Blacksmith

The villagers exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of their decision pressing down on them.

Slowly, reluctantly, heads began to nod.

The elder sighed, his shoulders slumping further as he tapped his staff against the ground.

"Very well," he said quietly.

"We'll follow your plan. But remember, outsider, if this fails, our blood will be on your hands."

It's not like they were the first blood on his hands.

Seth's eyes hardened. "I'll take that risk. Will you?"

The elder didn't respond, turning away as the villagers dispersed, each group tasked with their grim duties.

The square emptied, leaving Seth, Malia, Alex, and Mira alone in the flickering light.

"You think this will work?" Malia asked softly.

"It has to," Seth replied, his gaze fixed on the dark horizon.

"Because the alternative isn't an option."