The morning mist curled lazily along the rooftops of Dusk Village, clinging to the thatched edges like smoke reluctant to leave a dying flame. Golden light broke through the fog as the sun climbed, casting long rays over fields lined with crops and trees older than memory.
To an outsider, this place would seem unremarkable—a small village tucked between dark cliffs and whispering forests. But to Sid, it was the only home he had ever known.
Peaceful. Quiet. Safe.
And yet, as he walked down the gravel path toward the village square, a strange weight tugged at his chest.
He was leaving soon.
No one else knew—not yet. Not even the people closest to him.
"Oi! Big Bro Sid!"
A blur shot from the side—a mop of unruly hair and flailing limbs crashed into his side.
Sid barely caught him before he toppled over.
"Rami…" he sighed, already smiling.
The ten-year-old looked up at him with a beaming grin, missing a tooth. His shirt was inside out. Again.
"I learned a new punch!" Rami declared. "Wanna see? I call it… Heaven Splitting Meteor Fist of Destiny!"
"That sounds dangerous," Sid said flatly.
"It is! I made it up this morning after I kicked a rock and broke my toenail!"
"Truly fearsome," Sid nodded. "Did the rock survive?"
"Nope! It cracked! I'm getting stronger!"
Sid patted the boy's head. "At this rate, you'll conquer the moon by next week."
Rami's eyes sparkled. "You really think so?! I wanna ride a lightning beast and punch clouds!"
Before Sid could respond, a calm voice cut through the street.
"Try punching your laundry first, Rami."
They both turned.
Sierra stood with arms crossed, her silver hair tied in a loose braid, a woven basket resting on her hip. Her crimson eyes—gentler than her mother's but no less piercing—locked onto Rami with practiced authority.
"Your mother's going to tan you if you disappear again before chores."
"Eep!" Rami yelped, already running off. "BYE SID! I'LL PUNCH A TREE FOR YOU!"
"…He really is going to punch a tree," Sid muttered.
Sierra chuckled softly and walked beside him. "You're up early."
He shrugged. "Needed air."
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment. She didn't ask anything more—Sierra never pried. She waited. That's what made her different.
The two walked in companionable silence through the square. A few early risers were already tending to their stalls.
Old Man Bruk stood near the blacksmith shed, carving wood more than he hammered steel these days. He gave Sid a curt nod before pretending to scold a group of chickens for trespassing in his yard.
Across the road, Lila, Juno's mother, waved as she strung herbs across the line. Her hands moved like someone who had done this for centuries, though her smile was as youthful as ever.
And under a tall tree, two elderly farmers—Elin and Marr—sat in their usual spot, whittling spoons and whispering to each other like gossiping crows.
It was such a simple scene.
And yet… something about it felt eternal.
Like Dusk Village would always exist this way.
"Oi! Hey hey! You two are getting along too well! Suspicious!"
Juno came jogging down the hill with a cloth-wrapped bundle of food under his arm, hair messy as ever. His grin was wide, eyes playful.
"Tell me, Sierra," he teased. "Did you finally confess to our gloomy swordsman here?"
Sierra rolled her eyes. "Tell me, Juno—did you finally learn to brush your hair?"
Sid laughed. "That was harsh."
"Bah! I was going for charmingly rugged!" Juno protested, flopping down under a tree. "I brought food. Stolen from my mother's kitchen, obviously."
They all sat in the grass, under the same tree where they'd spent much of their childhood. The wind was crisp. The sky above was the color of polished steel.
Sierra handed out portions of fruit and bread as Juno bit into his without hesitation.
"So," Juno mumbled through a mouthful, "what's been up with you lately, Sid?"
Sid looked up, surprised. "What do you mean?"
"You've been... I don't know. Distant," Juno said, then paused. "Well. More distant than usual."
Sierra said quietly, "It's not that we're trying to push you. We just notice things."
Sid stared at the food in his hand for a moment.
"…I guess," he said. "Things just feel… like they're going to change."
The words hung in the air.
Juno looked away. Sierra didn't respond.
After a moment, Sid forced a chuckle. "Maybe it's the mountain air. Or Dante's snoring—it's been infecting my dreams."
That got a laugh out of both of them.
They spent the next hour talking nonsense—about Rami's plan to build a flying sword, about Juno getting chased by bees again, about how Old Man Bruk still sleeps with a blade under his pillow.
But somewhere beneath the jokes and the laughter… they all felt it.
A quiet goodbye forming between their words.
Later, as the sun began to lower in the sky, the three sat in silence again. Watching as golden light bathed the valley.
Sierra looked over. "You'll tell us when it's time, won't you?"
Sid didn't answer immediately.
"…Yeah," he said at last.
Juno grinned. "We're your backup, remember? Just say the word. I'll bring the bees."
Sid smiled.
For now, everything was still.
Dusk dawned upon Dusk Village, unaware of how quickly that peace would be missed.