The golden hue of the setting sun bathed the village in warm light as Jax and Kyra made their way toward the communal fire pit. The steady crackle of flames and faint aroma of cooking food drifted through the air, mingling with the low hum of conversations. Jax's boots scuffed against the dirt as he trailed a step behind Kyra, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings.
His thoughts were scattered, half on the world he'd found himself in and half on the woman walking ahead of him. There was something about Kyra—her defiance, her strength, her inability to let her guard down. She reminded him of someone he'd known on the battlefield, someone who didn't survive. The thought gnawed at him, but he shoved it aside with a shake of his head.
Kyra, for her part, was lost in her own thoughts. Jax was an enigma—arrogant, resourceful, and annoyingly competent. There was something magnetic about him, though she'd never admit it out loud. Still, she couldn't ignore the tension his presence had brought to the village. For all his skill and bravado, Jax was a walking storm, and storms always left destruction in their wake.
As they reached the fire pit, the flames cast long shadows over the gathered villagers. A pot of stew bubbled over the heat, filling the air with its earthy aroma. Children darted around the edges of the circle, giggling as they chased one another, while the adults kept a wary eye on Jax.
The sight of him—his foreign clothing, his strange weapons—seemed to weigh heavy on the air. Some of the older villagers exchanged whispers, their expressions a mix of suspicion and fear. Others openly glared, their gazes flicking toward the holstered guns at his sides.
Jax sighed under his breath. "Friendly bunch."
Kyra shot him a sideways glance. "Can you blame them? You killed sect disciples. They're scared of what might come next."
"I killed them to protect you, remember?" Jax muttered, his voice low but pointed.
Kyra didn't respond, instead stepping toward the fire pit. She reached for a wooden ladle and began scooping stew into two bowls. As she handed one to Jax, a murmur of disapproval rippled through the gathered crowd.
One of the older villagers, a wiry man with graying hair, stepped forward. His eyes were sharp, his voice tight with barely concealed anger. "Why are we feeding him? He's brought nothing but danger to us."
Jax opened his mouth to retort, but Kyra beat him to it.
"He's the reason we're still standing," she snapped, her tone hard enough to silence the man. "If he hadn't stepped in, those disciples would've taken half the village—or worse."
The man hesitated, his gaze flickering between Jax and Kyra. Finally, he stepped back, muttering under his breath. The tension in the air eased, though it didn't fully dissipate.
Jax smirked faintly as he took a seat on one of the rough-hewn benches. "Didn't know you cared."
Kyra rolled her eyes, sitting down across from him. "Don't read too much into it."
Jax stared into his bowl, his stomach growling in protest. The stew was thick, filled with chunks of vegetables and bits of meat that he couldn't quite identify.
He raised a spoonful to his lips, taking a tentative sip. The flavor hit him immediately—earthy, sharp, and slightly bitter. He grimaced, coughing lightly as he forced himself to swallow.
Kyra chuckled, a genuine smile breaking through her usual guarded expression. "What's the matter? Not used to real food?"
Jax shot her a look, though it lacked any real heat. "If this is real food, I'd hate to see fake."
Despite his complaints, he kept eating, his hunger outweighing his distaste for the unfamiliar flavor. Kyra watched him with amusement, her own bowl half-finished. For a moment, the tension between them eased, replaced by the simple, human act of sharing a meal.
As the two of them finished their food, the low hum of conversation around the fire pit was broken by a sudden burst of laughter. Jax's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he searched for the source.
Near the edge of the clearing, a group of children had gathered, their giggles echoing through the air. One of them—a boy no older than ten—stood proudly in the center, holding something heavy and metallic in his small hands.
Jax's stomach sank as he recognized it immediately. The boy was holding Whisper.
The other children pointed and laughed, encouraging him to mimic Jax's stance. The boy raised the gun awkwardly, pretending to aim it at a tree, his finger dangerously close to the trigger.
Jax shot to his feet, his voice cutting through the commotion like a blade. "Kid! Put that down!"
The boy froze, his eyes wide as Jax strode toward him. The other children scattered, their laughter replaced by frightened whispers.
Before Jax could reach him, one of the elders stepped forward, her face pale with worry. She gently pried the gun from the boy's hands, her movements slow and deliberate. Whisper gleamed in the firelight as she held it out to Jax, her hands trembling slightly.
"These weapons… they're not of this world," she said softly, her voice barely audible. "You must be careful with them. They are dangerous."
Jax took the gun, his expression unreadable. He holstered it in one smooth motion, then turned to the boy, who was still frozen in place.
"Listen, kid," Jax said, his tone firm but not unkind. "These aren't toys. You don't touch them, you don't even look at them. Understand?"
The boy nodded quickly, his face pale.
Kyra appeared at Jax's side, her expression a mix of exasperation and concern. "You might want to keep a closer eye on your weapons."
Jax exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. Lesson learned."
Reflections by the Fire
As the fire burned lower, the crowd around the pit began to thin. Kyra and Jax remained seated, the earlier tension between them replaced by a quiet understanding.
"They're scared of you," Kyra said, breaking the silence.
Jax shrugged. "Not the first time. Won't be the last."
She frowned, her gaze flicking toward his holstered guns. "Those weapons… They're different. Not just in how they look, but how they feel. Even when you're not using them, they give off this… energy."
Jax's smirk returned, though it was softer this time. "They've saved my life more times than I can count. Don't know what I'd do without them."
Kyra studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Just be careful. In this world, things that stand out tend to get… noticed."
Jax didn't respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back, his eyes fixed on the dying embers of the fire.
"Noted," he said finally, his voice low.
End of Chapter 5