Chapter 8 – Foundations
The next morning, Ashton stirred awake. His crimson eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the faint shafts of light that filtered through the gaps in his hut's wooden walls. For a long moment, he simply lay there, listening.
The village was quiet. The soft crackle of dying embers from cookfires, the distant caw of a crow, and the rhythmic breathing of sleeping families carried faintly on the breeze.
With a sigh, Ashton pushed himself upright, stretching his arms overhead. His back cracked faintly, muscles sore from the grueling ordeal of the night before. He rolled his shoulders, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Well," he murmured to himself, "that was a good sleep."
He rose, brushing dust from his trousers, and slipped outside into the cool dawn air. The world still lingered in half-shadow, painted silver by the pale light of early morning. The villagers were still deep in slumber.
Perfect.
Ashton walked quietly through the dirt paths, his boots soft against the earth, until he reached the narrow river that wound just beyond the village.
Mist clung to its surface, rippling gently with the flow. He knelt at the bank, scooping the cold water into his hands and splashing it against his face.
The shock of it cleared his mind instantly. He leaned forward, dunking his head into the water, letting it soak through his silver hair before pulling back with a deep exhale.
Droplets streamed down his face and neck, glinting faintly in the dawn light.
No one was watching. For the first time in weeks, Ashton allowed himself a moment of simple indulgence.
With a faint smirk, he stripped down and stepped into the river. The chill bit into his skin, but it was invigorating.
He dove under, swimming with strong strokes, the water closing around him in silence.
For five minutes he moved like that, body cutting through the current, blood pumping with a rare sense of freedom.
When he finally climbed out, he shook himself dry as best he could and pulled his clothes back on.
His crimson eyes lingered on the river for a moment longer. Small comforts matter too, he thought, then turned back toward the village.
By the time he returned, the villagers were awake. Smoke rose again from cookfires, children's laughter broke across the morning, and the low murmur of voices carried through the air.
Mothers busied themselves with meager breakfasts, while men stretched tired limbs, preparing for another day.
Ashton didn't linger among them. Instead, he made his way toward the elder's hut. He knocked gently against the wooden frame.
After a few moments, the door creaked open. The elder appeared, leaning heavily on his cane, eyes shadowed with age but alert.
"Ah, Ashton," he rasped. "You rise early."
"Habit," Ashton said with a faint smile.
He bowed slightly. "May I come in?"
The elder nodded, stepping aside. Ashton entered the hut and lowered himself onto the woven mat at the center. The elder sank into his place opposite him, adjusting his cane beside him.
"Well?" the old man asked. "What brings you here?"
Ashton leaned forward slightly, his voice steady. "Elder, today I'm planning to build a house."
The elder tilted his head, brows knitting. "A house? You already have one, do you not? The villagers made it for you."
Ashton shook his head firmly. "This isn't a house. Not really. It's not strong enough. It won't last.
That's why I came here—to get your permission to build something new. Something better.
And I'll need the villagers to help me. Not just that…" His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I also want to select people who can manage the fields. We planted yesterday, but it won't grow itself."
The elder's gaze dropped, his wrinkled hands tightening faintly around his cane. Silence stretched for a long moment as he considered Ashton's words.
Finally, he raised his eyes again. "I see. You speak with such certainty… Very well. I will give you permission.
Do as you see fit."
Relief and determination flickered across Ashton's face. He bowed his head. "Thank you, Elder. I won't disappoint you."
Rising to his feet, Ashton left the hut. He stood in the center of the village and called out, his voice carrying clearly.
"Everyone, gather here!"
The villagers exchanged curious looks, but one by one they set aside their tasks and drifted toward him. Soon, a circle had formed—men, women, and children alike.
Ashton looked over them, his crimson eyes sharp.
"Listen carefully. Today, we're going to build houses."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Confusion. Doubt. One boy frowned, tugging nervously at his tunic before speaking up.
"But… big brother," the boy said hesitantly, "we already have houses."
Ashton's gaze fixed on him. "What's your name?"
The boy stiffened under the weight of those crimson eyes. "I-I'm Kim."
Ashton nodded. "Kim… these aren't houses. What you have now doesn't even deserve that name. They're shelters, nothing more.
Weak walls, weak roofs. They won't protect you from rain, or wind, or worse. That has to change."
The villagers exchanged uneasy glances. Murmurs rose again.
Ashton's voice cut through them, calm but firm. "That's why I need your help. Together, we'll build something that will last. Real homes. Safe homes."
For a long moment, silence reigned. Then, slowly, one man stepped forward. Then another. Then a woman, clutching her child's hand. One by one, they nodded, resolve firming in their faces.
Ashton allowed himself a small smile. "Good." His gaze shifted to the children gathered at the edge. "As for you—the kids will handle the fields.
You'll water what we planted yesterday, and you'll plant more: fruit trees, herbs, anything that can grow. Kim…" He pointed at the boy. "You'll be in charge."
Kim's eyes widened. "M-me? In charge?"
Ashton crouched slightly, his tone softening.
"Yes. You'll guide the other children. Can I trust you with that?"
Kim swallowed hard, then nodded quickly. "Y-yes!"
Ashton straightened, turning back to the adults. His smile sharpened. "The rest of you will come with me. We're going to start building a house—and I'll teach you how."
He turned, striding toward the edge of the village where the trees grew thickest.
The villagers followed, some hesitant, others curious, but all willing.
Ashton's gaze swept across the land, his crimson eyes gleaming faintly. "I'll make a good house," he muttered to himself, a small smile tugging at his lips.
And from that foundation, he thought, we'll build more than homes. We'll build a future.
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