With the echo of her final words came a sudden flurry of pounding at the door. Both our heads shot up, like startled deer hearing the snap of a branch in the stillness of the forest.

Slowly, she began to make her way downstairs, with me trailing closely behind.

Questions swarmed my mind—about what had just happened, about what she had revealed. Yet her demeanor alone was enough to smother any words I could muster, leaving me with a deep sense of unease.

As she opened the door, we both let out a sigh of relief, though it was destined to be short-lived.

Hestia stood in the doorway, her presence ominous, while chaos unfolded behind her. The streets were alive with people, swarming toward the docks.

"Ready yourself," Hestia's voice was cold and calm.

"Surely not…" my mother muttered, disbelief creeping into her tone.

Hestia merely exchanged a grim, knowing nod.

"Who has command?" my mother asked urgently, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

“Sten and…Urgot,” Hestia replied, the final name hanging heavy in the air.

They locked eyes for a moment, a silent exchange passing between them. My mother’s expression hardened before she gave a brief nod. “I understand,” she whispered, her voice almost lost in the rising tension. Hestia nodded back, turning away and into the crowd without another word.

My mother turned to face me as she closed the door, her gaze distant.

“Hurry. Gather only what you cannot live without—just what you can carry. Meet me back here.”

“How long will we be gone?” I asked softly, watching as she passed me by, pausing only briefly.

“Indefinitely.”

The word echoed in my mind as I trudged upstairs, staring blankly into my room. It felt as if I was leaving not just my home, but my entire world behind.

As I gathered my belongings, my thoughts became trapped in a single question.

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‘Why? Why was this happening?’

When I returned downstairs, I had only managed to gather three items—my spear, my leather armor, and the journal Finn had made for me. It wasn’t much, but it was all I could carry.

My mother paused, her eyes briefly scanning what I’d chosen. There was a glint of surprise, and perhaps even pride in her gaze.

I know I have not been a warrior for long, but the tools of my new role were what mattered most to me.

“Steady your mind,” she instructed, her voice soft but firm. “And no matter what happens, no matter what is said, do not allow your resolve to falter.”

“I understand…” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure if I truly did.

With a swift motion, she opened the door. As the wind caught her cloak, I could have sworn I glimpsed the hilt of a sword affixed to her side, something I had never before seen.

In silence, we made our way toward the docks, joining the horde of villagers surging in the same direction. Fear hung thick in the air, clinging to me with an eerie sense of familiarity.

For some reason, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had lived through this before.

As the docks came into view, a knot tightened in my stomach.

The shoreline was lined with ships, but they were unlike the simple fishing vessels I had grown accustomed to. These were colossal, warlike behemoths.

Ships I had only ever seen in the picture books of my childhood. Until now, I hadn’t known whether they were real or mere fiction.

Three massive Liburna ships were docked before us. Their long, oval-shaped hulls gleaming under the morning light, each with a towering mast at its center. Rows of oars protruded from their sides.

Descending down ramps, soldiers poured from the ships in rigid formation. The synchronized thud of their marching sounded like a growing stampede.

Each of them were adorned in a polished silver breastplate and gauntlets, with helmets that extended down the sides of their jaw and nose making their faces indistinguishable from one another.

Each soldier carried a long, slender spear tipped with an arrow-shaped head. At their sides hung short swords, sheathed in leather scabbards.

As the soldiers marched, they formed tight, squared clusters at the edge of the village. The first rows carried large rectangular shields, towering beside them, almost as tall as they were. The fronts of the shields bore the red sigil of a two-headed crow on a black field.

Once the final soldier had disembarked and taken their place, two horses emerged from behind the formations, trotting between the center lines of the middle two clusters.

The riders atop them were unlike the rank and file troops. Both wore heavy, ornate armor, with unusually long and slender swords at their side. Their faces were uncovered, allowing their cold and emotionless expressions to be visible even from a distance.

Even at that range, their aura was palpable.

An unsettling blend of authority and danger that far outweighed the threat posed by the army behind them.

It was as if these two alone were more dangerous than the hundreds of soldiers at their command.