As the shadows of night enveloped the jungle, Kael felt the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. The air was thick with the aftermath of the Boar King's wrath, and the floating village creaked under the strain of the damage it had endured. Kael wasted no time in issuing orders. The Seraphs, their normally polished exteriors now marred with the day's battle, moved with quiet efficiency. Three of them carefully retrieved the bodies of the fallen dwarves, washing the blood and dirt from their lifeless forms before placing them in hastily crafted wooden coffins. The coffins were then stored in the cold storage room, a grim reminder of the price that had been paid.
Most of the Seraphs were occupied with repairing the damage to the village, patching holes and reinforcing the structures that had barely withstood the Boar King's onslaught. Meanwhile, Buinn, his wounds still fresh and untreated, was gently carried to one of the bedroom quarters.
Gwenbelle's heart pounded in her chest as she watched the strange, mechanical figure—one of the Seraphs, as she had heard Kael call them—hoist Buinn's limp form into its wooden/stone arms. Panic surged through her, instinct clawing at her to act, to do something, anything to protect her companion. The sight of Buinn, unconscious and battered, being carried away by the machine filled her with dread. These were no dwarven golems, crafted with care and imbued with the essence of the mountain. These were foreign, unfamiliar constructs, and she had no way of knowing if they meant to help or harm.
"Wait!" Gwenbelle's voice cracked with urgency, her hand reaching for the small crossbow at her side. But before she could take a step, Kael was in front of her, his hands raised in a gesture of reassurance.
"Please, there's no need for alarm," Kael said calmly, his tone steady despite the tension in the air. "The Seraphs are taking Him to the village hall. They're trained to treat wounds, to heal. He'll be safe there, I promise you."
Gwenbelle hesitated, her eyes darting between Kael and the retreating Seraph. She could feel the weight of her ancestors' distrust pressing down on her, the tales of betrayal and conquest that had been passed down through the generations. Yet there was something in Kael's voice, something genuine and unthreatening, that gave her pause.
"You promise?" she echoed, her voice barely a whisper as she grappled with the unfamiliar situation. She had never encountered a human before, let alone one who commanded such strange, otherworldly machines. But Buinn's life was at stake, and in this moment, she had little choice but to trust.
"I do," Kael assured her, his eyes meeting hers with an earnestness that belied his youthful appearance. "He's in good hands. They'll do everything they can to make sure he recovers."
Gwenbelle's grip on her crossbow loosened, though she did not fully relax. Warily, she let out a slow breath and nodded, her voice steadier now. "I'm Gwenbelle, daughter of Hjolgurn, a smith of the Darkforge Clan. And that," she pointed toward the retreating Seraph carrying Buinn, "is Buinn, a keeper of lore, as well as my friend. He's… all I have left now."
Kael offered a small nod of understanding. "I'm Kael," he said simply, withholding the complicated truth of his origins. "And I swear to you, Gwenbelle, we mean no harm to you or Buinn. This land is dangerous enough as it is. There's no need to make enemies where we don't have to."
Gwenbelle's eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him, still unsure of what to make of this young, strange human who had appeared so suddenly in her world. But Buinn's well-being was her immediate concern, and for now, Kael's words seemed sincere enough. She glanced once more toward the Seraphs, watching as they disappeared into the village hall, before she finally spoke again.
"I'll follow," she said firmly, her voice laced with determination. "But if anything happens to Buinn…"
"Nothing will," Kael interjected, his tone reassuring. "Come with me. We can talk while they tend to him. I'll take you to the dining area—it's quieter there, and we can discuss what brought you to this place."
Gwenbelle nodded curtly, though she kept her gaze on the path the Seraph had taken with Buinn. "I'll follow you, but only after I've seen where they've taken him."
Kael inclined his head in understanding. "Of course. This way."
Gwenbelle stayed close behind the Seraph, her eyes never leaving Buinn as he was carried through the dimly lit corridors of the floating village. The air inside was cool, and the soft hum of the machinery that kept the village aloft was a constant reminder of the strangeness of her surroundings. The Seraph carried Buinn with a gentleness that surprised her, placing him carefully on a cot in a small room where another Seraph stood waiting, its arms already working to prepare bandages and ointments.
Only when she was satisfied that Buinn was being treated did Gwenbelle turn her attention back to Kael. The human had been patient, standing at a respectful distance while she watched over her friend. Now, as she joined him, her wariness had not fully dissipated, but there was a hint of reluctant trust in her eyes.
"Lead the way," she said quietly, her voice still tinged with caution.
Kael nodded and began to walk, leading Gwenbelle through the winding halls of the village. The strange mix of wood and stone, the soft glow of lanterns, and the ever-present hum of the machinery all added to the surreal atmosphere. Gwenbelle's eyes darted around, taking in every detail, her mind racing with questions about the technology that surrounded her.
Finally, they arrived at the dining area, a modest room with a large wooden table at its center. The table was set with simple fare—smoked meat, and fruit—along with a pitcher of water. Kael gestured for Gwenbelle to sit, and she did so reluctantly, her eyes still on him, her guard not yet fully lowered.
"Please," Kael said as he sat down across from her, "help yourself. We can talk while we eat. I'm sure you have questions, and I'll do my best to answer them."
The flickering light of the torches cast long shadows across the rough wooden table where Gwenbelle and Kael sat. The Seraph bustled silently in the background, attending to their tasks with a relentless efficiency, their presence almost ghostly in the dim light. The Valks, ever vigilant, manned the Scorpios, their stony eyes scanning the dark jungle for any signs of movement. The night outside was filled with the distant sounds of the jungle, a reminder of the dangers that lurked just beyond the torchlit perimeter. Inside, however, the air was thick with tension, the unspoken questions hanging between them like a blade poised to fall.
Gwenbelle eyed Kael warily, her stout fingers tracing the rim of the mug in front of her. She had grown up on stories of the ancient enemies of her people, of the terrible forces that had driven the dwarves into hiding, deep within the mountains. The sight of a human—a young girl no less—in this hostile land was something she had never expected, and it filled her with a deep, gnawing unease.
"You're not like the stories say," Gwenbelle began, her voice rough with suspicion. She leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studied Kael's face. "The humans who banished us to this cursed land were warriors, conquerors, with iron in their hands and fire in their hearts. Yet here you are, a slip of a girl, with strange contraptions and a village that floats in the air. Are you… are you one of them, sent to finish what they started? Or are you something else entirely?"
Kael met her gaze, calm and composed despite the questions. He had been alone for so long, the weight of his transformation into this slender, youthful body a truth he had quietly accepted. The change had brought with it a new perspective, and now, faced with Gwenbelle's suspicion, he knew he had to tread carefully. He needed information, and trust was a currency that would be hard-earned.
"I'm not who you think I am," Kael replied softly, his voice measured. "I don't know the humans who banished your people. I… woke up in this land, alone and abandoned. My memory of what came before is… clouded. But I am not here to harm you, or your people. I've been surviving as best I can, building what I can with what I've learned, and using the technology I have to stay alive."
Gwenbelle frowned, her fingers tightening around the mug. "Surviving… alone? In this jungle? No one survives alone here, not without help, without allies. And yet you've built all of this," she gestured around at the floating village, the quiet hum of the technology that kept it aloft, the machines that tended to its needs. "This is no mere camp. This is something far more… advanced. How did you learn to do this? What are these machines?"
Kael glanced at the Seraphs and Valks stationed nearby, their silent vigilance a testament to his work. "These machines… I created them to help me. They're extensions of my will, built to defend the village, to gather resources, to repair what's broken. They aren't magic, if that's what you're thinking. They're the product of knowledge—technology—from a world far removed from this one. I learned to build them out of necessity, to survive the dangers of this jungle."
Gwenbelle's gaze shifted to the machines, her brow furrowing. "Technology… it sounds like the tales of the ancients, of the great constructs our ancestors built before the world turned against them. But what about you, girl? How did you survive? No human should be able to live here, not without aid. The jungle… it swallows the weak."
Kael hesitated, the truth of his situation too complex, too strange to explain fully. He knew that revealing too much could alienate Gwenbelle, or worse, provoke her into thinking he was something unnatural, something to be feared. "I'm stronger than I look," he said at last, his voice low. "I've had to be. The jungle is unforgiving, and it's forced me to adapt in ways I never thought possible."
Gwenbelle leaned back, studying him with a mix of skepticism and curiosity. "You speak like someone much older than you appear. Like someone who's seen more than they should have, in a body so young." She paused, her eyes narrowing again. "Are you truly what you seem, or is there more to you than meets the eye? How can I trust you, when I don't even know who—or what—you are?"
Kael met her gaze, his expression steady. "You can trust me because I'm as much a stranger in this land as you are. I have no reason to harm you, no desire to see you or your people suffer. I've only ever wanted to survive, to find a place in this world. And perhaps… to understand it, as you do."
Gwenbelle was silent for a long moment, her thoughts clearly turning over the possibilities. She had been taught to be wary, to distrust those who were not of her kind. But there was something in Kael's words, in the way he spoke with a calm authority that belied his appearance, that made her pause.
"Perhaps," she said slowly, "we are both strangers in a land that seeks to devour us. And perhaps, in that, we have something in common. But understand this, girl—if you are a threat to my people, if you have any intention of bringing harm to us, I will see you undone, no matter what power you wield."
Kael nodded, understanding the weight of her words. "I wouldn't expect anything less. But I assure you, Gwenbelle, my only goal is to survive, just as yours is. And maybe, in the process, we can help each other."
Gwenbelle's gaze softened, just a fraction. "We'll see, won't we? But know this—trust is earned, not given. And until it is, you'll have to prove yourself. You may have these… machines, this technology, but out here, it's the heart that counts. And I'll be watching."
Kael allowed a small smile to touch his lips. "Then I'll do my best to earn that trust, Gwenbelle. For both our sakes."
Gwenbelle, still shaken from the events of the day, ask. "Your Golem… they remind me of the golems in the tales of old. Stone and metal brought to life by ancient runes, crafted by our ancestors to guard the deepest vaults of our mountain home.
Kael studied her for a moment before replying. "These Seraph I called them… they're not of dwarven make, though I can see why you'd think so. Their design is meant for protection, but not just of one place. They're meant to adapt, to build, to survive. But tell me, who are you, Gwenbelle? And what were you doing out there, in the jungle? What brought you and your companions to face such dangers?"
Gwenbelle paused, her eyes darkening with the memory of her lost comrades. She took a deep breath before she began. "We are dwarves of the mountain, from a hold that has long been forgotten by the outside world. Our people… we've lived in isolation for centuries, hidden away, preserving the last remnants of our ancient ways. But the forge has grown cold, and the fires are dimming. Our resources… they're running out."
She looked down at her hands, calloused from years of smithing, before continuing. "We were sent on a mission, to find an outpost that our ancestors built long ago when they first arrived in this land. It was said to hold runestones, powerful artifacts that could reignite our forges and restore what we've lost. But the jungle… it's changed. The beasts… they're more dangerous than we ever imagined."
Her voice faltered as she recalled the events of the day. "Nainn, Nar, Nali… they were our protectors. They swore an oath to see us through the jungle and back. But the Boar King… it was too much. We were supposed to avoid its territory, but something drove it out. Now, they're gone, and it's just me and Buinn left."
Kael nodded, absorbing the weight of her words. "The jungle is a treacherous place," he said softly. "But you've made it this far. And as long as you're here, I'll do what I can to help. You're not alone in this anymore."
Gwenbelle looked up at him, a flicker of hope in her eyes. "Thank you," she said quietly. "For saving us. For giving us a chance to finish what we started."