Kamia didn't grow in a straight line.
It grew like people do — uneven, stubborn, and hopeful in the wrong places.
Houses went up crooked at first. Fences leaned. Cooking fires smoked to much. Tessa nearly set an entire row of roofs on fire because she tried to "upgrade the chimney situation."
Yoren was still limping from training.
Lune was starting to develop that tired, "I'm in charge of everyone's emotional damage" expression.
But there were thirty-five of us now.
Thirty-five people who had walked away from the world to try again.
And they were looking at me.
Which still feels insane, by the way.
I don't look like a leader.
My hair is a mess.
My coat has mystery stains.
My expression permanently reads: I'm doing my best, please don't make me solve things.
But standing in the center of Kamia's clearing, with lanterns strung between unfinished beams and the smell of stew drifting warm through the air, I realized something:
They trusted me anyway.
So I spoke.
No podium.
No banners.
Just my voice and the quiet of night.
---
"Before anything else," I began, "we need to agree on what we are."
People quieted. Even the frogs shut up. Except Frog, the fire-frog Tessa adopted. He attempted to croak but just made a noise like someone boiling tea wrong.
I took a breath.
"Kamia isn't a country yet. It's not a kingdom. It's not even a village with decent roofing. But it is something important."
I looked at each face.
A widower.
A runaway child.
A mother with shaking hands.
A blacksmith missing three fingers.
Yoren, whose eyes didn't look dead anymore.
"A place to begin again."
Lune stood beside me—not saying anything, just beng there. Enough.
"So. The laws."
I unfolded the parchment I'd been writing on all week.
Ink smudged. Lines crossed out. Coffee stain on the corner.
Human.
Not divine.
LAW ONE
No one here is born higher than another.
You stat where you stand. You grow by how you live.
No bloodlines.
No divine rights.
No inherited power.
People looked at each other — some relieved, some scared.
Good.
LAW TWO
You choose your Path — Magic, Sword, Craft, Beast, or Scholar.
Once chosen, you do not walk backward.
Tessa raised her hand. "What if someone chooses Beast Path and gets eaten?"
"Then they chose wrong," I said.
She nodded, satisfied.
LAW THREE
No slavery. No forced obedience.
Help is given, not taken.
A mumur went through the crowd — not dramatic, just real.
People have seen enough chains.
LAW FOUR
Strength does not rule here. Purpose does.
Silence.
This one took time to settle.
Because yes — they had seen what I could do. They had seen the earth shape under my hand like clay. They knew I could crush mountains if I wasn't careful.
So I said it plainly:
"I am not your king. I am your first buildr. If a day comes where someone can guide this place better than I can — they should."
Lune looked at me sharply.
Seia, somewhere deep in me, whispered:
"That is why you are worthy."
But I didn't say that out loud.
LAW FIVE
We defend each other. Always.
That one… they liked.
Heads lifted. Shoulders straightened. Something inside them wamed.
Not pride.
Belonging.
---
When I finished reading, there was no cheering.
No applause.
Just quiet breathing.
Then — someone stepped forward.
The blacksmith with three fingers.
He placed a brick at my feet.
Not special.
Not carved.
Just a brick.
"For the foundation," he said.
One by one, others followed.
A farmer placed a seed pouch.
The tailor placed thread.
Yoren placed his old sword — not as an offering, but as a promise to become better.
Tessa placed the frog.
(The frog screamed. She retrieved the frog.)
Lune placed nothing — she just put her hand over mine.
And that was enough.
That was everything.
---
That night, Kamia didn't feel like a town.
It felt like the beginning of a future someone might one day call home.
And for the first time since the day I woke up in this world…
I didn't feel out of place.
I felt needed.
Not as a hero.
Not as a god's vessel.
Just… Rei.
A person building something that might matter.