After accepting the chief’s offer, Samye rose to leave the hall. His body still ached, but the air here felt different—lighter somehow.

  At the doorway he paused.

  “Can someone show me around the village?” he asked calmly. “You said the banquet is tonight. I don’t want to get lost before I’m supposed to be honored.”

  One of the guards nodded. “Someone will guide you.”

  They stepped outside the chief’s residence, where preparations were already underway. Lanterns were being cleaned. Long wooden tables were carried into the open square. Fires were being prepared for cooking.

  The village moved with quiet discipline—not chaos, not panic.

  Order.

  Before Samye could observe more, a young armored warrior approached and bowed formally.

  “My name is Kayal,” he said. “I am one of Kamaskh’s knights. I came to greet you properly… and to thank you.”

  Samye studied him. Young, steady posture, alert eyes, a bow strapped across his back and twin short blades at his waist.

  “Thank me for what?” Samye asked.

  “For saving our children,” Kayal replied. “One of them is my sister.”

  Samye blinked once, surprised—but kept his tone neutral.

  “It wasn’t a favor,” he said quietly. “I just did what I felt was right.”

  Kayal smiled slightly. “Even so — debts of life are never small here.”

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  “Then don’t repay it,” Samye answered. “Just protect the next one yourself.”

  Kayal’s respect for him increased instantly.

  They began walking through Kamaskh.

  The more Samye saw, the more disbelief filled his eyes.

  This was not a struggling hidden settlement.

  It was developed.

  Water channels ran between homes. Elevated wooden walkways connected sections of the town. Watch platforms were built into giant trees. Storage houses were sealed and guarded. Training grounds were active.

  Blacksmiths worked refined metal.

  Healers operated herb stations.

  Archery ranges stretched along the forest edge.

  “How…” Samye murmured. “You’re cut off from the outside world. How is this place so advanced?”

  Kayal noticed his expression and gave a knowing smile.

  “You’re wondering how a forest village thrives without the world,” he said.

  Samye didn’t deny it.

  Kayal began explaining as they walked.

  “We are the Jhil Tribe. Our people have lived in these forests for centuries. We were never farmers alone — we were warriors, hunters, trackers, and war-archers.”

  He gestured toward a training ground where archers practiced rapid precision shots.

  “Our culture is martial and historical. We once fought in open wars long before ability conflicts began. Our hunters were famous across regions — bow and arrow masters.”

  Samye watched a young archer split a moving target mid-swing.

  Impressive.

  Kayal’s tone shifted slightly.

  “Thirty years ago, a spreading disease — and later ability conflicts — began destroying outside regions. Governments collapsed, militias rose, and ability hunting began.”

  Samye’s jaw tightened.

  “To protect our homeland,” Kayal continued, “our elders chose isolation. We sealed our borders. We erased our maps. We became a rumor instead of a place.”

  “And it worked?” Samye asked.

  “Mostly,” Kayal replied. “Until recently.”

  “Kidnappers,” Samye said.

  Kayal nodded grimly.

  “Ability hunters. Child takers. Power traders. Someone discovered we exist.”

  They stopped at a high overlook platform.

  From there, Samye could see the entire hidden village — alive, structured, united.

  For the first time since leaving home—

  he saw a functioning society.

  Not perfect.

  But not broken.

  “This place…” Samye said quietly, “…is what the world should have been.”

  Kayal looked at him sideways.

  “Then perhaps,” he said, “you were meant to find it.”

  Samye didn’t answer.

  But somewhere deep inside — the Eyes of Stars stirred faintly.