The village revealed itself fully once they climbed higher.

  Wooden bridges stretched between colossal trees, some so wide their trunks disappeared into the mist above. Thick ropes—darkened by age and rain—bound the bridges together, reinforced with living vines that pulsed faintly, as if still growing. The planks creaked softly underfoot, damp from constant rainfall, releasing the scent of wet bark and crushed leaves with every step. Far below, the ground was no longer visible—only layers of darkness and drifting mist, swallowing depth and distance alike.

  Akitsu Shouga walked at the front, posture steady, stride unhurried. Rain dotted his hair and cloak, but he moved as though unaffected by the height or the stares. Behind him, Kael Ardent stepped carefully, his boots testing each plank before committing weight. His eyes never stopped moving—counting villagers, measuring gaps between platforms, noting where a fall would mean death.

  Ayaka followed quietly, hovering just above the wood at times, her blue hair catching raindrops that glimmered briefly before sliding away. Her eyes darted from bridge to branch, wonder mixing with unease. Seraphine Orion drifted behind them all, silent and attentive, gaze sweeping across the canopy, the people, the architecture—taking everything in without comment.

  Chief Tarek Vahru led them effortlessly. His broad back remained straight as he crossed the bridges like they were solid ground, bare feet finding purchase where Kael’s boots hesitated. He did not slow, nor did he look back, fully confident they would follow.

  Kael leaned closer to Akitsu, lowering his voice.

  “This is dangerous,” he muttered. “We don’t know what these people might do. We’re surrounded, and we’re high up with nowhere to run.”

  Akitsu didn’t look back. “Relax.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.”

  Akitsu finally glanced over his shoulder, expression calm—almost mildly amused.

  “It’ll be alright. There’s nothing to worry about since I’m here.”

  Kael studied his face for a second, searching for uncertainty and finding none. He sighed quietly.

  “I trust you,” he said. “Doesn’t mean I won’t keep my guard up.”

  “That’s fine,” Akitsu replied. “You should.”

  They crossed another bridge—this one wider, reinforced with carved railings. Symbols etched deep into the wood caught the lantern light: spirals like coiled vines, leaf motifs, and eye-like patterns that seemed to follow movement if stared at too long.

  Villagers stood openly along the platforms now. No weapons were raised. No shouts followed. Just quiet observation. Children peeked from behind elders, gripping woven cloaks. A few waved hesitantly.

  Ayaka whispered, “They’re staring a lot.”

  “They’ve probably never seen outsiders before,” Akitsu said evenly.

  “That doesn’t make it less uncomfortable.”

  Chief Tarek slowed and turned slightly, smiling as rain slid down his scarred cheek.

  “Do not worry. My people mean no harm. Curiosity is loud, but our intentions are quiet.”

  Kael stiffened. “You heard that?”

  Tarek chuckled. “Hard not to, when you whisper on a bridge.”

  Kael cleared his throat. “Right. Sorry.”

  They stopped before a massive tree whose trunk was wide enough to resemble a fortress wall. A large doorway had been carved directly into the living wood, reinforced with thick beams. Vines curled around the entrance like decorative sentinels, flowering faintly despite the dim light.

  “My home,” Tarek announced with pride. “Please.”

  Inside, the world changed.

  The air was warm and dry, rain sounds fading to a distant patter. Lanterns crafted from carved stone and glowing moss lined the walls, casting soft green and amber light. The interior was spacious but simple—wooden walls smoothed by generations of use, hanging ornaments made from feathers, bone, and polished gems, and a low table at the center surrounded by woven cushions.

  “Sit,” Tarek said.

  They did.

  Tarek poured tea from a clay pot into small wooden cups, steam curling upward in gentle spirals. The scent was earthy, faintly sweet, grounding.

  “Please,” he said. “Drink.”

  Akitsu lifted his cup carefully, watching the surface for movement. Kael hesitated a fraction of a second longer, then followed. Ayaka mirrored them.

  They sipped.

  Warmth spread through their chests—not intoxicating, not sharp. Simply soothing.

  Tarek noticed their caution and smiled knowingly.

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  “It is wise to be careful. I take no offense. If I were in your place, I would do the same.”

  Kael relaxed just a little. “You’re… understanding.”

  “Trust is not demanded here,” Tarek replied. “It is earned.”

  He leaned forward, eyes bright with contained excitement.

  “Still, it is nothing short of a miracle that you are here.”

  Akitsu raised an eyebrow. “A miracle?”

  “Yes,” Tarek said eagerly. “It is impossible for regular humans from the outside civilization to reach this place. The fog alone turns most away. The cliff below swallows the rest.”

  Kael glanced at Akitsu. Akitsu shrugged lightly.

  “It wasn’t much of a hassle,” Akitsu said smoothly. “We’re travelers. We’re used to harsh terrain.”

  Kael nearly choked on his tea.

  Travelers? he thought. That’s a lie.

  But Akitsu’s voice didn’t waver. His expression remained neutral, unremarkable.

  Tarek nodded, impressed.

  “That explains it. Only those accustomed to hardship could survive such a journey.”

  Seraphine watched quietly. Perfectly delivered, she murmured, unheard by anyone but Akitsu and Kael.

  Tarek tilted his head. “Tell me—where are you traveling to?”

  Akitsu answered without pause. “Wherever we feel like it.”

  Silence lingered for a breath.

  Then Tarek’s excitement dimmed slightly. A shadow crossed his expression.

  “I see,” he said softly. “Then allow me to offer a warning.”

  Akitsu inclined his head. “We’re listening.”

  “Do not go to the swamp near this village,” Tarek said. “It is called the Firefly Swamp.”

  Ayaka frowned. “Firefly… Swamp?”

  “Yes,” Tarek replied. “It glows beautifully at night. Countless lights drifting above the water.” His jaw tightened. “But once a person enters, they never come back out.”

  Kael stiffened. “Never?”

  “Never,” Tarek confirmed. “Many have tried. None have returned.”

  Akitsu stored the name carefully. “We’ll avoid it if we see it.”

  Tarek’s expression eased. “Good.”

  He straightened, excitement returning.

  “Now! Tonight, we celebrate!”

  “Celebrate?” Ayaka echoed.

  “A welcoming banquet,” Tarek said proudly. “For our guests. But if you are tired, we can reschedule for tomorrow.”

  Akitsu shook his head. “No need. Tonight is good.”

  Tarek’s face lit up. “Excellent!”

  He clapped once. “The village will be thrilled.”

  Akitsu took the moment to ask, “Is there another civilization nearby?”

  Tarek blinked. “No. None.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  “There is… a temple,” Tarek admitted. “Very close to the Firefly Swamp. But it is dangerous. No one goes there.”

  “I see,” Akitsu said calmly. “We were just curious.”

  Tarek chuckled. “Curiosity is human. Even here.”

  He leaned back, gaze distant.

  “Would you like to know how this village came to be?”

  “Yes,” Akitsu said.

  Kael nodded. “Might as well, if we’re staying.”

  Tarek inhaled slowly.

  “Two centuries ago, during the Great Winter War…”

  The room grew still.

  “Humans and elves were locked in brutal conflict,” Tarek continued. “Losses on both sides were immense. Blood froze on the snow.”

  Seraphine’s eyes sharpened.

  “Our ancestors lived either within or near the Fiester Kingdom,” Tarek said. “Then one day… half of the kingdom sank. Kilometers into the ground.”

  Ayaka whispered, “Sank…?”

  “Yes,” Tarek said. “The earth swallowed it.”

  Kael frowned. “That’s… catastrophic.”

  “The survivors tried to escape,” Tarek continued. “Some climbed. Many fell. In the end, those who remained chose a different fate.”

  “They stayed below?” Akitsu asked.

  “They accepted it,” Tarek said. “They dug. They adapted. This land was once above ground, but over generations, they carved deeper. They found caves, gemstones, underground water.”

  He smiled faintly. “And safety.”

  Kael exhaled slowly. “So this place was built… downward.”

  “Yes,” Tarek said. “We abandoned Fiester Kingdom and made this our home.”

  Silence followed.

  Seraphine leaned close to Akitsu, her voice barely a breath. It’s true. I saw the war. I saw the kingdom fall.

  Akitsu didn’t react outwardly, but his grip tightened slightly on his cup.

  Kael heard her too. He swallowed.

  Tarek looked at them warmly.

  “You are welcome here, for as long as you wish.”

  Akitsu met his gaze. “Thank you.”

  Outside, lanterns multiplied along the bridges, voices rising as preparations for the banquet quietly—and eagerly—began.