The days after the battle passed in a strange, golden haze. Valoria rebuilt what little damage the shadow creatures had managed to inflict — a few scorched fences, a collapsed watchtower, nothing that couldn't be fixed within a week by hands that had spent generations caring for this place. The real wounds, the ones that mattered, had mostly been fear, and fear healed faster once people had something to celebrate.
And celebrate they did. Three days of feasting, music, and stories retold slightly larger each time someone new told them, until by the third night I'd apparently single-handedly leveled half the forest, which — for the record — I hadn't. I let them have the exaggeration. It made them smile, and honestly, after a trillion years of training in total silence, I'd earned the right to enjoy being fussed over a little.
Aria found me on the second night, sitting alone on the same hillside overlooking the valley where I'd first spotted the village.
"You're thinking too hard for someone who just won a war," she said, settling down beside me without waiting for an invitation.
"We won a battle," I corrected. "Malakar wasn't even there. Just his creatures. Whatever he actually is, he barely spent any real effort on us."
She was quiet for a moment. "You think he'll come back."
"I know he will. Something about that mural in the Eldoria ruins keeps nagging at me too — a hooded figure standing over a battlefield. I don't think Malakar is the top of whatever this is. I think he's answering to someone. Or something."
Aria studied my face carefully in the dim light. "You want to find out who."
"I want to make sure Valoria — and every village like it — never has to fight this kind of thing alone again," I said. "That means understanding exactly what we're up against, not just reacting every time it knocks on someone's door."
She smiled slightly, the expression softer than I'd seen from her before. "For a god, you talk a lot like someone who's still figuring out what kind of man he wants to be."
"Maybe that's the one thing training never actually finishes," I admitted.
We sat there a while longer, watching the lanterns flicker awake across the village below, and for the first time since arriving in this world, the silence between us didn't feel like something that needed filling.
Eldrin found me the following morning, his expression carrying the particular weight of a man who'd clearly stayed up all night thinking. "Lukas. There's something you should know before you decide what comes next."
He led me to the hall where the Heart of Valoria rested, a soft, pulsing light nestled at the center of an ancient stone housing. I'd seen it in passing before, but never studied it closely.
"The Heart doesn't just grant power," Eldrin said quietly. "It remembers. Every threat that has ever come for it leaves an impression, like a scar. Malakar's touch left something behind when his creatures pressed against our wards last night." He hesitated. "A name. Or part of one."
I felt something in my chest go very still. "Show me."
Eldrin nodded slowly, and reached toward the Heart.