Everytime she visited the village before, it was unsurprising.

  On hearing the threat, Katya raised both her hands. “Hold! It’s me! Katya of the Crimson Wing!”

  On top of the wall stood a small, furry figure.

  “Katya?” the figure squinted. “Approach carefully.”

  They advanced. Another Pangui appeared, shorter than a human but with a beard that nearly brushed the ground. His eyes widened when he saw the Hollowborn.

  “Who’s that? …Is that what I think it is?”

  Katya’s throat went dry. She’d traded with the Pangui many times before, but never while bringing a Hollowborn to their gates. “His name is… Red. He’s been helping me with research.”

  “Is that so?” the Pangui said cautiously.

  Katya forced a bright smile. “When have I ever lied to you, Bellamus?”

  “Many times,” the Pangui answered flatly. Then, after a long pause, he sighed. “Fine. Get in first.”

  Over the wall lay a forest, though its trees were rotted through, bark sagging with fungal overgrowth. The air smelled damp, thick with spores. Wooden huts clustered between the trunks, and children darted about, though most of them were hardly shorter than the adults, beards flowing down their small bodies.

  At the village’s heart stood a wooden statue of a woman, her carved form almost unrecognizable beneath the layers of rot and fungus that clung to her.

  “That’s the Goddess Blythe,” Katya whispered, leaning close to the Hollowborn. “They worship her.”

  A few paces further, Bellamus stopped and turned. “What do you want?”

  “We need passage back to the Iscor Plains,” Katya said. “Is the teleportation gate working?”

  “No,” Bellamus replied bluntly.

  The Hollowborn’s presence drew eyes. Dozens of Pangui emerged from their huts, their beards swaying as they shuffled closer. Children pointed, whispering to each other.

  “Is it not going to eat us?” someone muttered.

  Katya’s stomach knotted. Their fear wasn’t unfounded, she herself had seen what the Hollowborn did to the raiders, but if panic spread here, the outcome could be far worse. She forced herself to stay calm, though her mind flickered with that memory: darkness swallowing, light erupting, and then sudden silence.

  “What do you mean no?” she pressed, sharper now. “I can pay.”

  Bellamus crossed his arms. “Raiders attacked last night. They had an ash-golem with them. Brutal thing. Most of our folk are still fighting near the gate. We can’t reach it.”

  Katya blinked. “Raiders are attacking, and you’re all just… calm?”

  From the crowd, a voice piped up. “The gate’s outside the village. They can fight there all they like but they won’t breach these walls. We are strong.”

  Bellamus nodded. “The village is protected by Blythe’s power. If they try to attack inside, the rot will take them.”

  “Blythe, the goddess of rot,” said the Hollowborn.

  “Yes. You… know of our goddess?” Bellamus asked, curiosity edging past his caution at hearing the Hollowborn speak so clearly.

  “Perhaps. But it’s vague.”

  “Forgive me,” Bellamus continued, “but this is the first time I’ve seen a Hollowborn speak plainly. I’ve heard of some managing words, but most only mutter nonsense—or mimic humans to hunt.”

  “Do not be afraid. I mean no harm,” the Hollowborn said, his voice carrying like an echo.

  A child shouted from the crowd, “It can speak!” Whispers rippled through the onlookers.

  Bellamus glanced around at them, then back at the Hollowborn. “Ignore them. Most of these folk have never seen a Hollowborn before.”

  “You have?” the Hollowborn asked, his voice resonant, curious.

  “A few times,” Bellamus admitted, stroking his beard. “But not like you.”

  Katya flashed Bellamus a grin. “Told you he’s nice. Anyway, could you get some clothes for him?”

  Bellamus arched a brow. “Does it look like our clothes would fit him?”

  Katya crossed her arms. “Not yours, obviously. I mean, could you make something for him?”

  “It was a joke,” Bellamus muttered dryly. “We can make something, if you can pay.”

  At the center of the village stood a broad wooden hut, its frame wrapped in fungal overgrowth. Bellamus stopped before it and gestured with his staff.

  “That’s the chieftain’s hall. He would likely want a word with your… guest.” Bellamus’s eyes flicked toward the Hollowborn.

  “Your name, it was Red, wasn’t it?” Bellamus asked.

  “Yes. Because of his hair,” Katya answered quickly. “He likes the name.”

  The Hollowborn gave only a quiet nod.

  Bellamus disappeared inside the hut.

  “I do not like the name,” the Hollowborn said at last, his voice flat.

  Katya bit her lip. “Sorry. Couldn’t think of anything else.” She forced a weak smile.

  Moments later, Bellamus returned. “The chieftain will see you both. And I’ll send someone to take his measurements.”

  The hut was larger than any Katya had seen in the village, tall enough for a grown human to stand upright. Even so, Red, the Hollowborn, had to lower himself, his feet finally touching the ground as he entered.

  “You can walk too, huh?” Katya said, amused.

  Inside, a cluster of panguis sat upon large cushions. The one in the center, his hair snow-white and face lined with age, raised a hand in greeting. “You must be Red.”

  “Please, sit. Both of you.”

  Katya bowed instinctively. “You should bow too,” she whispered, nudging Red.

  The elder gave a warm smile. “It is quite all right, my dear. No need for formality here.”

  They sat cross-legged on the woven mats.

  “Forgive an old man’s ignorance,” the chieftain began, voice steady yet curious. “I never thought I would meet a Hollowborn who speaks. I have many questions. If it is not too troubling, would you grant me some answers?”

  Katya inclined her head respectfully. “We would, Chief. But we also need passage to the Iscor Plains.”

  “I have heard,” the chieftain said with a sigh. “But that will not be possible until the raiders are driven back. The gate is our responsibility to guard, not only for our people but for the safety of the outside world as well.”

  The chieftain leaned back on his cushion, his eyes distant. “When I was young, I often hunted beyond these walls. Within them, the goddess Blythe shields us. Outside, it is nothing but survival. Once, my band and I were attacked by a Hollowborn. Four arms. Three eyes. An ashen body. Even now, the memory chills me.”

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  His gaze flicked between Katya and Red. “Have you heard the tales of the Empty Child?”

  “I have,” Katya said quickly.

  “I haven’t,” Red answered, his voice low.

  The chieftain nodded. “They are Hollowborn as well, childlike in appearance. They wander, searching for their mothers. But anyone foolish enough to comfort them is devoured. That is why most people fear your kind.”

  “I do not mean any harm,” Red said again, steady this time.

  The old pangui studied him for a long moment before speaking. “I believe you. And that alone gives me hope. Perhaps one day, there will be more like you, and even Hollowborn might trade with us rather than terrify us.” His tone carried a faint warmth, though shadowed by realism.

  Then his expression hardened. “But know this, the world is cruel. There are those who would cut you open to study what you are. Others would keep you as a trophy. Be wary.”

  Katya broke the tension with a grin. “Red is strong, Chief. We ran into raiders on the way here. He defeated them with ease.”

  The chieftain’s eyes narrowed. “You have already fought raiders?”

  Katya’s throat tightened. “They attacked us. One of them tried to…” Her voice faltered, softening to a whisper. “Defile me. Red saved me.” She steadied herself, recalling her mentor’s words: a half-truth is stronger than any lie.

  The chieftain’s face softened. “The wasteland shows no mercy. I am glad you were spared.”

  His gaze shifted to the Hollowborn. “Tell me, how did you defeat them? I would like to understand how one such as you fights.”

  Katya felt her stomach twist. Her thoughts raced. If Red spoke too openly, if he revealed the darkness and the light, the way he had unmade the raiders, their fragile acceptance might collapse into fear.

  “The power of the Weave unmade them,” said Red, his voice low and steady.

  “The Weave?” the chieftain repeated, leaning forward.

  “Yes. Though I do not know the exact term.”

  “Sorcery,” Katya cut in quickly.

  “It can be said as sorcery,” Red agreed after a pause.

  “I see…” the chieftain nodded slowly. “Hollowborn wield the Weave differently than we do. Not the same as our sorcery, is it?”

  “Intent. Catalyst. Focus,” Red murmured, the words sounding half-remembered. “I do not need a catalyst.”

  The chieftain’s brows lifted. “Makes sense. Your body itself is born of the Weave and already a living artifact.” His tone carried a note of approval.

  Katya let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Thank the Veil. Red didn’t know the word Law. That ignorance had just saved them

  .

  One of the other Pangui stood up. The chieftain spoke gently: “Go with her. She’ll take you to the guest room. Rest there, and once the gate is clear, I’ll allow you to cross it. But be wary.”

  They were led to a narrow hall at the edge of the lodge. Inside, several low beds were lined against the wall, simple but clean.

  “We’re lucky,” Katya whispered, dropping onto the nearest mattress. “They’re good people.”

  “They are,” Red agreed, his tone neutral.

  Katya studied him for a moment. “I’m going to nap. Do you… sleep? I’ve seen you close your eyes sometimes.”

  “I do not know,” Red said quietly. “Perhaps I once did.”

  “Then you should try,” she murmured, already half-lost to exhaustion. Within moments she was asleep.

  A sound dragged her awake. Katya sat up, the cot creaking under her. The room was empty. Red was gone.

  Her chest tightened. “Damn it… where did he run off to?”

  She hurried into the hallway. Empty. The silence pressed in around her. She checked the chieftain’s chamber—vacant.

  Heart pounding now, Katya pushed through the doorway and out into the village.

  Outside, Red hovered a hand’s breadth above the ground. A plain white shirt hung from his shoulders, and the scrap of cloth Katya had given him had been replaced by proper trousers, though cut a little short. His arms stretched outward, and two Pangui children dangled from them, laughing as he swung them gently. Around him, more children crowded close, their high voices mingling with the hum of curious adults.

  Katya blinked. “What… is going on?”

  “They like swinging,” Red said flatly, as though stating the obvious.

  “I can see that. I meant—why are you out here?”

  “They asked me to come for the cloth,” he replied.

  Katya rubbed her temples. It was good they weren’t afraid of him, but shouldn’t he be a little more wary?

  Bellamus appeared at her side, beard twitching with amusement. “The chief told everyone he’s a good Hollowborn. Now they’re all excited.”

  Katya exhaled a long, weary sigh.

  “The trousers aren’t new. I’ll pay less for those,” Katya said, arms crossed.

  Bellamus huffed. “Do you know how hard it is to find clothes not stripped off corpses out here?”

  “He’ll also need a cloak. Preferably one with a hood,” Katya added, undeterred.

  “I know. Folks are working on it. It’ll take some time.” Bellamus tilted his head toward Red. “If you like, you can go eat. He’ll be safe here. Though… does he even eat?”

  “Not that I’ve seen,” Katya said.

  Bellamus’s eyes narrowed. “How did you even meet him?”

  Katya flashed a grin. “Let a girl have her secrets.”

  “You don’t plan on selling him, do you?”

  “Of course not. Do I look like a raider? I’m a researcher of the Crimson Wing. I’m taking him to the organization.”

  “Ah. Experimentation, then that’s your goal.”

  “No. Not like that,” Katya snapped.

  “Whatever you say.” Bellamus shrugged, already turning away. “Give my regards to Maria when you meet her. Now, I’ve got to get back to the wall.”

  Katya decided to take Bellamus’s advice and went to find food. An inn stood nearby, too small for her to enter, but she could sit outside and eat. Red is safe here, she told herself. Though it wasn’t his safety that worried her, but the aftermath of others realizing what he was. Still, it was oddly refreshing to be on her own for a moment.

  A Hollowborn traveler, with me. The thought made her lips curl. Everyone will have to acknowledge my skills now.

  Her mind drifted to Maria. Mentor, guardian, the closest thing she had to family. It had been years since they’d last spoken. Researchers rarely saw one another; everyone buried themselves in projects too big to leave behind.

  As the day waned, Katya strolled across the village. For all its haunting air, the place was beautiful as the fungal overgrowth glowed with strange colors, giving the ruins an otherworldly charm.

  By evening, she returned to the front of the village. Red still stood there, arms outstretched, two children dangling from them and squealing with laughter. Most of the crowd had dispersed.

  “You’re still at this?” Katya asked.

  “I do not have anything else to do,” Red replied flatly.

  Two Pangui approached, carrying a cloak of deep crimson. One of them grinned, holding it up to the Hollowborn. “Told you this color would suit him.”

  The children finally let go, tumbling back in giggles as Red pulled the crimson cloak over his shoulders.

  “It really suits you,” Katya said with a genuine smile. “You look like a lord. The Crimson Lord! such a fantastic name.”

  “Do not call me Lord,” Red answered.

  Katya grinned. “I wasn’t actually going to, you know. Maybe now I will.” She froze when she caught his eyes; sharp, glaring, unnatural. “I won’t. I promise,” she blurted, almost instinctively.

  Before the air could settle, shouts broke out. Villagers ran toward the chieftain’s hall.

  “Where is the chief?” one of them cried.

  The chieftain emerged, his voice calm but heavy. “What has happened?”

  “They brought another ash-golem,” the man gasped, his breath jagged, his face pale. “We’re going to die.”

  “No. We cannot fall,” the chieftain said, firm despite the weight in his words. “If they take the gate, they’ll cross into the Iscor plains. Our families live there. We must hold the line, even if it means sacrificing ourselves.”

  Katya thought she saw a flicker in Red’s eyes. His voice rang out, low and jarring.

  “Why? Why is the first answer always sacrifice?”

  There was a change in Red’s expression, sharp enough for Katya to notice.

  “What?” she asked, confused.

  Red didn’t answer her. He stepped forward instead.

  “Let us help,” he said.

  The chieftain shook his head. “Ah, but this is our burden to bear. We cannot ask you to risk yourself for us.”

  “Even if you did, sir, there are two ash-golems. Your help won’t change anything,” the soldier muttered.

  Red’s voice cut like steel. “A soldier should never falter in despair. Despair kills before any blade or wound.” His gaze fixed on the soldier. “Can we help?”

  The chieftain hesitated, then bowed. “I trust you. Please. Help us.” He turned to the soldier. “Whatever happens, remind our men he is with us.”

  The soldier nodded.

  “State your name, soldier,” Red said.

  “It’s Remus, sir.”

  “We march forward, Remus.”

  “Hold it.” Katya stepped in, her voice sharp. “Those are ash-golems. What can you possibly do against them?”

  “I do not know,” Red replied flatly. “But I cannot let these folk die in vain.”

  Katya swallowed. “Then I’m coming too.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re my responsibility,” she shot back, forcing confidence she didn’t feel. “And besides, I’ll be in the shadows.”

  Red inclined his head. “Then we move.”

  Together, they marched toward the wall.