"Papa," a small voice echoed into the darkness. It was Nine—young, steady, but unsure. Her words bounced off the emptiness around her. The space was dim, not entirely black, but quiet... and vast.
She saw him—her father—standing alone, looking up at the stars. As she stepped forward, the water rippled beneath her feet. The ground was covered in it, still and cold.
She didn't hesitate. She walked straight to him and stopped at his side.
"Nine," he said softly, taking her hand in his. He turned and looked at her, eyes meeting like they had a secret only they understood.
"Papa... what is this place?" she asked, tilting her head, curious but calm.
"The stars gave us life. And in the end... we return it," he said, pointing up.
"Nakawaki," Nine murmured.
"Yes, child. Nakawaki. It's the door we see... when it's time to go back," he answered, a small, tired smile on his lips.
"Papa, I know the teachings. Why are you saying them again?" she asked, a little frown forming.
He knelt, brushing her hair back gently, resting his hand on her head.
"I see that door, Nine. And it's calling me."
"You're dying?" Her voice wavered. "Why? Did the stars call you? No… I don't want you to go. You can't go. You don't have my permission to."
"I'm not in the position to refuse," the man said gently. "I wanted to see you grow… but I can't anymore."
His eyes softened as he reached out, wiping the tears that trailed down her cheeks. "I can see the stairs, Nine."
"No..." she whispered, trying to hold it in—but her eyes betrayed her. The tears kept coming. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, shaky and uneven. The weight of this goodbye was too much.
"This is too much, Papa..." her voice cracked.
"Nine, don't cry. Nine is a warrior…" he said, voice low, soothing—but the pain in his eyes gave him away.
"Not without you."
He swallowed hard. "Protect yourself. Don't forget your homeland. Protect your people. And no matter what, never forget who you are."
He stood slowly, then turned and began to walk into the darkness. Endless, heavy, and cold.
Nine stood frozen… but only for a moment. Her body moved on its own—she reached out and grabbed his arm, her fingers trembling. Her eyes begged him to stay.
"Let go, Nine..." he said softly.
"No..." Her voice was steady now, firm. She wasn't ready.
"I'm already gone. This is just a dream… You have to wake up, Nine."
He turned to her, his face peaceful.
"No..."
"Wake up, Nine."
His calm expression twisted suddenly—his eyes widened in terror threatening to pull out.
"Wake up! Wake up!!!"
His voice echoed like thunder—loud, shaking the stillness—
***************
Nine gasped beneath the surface, lungs burning. Her body shot upward as if pulled by instinct. She broke through the water with a sharp breath, like someone dragged from the edge of drowning. Her chest heaved, eyes wide with shock. That dream—it had felt so real.
A piercing scream shattered her thoughts.
She spun around. She was in a lake, not the village. Soaked and disoriented, she stumbled toward the shore, pushing herself onto dry land. Her limbs were heavy, and her vision was blurry from being underwater too long. She looked around, her heart racing.
This wasn't home.
How did I get here? she thought, blinking away the blur. The only light came from the moon, casting a silver glow on the trees and the water's surface.
Then—another scream. Louder this time. And then more, echoing through the night. Women. Children. Men.
The once peaceful night was shattered by chaos.
Her heart dropped. Without hesitation, she ran toward the sound.
Her steps were light and practised. She darted through the woods, each footfall a whisper in the dark, like her body remembered the path even when her mind couldn't.
She didn't care about the sharp roots or thorns beneath her feet. She had run these woods before—this path should have led home quickly. But tonight, something felt wrong. The way stretched endlessly.
Refusing to slow down, she leapt up, grabbed the thick branch of a tree, and swung herself onto it. Now above the ground, she moved faster—jumping from branch to branch, using the canopy as her path.
The closer she got, the more she could feel it.
Heat.
Something was burning.
Her stomach tightened. Her legs moved faster. Every instinct screamed: Run.
Something terrible had happened.
And the closer she got to the village, the more the air thickened with smoke and fear.
She didn't stop. Couldn't stop.
She ran like her life—and the lives of everyone she loved—depended on it.
At last, she reached the village.
But it didn't feel like home anymore.
Screams filled the air—sharp, panicked, everywhere. The huts were burning, flames crackling wildly as smoke rose into the night sky. She froze, breath catching in her throat. It was too much—too fast. Her mind couldn't keep up.
It wasn't just the fire.
Bodies were everywhere.
Some she knew—faces she'd seen every day—lying still, twisted on the ground. Others wore strange clothes. Foreign. Wrong. She couldn't find where they were from, but she knew they didn't belong here.
Her head spun.
What happened? How? Why?
And then—through the chaos—she saw some of her people still fighting, weapons clashing against the invaders'. Blood, fire, screams—it all blended. Her chest tightened, her legs felt weak—
Papa.
The word slammed through her like a heartbeat.
She turned, running, forcing herself through the thick smoke and debris. She didn't stop to think. She just ran—straight to his hut.
It partly collapsed, the doorway half-burned, ash falling like snow. She stepped inside.
And froze.
There—on the ground—was 'One'. He was kneeling in front of someone.
Her heart knew before her eyes could accept it.
Her father.
"Papa..." she breathed, voice cracking.
He was still kneeling upright—but a sword was driven straight through his chest. Blood pooled beneath him. His eyes… were still open.
At that moment, her heart shattered. Her breath hitched. Her body trembled.
Her heartbeat grew so loud it drowned everything else.
He had died kneeling.
Watching.
Waiting.
Tears welled up and spilled down her face.
"One," she whispered.
He looked up slowly, his face full of pain. He stood up and walked toward her, silent.
Then, without a word, he pulled her into a hug.
"Where have you been? I've been searching everywhere for you," One said, his voice low but urgent. He lifted her chin gently, eyes searching hers. "Nine I'm Sorry, I wasn't strong enough to protect him"
Nine sniffled, trying to steady herself. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, then let out a shaky breath. Her body felt numb, but her heart was still breaking.
She stepped away from his touch—gently—and turned back to her father.
Slowly, she knelt beside him again. Her hand reached for the knife at her waist, the same knife she'd carried since her first rite. She unsheathed it, her fingers trembling. Then, without a word, she cut across her palm—sharp, clean. Blood welled up immediately.
With quiet reverence, she raised her hand and used the blood to close his eyes.
"Farewell," she whispered, voice barely holding. "May the stars carry you home."
Behind her, One stood still, watching—his eyes full, his jaw clenched, saying nothing.
Nine turned to him, trying her best to smile, but it faltered before it could fully form.
"Nine," came a voice from behind—familiar, steady.
She turned quickly.
It was Two.
"May the stars carry his soul," he said softly, stepping forward.
"Two," she breathed, her voice catching.
"Gather the numbers. Get the survivors. Go to the temple—follow the old path," Nine instructed, her voice sharp and urgent.
"Women or children?" Two asked without hesitation.
"Children only," One responded quickly.
In a flash, Two dashed off.
"The intruders are foreigners..." One started to say, but Nine cut him off.
"How long have I been gone?" she asked, tightening the strap on her wrist guard, her eyes scanning the area.
"Almost an hour," One said, breathless.
Just then, the sound of the bell rang out—deep, loud, and hollow. It came from the high tower of the village. Nine immediately rushed out.
But she was caught off guard.
A man lunged from the shadows, his blade raised. She stumbled, missing her step—then One caught her by the arm, yanking her back just before she hit the ground.
The intruder didn't wait. He charged again. Nine spun out of One's grip, drew her blade, and slashed low—just enough to cut his thigh. He screamed. One stepped in, driving his fist into the man's throat. The attacker staggered, gasping, but raised his sword again.
Nine didn't hesitate.
She drove her blade straight through his chest.
He crumpled to the ground, twitching once—then still.
They didn't stop to look. They ran forward, blades drawn, joining the others in the thick of the fight. The village was chaotic—steel clashing, bodies dropping, flames licking the sky. Side by side, they fought with swift strikes, moving through the battlefield like shadows. No time to grieve. No time to think.
---
Elsewhere in the village, Two and his team—Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, and Eight—split up to search for the surviving children.
The scene was brutal.
Children wept openly on the ground, some curled beside the still bodies of their parents. Others widely, sobbing, their faces stained with soot and tears. It was the kind of heartbreak that cracked even the strongest heart.
They gathered them as quickly as they could, ushering them out of the burning village.
Now in the woods, under the massive tree with branches wide enough to cast deep shadows, the children huddled together. The thick canopy above shielded them from view.
Eight crouched in front of them, his voice low but firm.
"Shh... you can't cry. What's the first teaching of Salma?"
The children stared at him, eyes glossy with tears.
"If you see a bad man," they whispered, sniffling, "run without tears… only then will you be able to escape death."
Some of them used their sleeves to wipe the mucus trailing from their noses, trying to stay quiet, trying to be brave.
"Yes... yes, that's what we have to do," Eight said gently. "Run without tears. Now, wipe it off."
The children obeyed, their small hands trembling. He gave them a small nod and a forced smile—one that didn't quite reach his eyes—then stood up and glanced around at the rest of her team.
That's when he noticed someone missing.
"Where's Six?" she asked, scanning the woods.
"He went ahead to lay the traps," Two said, answering his thoughts like he had read them. "Nine instructed us to head to the temple through the old path."
Just then, a voice broke through the silence behind them, breathless.
"All set. We just need to lure them into the backwoods now."
They turned—it was Six. His chest heaved with every breath, sweat dripping from his jaw.
"Eight, Seven, Three, Two, Four—take the kids to the temple," he said, wiping his face with his forearm. "I'll lead the intruders into the backwoods."
"No. I'm coming with you," Two said, stepping forward.
"No."
"You set the traps and use poisons. How many traps are left to lay?" Two demanded, stepping in front of Six, his hands gesturing as he spoke, tone rising.
"A few more," Six answered , His voice serious, eyes locked on Two.
"I'm the fastest among us. I'll be more used to you than to them," Two argued.
Six looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "Good. Let's go. No time to waste."
And with that, the group split—Six and Two vanished into the shadows of the backwoods, while Eight, Seven, Three, Four, and the children hurried down the narrow path leading to the temple.
---
Back at the village, Nine and One were getting overwhelmed.
Enemies pressed in from all sides. They fought with everything they had—but the numbers were growing.
Just when it seemed they were done for, a warrior burst into the fight—a village fighter, tall and fierce. He struck the intruder's blade away with a heavy weapon—wooden, but tipped with bronze spikes. Then he rammed the weapon into the man's gut, forcing him back.
The intruder swung again, but the warrior met it with a bone-breaking smash to the head.
The man dropped instantly.
The warrior stood in front of Nine and One, shielding them.
"Nine! Take the children—go! I'll hold them off!" he shouted without looking back.
Nine didn't hesitate. Just as she turn to leave, she heard the sound of a sword slicing Into something. She turned, the warrior head has been cut off!