Kael’s senses returned slowly, his head throbbing with a dull ache. He opened his eyes to see a face hovering over him, its glowing, light-sensitive eyes and leathery features unfamiliar yet oddly non-threatening. The figure spoke in a low, guttural voice, the words sharp and alien. “Skar vren? Vol kai ren?”

Kael frowned, his mind struggling to process the keening syllables. He shifted slightly, only to feel a broad, strong hand press him back down. “Nok vren,” the figure insisted, its tone firm but not hostile.

“Who… are you?” Kael croaked, though he doubted the words would be understood. His throat was dry, his body still aching from the fall.

The figure tilted its head, its glimmering eyes narrowing as if trying to decipher Kael’s meaning. It gestured toward Kael’s side, where his injuries still stung, then pointed toward the dark mouth of a nearby tunnel. The movements were clear: stay still, stay safe. Kael sighed, his mind spinning. Ah, it’s been a while since the implant couldn’t translate a language immediately. Molvani must be pretty complex… almost forgot I even have this thing in my head.

He inhaled deeply and tried again, speaking in slow, deliberate tones. “Reden. Mehr. Ich… lernen.”

The figure stiffened, its glowing eyes widening. Kael repeated the broken sentence, refining it slightly as he spoke. Within minutes, the figure’s astonishment grew as Kael began responding fluently in its language, the unfamiliar sounds becoming natural to his tongue.

“Impossible,” the figure murmured, its leathery brow furrowing. “Oberweltler cannot… you speak Molvani?”

Kael gave a faint grin. “Seems like I do.” He adjusted himself to sit up straighter, gesturing toward himself. “Kael. And you?”

The figure hesitated for a moment, then replied, “Tharuk.” It gestured toward the forest with a sharp movement. “We should move. That thing is still close.”

Kael nodded, his muscles protesting as he began to stand. “You’re not wrong. Lead the way, Tharuk.”

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Tharuk guided Kael through the dense underbrush, his movements quick and deliberate as he led them toward a hidden tunnel entrance. The thick canopy overhead muffled the distant roars of the creature, but Kael could still feel the faint tremors of its movement through the earth. Tharuk pushed aside a heavy slab of moss-covered stone, revealing a narrow passage that descended into the earth.

The tunnel was damp and cool, with faintly glowing mineral veins running along its walls, casting an eerie but comforting light. Kael followed Tharuk inside, his steps steady but cautious. Once they were far enough in, Tharuk gestured for them to rest. Kael leaned against the cold stone wall, his breath steadying as the adrenaline of the encounter ebbed.

Tharuk observed him silently for a moment before speaking. “Where are you from? Or rather…” He paused, his glowing eyes narrowing. “There is a myth. A prophecy of a man falling from the sky. Every Molvani knows it.”

Kael blinked, momentarily taken aback by the statement. His brow furrowed. “What makes you think that’s me?”

Tharuk tilted his head, his tone thoughtful but serious. “You fell. You speak as we do. Maybe you are the Skarvren.”

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Kael hesitated, his expression shifting between curiosity and unease. “That’s one way to put it,” he finally said. “My… star crashed.”

Tharuk’s expression became a mix of awe and suspicion. “If that’s true, then… you must meet my people. They will explain.”

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The Molvani village was nestled deep within a network of tunnels, its layout a harmonious blend of natural rock formations and deliberate construction. As Kael and Tharuk entered, dozens of glowing eyes turned to observe the newcomer. The air was heavy with murmurs, the villagers speaking in hushed tones as they sized Kael up. Most faces were wary, some openly distrustful, but a few held glimmers of curiosity.

Tharuk stepped forward, raising his voice to address the crowd. He gestured toward Kael with deliberate movements, recounting their encounter and the miraculous way Kael had learned their language. The murmurs grew louder, some filled with doubt, others tinged with awe.

An elder emerged from the crowd, his movements slow but deliberate. He leaned heavily on a polished wooden staff as he approached, his glowing eyes scanning Kael with a piercing intensity. The villagers grew silent as he reached the center of the gathering.

“You speak our language,” the elder said, his voice carrying the weight of authority. “And you have fallen from the stars. Perhaps the Prophecy is true.”

The elder gestured toward the firepit in the middle of the clearing, and the villagers settled in a wide circle. The flames cast flickering shadows on the cavern walls as the elder began to speak, his voice steady and rhythmic, as if reciting a tale told countless times before.

“Long ago, it was foretold that one would fall from the heavens, bearing the knowledge of many worlds. This Skarvren would unite the Molvani in their darkest hour and open the gates of Zharakai, the sacred city that holds our salvation. The Skarvren would be a wanderer, a speaker of tongues, and a bearer of light in the shadows.”

The villagers listened in rapt silence, their glowing eyes reflecting the firelight. Kael shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t believe in prophecies, but the conviction in their faces was difficult to ignore.

When the tale ended, the elder turned to Kael. “Everything points in the right direction. If you are truly the Skarvren, then it is our responsibility to aid you in every task so you might prevail. Turbulent times are ahead of us. It is time for us to act.”

Kael crossed his arms, his expression neutral. “Let’s keep it simple. You help me find my ‘star,’ and I’ll help you with your gates. Deal?”

The elder regarded him for a long moment before nodding. “Agreed.”

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The townhall was filled with tension as the villagers gathered under the direction of Elira’s father. He stood tall, his voice commanding the room’s attention as he began to speak.

“We face difficult decisions,” he said, his tone grave. “Our supplies are running low, and with winter approaching, the situation is critical. Sending the tribute to the crown is no longer an option.”

The murmurs of agreement were interrupted by Felix, who stepped forward with a frown. “We can’t just refuse. The king’s men will come looking for it. They’ll make an example of us.”

Berry leaned casually against a wooden beam, his tone laced with dry sarcasm. “Oh yes, let’s send the tribute and ensure we starve. Brilliant plan, Felix. Truly inspired.”

Elira shot him a sharp look. “Enough, Berry.”

An older villager raised his voice, his calm tone carrying weight. “We’ve dealt with the king’s men before. This wouldn’t be the first scuffle. Just like the old times, eh? Brings back memories… more bad than good, though.”

The room fell quiet again, the weight of the decision pressing heavily on everyone. Elira’s father cleared his throat. “We will ration carefully and prepare defenses, just in case. Every choice we make from here on must be deliberate.”

Elira stood near the window, her gaze drifting briefly toward the dark forest beyond. She thought of Kael, imagining him out there, surviving against impossible odds. Her jaw tightened. You stay strong out there, Kael. And I’ll stay strong here. I can’t just sit and wait while you fight for your life.

She turned back toward the room, her voice firm as she spoke. “I’ll gather a team. There’s a neighboring village not far from here. If we’re going to survive this winter, we’ll need allies.”