paying, I'm in."

"Oh, how kind of you two. Making the disabled pay. How generous. You're bringing me to tears." Azrael's response laced with playful sarcasm, playing along with the light-hearted banter.

Laughter spilled from Glucia and Cain, their eyes crinkling with amusement. Cain, still wearing a mischievous grin, replied, "Oh, come on, Osric. You know we'll make sure you have the best time ever, and that's priceless, right?"

Glucia chimed in, "Absolutely! And don't worry, we'll take good care of you. We promise not to empty your pockets too much."

It wasn't long before Azrael grasped the dynamics of their friendship, the ebb and flow of their conversation. Their words and actions offered valuable insights into the character of this individual named Osric.

Glucia's eyes sparkled as she continued, "Yes! We'll be like your own personal tour guides.”

Cain's friendly pat landed solidly on Azrael's back, "Yep. Besides, it's not every day we get to go towards the mountain range. One good thing about you getting beat up is my old man is gonna go lenient on me going out."

Glucia nodded in agreement, her golden curls bouncing with each step. "Exactly! That's a plan. Once you're feeling better, we'll go. It's going to be so much fun, and it'll definitely help you get back on your feet and feel more like yourself again."

The trio continued to joke and banter together, chatting as they neared Azrael’s house.

However, their exchange was interrupted by Cain. “Alright, alright, as much as I'd love for us to talk more, we have training coming up soon. My old man will be on my back for skipping the morning class. But, I’ll die if I skip the afternoon training, especially with our Awakening just a month away," he cast a knowing glance at the other two.

"Let's go. We'll talk later. Give him some time to rest, Glucia."

Glucia pouted, her lower lip sticking out in a playful protest. "Okay, fine, I suppose we should," she conceded.

Glucia and Cain bid Azrael farewell and left.

Bidding Azrael a cheery farewell, Glucia and Cain departed, leaving him alone with his thoughts. As he watched their retreating forms, his mind was a turbulent sea of emotions, lost in a labyrinth of swirling contemplation.