Elias sat on a wooden crate. He looked at me, the hooded figure standing in the dim light of the workshop.
"Before we go up," he said, "you need to know about the world."
I nodded. My new body still felt strange. The porcelain skin, the jointed fingers, the breath in my chest. I sat down across from him.
"The land is called Valdris," Elias began. "It used to be green and rich. Many villages. Many farms. People were happy."
He paused. His eyes went dark.
"Then Kaelen came. The false hero. He built a city called Ironhold. Walls of black stone. A castle on a hill. He calls himself a prophet. But he is a tyrant."
"How many people live there?" I asked.
"Thousands. Soldiers, priests, slaves. He takes young men and women from villages like Oakhaven. He works them in his mines until they break."
"Oakhaven?"
"That's where we are going. A small village. Poor. But the people are good. I have a friend there. Her name is Marta."
Elias stood up. "We should go. The sun will rise soon."
---
The tunnel was long and steep. I followed Elias, my bare feet cold on the stone. The Prophet Model was light, faster than a real human body, but I still stumbled. Twice I fell. Twice Elias helped me up.
"You'll learn," he said. "Give it time."
After an hour, I saw light. Not the blue glow of crystals. Real light. Yellow and warm.
We climbed out of a crack in the hillside, hidden by bushes and roots. I stood up and looked around.
Trees. Green leaves. A blue sky with white clouds. Birds singing somewhere. The air smelled of soil and flowers.
I stopped moving.
"It's beautiful," I whispered.
Elias smiled. "Yes. But dangerous. Keep your hood up. Don't let anyone see your face."
I pulled the cloak tighter around my head. The fabric was rough but warm.
We walked through the forest. Elias pointed at things as we went.
"That's a watchtower. Kaelen's soldiers burned it ten years ago."
"That field used to grow wheat. Now it's empty. The taxes took everything."
I listened. I looked. The forest was quiet. No birds sang near the empty field.
After two hours, we saw smoke. Not fire. Cooking smoke. Small and grey.
"Oakhaven," Elias said.
---
The village was small. Maybe twenty houses made of wood and stone. A well in the middle. A few chickens walking around. People looked at us as we entered.
They were thin. Their clothes were patched. But their eyes were not cruel. Just tired.
Elias led me to a house at the edge of the village. An old woman sat on a wooden chair outside. She had grey hair and wrinkled hands. She was mending a shirt.
"Marta," Elias said.
She looked up. Her eyes went wide.
"Elias? I thought you were dead."
"I was hiding. Now I'm back. This is my friend."
He pointed at me. Marta stared at my hood.
"What's under there?" she asked.
Elias said, "A friend. Don't ask."
Marta nodded slowly. "Come in. Both of you. You look hungry."
I was not hungry. The Prophet Model did not need food. But I followed them inside.
The house was small. A table, two chairs, a bed in the corner. A fire burned in a stone hearth. Marta put a pot of soup on the table.
Elias ate. I pretended to eat. I lifted the bowl to my hood and let the soup cool. Marta did not seem to notice.
"You can stay here tonight," she said. "Tomorrow we'll find you work. Everyone works in Oakhaven."
"I want to help," I said. My voice was soft, strange.
Marta looked at me. "Good. We need strong hands."
---
The next morning, I tried to help.
Marta gave me a bucket. "Go to the well. Fetch water."
I took the bucket. I walked to the well. I pulled the rope. The bucket came up half full. I carried it back. I spilled water on my feet.
Marta laughed. "You're like a newborn calf."
I felt embarrassed. But I also felt happy. No one had laughed with me in years.
I tried again. This time, I did not spill.
By noon, I had carried ten buckets. My arms hurt. But I felt useful.
A young man came to the well. He was about my age, with brown hair and a friendly face. He carried a bucket too.
"You're new here," he said.
"Yes."
"I'm Rik."
"I'm…" I stopped. I did not have a name. Not anymore.
"It's okay," Rik said. "We don't need names. Just help with the water."
We worked together. Rik talked about the village, the forest, the animals. He did not ask about my face. He did not stare at my hood.
At the end of the day, he said, "You're not so bad. Want to eat with me and my family?"
"I… yes. Thank you."
---
Rik's family was small. His mother, his father, and a little sister. They ate bread and cheese and weak soup. I pretended to eat. No one asked questions.
After dinner, Rik showed me the village. The fields, the barn, the old mill. He pointed at a hill in the distance.
"That's where the false hero lives," he said. "Ironhold. Sometimes we see smoke from his mines."
"Do you hate him?" I asked.
Rik looked at the ground. "I don't have time to hate. I have work to do."
That night, I slept in Marta's barn. The straw was scratchy but warm. I looked at the stars through a crack in the roof.
Maybe I can stay here, I thought. Maybe I can be happy.
I closed my eyes. For the first time in years, I slept without dreaming of my cell.
---
The next week passed slowly.
I learned to walk without falling. I learned to carry water, chop wood, and fix a broken fence. I helped Rik's father repair a wagon wheel. I helped Marta clean her chimney.
Elias taught me in the evenings. How to read the forest. How to track a deer. How to hide from soldiers.
"You need to be ready," he said. "The peace won't last."
"Why not?"
"Because Kaelen always wants more. More land. More slaves. More crystals."
I listened. I learned. But in my heart, I hoped he was wrong.
One evening, Marta sat with me by the fire. She looked at my hood.
"You never take it off," she said.
"I can't."
"Why?"
I was quiet for a long time. Then I said, "Because I'm not human. Not really."
Marta did not look scared. She looked sad.
"That doesn't matter," she said. "You helped us. You worked hard. You're a good soul. That's what matters."
I felt something in my chest. Not pain. Not hunger. Something warm.
"Thank you," I whispered.
Marta patted my shoulder. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow we have more work."
---
I lay in the barn. The stars were bright. The air was cold but clean.
I thought about my cell. The cracked ceiling. The needle. The bird that flew away.
I thought about Rik, Marta, Elias. The village. The smell of bread and wood smoke.
Maybe I can stay here forever, I thought.
I closed my eyes.
The stars watched over me.