Chapter 2: Bright smile, False face

Agi’s eyes opened to the softened light filtering through the canopy above. It was strangely warm beneath the leaves—but then, when you’ve had the reaper breathing down your neck for as long as Agi has, perhaps even the deep sea feels warm.

He stood with ease, moving as though he’d never been asleep. Agi had never been one to struggle with waking; he was a man always ready for action.

He shook his hand slightly, and the spear he’d slept with erupted into a burst of colors before reforming as a golden feather, dangling from his wrist.

He climbed down from his perch and set out slowly toward the village, deciding it would be best to spend a day observing the place and getting a feel for its rhythms. He wouldn’t start poking into its mysteries just yet.

“I slept in,” he noted as he entered the peaceful bustle of the village.

Villagers were pushing carts, calling out to neighbors to visit their stalls. It felt strange to the hunter to watch. It was all just so… normal.

He’d gotten used to having his brothers at his side, even if their presence meant bickering and the weight of responsibility. Now, without their voices filling the silence, an emptiness crept in—a feeling he didn’t quite know how to handle.

His thoughts drifted to that chatty “guard” from before… “Evans could be useful to have around, maybe.” But he quickly dismissed the idea of seeking him out outright.

He wandered through the village for a short duration exploring the stalls and occasionally interacting with the merchants.

Agi made his way to a stall. “Excuse me,” he said, addressing the merchant, this merchant had a distinct atmosphere, one Agi had unpleasant experience with, “I see you’re selling all kinds of furs and pelts.”

“Oh, but of course,” the older man replied, his hands rubbing together repeatedly as he looked up to meet Agis eyes, constantly shifting his gaze over his pockets.. “The finest pelts around. Can’t get ’em anywhere else.” He seemed typically confident, but the man before him made slightly nervous.

“May I?” Agi gestured to one of the pelts, and the old man nodded hesitantly. Agi inspected it thoroughly—he was, after all, something of an expert. “Where did you get this?” he asked, skepticism evident. He doubted this man had hunted it himself; in fact, he doubted the man hunted at all.

“Haha, it seems a youngster like you wants to steal my business, eh?” The merchant’s laugh was boisterous and friendly but his eyes were narrowed with suspicion, clearly sizing Agi up.

Agi felt a headache forming. He wasn’t in the mood to play games with an old merchant. He shifted his demeanor slightly. “Friend, if that was my goal, it wouldn’t be difficult,” he said with a faint smile.

The man chuckled,stroking his long gray beard. “Confident one, aren’t ya. Reminds me of my little one.” Agi noted the remark, momentarily caught off guard. “Well, I’ll tell ya what,” the merchant continued, “just keep an eye out for the next festival of the emperor.”

“Festival of the emperor?” Agi was confused. He’d seen strange festivals before, especially with the Blood Temple, whose ceremonies were often elaborate and bizarre.

“Oh, you don’t know?” The old man touched his chin thoughtfully. “You must be one of those… what’d they call it… hunters!” He smirked, a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

Agi raised an eyebrow. The merchant had pegged him as a hunter right away. “You get many of us?” he asked, curious about the man’s quick deduction.

“Not many,” the merchant replied. “But I’m sure old Gregor, down south, gets plenty.” Agi narrowed his eyes slightly but let the comment slide.

“Sounds like pelts are pretty exclusive here,” Agi said after a moment’s thought.

The merchant grinned. “That they are, friend. But I’m sure for someone like you, it’s no trouble. It makes an old man curious.”

“Don’t get curious,” Agi said, his voice low and edged with warning, his gaze unwavering. “Let’s help each other out—I won’t ask for much.”

The older man looked skeptical. “I’m not sure…”

“Already bargaining before I even set a price,” Agi murmured, hiding his impatience. “Relax, I’m not after your wealth. I’m new here. Surely someone as experienced as you understands my meaning.”

The merchant chuckled. “Oh, in that case, maybe we do have something to talk about. I take it you’ll be around for a while?”

“I will. Let’s make a point to meet more often,” Agi said, noting the merchant’s shift in tone.

The merchant’s eyes glinted. “Hoho… I’ve been a bit short on help recently…” Agi quickly understood.

“Friend, that won’t be an issue between us, so long as you can play your part. Just give me a time and place.” Agi hated wasting time, and before long, he’d received a location and a vague instruction about the time—typical in a place like this.

“We’ll see each other again soon,” Agi said as he turned to leave. “For now, put in some good words with your friends.” As he walked away, he mused about the odd jobs left undone in the village. “Is that why the chief wants me assisting the villagers?”

He thought back to a rare memory from his past. “You have no purpose, damn brat. Go pick berries with the women!” Remembering the thick antlers sprouting from the burly man’s head, Agi let out a slight chuckle. His smile was wistful and slightly bitter.

“If only I could see you again,” he thought, his pace slowing. “Would I still be like this?”

The villagers eyed him as he passed, curiosity mixed with wariness. Agi was not a man of average stature or bearing. Standing at his height, he towered over most, and his physique—well, next to a normal man, he looked like something else entirely.

He wore a simple robe, an inky void, beneath it was a worn silver armor, almost form fitting. Covering his legs was heavy metal boots, and as it tapered up, it was held together by a royal purple sash. The robe split slightly at his chest, revealing the symbol of a sun.

“It’s my resemblance to the Blood Temple,” he thought, recalling Evans’s mistake the day before. The comparison led him down a rabbit hole of thoughts until his steps became almost meditative.

“That merchant… he marked me as a hunter immediately…”

He reviewed the errands the merchant had given him—a small list of tasks typically pawned off on others. Agi had chosen this merchant precisely because he seemed the most like a shady middleman, and it seemed he’d been right.

“The chief wanted me to assist the villagers… but how?” he mused. “I could finish tasks that would take others days… but I doubt he wants me interfering with their lives…”

Agi continued to walk lost in thought. “Friend, I see you just left old michaels stall.”

The man was even shadier than Old Michael—skinny, with a thin goatee and slicked-back hair. His shifty eyes and twitching hands mirrored the merchant’s.

He took a few steps closer and leaned in, as if sharing a secret, “Old Michael, he’s a sly old fox… but his product is good I can guarantee it.”

Agi looked at the man, “what an odd ploy.” Agi quickly determined in his mind the man’s motive.

Agi was not a normal man, that much was obvious. He could pick up on the habits of others after a single conversation, he could figure out how they think after two, and could live as them after three.

“A scam artist… not a good one either, was he employed?” He felt like it was nonsense. However he could see the uses of such a tactic in a village like this. With their isolation it’s unlikely they could have come in contact with similar tactics.

The man was steering dissatisfied customers back to Old Michael—a scheme that preyed on naive villagers.

“I’m a hunter.” Agi replied walking by.

The man didn’t seem to have any particular reaction to his words.

“Those words mean something else to Old Michael, and this little scammer.”

He pretended to be annoyed exclaiming, “Young people jsut don’t know how to listen to experience.” He clicked his tongue brushing past Agi as he walked by.

“Hey.” Agi’s grip tightened on the man’s shoulder, his fingers digging in just enough to convey a warning. “Don’t play with your life.” There was nothing Agi hated more than the feeling of someone rummaging through his pockets.

The scammer got a bit anxious, “ah… S-Sir, I’m not sure what you mean, haha…” he laughed nervously feeling Agis crushing grip. “Well then,” he seemed desperate to leave, “I’ll get out of your way then.”

Agi held onto him for a moment before turning to leave.

Agi had chosen well—Old Michael knew more than he let on, but he was still just a frog in a well, limited by his small world.

He wants to maximize profits in this little place and so his mind is easily manipulated by those who can exist outside of the well.

Deep in contemplation the villagers naturally avoided him as he walked. He would face no more interruptions as he slowly arrived at a small house on the outskirts of the village.

It was quite removed from the others, but it was clear what job this house took up.

Logs piled high with multiple men chopping, the crisp clanging of metal on wood would ring out repeatedly.

“Iron?” he murmured to himself, glancing at the tools piled by the logs. In a remote village like this, metal was rare. It hinted at a deeper resource—or a higher demand—than he’d expect. “That festival likely isn’t simple,” he thought.

He approached a slightly older woman. She didn’t seem like an elder but more like an aunt.

She was chewing out a burly young man, “Her son?” They looked too similar to be anything else.

He waited patiently, getting a feel for her personality. Eventually she left out a long sigh and turned to Agi, “Another from Old Michael?”

Agi took note of how everyone refereed to the old merchant and responded with a nod.

“Hm…” She evaluated Agi looking him up and down.

“Shouldn’t you be a carpenter instead of chopping wood? Waste of good muscle,” she remarked, shaking her head before turning away.

“Do you need many carpenters here?” He didn’t believe that was the case.

She thinks for a second, “We’ve never needed a single one.”

“Another strange response.” He slotted it to the back of his mind.

“Ever swung an axe before big guy?” She asks handing him an axe slightly larger than the others.

“Agi, and yes I’m more experienced than you’d think.” He responded without missing a beat.

Feeing there familiar weight of an axe he recalled an experience from his youth—“Pekko, what do you think? You told me we couldn’t last a day, should I give you a tour?” recalling his wide grin he gripped the handle a little tighter.

“What should I call you?” He asked the aunt.

“Call me whatever you want, I’m sure you’ll end up with the same habits as the rest of ‘em if you’re here for long.” She waved him off putting a block of wood onto a stump.

“Well.” As soon as she finishes the axe flies down chopping it in a fluid motion. In all honestly he doesn’t even need an axe. Nor does he need to hold it with two hands.

He decides however to follow the others and match a similar, albeit slightly faster pace.

“Looks like you’ll be fine on your own. The village uses a lot of wood, and I’m the only one people come to get their wood, so do you run outta things to chop, come find me. If ya slack… well you saw earlier.” She leaves him to his own accord and immediately goes to scold some unfortunate man.

Agi chose this task carefully. Here, among the men, he could blend in, at least in appearance. They’d see him as one of their own—a quiet, hard worker. And if they saw him as a peer, they might let slip more than they intended. Besides, he found the work grounding, almost meditative.

Surprising as it may be it was actually one of his few hobbies, amongst a few other strange activities.

He found a strange satisfaction in the rhythm of chopping wood. It was a task that required just enough focus to keep his hands busy, but not so much that it pulled him into the kind of thoughts he’d rather avoid. Here, in the village, his mind never seemed to rest, always scanning, always wary. But with the swing of an ax, he could lose himself in the simplicity of the task.

Throughout the day he had been approached by the other men, sometimes they would sit there and complain about the Aunt when she wasn’t there.

Agi wouldn’t respond to them and would generally ignore them, but it seemed that only propagated the issue.

They would come asking him for advice on his technique before transitioning into the real reason they came—To vent.

The men joked and laughed, shared their grievances about the aunt, and complained about sore muscles. It was open, friendly—even warm. But something about it felt wrong. Agi couldn’t shake the sense that beneath this simple, peaceful life, something darker was lurking. The village was just a little too perfect, a little too safe. And that unsettled him more than any danger could.

But it was just a simple, peaceful village. He felt deeply unsettled.

The light under the canopy dimmed with time as the men layers down their axes with glee and laughed joyfully with each other, joking that the aunt would love to keep them there all night if she could.

“Hey Agi!” It was the man Agi suspected was the aunts son. “A big guy like you didn’t even sneak in a snack? I know you’re hungry.” The men laughed beckoning him along.

“I could eat.” He affirmed.

“You’re a traveler right?” A man asked, Agi nodded.

“Tell ya what, how bout we show you the best place to go after a good days work.” It was an entertaining scene, there were men of all sizes, burly, skinny, exhausted or brimming with energy. And yet as Agi walked amongst these men, sharing their jokes and smiling alongside them, he felt utterly out of place.

He felt uncomfortable with their proximity, they had no ulterior motive but he couldn’t stop looking for one.

He sighed inwardly, “This was my goal when I went there, so what am I second guessing for?”

The aunts son—Randal—was an friendly fellow. He wasn’t like evans, who could never stop talking, but he was genuine and easy to talk to.

It was clear that he was the centerpiece to this large group of workers getting along so well.

Stepping into a small restaurant the men were greeted by a young woman. She waved a finger at Randal with mock seriousness. “You’re good for business, but one day, you’ll drink us dry. You remember that time you nearly did?”

Randal scratched his neck awkwardly, “Rainy days call for a drink.”

“It’s always rainy days!” A man of the group laughed shouting, the others chuckled as well.

Agi watched the exchange, struck by how natural it felt—this easy warmth, the way they all seemed to fit together. He felt like he was observing a scene from another world, one he didn’t quite belong to.

Randal momentarily stepped away chatting with her as the other men sat around Agi, clearly intrigued by the newcomer.

“Tell us some stories!” One man shouted.

“And buy us some drinks!” Another followed suit. Agi was exasperated.

He pulled a woven punch and dropped a few bronze coins onto the table, “Is this enough for drinks?”

The men went silent. “R-rich!” One of them shouted.

Soon enough the men were laughing loudly as the girl from before grabbed a bronze coined before saying she’d be back with their drinks.

Agi was shocked. So far he had been intrigued and slightly confused on events in this place, but he was truly shocked this time. Bronze wasn’t even enough for bread in the nearest city, yet here it’s enough to buy drinks for an entire work force and label him as rich?

He slotted it to the back of his mind as the men began to cheer for stories again, now each holding a drink in hand.

Agi sipped his drink, watching as the men laughed and joked, leaning close to share exaggerated stories. He wanted to relax, to let the warmth and camaraderie pull him in—but he couldn’t shake the feeling that their openness was somehow… strange. He couldn’t stop watching their hands, reading their faces, scanning for any signs of deceit. Even surrounded by laughter, he felt like he was on the outside looking in.

“Then shall I tell you a story I once heard,” Agi murmured, his voice dropping to a near whisper. The men leaned in instinctively, their laughter fading as they caught a glimpse of something sharp in his gaze. “You’ll be on the edge of your seat,” he promised, his tone edged with a strange confidence that made even the rowdiest among them fall silent.

“There were three brothers who each had inherited the heart of a monster…” He started, “The eldest brother, with a heart of cold scales, was a clever one—cunning as the day was long. No one could match him in patience. The middle one, with his tiger’s strength, had enough bravery to fill a hundred men, though it often got him into trouble.” Agi’s lips quirked in a faint smile, though his eyes remained distant. “And the youngest, with the heart of an eagle… he had the sharpest eyes of all, though his aim was not always true.” Agi began.

“What monsters! Those are just some normal beasts.” The man laughed.

Agi chuckles while continuing, “They sound unlike monsters, but if you saw their teeth, their claws, or beak… They could rend man and stone, they could live 100 years with no scars and sleep each night on a full stomach.” He exaggerated

“But these boys were unlike their counterparts. They were fearsome, yes—but they could not survive like those by which they inherited, they had to rely on their cunning.” He tapped his head lightly.

“They lived in a harrowing land known as “The End” he observed their reactions closely, they were certainly intrigued, occasionally making jokes but paying attention nonetheless.

“They didn’t even flinch at the mention of The End.”

“They faced their first hunt, a beast twice the size of the tallest man and triple their width.” He made grand gestures with a lean.

“Its teeth were sharp and serrated and its dense fir smelled of fresh blood.” As Agi described the serrated teeth and blood-scented fur, one of the men shifted uncomfortably, his earlier grin fading. Another absently rubbed his forearm, as if warding off a chill. The room seemed to grow quieter, the laughter and clinking mugs momentarily forgotten.

“The first boy would jab and slice at it with a crudely carved spear, but it would not pierce its hide. The second boy would claw and kick, but it wouldn’t even wake from its slumber, the third would throw a rock right at its eye, causing the beast to roar in fury.” He told the story by making gestures and raising his voice.

“The venom spitting oldest would toss a vile toxin to its other eye, and the middle one with the mysterious power of creation would give his younger brother a pike of stone, telling him to use his greater vision to strike the beast to its vitals with precision!” The men were hanging on every word.

“A foolish choice.” Agi shook his head.

“What? Why, the rock worked and so did the venom, so why not the pike?” A man asked, confused.

“The boy did not have any technique, so how could he throw it with precision?” The man seemed enlightened.

“Then what happened?”

“The boy threw the pike with all his force, and with the muscles of a monster he couldn’t be weak. The pike would fly through the rain striking the beast, and it would actually pierce its hide!” The men seemed slightly shocked it actually worked, they wore their hearts on their sleeves.

“It shrieked dreadfully. The trees shook and the rain avoided. The boys thrown off balance would scramble back. But the monster had experience, it would lunge at the boy who provoked it, striking the youngest and knocking him away.”

“The brothers felt a chill of dread—they’d underestimated their foe. No amount of venom or stone could bring down this beast. In that moment, as the creature roared and the rain fell like a shroud, they realized they might not leave this fight alive”

“Seeing their blood covered brother they would tremble in fear for his life, How could this have happened? They asked themselves. But it didn’t matter, the monster was ferocious, not even giving them time to think, it struck again, barely missing the middle brother it would lunge forward with its mighty jaw.”

“Did they survive?” another asked.

Agi didn’t answer, continuing, “The eldest, seeing his brother soon to be eaten, jumped to the jaw of the beast of his own accord!”

The men gasped collectively, “What a courageous young man!”

“The boy for days would not know the fate of his brothers, he would continuously spew venom in the belly of the creature, surviving off whatever piece of raw flesh the beast consumed.”

“Eventually the monster would succumb to the poison. Falling down and breathing its last.” Agi stopped talking for a while,

“Well? Then what?” The men wanted to know its end.

“The boy simply tore through its body from within, he didn’t know where he was nor where his brothers were. The End.”

Agi watched as the men exchanged glances, their faces lit with laughter and excitement. They wanted more, wanted him to spin another tale or fill in the gaps. But to them, this was just a story. A flicker of something—pity? Resignation?—crossed his face. “They aren’t even aware of where they are…” he thought. “Should I feel pity for them?”

The men were in uproar; they wanted to know more but Agi would refuse, eventually they gave up discussing the story. They would continue to drink and share some more of their own, beckoning for another out of Agi, but he would just tell small things of no substance.

Agi silently reminisced to himself, forgetting the room of happily drinking men, “How long did I search after that?” His mouth would move in response–but his eyes would look somewhere else.

The men would share a meal together after that and Agi would eat slowly, remembering each bite, “It’s good.” He thought, not sharing his thoughts with his peers.

Agi took another bite, and the warmth of the food on his tongue brought back a flicker of something—a scent, faint and almost forgotten. A child’s voice drifted up from the depths of his memory, bright and innocent—deceptively so. “Is it yummy?”

The laughter and clinking mugs around him felt like they were coming from far away. Agi set down his fork, his appetite suddenly gone. The warmth, the noise, the joy—it all felt wrong. Out of place. “This place… Why does it remind me of her so much? Disgusting.” He forced his mouth into a straight line, but his expression betrayed him, twisting in a brief flash of revulsion before he could stop it.

Randal chuckled, but there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes as he took in Agi’s contorted expression. “Oh, you don’t like it, Agi?” he laughed, though he looked almost curious. “You sure do wear your heart on your sleeve, don’t you? Haha.”

Agi controlled his expression, laughing along with him unwillingly, “No, it’s good, just reminded me of something.”

“Oh, Must’ve been something unsavory.” Randal had a lingering smile.

Agi’s smile faltered for a split second at the word “unsavory,” but he covered it with a nod. “Just an old thing,” he replied simply. Agi picked up his fork again, glancing around the room to make sure no one else had caught his slip. The noise and warmth settled back into focus, and he forced himself to take another bite, though the taste had already soured.

Agi stood up from the table, “I’m calling it a night.”

The men hollered in disappointment, “The nights just getting started!” Theyd call at him.

“See you tomorrow, Agi.” Randal smiled waving.

“See you tomorrow…” The words lingered for a bit. Agi didn’t know where normal humans like them got the courage to stay out late.

The night was terrifyingly dark. There was absolutely no light, a single step was a gamble. This was not an issue for those who’ve inherited. Agi could easily see at night so long as he changed the form of his eyes.

The night was getting deeper as the sun slowly set from above the vast ocean that stood menacingly above their little world.

Agi walked for a while in the darkness, there were no people walking around and there was no light, it was completely unlike the bustle of the morning. The faint candle light that rose from the restaurant was the only sign of life around and that almost made Agi feel at ease.

He emptied his mind breathing in the cold night air. He could still distinctly hear every conversation taking place at the restaurant but chose to ignore it as thoughts slowly poured into his mind.

“Tomorrow… What should I do? Nothing is becoming clearer…”

“…gi…” A quiet voice whispered behind him as he continued to think Randall’s voice echoes in his mind, “See you tomorrow…”

“Agi…” Someone whispered from behind.

Agi froze, every muscle tensed as he heard his name whispered behind him. His pulse quickened, and he spun around at inhuman speed, his senses heightened, scanning the darkness. But there was nothing there. Nothing… except for Mireille, arms crossed, pouting as if she’d been waiting for him for hours.

Agi was immediately on guard, “Was I too lost in thought?”

“My father asked me to come get you,” she said, clearly annoyed at having been ignored. “Why is he so wary of someone like this? He must have a story,” she thought, her frustration obvious.

Agi scolded himself inwardly, “I did intend to speak with the chief today, I got sidetracked.”

“Come on,” she said, grabbing his wrist. But Agi pulled back reflexively, his eyes narrowing.

As her calloused hand closed around his wrist, a familiar, unwelcome feeling stirred—a ghost from his past. He forced the memory back, steeling himself. “I don’t like cheap tricks,” he scolded, stepping ahead of her.

Mireille only hummed, unbothered. “Not the type to hold hands, hm?” she teased. “But you wouldn’t make a blind woman walk on her own in this darkness, would you?”

Agi couldn’t tell if she was playing a game or if this was simply her personality. He decided to ignore her, but she laughed softly, falling in step beside him and then skipping ahead, as if daring him to follow.

Is she bored? he wondered, trying to make sense of her antics.

He glanced at Mireille. “How long has this place been here?”

She took her time, leaving Agi wondering if she’d even answer. Finally, she said, “Here or there, does it matter?”

No one here can give a straight answer, he thought, recognizing her sincerity in spite of her evasive words.

They walked in silence, Mireille occasionally making jabs at him. After a while, Agi noticed something. “We’re not going to the chief, are we?” he asked, glancing at her.

“Where are we going?”

Mireille grinned sheepishly. “Ah… you noticed.”

Agi’s expression darkened—he wasn’t in the mood for games.

“I want to have fun too…” she grumbled, looking like a scolded puppy. If she’d had ears, he imagined they’d be drooping.

“Wha—huh?” That was the last thing he’d expected.

“Are you… No, never mind. What does that have to do with me?” he asked,

She looked back at him with a slightly defeated expression, she seemed… embarrassed? “Well… I mean even the men got to hear a story from you.”

“You want to hear a story?” He asks not believing it.

“Not exactly… I, I’d rather walk around for a little bit, I mean it’s not everyday you meet someone who can go out at night.” She seemed to be making up reasons as she went.

He evaluated her, “Was this her original goal? There’s not much risk, At night no matter how she sees, I hold an absolute advantage.”

He decided to play along for now, walking next to her he once again observed her fluid movement even in this pitch black night.

She turned her head as if looking at him, “Am I very pretty?”

He knew she was making fun of him for staring but he replied without missing a beat, “You are.”

“Oh…” She turned away from him looking forward once again, it seemed she wasn’t used to others playing along.

They continued walking and whenever they would approach a step or anything steep Agi would lend his hand which she would accept quickly.

“She really just wanted to go on a walk.” He soon realised she was serious.

“Agi, What does the night sky look like?” She asked looking up.

“It has no beauty.” He responds, but she didn’t seem to like that answer.

“There is beauty in everything.” She sounded sure.

“Beauty exists in all things?” Agi’s voice held a bitter edge. “That’s just something people say when they’ve never had to see the ugliness for themselves.” He looked at her, his eyes hard.

She contemplated for a moment before saying, “Sheltered or not, it is one of the few objective truths in this place.”

“In the world, or in this village.” It was phrased like a question, but didn’t sound like one.

“Perhaps you’re more blind than me.” She teased.

“If that were the case then I’d have shared your views.” He looked down on her smaller stature.

“I’ve seen more than what the world offers to man.”

“You said I was pretty.”

“Is she boasting?” He felt like it was strange timing.

“I did.”

Her demeanor had slightly shifted. She didn’t seem so much like the mischievous troublemaker she had portrayed herself to be.“Why would you say that?”

Agi hesitated, the answer slipping from his mind as quickly as it had formed. Why had he said that? Did he actually think she was pretty, or was he simply playing along with her strange game? “I don’t know,” he said finally, unashamed of his uncertainty.

She seemed a little disappointed but didn’t linger on it for long, “Then why does the night sky have no beauty?”

Agi had stared at the night sky himself, getting lost in it and trying to make sense of it all, but never once had he contemplated its beauty.

“It is a void, at night there is no light to illuminate all its horrors, the shadows turn into a mass of terror. The rain clouds your vision even as you stare into its depths all you’ll receive are stinging eyes and dread. How can there be beauty in that?”

“Maybe there is no beauty in it then.” She replied. Mireille seemed to be looking up, and Agi felt strangely that she was much more beautiful like this, in deep contemplation.

“Aren’t you going to explain to me why it’s beautiful?” he asked, a hint of irritation slipping into his tone. Part of him wanted to hear her answer—wanted to know why someone could see beauty where he only saw darkness.

“I’m blind.” She responds and Agi immediately felt like a fool, asking a blind woman why the night sky is beautiful? What nonsense.

“Then why did you tell me there is beauty in everything?” He cautiously asked, he was not used to a conversation like this, he was used to others saying what it is and moving on, he did not share his mind, he did not voice his concerns. He would take their poor misconceptions and use them as a tool against them in the future.

“I was repeating something I was told in the past, when I first lost my vision.” Her voice softened, and she slowed her steps. “I was so scared back then. It felt like a constant void of nothingness. There were no people—only voices. There were no things—only textures. It was terrifying.” She smiled, though the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “But someone told me beauty exists in all things. I didn’t understand it at first–maybe I still don’t, but it gave me something to hold onto in the dark.” Agi didn’t feel any pity for her, she was here now, walking the world as if she could see, he only felt respect for her journey.

He started the walk cautious, every instinct on guard, but Mireille’s gentle persistence—and her strange, probing questions—chipped away at his wariness, piece by piece. Against his better judgment, he found himself listening. Really listening.

An unexpected flicker of understanding settled in his chest. He remembered a similar sensation—that feeling of isolation, of stumbling in a world that felt like nothing but shadows. He respected her resilience.

“And while I was lost, saying that I could never see the beauty in a world of darkness, I was told that beauty exists in all things, it’s a fundamental truth of our world.” She smiled purely.

“Can beauty exist in all things? What about death, what about killing to survive? There’s no beauty in the color of blood. Just as those who can see the beauty in the rain have never walked beneath its loveless grasp.” He felt as though that concept was an affront to his life. Beauty cannot exist in all things, because then what has he been looking at his whole life?

Agi listened in silence. He didn’t agree with her—he couldn’t. But there was something in the way she spoke, the way she searched for beauty in a world of darkness, that struck a chord deep within him. He couldn’t respect the belief itself, but he respected her resilience, her determination to find meaning in a world that had shown him only survival and cruelty.

“So I want to see that beauty. I don’t know what it looks like yet, but I’d like to see it if I can.” she interlocked her own fingers fidgeting.

“Is this what I was looking for? To find the me that used to see the beauty in the world?” Agi looked at his own hand, then his arm, both covered in their fair share of scars.

“We’ve walked far.” Agi mentions helping her up slightly as they climb up a small hill.

“We did. Lets stay here for a bit, can we?”

Agi felt like he couldn’t say no, as if some part of him was forcing him to stay put.

“Just for a bit,” he responds, staring at the densely packed leaves above his head. He’d spent a lifetime searching for something—answers, purpose, survival—but had he ever looked for peace? He pushed the thought aside and let himself settle into the stillness.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, but by the time he opened his eyes the light of morning was already shining through the dense leaves.