A heavy, suffocating silence settled over the village for several long minutes after the Aksin soldiers finally departed.
The air outside was biting cold, thick with the sharp scent of damp earth and the acrid smell of wood smoke drifting from the village hearths.
The villagers remained standing in scattered, uneasy groups. Their faces were etched with deep, weary disappointment—eyes clouded with worry, shoulders slumped beneath the crushing weight of their sudden troubles. They knew they had no real choice; the government was a force far beyond their reach. The village of Black Raven, once a quiet sanctuary of peace tucked away in the vast forests for those who had survived the war, now felt like a cage slowly closing around them.
The elderly merchant hurried over to the leader, At
