The horn's echo still hung in the air when the first scream cut through it.
Ara was already moving, crashing through the jungle toward the village. Kiro followed, heart pounding, Lune right on his heels.
As they broke through the treeline, chaos unfolded before them.
Smoke rose from burning huts. Villagers ran in every direction. And moving among them—silent, deliberate—were figures in dark armor, their faces hidden behind black masks.
At their center stood the hooded figure.
Kiro felt it before he saw it—the crushing pressure against his mind, like cold iron bands clamping around his skull.
"Don't fight me, boy," the voice slid into his head, smooth as oil. "It's easier if you don't resist."
Kiro staggered but kept his feet. "Not happening."
The figure's hood tilted. "Still stubborn. Good. The god-thread was never meant for the weak."
Ara drew her twin blades, eyes narrowing. "Kiro, stay close to me."
But Lune stepped forward. "No. Let him use it."
Ara snapped at her. "You don't know what you're asking!"
"Oh, I do," Lune said, her tone almost reverent. "If he doesn't push now, they'll kill everyone here."
Kiro's breath came fast. His mind-thread ability was still raw, untamed. Every time he'd used it, it felt like holding onto lightning. But the hooded figure was already weaving his own threads, bending villagers to their will, forcing them to attack each other.
The sight turned Kiro's stomach.
He closed his eyes.
And pulled.
The world shifted.
Every mind around him lit up like constellations—bright, flickering points in the dark. The villagers, the attackers, Ara, Lune… and one burning, searing thread at the center.
The hooded figure.
He reached for it.
Pain exploded behind his eyes. The figure's voice snarled in his head. "You think you can bind me, child? I was shaping minds before you even knew yours existed."
But Kiro didn't let go. He pushed harder, threading his will into that searing line, feeling the strain as his own thread began to fray.
The figure staggered, just slightly.
Ara saw the opening. She lunged, her blades flashing, but two black-masked soldiers moved to intercept. Steel rang, sparks flew.
Lune didn't hesitate—she reached into the fray, her own wild thread snapping out like a whip. One soldier froze mid-swing, eyes glassy, then turned and slashed at his own comrade.
The villagers stared, stunned, before some began to fight back.
Kiro's grip on the hooded figure's thread tightened. "Let them go!"
The figure's laugh was sharp and cruel. "If you pull me down, you'll drown with me."
"Then I'll drown," Kiro growled.
And he yanked.
The backlash was immediate—a shockwave of mental force that knocked him to his knees. The figure staggered back, their hood slipping just enough to reveal a sliver of pale skin and a scar running from temple to jaw.
Their eyes—cold and silver—locked on his.
"This isn't over," the figure said aloud this time. Then they snapped their fingers.
The black-masked soldiers began to retreat, vanishing into the smoke like shadows.
Kiro swayed, his vision blurring. Ara caught him before he hit the ground.
"You idiot," she hissed. "You could've torn your own mind apart!"
He gave a shaky smile. "Worked though, didn't it?"
Ara's glare could've cut stone. "Don't joke."
Lune knelt beside him, eyes wide. "You're stronger than I thought. But he was holding back."
Kiro's head snapped up. "What?"
"He wanted you to feel like you won," Lune said, her voice grim. "Next time, he won't."
The smoke still hung thick over the village. The fires had been beaten back, but the damage was clear—burned huts, broken nets, smashed boats. Villagers moved like ghosts, tending to the wounded.
Kiro sat there, every muscle trembling, the weight of Lune's words pressing on him.
If that wasn't the hooded figure's full strength…
He wasn't ready. Not yet.
Ara's voice broke through his thoughts. "We can't stay here. They'll come back, and next time, they'll bring more."
Lune stood. "Then you'll take me with you."
Ara blinked. "Absolutely not."
"I can hear the threads like he can," Lune said firmly. "That makes me a target. If I stay, they'll tear this place apart until they find me. If I go, I can help you."
Kiro met her gaze. There was no fear in it—just certainty.
"She's right," he said quietly.
Ara looked between them, jaw tight, then swore under her breath. "Fine. But you follow my orders, or I leave you both behind."
The deal was made.
And somewhere beyond the waves, Kiro knew the hooded figure was already planning their next move.
Only this time, he'd be ready.