Remi took Flan’s tiny hand, and they drifted toward a village like two reeds carried by a slow river.

Before this, they’d signed an agreement; fear still lodged under her ribs like a thorn.

They were the weaker side, and getting ink on parchment felt like catching a falling leaf.

“Sis, are we really taking them there?” Flan’s whisper fluttered like a moth at a candle.

Remi gazed at the village ahead, reluctance lying on her face like frost on a leaf.

“We’ve got no choice. It’s the best roof in this rain to protect us both.”

“But…” The word hung like a loose thread in wind.

“No buts. Trust your sister this once.” Her tone set like a stone in a stream.

The two little girls led the way, the ship behind them like a steel cloud glued to their shadow.

——

In the control room, cold light pooled over metal like still water.

The god at the center asked, “Can we really find that village?” His voice tapped like knuckles on ice.

His strategist answered—the same god who interrogated Remi, Alpha—his words smooth as oiled paper.

“Don’t doubt it. Can’t you trust the agreement?” He lifted the sheepskin scroll that curled like a dry leaf.

No matter how he read it, nothing looked wrong, yet a sliver of dread grew in him like black mold.

“Stop seeing ghosts, my lord. You’ve worked too hard; your nerves are tight as a drawn bow.”

At “my lord,” the god at the center frowned, a storm-shadow crossing his brow.

“Didn’t I say not to call me that? Do you think it even sounds right?” His words fell like pebbles.

“Alright, alright, I won’t. Where did you even pick up so many rules?” Alpha’s smile was thin as paper.

“You stood by the God-King, and now you’re mossed over with manners.” His laugh drifted like smoke.

——

After about an hour, Remi and Flan reached the village; the gate creaked open like a dry jaw.

Inside lay a cold hush, so empty even the wind sounded like a stranger, as if no one had ever lived here.

Several figures dropped from the ship, their boots thudding like hail on stone.

Remi spotted Alpha at the far right; the one in the middle had the weight of a captain like a mountain crest.

First came a sting of doubt, like ink bleeding into water.

If the middle one outranked Alpha, how had Alpha carried all the gods’ will? The agreement’s trust thinned like old silk.

“First meeting. Name’s Delta, also a god.” He offered his hand like a blade laid flat.

Remi didn’t even look; she aimed her words at Alpha like darts.

“We brought you here. Can we go now?” Her patience was a wick burned to ash.

Alpha shook his head, caution settling on him like frost.

“We’ll speak after we verify it. Don’t rush, little one.” His tone was a hand on a skittish horse.

At the word verify, Remi clicked her tongue; unease rippled through her like wind over reeds.

Delta walked to the village center and sank a black staff into the earth like a nail into bone.

Lines crawled out from it, runes spreading like roots, until the pattern ringed the whole village.

The array flared red, a heartbeat of fire under dust.

Boom! A white flash tore across it, and the array shattered like glass ice.

In a blink, Delta flickered before Remi; his hand clamped her throat and lifted her like a caught sparrow.

Fire burned in his eyes like coals. “Where is Ska Village?!”

With her windpipe pinned, breath clawed at her chest like a trapped fish.

“H‑Here… this… this is… Ska Village.” Her words fell apart like wet paper.

Delta’s grip tightened; cold flooded her lower body like winter water, and numbness crawled like frostbite.

“Calm down, calm down.” Alpha cut in, his voice a rope tossed across a flood.

“Kill her and we’re ruined. Let me lay it out.” His tone eased like snow under sun.

Delta’s fingers unlatched, and Remi dropped to her knees like a felled reed.

Her face purpled like a bruised plum; both hands clutched her throat as she dragged in air and coughed like thunder in a jar.