The village appeared without warning.
One moment—
Trees.
The next—
Firelight.
Amir slowed.
The path opened into a clearing carved into the mountainside.
Terraced ground.
Wood and stone houses raised on stilts.
Torches burned steadily—
Not flickering.
Not weak.
Controlled.
"…this is it," he said quietly.
"Yes."
"…it feels…"
A pause.
"…different."
"…because it is."
The wind didn't move freely here.
It pressed low.
Contained.
Amir stepped forward.
The moment he entered—
Eyes turned.
Everywhere.
People stopped.
Watched.
Not curious.
Not welcoming.
Aware.
A child near one of the houses froze—
Then quickly moved behind an adult.
Whispers followed.
Low.
Sharp.
"…he carries it…"
"…why bring him here…"
"…it'll follow…"
Amir's grip tightened.
"…they can feel it too."
"Yes."
Footsteps approached.
The three fighters from before stepped ahead of him.
Leading.
Not escorting.
Guiding under watch.
"…you'll answer to them," the first said.
"…figured."
They moved through the village.
No one spoke directly to him.
But no one looked away either.
Every step felt heavier.
Measured.
The center of the village opened into a wider space.
Stone arranged in a circle.
Fire burning at its center.
And beyond it—
Three figures waited.
Seated.
Still.
The air shifted.
Not pressure.
Presence.
"…the ones who decide," the second fighter said.
Amir stepped forward.
Stopped just before the circle.
"…state your purpose," one of them said.
The voice was old.
But not weak.
Amir exhaled slowly.
"…I'm here because something followed me."
A pause.
"…and I need to understand it."
Silence.
The figure on the left leaned forward slightly.
Eyes sharp.
"…you bring danger into protected ground," they said.
"…you expect welcome?"
Amir shook his head.
"…no."
"…then why are you here?"
Amir didn't hesitate this time.
"…because I won't survive alone."
The fire cracked softly.
The middle figure spoke.
Calm.
Measured.
"…what follows you is not new."
Amir's eyes narrowed slightly.
"…you've seen it before."
"…we have endured it."
A pause.
"…and survived it."
The third figure hadn't spoken yet.
But their gaze—
Had never left him.
"…you carry an Anito," the first said.
"…yes."
"…and yet it brought destruction."
Amir's jaw tightened.
"…I didn't control it well enough."
Silence.
"…honest," the second said.
"…but not reassuring."
A faint shift.
From the side.
Amir glanced.
Someone stood just beyond the circle.
Arms crossed.
Watching.
Younger.
Calm.
Unreadable.
"…not all who carry power understand it," the third elder said finally.
Their voice was quieter.
But heavier.
"…and those who don't…"
A pause.
"…become the problem."
Amir held their gaze.
"…then I'll learn."
"…here?" the first asked.
"…if you allow it."
Silence stretched.
The fire crackled again.
The elders exchanged glances.
Subtle.
But enough.
Then—
"…you may stay," the second said.
Amir exhaled slightly.
"…but—"
The word cut through everything.
"…you remain under trial."
"…I figured."
The first leaned forward.
"…you are not one of us."
"…not yet," Amir said.
A brief pause.
Not approval.
But not rejection either.
"…at dawn," the third said—
"…you begin again."
Amir nodded.
"…I'll be ready."
"…you won't," the second replied.
"…that's the point."
A faint shift of movement behind him.
The younger figure stepped closer.
Still silent.
Still watching.
"…he'll observe," the first said.
"…if you fail…"
A pause.
"…you will not be asked to leave."
Silence.
Heavy.
Clear.
Amir didn't look away.
"…then I won't fail."
The wind stirred faintly.
Far away.
But here—
It stayed low.
Contained.
The fire burned steadily.
Unmoving.
Watching.
And for the first time—
Amir understood.
This place didn't fear what was coming.
It prepared for it.