When Joel saw the village from afar, a disturbing mixture of relief and fear knotted in his chest. The small houses with dark roofs, the smoke rising from the chimneys, and the subtle midday bustle were signs of civilization… and of danger. He knew he had to go there, for he needed supplies, clothes for the children, information about the region and the Empire's movements. But he also knew that every step he took within that village brought him closer to being recognized or betrayed.

  He stopped at the top of a wooded hill, his eyes fixed on the dirt and stone streets. The place didn't seem important: an unwalled rural settlement with fewer than a hundred buildings. A mill on the riverbank, a couple of community buildings, and what appeared to be a small temple. People seemed simple and moving unhurriedly along the roads, without a single imperial banner in sight or uniformed guards. Only peasants, running children, street vendors and the distant aroma of freshly baked bread.

  Joel left the children sheltered at the top of a tree with thick branches, covering them with fresh branches and warning them not to make a sound or move under any circumstances. Aria hugged him wordlessly; Liam nodded earnestly. He promised to return soon, and although he didn't say so, he had his katana hidden under his coat, ready for any eventuality.

  Before leaving, he washed in a nearby stream, combed his hair as best he could, and arranged his clothes to look like just another dusty traveler. He made sure his expression was relaxed, his gait confident, and everything else he could think of to blend in.

  When he finally crossed the edge of the village, no one seemed to notice him. He passed among men carrying sacks of wheat, women washing clothes in communal basins, and old people sunbathing on stone benches. The murmur of the local market immediately enveloped him, and Joel lowered his head, blending into the crowd like another shadow.

  A quick stop at the tailor was enough for Joel to shed his old clothes. He chose simple items: a gray linen shirt, an unadorned coat, and dark linen trousers, cheap but functional. He didn't need elegance, just anonymity. His previous clothes still bore traces of blackened blood on the seams, and any such detail could arouse suspicion in a town where outsiders were already a cause for gossip.

  With clean clothes and a new air of discretion, Joel wandered the few cobblestone streets until he found one of the town's two general stores. It was filled with useful and useless items: rusty nails, brass candlesticks, flour, blankets, minor potions, and what caught his eye most: a map, carefully rolled into a worn leather cylinder, the whole set at a rather high price. The shopkeeper, a thin man with an untrimmed gray beard, informed him that such maps arrived from the capital of a nearby duchy and that few locals could afford one. But Joel didn't argue and simply paid in gold coins without hesitation, with a casualness that made the shopkeeper look twice at his face... but he didn't say anything. Money was money.

  Once outside, Joel sat on a small, distant bench and carefully unrolled the map, hidden by the shade of a tree. The first thing that struck him was the scale of his journey. According to the markings and paths, his journey had taken him more than 2,000 kilometers from the site of the fight with the cursed mages. What had seemed like a simple escape through the woods turned out to be an odyssey: he had crossed two minor kingdoms and the border of a mountainous duchy, traversing one of the most inhospitable forest areas in the region, supposedly teeming with dangerous animals.

  Joel stood still for a moment. He didn't know whether to feel proud, relieved, or simply surprised. The only thing that was clear was that, at least for now, he was far enough away, perhaps even for the Empire, and there was no doubt that his trail had already gone cold.

  He bought the largest bag he could find in the store: a tanned leather backpack, sturdy, though with some patched seams. But he didn't care and filled it almost to the top with non-perishable food—dry bread, salted meat, dried fruit, and energy cookies—as well as clothes for the children, light blankets, soap, a wooden comb, cleaning rags, and a small kitchen knife. He thought of every detail that might offer the children some dignity and comfort in their forced exile.

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  Fortunately, in that village, the clothes were loose and wide, which made it easier to choose without having to worry too much about exact sizes. With everything ready and the sun slowly descending toward the horizon, Joel left the village as silently as he had arrived.

  When he returned to the hiding place where he had left Liam and Aria, the children welcomed him with open arms, relieved, the fear still visible in their eyes, but dissipated when they saw his healthy figure, loaded with supplies. Joel smiled, more relaxed for the first time in days, and without saying much, he sat down with them on the wide branch of the tree and began taking food out of his bag.

  The small celebration that followed was simple but meaningful: they shared pieces of freshly baked bread, sweet fruit, and generous portions of cured meat. The children ate as if they hadn't tasted something so delicious in weeks—and they probably had. Even Aria, always silent, let out a laugh between bites. For a moment, in the middle of that distant forest, the three shared an almost familiar scene. Joel didn't say anything significant, but he stored that image deep in his memory.

  The three of them stayed in that tree for a couple of days, simply resting. Joel needed it. His body might have completely healed from the wounds of combat, but his mind hadn't, for it was saturated, exhausted, and wounded in ways he couldn't see. For the first time in a long time, Joel allowed himself to disconnect, at least partially, from the constant state of alert he had maintained since coming into this world.

  The children, for their part, also began to relax. The peaceful surroundings, the plentiful food, and the sense of security—albeit precarious—gave them back a bit of their lost childhood. They even had the luxury of playing. They ran through the low bushes, climbed neighboring branches, and invented games with sticks and leaves. Joel watched them silently from his place high in the tree, not intervening, letting that moment of innocence unfold.

  As he watched them, he couldn't help but think about what was to come. They couldn't stay there forever, and Joel knew it. And although his mind was grateful for the silence these days, a part of him was also beginning to make plans. The idea of doing nothing wasn't in his philosophy, and he couldn't afford to be passive. He had to do something productive, something that would give them direction. If not for himself, then at least for the children. Aria and Liam couldn't survive in the forest forever, especially if the Empire was still looking for them. Joel needed to establish a base, find safe routes, learn more about what was happening in the world while he was on the run. And most of all… he needed a purpose.

  Looking closely at the map of the region, Joel decided it was prudent to look for another place to begin his life of exile. He still didn't know if anyone was chasing him, but he couldn't afford to be found carelessly. Marking a new distance was key, so his eyes focused north, far beyond the major cities, in a region still dominated by forest, but with a smaller, scattered population untouched by the imperial hustle and bustle. The County of Maroth, part of the Duchy of Bresmitz, seemed a suitable choice.

  It was an area described as mountainous, covered in thick pine forests and small farming villages with fewer than a hundred inhabitants. Places where a stranger could go unnoticed if they behaved discreetly. Furthermore, the roads were few and poorly maintained, which would complicate any large-scale search attempt.

  The journey took barely a day and a half. Joel allowed himself to maintain a relaxed pace, not overtaxing his body or the children, yet they moved forward with an efficiency no carriage could have matched. He carried the two siblings as if they were part of his luggage, with the ease of someone accustomed to carrying more weight than the average human could bear.

  During the journey, the landscape gradually changed. The trees grew taller, though less densely, the hills and mountains were larger, the air colder and purer. Signs of civilization began to fade, and Joel felt, for the first time in a long time, at ease. As if he were entering a natural refuge tailor-made for him.

  Joel found a small village nestled at the foot of a huge hill, modest and quiet, with barely twenty houses scattered around an unpaved central plaza. There seemed to be no military presence, nor were there any active trade routes. It was the kind of place where news arrived months late and where every unfamiliar face was simply ignored with rustic politeness.

  He decided not to settle in the village itself, but about three kilometers further north, where the forest thickened again and a stream wound through the tree roots. The terrain was uneven but fertile, and the constant presence of water made it the perfect place to start over. There, between the edges of the forest and the fringes of the civilized world, Joel marked his new home.

  It was then that one of the many echoes of his dreamed-of lives came in handy. An entire existence lived as a mountain carpenter, dedicated to building houses and furniture with his bare hands. At one time, Joel had considered that life trivial, even boring, an existence without glory or power. But now… now it was a blessing.

  Thanks to his strength and skill with the sword, obtaining wood from the trees to build a home is now a matter of effort and dedication, something that can become a kind of therapy for Joel, who needs to focus his mind on something other than his current situation.