Edrin had never thought leaving would feel this heavy.
Brindlewick looked the same as it always had—quiet, simple, familiar. The same houses, the same paths, the same fence he had never successfully climbed.
Yet somehow, everything felt different.
"…I should have tried harder with that fence," he muttered.
A passing villager overheard him. "Now's not the time for that, Edrin."
"It's never been the time," Edrin replied.
Word had spread quickly.
Too quickly.
By the time he reached the center of the village, a small crowd had already gathered. Not as excited as before. Not cheering this time.
Just watching.
Waiting.
Edrin stopped in front of them, suddenly unsure what to say.
This was not a situation he had trained for.
(He had not trained for most situations, to be fair.)
Elder Bram stepped forward, his usual confidence softened by something more serious.
"You're leaving," he said.
Edrin nodded. "I am."
"For the sake of the village."
"Yes."
Bram studied him for a moment. "You've changed."
Edrin blinked. "…That seems unlikely."
"You stood your ground," Bram said. "You fought."
"I also fell. A lot."
"That too."
A few villagers chuckled quietly.
The tension eased—just a little.
Edrin rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not… good at this," he admitted. "Talking. Leaving. Being… whatever this is."
"A hero?" someone suggested.
Edrin winced. "Let's not rush into labels."
More soft laughter.
But it didn't erase the weight in the air.
A woman stepped forward—the same one who had once chased off a wild boar with a broom.
"You're doing this to protect us," she said.
Edrin hesitated.
Then nodded. "I think so."
"That's enough," she replied.
Edrin looked at her, surprised.
"…That was easier than I expected."
"Don't get used to it," she said.
"I won't."
A small voice spoke from the back of the crowd.
"Are you coming back?"
Edrin turned.
A young boy stood there, staring up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.
Edrin paused.
For once, he didn't joke.
"…I'll try," he said.
The boy nodded, as if that was a perfectly acceptable answer.
Edrin smiled faintly.
Then he took a step back.
"…Take care of the place," he said, gesturing vaguely at everything.
"You take care of yourself," someone replied.
"I'll do my best," Edrin said.
"That's what you always do," Bram added.
Edrin blinked.
"…That sounds more impressive than it is."
"Not really," Bram said.
Edrin didn't know how to respond to that.
So instead, he nodded.
Then turned.
And walked away.
He didn't look back immediately.
If he did, he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep going.
Step by step, he made his way out of the village, toward the path where Lyra and Ronan waited.
When he reached them, Lyra studied his expression.
"You're ready?" she asked.
Edrin exhaled slowly.
"…No," he said.
Ronan grinned. "Perfect."
Edrin glanced back one last time.
Brindlewick stood quiet in the distance.
Safe.
For now.
"…Let's go," he said.
Lyra nodded.
Ronan turned toward the road.
And together—
They began their journey.
For the first time, Edrin didn't feel like he was being dragged along by fate.
He was walking into it.
Still nervous.
Still unsure.
Still very likely to trip at any moment.
But moving forward anyway.
And somewhere far above, beyond the clouds—
The cracks in the sky spread wider.
Waiting.