The chief walked through the village without speaking.
The villagers followed him.
No one looked back toward the forest.
No one dared.
Traveler's final words remained in their minds.
If you want your villagers alive, leave.
But the chief had no intention of obeying.
He entered the largest house in the village and shut the door behind him.
Several villagers followed.
The room was dark.
Only a single oil lamp burned near the wall.
The chief stood at the center.
"Lock the doors."
The villagers obeyed.
Wooden bolts slid into place.
The chief looked at each man.
"He thinks this is over."
Nobody answered.
"He thinks fear will make us surrender our village."
One man spoke quietly.
"But he killed three of ours."
The chief's eyes hardened.
"And if we do nothing, more will die."
He walked toward the window.
Outside, the village was silent.
Far beyond the houses, two figures were approaching.
Traveler.
And Seris.
The chief watched them from behind the curtain.
"They cannot know."
A villager frowned.
"Know what?"
The chief turned.
"The weapon."
The room became silent.
One of the older villagers lowered his head.
"You mean the old one?"
The chief nodded.
"The weapon our ancestors kept hidden."
Another man looked uneasy.
"That weapon was never meant to be used."
"Neither was the Blood Moon."
The chief's voice remained steady.
"If Traveler refuses to leave..."
He paused.
"...we use it."
The villagers exchanged nervous looks.
The chief continued.
"Do not attack him until night."
"Why?"
"Because the weapon is useless in an open fight."
He looked toward the locked inner room.
"We need him restrained first."
The chief's eyes became cold.
"Then we use the Light Whip."
Later That Night
The village became completely silent.
Every door was closed.
Every window was covered.
Traveler and Seris were somewhere on the other side of the settlement.
Neither knew what was being prepared.
Inside the chief's house, the oil lamp was extinguished.
The chief entered the innermost room alone.
He closed the door.
Then locked it.
Behind an old wooden shelf was a stone wall.
He pressed his hand against a particular stone.
Click.
The wall shifted.
A narrow chamber opened behind it.
Inside stood an ancient pedestal.
Something rested upon it.
A whip.
But it was not made from leather.
It was made entirely from light.
A thin, pale radiance formed its handle.
The long whip extended from it like a strand of condensed lightning.
It made no sound.
Yet the room seemed colder around it.
The chief approached slowly.
His expression changed.
Even he was afraid of it.
An inscription was carved into the pedestal.
The chief whispered the words.
"That which binds the body shall weaken the soul."
He reached toward the weapon.
The moment his fingers touched the handle—
the light flickered.
The chief immediately pulled his hand back.
He stared at it.
The weapon had been created generations ago.
Nobody knew who had made it.
They only knew one thing:
Anyone struck and bound by the Light Whip became weaker.
The stronger the target—
the harder the weapon fought against them.
The chief looked toward the closed door.
Traveler had no idea it existed.
Seris didn't know either.
The chief slowly picked up the weapon.
The light wrapped around his arm.
He tightened his grip.
"Tonight."
His voice was barely audible.
"We end this."
Outside the house—
a shadow passed across the window.
The chief froze.
He waited.
Nothing.
He slowly looked toward the door.
Silence.
Then the shadow disappeared.
The chief lowered the Light Whip.
He didn't know that someone had been standing outside.
He didn't know whether they had seen anything.
And he certainly didn't know how long they had been watching.
The weapon remained hidden.
The trap was prepared.
And Traveler walked unknowingly toward it.