They settled in Ashen's house for the night.
It was too large for one man, clearly built with ambition - or arrogance. Hardwood floors, wide-beamed ceilings, and furniture carved from the thick trees of the valley filled the space. The house had a strange, organic quality to it. Chairs with curling armrests that looked like stalks in bloom. Tables shaped from solid chunks of trunk, bore smooth, leafy ridges under the hand, alive with texture.
Strange climbing plants crept along the beams of the ceiling, not quite ornamental but not wild either, their leaves shifting hue subtly in the lamplight - green to bronze, bronze to a dull crimson.
The air in the house was fragrant, sharp with the scent of the valley herbs. Even indoors, the pervasive smell clung to everything - sweet, earthy, slightly bitter.
Ashen had not protested much when they dragged him inside. The trinket gone from his neck, stripped of whatever power it offered, he seemed smaller now. Not humbled, but deflated. Like a merchant forced to admit the weight of his wares had been misjudged.
They thought of locking him in the woodshed behind the house. It had a latch, solid walls, and stood just far enough away to make his presence easy to forget - which was precisely the problem. Too easy to lose track of him out there.
And the house was large enough. Excessively so. They cleared a corner in the main room and dropped him there, wrists and ankles bound, his back propped against the curved root-leg of a strange wooden bench.
Ashen didn't argue. He just looked around at the house as if seeing it for the first time.
One of the rooms opened into what must have been Ashen's study, its walls lined with built-in shelves. Mokai had taken it for himself, sorting through what documents it contained.
Soon the guardians tasked with capturing the village reported back.
The villagers - if they could be called that - had accepted their plight with eerie calm. No cries, no protest. Convicts, as Ashen had revealed. What hope did they have to resist? None had raised a tool, let alone a weapon.
The maids, who had been setting the table when they arrived, had not fled. They simply shifted seamlessly to whoever gave the next order. When spoken to, they listened, nodded, and obeyed without question. As if roles could change, but duty remained the same. They moved like people used to being handed from one master to the next.
Fengyu paced the wide veranda long after the others had settled inside. The wooden boards creaked beneath his steps. The wind rustled through the herb fields and the last of the crimson light died on the mountain's peaks, behind the valley rim. It was quiet now.
Inside, Mokai was pouring over a few of the scrolls and half-finished ledgers he'd found on Ashen's desk. Nothing valuable so far - notes on crops, shipments, a few coded lines he suspected referred to gate coordinates.
They were missing something. Both of them felt it.
Ashen, tied up and half-asleep in the corner, had said too much with too little. Master Brug wasn't the end. Something was just out of reach.
Soon, Mokai sat cross-legged amid the scattered ledgers, scrolls, and loose scraps of parchment. He looked up as Fengyu entered, the last light of the crimson sun brushing along his shoulders. In his hand, Fengyu held the pendant - Ashen's trinket, its faint blue gleam now dulled and inert. Mokai's gaze lingered on it for a moment. The thing looked so small, almost meaningless now. But Ashen's strength had changed with it.
Fengyu said nothing, but their eyes met - a silent check-in, a pause between unspoken questions.
Mokai's mind drifted to Master Kaelji and Master Lira. Did they know? Did they truly know what kind of opponent Ashen could be, what he might've been capable of? Lira had wanted to come, Kaelji had insisted she stay. Was that a gesture of trust in their readiness… or a test? Or something more calculating?
Had they been supposed to win? Or to lose?
He stared past the scroll in his hand, eyes unfocused now. Fengyu's suspicions returned to him, that strange conversation they had overheard in the temple's garden. Although it seemed like ages ago, before it all started. It was so easy to forget. But something in him, now, refused to let it go.
What was it that he wasn't meant to know too soon?
And worse - why?
He looked up again at Fengyu who now stood surveying the spacious room. He moved slowly, like a man searching not for comfort, but for a place where his thoughts might settle.
Eventually, he drifted toward a raised wooden platform near the far wall - part bed, part bench, carved from the same twisted wood that shaped much of the house's furniture. Fengyu tested it with a hand, then sat down, still holding the pendant in his palm.
He didn't speak. Just leaned back slightly, shoulders stiff, uncertain whether he meant to sleep or simply rest his body while keeping his mind alert. The dim blue light of the pendant pulsed faintly, now partly obscured by his fingers.
Mokai watched him in silence.
Ashen's power had been surprising. Far beyond what they had anticipated. He hadn't had that kind of strength before. That meant someone had supplied him with the focusing artifact recently.
And it had made him dangerous. Without the vine twister – a last minute gift from his father - they wouldn't have survived the encounter.
Was that what Kaelji intended? Mokai couldn't shake the question. Had it been a calculated gamble? Had it been an arrangement? Had they been set up to lose?
He felt more and more irritated. He had started to like Master Lira. Not in some grand, fated way, but in the quiet, rare sort of respect that grows from truthfulness and unspoken understanding. She didn't play games - at least he had thought so till now.
She had asked to come with them. And Kaelji had denied her. Mokai found himself wondering whether she'd been protected… or used. Whether Kaelji's refusal had been for her safety, or to keep her out of whatever plan he'd already put in motion. Mokai just couldn't shake off the feeling he was missing something important - he was being kept in the dark.
And Fengyu…
He was still the same - sharp-tongued, irreverent, nonchalant even in the face of magic. But Mokai saw the shift. Beneath the flippant remarks and casual lounging was a man who had accepted something. Not just that absurd title but the weight of it. He was going to use it. Maybe even let it change him.
And then there were his new guards. Funny, almost ridiculous at first glance. But deadly. Efficient. Loyal to Fengyu, or his family, in a way that hadn't come from rank or obligation, but something stranger. Maybe belief.
But that was good. His friend had somebody at his side. That brought a quiet sense of relief he hadn't realized he needed.
And there was something else. During the fight, when Ashen's energy strike came for him, it vanished midway. It simply dissolved. Whatever caused it, Mokai knew it had come from Fengyu. Although it seemed that Fengyu himself was not fully aware.
And the most important question of all: Did anyone truly know what else lived in this world?
Ashen had never gone farther into the valley. At least he claimed so.
He'd stayed near the upper edge, building his little domain. But according to Mokai's father the true heart of Firme lay far deeper. You had to descend a long way, down to the second layer of mist. That was where this world changed again.
But Ashen made it clear - the guild thought it to be a wilderness. Untamed and abandoned. They hadn't bothered to look deeper.
However what if Master Brug had lied? What if he knew more and kept it hidden?
And the temple - what was their stance?
Mokai felt tired, the weight of questions pressing behind his eyes.
Maybe it didn't matter - not yet.
As long as they stayed above the second mist, as long as they didn't go too deep, they might remain unnoticed. Unseen.
If everybody believed it is an abandoned and wild world, they would keep close to the gates, wouldn't they?
Somehow, Mokai could not convince himself that was the case.
Lao Zhan came quietly into the room. His gaze briefly swept over the sleeping Fengyu before he turned to Mokai and gave a subtle nod, suggesting it was time for him to rest as well. As Mokai turned toward the back room to find a place to lie down, he realized he was grateful - not just for the offer, but for the kind of calm assurance Lao Zhan brought with him.
Soon the sunrise came. It came too soon. Soft light spilled over the valley. The air was cool and fresh, carrying the sweet scent of herbs from the fields. But the world seemed to hold its breath, wrapped in a quiet beauty, promising new surprises with the new day.
Mokai and Fengyu slept longer than they had intended, exhaustion catching up with them now that the tension had ebbed. Outside, the herb fields glowed with dew, rows of strange, fragrant plants shimmering beneath the rising sun.
The message had gone out the night before. One of the guardians had been sent up the winding path to the poachers' outpost with a simple report: the settlement was taken, Ashen captured, and no sign of further unrest. Now, all they could do was wait.
Lao Zhan had kept the morning watch and was still posted at the veranda, unmoving as stone but alert. A pot of hot and sharp-smelling porridge simmered on the stove - courtesy of the house's maids, who continued their duties.
By the time Mokai stirred and wandered back into the main room, Fengyu was already half-awake, sprawled across a low bench with one arm thrown over his eyes. He shifted, blinked, and squinted at the daylight spilling through the slats.
"No word yet?" he murmured.
"Not yet. But they'll come," answered Lao Zhan. "Try the porridge. Huo Yan checked it. And it tastes quite good."
After a simple breakfast Fengyu and Mokai stepped out into the sunlight to examine the settlement.
Ten houses in total, scattered along a gentle curve of the valley floor, surrounded by rows of cultivated herbs and medicinal plants. The homes were sturdy, well-built from local timber, with curved roofs and thick beams - clearly constructed with permanence in mind, not the usual ramshackle look of poachers' outpost.
The people moved quietly, eyes lowered, shoulders bowed. Every one of them, as Ashen had said, was a guild convict - men and women who had fallen into debt and accepted indenture. They had been charged for blessings to their crops, protection from flooding - and when the payments failed, the chains came.
No one resisted. No one begged. They simply watched as Fengyu and Mokai walked the perimeter of the valley. A few nodded politely. Most avoided their eyes. The quiet was almost unnerving - the place was waiting for its new masters to decide what came next.
Master Lira arrived in the early afternoon. She interrogated Ashen once again, but he offered nothing new. Lira didn't press him. When it was clear he had nothing more to give, she simply straightened and turned away.
Then she turned to Fengyu. She took the focus pendant and studied it in the sunlight of the veranda. The crystal still held a faint pulse of blue, though dimmer now, as if exhausted.
"This is old," she said, weighing the artifact in her palm. "It was never meant for someone like him."
She handed it back to Fengyu, the chain pooling silently in his hand.
"You'll keep it. Joy will show you how to use it."
Then her attention shifted to the plants. The plants should not have been extraordinary - and yet, they were.
At first glance, they were familiar. Mokai and even Fengyu could name most of them: silverwort, tazelroot, fenmint, irna vines. Standard healing herbs, stimulant leaves, calming infusions - all common across many charted worlds. But here in Firme, they grew larger, denser, their colours vivid, the textures slightly wrong. The leaves of the tazelroot glowed faintly - a soft amber sheen. Silverwort exhaled a pale mist at dawn, and when you touched its petals, a tingling sensation lingered in your fingertips.
Lira ran tests on one - a simple flame reaction that should have produced a moderate white flare. Instead, the herb erupted in a plume of violent sparks, laced with gold filaments. The energy released was far beyond expected yield.
"They're still what they claim to be," she murmured. "But they're... amplified. As if this soil powered them."
Or something beneath it had.
And strangest of all, they grew together - varieties that, under normal circumstances, would never thrive side by side. Plants that required acidic soil mingled with those that preferred dry shale. Competitive root systems tangled peacefully, harmoniously. It made no ecological sense.
"Alchemy in the dirt," Mokai muttered.
Master Lira didn't answer right away. She crouched again, fingers pressing lightly into the soil between the roots. She lifted her hand, rubbed thumb and forefinger together, then shook her head.
"The soil isn't special," she said.
"Then what is?"
"This is the place where the First Gates were created," Master Lira said, straightening. "Bearing in mind what kind of achievement it was, it's only natural that it was done in an environment that could support it. There are records of such special places in the charted worlds. Like the Garden of Echoes in Pantax."
"The Garden of Echoes is just an ambient place," retorted Mokai. "Nobody contacts ghosts or lost souls there. These are just rumours."
"Oh, yes. These are just rumours. But the rumours are not exactly baseless, are they?" She looked directly at Mokai.
Mokai frowned "Do you mean… Tharos?" He felt silent before he continued. "Tharos is said to be inspired by the Garden of Echoes, to have received the insight that became the theory of energy layering there."
Fengyu raised an eyebrow. "Received it? From whom? From a wandering soul?"
"Some say a wandering soul whispered it to him. But more reasonable version of the story claims he simply observed the echoes, felt the currents of energy, and understood. The story changes depending on who tells it. And that is how the folk legends or rumours are created. But this is different. This is not an inspiration, this is tangible." As to prove the point, Mokai tapped the nearest plant, which folded its leaves immediately.
Master Lira nodded. "I understand your doubt. But consider this: the known history of the charted worlds originates in Firme. Many considered it a legend. And now, we stand here. That is not legend. The Garden of Echoes is just a small place, this is a whole world."
Mokai let his gaze drift from the glowing herbs to the crimson peaks beyond. He remembered the accounts of Lord Ryosei's expedition.
"Is it just… this world?" he muttered under his breath. "Is Firme really that special?"
Fengyu straightened, brushing dirt from his hands.
"Okay," he said, voice low. "So we've seen it. Fine. But… what now? Do we wait for someone else to decide what happens here? Or do we figure it out ourselves?"
Mokai frowned. "What do you mean?" For a split second, he was afraid that his thought were being read.
Fengyu gestured to the plants, the herbs, even the mountains. "We don't just stand here staring. We need a plan. Do we wait for the Guild to move first? I do not think that Master Brugg is the only involved in the Guild. Such a luxurious business, they will not give up so easily. I am waiting what kind of story they will come up with to cover up for this operation and claw their way back."
Master Lira stepped in. "You observe first. Take notes. Understand what this place is and what it allows."
"Study???" asked Fengyu incredulous. It was supposed to be a field mission. When the martial practice changed into botanical survey?
On the contrary, Mokai shifted uncomfortably. "Study? What exactly?"
"We secured the gates." Master Lira said. "That was the priority, and we achieved it. Whatever the Guild does next, they will have to work around that fact. As for this operation here - we don't yet know how it will be framed. There will be negotiations. And even if what they were doing was illegal, that does not mean it will be presented that way."
Fengyu stilled.
He saw it now. They were fixated on the name Firme. But remove that, write some documents, adjust registrations, blame a transcription error, a misaligned coordinate, a clerical oversight. Suddenly it wasn't a forbidden world - it was a remote agricultural outpost. Shady, perhaps. But legal.
And just like that, everything became… perfectly clean.
They even might claim it belonged to one of their well established and long operating branches.
The battle for Firme had just begun.