Time passed in a way Samye could no longer measure.

  Days blurred together as he walked until his legs carried him into a small town resting between broken roads and fading fields. It wasn’t peaceful—but it wasn’t dead either. Smoke still rose from chimneys. People still moved through the streets. Shops opened and closed on schedule.

  Life continued.

  That alone surprised him.

  Samye stopped at the edge of the town and watched from a distance, unsure whether he should enter. Nothing here felt safe, yet nothing felt hostile enough to drive him away.

  So he stayed.

  Near the center of the town stood a large, old tree. Its bark was cracked, its branches uneven, but its leaves were still alive. Samye sat beneath it, resting his back against the trunk, letting his exhausted body finally stop moving.

  For the first time in days, he simply watched.

  People passed slowly through the streets. Some carried baskets. Some argued in hushed voices. Others gathered near a small, crumbling shrine, hands folded in prayer. Their faith had not disappeared—but it had weakened. The words they spoke sounded empty, repeated more out of habit than belief.

  Samye noticed their eyes.

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  They weren’t hopeful.

  They were tired.

  Every day, more people seemed to lose faith—not just in gods, but in each other. When Samye saw this, something heavy settled in his chest.

  I’m no different from them, he realized.

  He, too, had lost hope in humanity. He, too, could no longer see the value in the principles his father once upheld—the same values that earned respect, yet failed to protect his family when it mattered most.

  Samye closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift.

  Regrets surfaced first. Moments he wished he could return to. Choices he would change if he were given another chance.

  He whispered to himself, his voice barely audible beneath the tree.

  “If I had the right knowledge about the future…”

  “If I knew what was coming…”

  He opened his eyes slowly.

  “Would I be able to do things differently?”

  “Would I be able to save anyone?”

  The questions lingered, unanswered.

  Hours passed.

  The sun shifted across the sky. Shadows stretched and faded. Children ran past the tree briefly before being called back by anxious parents. Somewhere a bell rang. Somewhere else, voices rose in argument.

  The world moved on.

  And Samye remained still, watching it all from the outside.

  He wasn’t angry anymore.

  He was empty.

  As evening approached, Samye finally stood up.

  He needed a place to stay.

  He walked through the town, asking quietly. Doors closed politely. Some shook their heads before he even finished speaking. He had no money—no way to rent a room, no leverage to earn trust.

  So he turned away from the town and followed a narrow path leading outward.

  Not far from the fields, he found it.

  An old, empty hut.

  The roof sagged. The door creaked. Dust covered the floor. But the walls still stood, and the rain couldn’t reach inside.

  For now, it was enough.

  Samye stepped inside and set down his small belongings. He cleaned what he could. Adjusted the broken door. Cleared a corner to rest.

  As darkness settled outside, he sat inside the hut alone.

  It wasn’t a home.

  But it was shelter.

  And until the world forced him to move again,

  this would be where he lived.