Green Heart wasn't much of a kingdom by war standards — but it was alive.
Tucked between two lazy rivers and sheltered by hills lined with singing trees, the village of Therrow lay cradled like a secret the world had forgotten. The houses were small but sturdy, painted in sun-kissed pastels with moss-covered rooftops. Lanterns hung from the porches, always glowing, even when no one lit them. Children laughed in the streets, chasing cloud-sprites and tossing sticks to glowing dogs that barked like thunder but wagged their tails like kittens.
The people here didn't know war.
They only knew Dell as "the quiet boy with the broken eyes."
He'd lived here for a year and a half now — long enough for his name to fade into something familiar. He helped with harvest, repaired fences, and taught the younger ones how to ward off shadowbugs using salt lines and river stones. He never smiled much, but he always helped.
That was enough.
At least, for most.
---
"Oi, mystery boy!" a voice rang out.
Dell turned, shielding his eyes from the morning sun.
Max stood at the gate, balancing two heavy baskets of glowing lemons like it was nothing. Tall, broad-shouldered, and with a scar down his left eyebrow, Max looked like he belonged on a battlefield — not in a village. His shirt was half-tucked, and a vine clung to his boot.
"I told you not to call me that," Dell muttered.
Max grinned. "Yeah, but you look the part. You brood. You disappear for hours. You never tell us what's actually in that necklace of yours. Classic mystery boy behavior."
Dell just raised an eyebrow and grabbed one of the baskets.
Max bumped shoulders with him as they walked. "Besides, you owe me for fixing Granny's roof last week."
"I carried the wood."
"You stared at the wood," Max corrected. "Yuka did more than you."
---
Granny Maen's cottage was near the heart of the village, its stone walls etched with protective runes that shimmered faintly in the light. Flowers grew from the windowsills — not in pots, but through the wood itself, like the house had grown roots.
The old woman herself stood at the gate, arms crossed, hair tied up with a ribbon that sparkled between colors.
"You boys late again," she said, voice rough as bark but warm beneath. "Lemons don't juice themselves."
Max saluted like a soldier. "Granny, we bring gifts of golden citrus and broken backs."
She huffed. "And you, Dell. You look thinner than yesterday."
"I'm fine," he said automatically.
Granny squinted. "You always say that. Someday I'll believe you."
---
Inside, the kitchen smelled of bread and fire-berries. Yuka stood by the window, pouring juice into jars with careful hands. Her hair, a deep shade of chestnut, was tied into a loose braid, and a smear of flour painted her cheek.
She looked up as Dell walked in, her smile soft but tired.
"Hey," she said.
"Morning," Dell replied.
"You missed breakfast."
"Wasn't hungry."
She narrowed her eyes but didn't argue. "Well, drink something at least."
He took the jar, fingers brushing hers.
Just for a second, something flickered — not magic, but memory.
She looked away first.
---
Outside, the village buzzed.
Merchants in floating carts passed by, selling wind chimes and lightning honey. Birds with ember tails nested on rooftops. Children danced around a storyteller who used illusions to turn his words into glowing images in the air — wolves made of mist, dragons coiled in smoke.
Green Heart was alive. Gentle. Untouched.
But Dell knew that peace was a thin skin stretched over old scars.
Because at night, when the moon rose full, he could still feel it.
Her.
Somewhere out there — beyond the rivers, beyond the mountains — Delila ruled a kingdom of shadow.
And the Council hadn't forgotten either.
---
"You've been quiet again," Yuka said later, sitting with him on the cottage steps. "Thinking about her?"
Dell didn't answer.
That was enough.
Max sat nearby, carving a rune into a wooden pendant. "The Council of Chains has eyes everywhere. If they find out you're here…"
"They won't," Dell said.
"You're sure?" Max's tone darkened. "Delila's not the only one they want dead. You're part of the prophecy too, remember?"
Dell's fingers curled around his necklace — the half-pendant. The one Delila still had the other half of.
"I know."
Yuka rested her hand on his.
"I don't care what the Council says," she whispered. "We'll protect this place. Together."
He looked at her — the first real look all morning — and nodded.
"…Thank you."
---
But far away…
In a darker kingdom, the sky bled violet.
Delila stood before a burning map, her generals behind her. She stared at a pin glowing green.
"Found you," she whispered.
Her eyes — once red — now shimmered with something colder than flame.
Resolve.
---Absolutely! Here's the continuation of Chapter 2 from where we left off — still set in Green Heart village, still introducing more of the world, deepening the feel of the kingdom, its people, and the slow-building tension beneath Dell's recovery.
---
The cobbled paths of Green Heart twisted like forgotten songs — uneven, worn smooth by decades of wandering boots and quiet dreams. Children darted between carts of steaming bread and cloth-draped market stalls, chasing after blue-feathered beetles that buzzed through the morning air like gossip.
Dell walked through the village center, his black leather jacket catching droplets of mist from the rooftops above. Yuka trailed beside him, hood up, chewing on a stick of dried fruit like it might keep her from speaking too soon.
"People are staring again," she muttered.
"They always do."
"Because you don't smile. Ever."
"I don't have anything to smile about."
"That's a lie," she said, flicking his shoulder. "You've got me."
He gave the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. Not a smile — more like a memory of one.
The bakery's warm scent drifted on the air — cinnamon, baked apples, and a hint of magic. Old man Bresh waved with his one good arm from behind the counter, his enchanted bread loaves hopping lazily in the display case behind him.
Yuka grinned. "I swear, Bresh puts some kind of dreamdust in that bread. I had one slice and fell asleep for nine hours."
"He does," Dell said. "It's illegal in three kingdoms."
They passed the herb shop next — where scented smoke curled from hanging bundles of crimsonroot and sleepflower. Granny was outside, shaking out her patchwork cloak, a basket of wet herbs at her feet.
"There you are, Dell," Granny barked. "I need your help with the wards again. Something's off. The eastern runes dimmed last night."
Dell nodded. "I'll check them after sunset."
"Bring Max with you. He hasn't moved from that workshop in two days. If he keeps fiddling with dead tech, he'll blow off his eyebrows."
"Again," Yuka added, grinning.
Granny muttered something about "idiot boys and ancient wires" and went back inside, slamming the door with the force of a minor spell.
Yuka turned toward Dell as they walked on. "You know, for a quiet village, this place has more mystery than a cursed maze."
"That's why it's safe," he replied. "Too many secrets for the Council to bother."
They reached the hill where Max's shack sat — a crooked structure made of scavenged wood, iron scraps, and half a skyship hull. The roof was alive — literally — covered in moss that pulsed faintly with green magic.
Yuka knocked.
A long pause. Then a crash.
"Go away!" Max's voice boomed. "I'm recalibrating the phase core!"
Dell kicked the door open.
Max blinked through a cloud of smoke, goggles askew. "Oh. It's you."
Inside, gears clinked and wires hissed. A sphere hovered midair in the center of the room, surrounded by chalk runes and candlelight. It whined like a dreaming beast.
Yuka coughed. "Max, is that thing… alive?"
"I think it's sentient now. I may have over-fused the memory matrix."
"You built a friend?" Dell asked.
Max shrugged. "Accidentally."
Dell nodded. "We're checking the eastern runes tonight. Come."
"Cool. Bring a torch. And maybe… a fire spell."
---
Later that evening, the trio stood in the whispering woods, shadows stretching long beneath the fading sun. The eastern border of Green Heart sat just beyond a stream of silver water, where stone markers etched with glowing runes pulsed faintly in the ground.
Dell knelt beside one.
Flickering.
Cracked.
Yuka frowned. "It shouldn't be doing that."
"It means something passed through," Max said, tapping a small scanner. "Something magical. Heavy. Like, Council-grade heavy."
Yuka looked sharply at Dell. "You think they've found us?"
"No," Dell said. "But they're looking."
He stood. Eyes narrowed.
"We don't have much time."
---