Dinner was held beneath a canopy of woven leaves and hanging lanterns that glowed with a warm, steady light. The village did not gather in a hall or a square. It gathered in layers, families seated at long tables that curved naturally with the terrain, as if the settlement had grown around the people instead of the other way around.
Jalen noticed that first.
Nothing here had been forced straight.
Children moved freely between tables, their laughter low and unafraid, their steps unhurried. No one snapped at them. No one barked orders. Even the guards, lightly armed and positioned more by habit than necessity, carried themselves without tension. It was peace, undeniably so, and that fact irritated him more than if he had found cracks in it.
Arin had not yet arrived.
Kuromi sat across from Jalen, her posture relaxed but her attention sharp. She watched the people more than the food, cataloging faces, exits, and patterns. Vexa, seated beside her, had already taken a bite and immediately frowned.
"This is annoying," Vexa muttered.
Kuromi glanced at her. "The food?"
"No," Vexa said. "The fact that it's good."
Jalen almost smiled, but the expression never fully formed.
The food was simple. Grilled roots, seasoned grains, fruit cut cleanly and shared without ceremony. Nothing extravagant. Nothing scarce. No one guarded their plate. No one ate like it might be taken away.
That, more than anything else, unsettled him.
Arin arrived without announcement.
He moved through the gathering naturally, exchanging quiet words with villagers as he passed. They did not bow. They did not stiffen. They acknowledged him the way people acknowledged someone who belonged among them, not above them.
When he reached Jalen's table, he pulled out a chair and climbed into it with the same composed ease he had shown earlier.
"I'm glad you stayed," Arin said.
Jalen inclined his head slightly. "You asked us to."
"Yes," Arin replied. "And you came anyway."
Kuromi's eyes narrowed. "You say that like it wasn't obvious."
Arin met her gaze. "Obvious choices are often the hardest to make."
Vexa snorted softly. "You really don't talk like a kid."
Arin accepted that without comment and turned his attention back to Jalen.
"I meant what I said earlier," Arin continued. "This conversation matters. But conversations about consequences should not happen on empty stomachs."
Jalen picked up his utensils but didn't eat. "You're confident this won't change my mind."
Arin shook his head. "No. I'm confident it will change something. I don't know what yet."
Jalen's fingers tightened around the utensil handle, not enough to bend it, but enough to show restraint.
Arin let the silence sit for a breath, then shifted the direction with the same quiet precision he used to move through the village.
"Tell me about Rhea," he said.
The name hit the table like a dropped weight.
Kuromi's eyes flicked to Jalen immediately. Vexa stopped chewing.
Jalen did not look away, but the muscles along his jaw set.
"Why?" Jalen asked.
Arin's voice did not change. "Because I asked you about freedom, and you spoke like freedom is something you defend at a distance. Rhea does not fit that story."
Jalen's throat moved once. He swallowed.
"You've been listening," Kuromi said.
"The forest listens," Arin replied. "I pay attention."
Vexa leaned back slightly. "So you're bringing up dead people at dinner."
"I'm bringing up consequences," Arin said. "Dinner is only uncomfortable if we pretend the world is not."
Jalen's voice was low. "Rhea is not your tool."
Arin nodded. "Then do not let her become one. Answer me yourself."
Jalen stared at him for a long moment.
"She was a kid," Jalen said. "Street-smart. Mean mouth. Loyal. She had a brother."
"Stix," Arin said.
Kuromi's eyes narrowed. "How do you know that name?"
Arin's attention stayed on Jalen. "Because people do not leave clean trails when they bleed."
Jalen's fingers loosened. He set the utensils down carefully.
"They were starving," Jalen said. "I found them in an alley."
"And you took them in," Arin said.
"Yes."
"You were hungry too," Arin said.
"So?"
"You did not take their food."
Jalen's eyes flicked up. "Because they were kids."
Arin held his gaze. "You destroyed a city and called it necessary. But you could not take bread from a child."
Jalen exhaled slowly. "People talk when they're angry."
"Did you mean it."
Jalen's eyes sharpened. "What do you want."
"I want the truth," Arin said. "The one that explains why they followed you."
"They followed me because I was there," Jalen said.
"And then you used them."
The table went still.
Vexa's eyebrows lifted. Kuromi leaned forward slightly.
"Watch your mouth," Jalen said.
"Did you ever place them where violence would find them faster," Arin asked. "Because it was convenient."
Jalen's stare hardened. "It worked."
"And it nearly got them taken."
Jalen's breath slowed, controlled.
"You're acting like I didn't care," he said.
"Caring is not protection," Arin replied. "It is a feeling."
Kuromi cut in quietly. "Arin."
He did not look at her.
"You believed your strength was enough," Arin said. "You believed you could control the outcome."
Jalen's chair creaked as his body tensed.
"You gave them money," Arin continued, "and sent them where a predator would see them."
Jalen's voice sharpened. "Stop."
"You taught them your version of freedom," Arin said."And your version of freedom taught them how to die."
The lantern light felt harsher now.
Jalen stared at him. "You don't get to say that."
"Then tell me I am wrong."
Jalen's hand gripped the edge of the table.
"She was brave," he said. "Before she ever met me."
"Bravery is not the question," Arin said.
"I didn't force her to protect anyone."
"No," Arin replied. "You made it look like love requires it."
Kuromi watched Jalen carefully now.
"You're using her death to win," Jalen said.
"I'm using her life to reveal yours," Arin replied.
Jalen's eyes flashed. "My life."
"Yes," Arin said. "Because when she died, you ran."
The words landed.
"I left," Jalen said. "Because there was nothing left of me to give."
Arin nodded. "You gave up everything."
"Yes."
"And that is why I asked about Rhea," Arin said.
Jalen's grip loosened. His shoulders dropped slightly.
"You built a place where no one can choose violence," Jalen said. "You call it peace."
Arin nodded.
"And you think that makes you better than me."
"No."
The word unsettled the table.
"You ended a city and walked away," Arin said. "You picked up two children and promised nothing would ever happen to them."
Jalen's eyes lowered.
"You meant it," Arin continued. "And because you meant it, they believed you."
Jalen lifted his utensils. Took one slow bite.
Then set them down.
Arin watched him.
"Do you know what Stix said to you at the end?"
Jalen's eyes lifted. "How do you know there was an end."
"Because the forest does not remember victories," Arin said."It remembers promises you could not keep."
Jalen didn't answer right away.
He sat there, eyes lowered to the table, the untouched food cooling between his hands. For a moment, it looked like Arin's words had landed exactly where they were meant to.
Then Jalen laughed.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't mocking. It was short, dry, and tired, like something squeezed out of him rather than offered.
"So that's it," Jalen said. "That's the shape you see."
Arin watched him closely. "If you think I've misread—"
"You didn't," Jalen cut in. He lifted his eyes. There was no anger there now. Just something older. "You're right about almost everything."
Kuromi stiffened. Vexa frowned.
Jalen leaned back in his chair. "I failed them. I promised something I couldn't guarantee. I let two kids believe that standing close to me meant safety."
Arin didn't interrupt.
"Stix died because he trusted me," Jalen continued. "Rhea burned herself hollow because she learned that protecting someone matters more than surviving."
He nodded once, as if settling a ledger.
"That's on me."
The words hung there, heavy and undeniable.
Vexa blinked. "Jalen—"
"No," Jalen said quietly. "Let it sit."
Arin studied him, something cautious entering his gaze. "Then you understand why—"
"Why you think you're better?" Jalen asked.
Arin didn't answer immediately.
Jalen leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Here's where you're wrong."
The air shifted.
"You think the difference between us is intent," Jalen said. "Or restraint. Or age." He shook his head. "It's time."
Arin's brow furrowed slightly.
"You haven't failed yet," Jalen said. "That's it. That's the entire gap between us."
Kuromi's eyes flicked to Arin. Vexa went very still.
"You're standing in a system that hasn't broken," Jalen continued. "A place small enough, quiet enough, young enough that the worst outcome hasn't found it yet."
Arin's voice remained calm, but something defensive edged into it. "You assume it will."
"It always does," Jalen replied. "Not because people are evil. Because the world is bigger than your rules."
He gestured subtly around them. "Your pact stops intent. Good. Clean. Elegant." His mouth twitched humorlessly. "It doesn't stop hunger. It doesn't stop disease. It doesn't stop fear that comes from outside these trees."
Arin said nothing.
"And it doesn't stop love," Jalen added.
That one landed.
"You think I taught Rhea to die for someone," Jalen said. "You're right. But not because I told her to. Because people do that on their own when they care."
Arin's eyes narrowed slightly. "And you think my people won't."
"I think they already would," Jalen said. "You're just early enough that it hasn't cost you yet."
He straightened, voice steady, relentless.
"When a child here runs into a fire to save someone they love," Jalen said, "your pact won't stop it."
"When someone refuses to leave a sick parent behind," he continued, "your pact won't stop it."
"When an accident happens, when scarcity hits, when something slips through that you didn't plan for," Jalen finished, "someone will still die."
Silence stretched.
"And when that happens," Jalen said quietly, "who do they blame?"
Arin's gaze sharpened. "They won't blame violence."
"No," Jalen agreed. "They'll blame you."
Vexa inhaled slowly.
"Because in my world," Jalen continued, "there was always a monster to point at. A king. A system. Me." His eyes met Arin's. "In yours, you removed the villain."
Arin's lips parted slightly, then closed.
"So when someone dies here anyway," Jalen said, "there's nowhere for that grief to go but up."
The lantern light flickered as the wind shifted.
"You think I walked away from responsibility," Jalen said. "I didn't. I lived with it. Alone. Weak. Burying names in the ground and learning what it costs when you're wrong."
Arin's voice was quieter now. "And you think that makes you wiser."
"No," Jalen said. "It makes me honest."
He leaned back, the tension easing just enough to show how tired he was.
"You haven't buried anyone because of your peace yet," Jalen said. "When you do, you won't get to call it theory."
Arin held his gaze for a long moment. The certainty that had anchored him all evening showed its first, almost imperceptible fracture.
"And when that day comes," Jalen finished, "you'll understand why I don't pretend there's a version of freedom that doesn't hurt someone eventually."
Kuromi let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Vexa stared at Arin, searching his face for something she hadn't seen before.
Arin finally spoke.
"…You assume I won't endure that cost."
Jalen nodded once. "I assume you will."
He stood.
"And I assume," he added, voice calm, final, "it will change you."
Arin stood.
The motion alone drew the eye, not because it demanded attention, but because it ended the conversation without ceremony.
"You'll be traveling," he said. "At first light."
Vexa frowned. "That wasn't—"
"I've already arranged it," Arin replied.
He turned slightly, addressing a nearby villager without raising his voice. "Prepare Jalen and his companions. Food, water, and supplies for the road."
The villager nodded and moved at once.
Arin looked back at Jalen one last time. There was no challenge in his expression now, only resolve.
"The path west will be clear," he said. "The pact will not follow you."
Then he left the table and did not look back.
Jalen remained seated, hands resting near a plate he never finished.
The village continued eating.
And by morning, they would be gone.
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"The path west will be clear," he said. "The pact will not follow you."
Then he left the table and did not look back.
Jalen remained seated, hands resting near a plate he never finished.
The village continued eating.
And by morning, they would be gone.