The journey to Stella was anything but easy. Rhea and Lector boarded a small merchant ship bound for the distant shores, the crew a ragtag group of traders and sailors who barely spoke a word of Fioran. The ship creaked and groaned as it cut through the rough waters of the sea, the wind carrying a cold, salty spray that clung to Rhea’s skin. The deck was slick with moisture, and the constant sway of the boat underfoot made for an exhausting journey.

"You know," Lector muttered, flicking his tail, "for a so-called vacation homecoming, this feels more like sailing into a trap."

Rhea smirked slightly, though her eyes never left the horizon. “Maybe it is.”

The truth was, Rhea hadn’t felt safe since leaving Crocus. The lingering threat of assassination gnawed at the edges of her mind, and while the sea offered some solace—after all, no one could sneak up on them out here—it also offered no escape. They were exposed, vulnerable. Rhea’s sleep was shallow and broken, each creak of the ship or roll of the waves setting her on edge. She hadn’t seen any signs of pursuit, but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment.

Neither Rhea nor Lector spoke much during the trip. Both of them were on edge, their eyes scanning the horizon, ever watchful for another ambush. The assassins could have followed them, or worse, the boat could be intercepted. Every creak, every shout from the sailors, every shadow that flickered in the distance felt like the harbinger of another attack.

But nothing came. The journey, though long and uncomfortable, passed without incident. Two days at sea felt like an eternity, the endless expanse of blue stretching out in all directions, but finally, on the second day, the jagged cliffs and green valleys of Stella came into view. The sight of her homeland filled Rhea with a bittersweet sense of relief. She was home, but she didn’t know what awaited her.

As the ship docked at a small, remote port, Rhea and Lector disembarked quickly, eager to put distance between themselves and the sea. The port was quiet, a handful of workers unloading crates and barrels from the merchant vessel, but the atmosphere felt tense. Even here, far from the heart of the kingdom, something was off. There were fewer people around than Rhea remembered, and those who were there carried a visible weight of exhaustion and wariness.

Rhea tightened her grip on her bag and glanced at Lector, who was scanning their surroundings, his small face furrowed in concern. "Let’s move," she said, her voice firm. "We need to reach the village before dark."

The road to her village wound through thick forests and rolling hills, the lush greenery of Stella an entire shift in scenery compared to the industrial sprawl of Fiore. Birds sang overhead, and the air was fresh and cool, carrying the scent of pine and wildflowers. Normally, Rhea would have felt a sense of peace in this place, but today, her heart was too heavy for the beauty of Stella to calm her. She could feel an unsettling tension building the closer they got to her village, a gnawing worry that something was terribly wrong.

And then, as they crested the final hill, her worst fears were confirmed.

The village lay in ruins.

Rhea stopped dead in her tracks, her breath catching in her throat. The once lively and active village was now a scene of devastation. Houses were burned or crumbled, walls cracked and broken. Some of the larger buildings were nothing more than piles of rubble. Smoke still rose in thin wisps from smoked remnants, and the sound of hammers and spell chants filled the air as villagers worked tirelessly to rebuild what had been destroyed.

Wounded villagers sat or lay on makeshift cots, being tended to by healers who moved among them with hurried, efficient movements. The fields that had once been full of crops were now empty, trampled into the dirt by the chaos of battle. Despite all this, the village wasn’t in complete chaos. It was as though they were all simply trying to carry on, to salvage what they could and keep moving forward.

Lector gasped beside her. “Oh fuck... this is...”

Rhea’s heart pounded in her chest as she surveyed the destruction. This wasn’t just an attack, it had been a slaughter. Her mind raced, connecting the dots. The attack on her in Fiore, and now this. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Whoever was after her was after her family, her people. The thought made her stomach twist with guilt and fear.

Without a word, she started running, her feet pounding the dirt path toward the heart of the village, toward her mother’s house. Lector scrambled after her, his small legs struggling to keep up as if he had forgotten he could sprout wings. The Stellan Rune Knight weaved through the ruins and the clusters of people, her eyes wide with horror at the sight of her home torn apart. When she reached her mother’s home, the grandest of the village’s buildings, Rhea barely paused to catch her breath before throwing open the door and stepping inside.

The interior was dimly lit, the wooden beams of the ceiling casting long shadows across the room. Her mother, Talis, stood in the center of the room, bent over a large table where a map of the village was spread out. Several village elders and warriors stood around her, all of them deep in conversation about how to proceed with the rebuilding efforts.

Talis was an imposing figure, even in her exhaustion. Tall and graceful, her long silver hair was tied back in a braid that reached her waist, her sharp elven features softened only slightly by age. She looked up as the door slammed open, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw Rhea standing in the doorway.

“Rhea?” Talis’s voice was a mixture of shock and dismay. She took a step toward her daughter, her expression hardening. “"Oh no. What are you doing here? You should be in Fiore—it’s not safe here, Mija!”

Rhea strode forward, her face grim. “I should be asking you the same thing. What happened? The village… it's destroyed, everything...”

Talis exchanged a look with the elders before waving them away. “Leave us,” she ordered quietly. The others filed out of the room without a word, leaving Rhea and Talis alone.

When the door closed, Talis turned back to her daughter, her face tired and lined with worry. “We were attacked,” she said, her voice heavy. “About a week ago. A group of foreign mercenaries came in the night. We don’t know who they were or where they came from. They tore through the village like a storm, killed some, took others. We fought back, but we were caught off guard.”

Rhea’s fists clenched at her sides. “Foreign mercenaries? From where?”

Talis shook her head. “We don’t know. They didn’t bear any banners, no insignia. But they were organized. This wasn’t just a raid, Rhea. They were looking for something. Or someone.”

Rhea felt a cold chill run down her spine. “They’re after me,” she said quietly. “Whoever sent them, they’re the same ones who sent assassins after me in Fiore. I barely escaped.”

“In fiore?!" Talis’s eyes widened slightly, but she quickly regained her composure.  "My gods...it’s worse than I thought. They must believe our tribe has something of value. Or… something to do with your father.”

Rhea’s heart sank. Her father. The mystery that had haunted her all her life, the secret her mother had kept from her for so long. And now it seemed to be at the center of everything. She stepped forward, her voice urgent. “What do they want with me? What aren’t you telling me, Mother?”

Talis held up a hand, her expression hardening again. “Now is not the time for those questions, Rhea. We have to focus on helping the village. We can speak of your father later.” Rhea opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught in her throat. She could see the exhaustion in her mother’s eyes, the weight of leadership and the burden of the recent attack pressing down on her. Now wasn’t the time for personal grievances. Her people needed her.

“Yeah,” Rhea said, her voice tight. “you're right.”

Talis nodded, a hint of relief in her expression. “Thank you. There’s much to do.”

For the rest of the afternoon, Rhea and Lector threw themselves into helping the village. The destruction was worse than it had looked at first glance—several homes were on the verge of collapse, and many of the injured were still being pulled from the wreckage. Rhea worked alongside the warriors and laborers, lifting heavy beams, clearing debris, and helping to locate survivors.

Lector, with his small but nimble body, darted through the rubble, using his sharp claws to dig through piles of stone and wood. His natural Exceed strength made him a valuable asset, and he quickly became the go-to for finding trapped villagers.

“Found another one!” Lector shouted, his voice muffled as he pulled a young girl from the rubble of a collapsed house. She was unconscious but alive, and the healers rushed over to take her from him.

Rhea wiped the sweat from her brow, her muscles aching from the labor, but she didn’t slow down. Each person they pulled from the ruins, each piece of the village they managed to rebuild, gave her a sense of purpose she hadn’t felt in years. It wasn’t just about survival anymore—it was about justice. Whoever had done this to her people would pay.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the village, the atmosphere shifted. The day’s work was done, and the villagers began to gather around the large communal fire that had been lit in the center of the village. The smell of cooking meat and vegetables filled the air, and the sound of chatter and laughter rose above the crackling flames.

Rhea, exhausted and covered in dirt, sat down by the fire, her muscles aching but her heart lighter. Her mother, Talis, sat beside her, watching as the tribe gathered for the evening meal. Despite the devastation, there was a sense of camaraderie among the villagers, a shared strength that had seen them through the worst of the attack.

The night wore on as the village slowly drifted into a peaceful stillness. The crackling of the dying campfire was the only sound that punctuated the silence. Rhea sat there, her gaze fixed on the flickering embers, lost in thought. Talis, who had been quiet for a long time, finally broke the silence.

“You’ve changed, Rhea,” her mother said softly, her elven voice carrying a weight that pierced the quiet. “You’ve grown into someone I barely recognize in such a short time. It’s strange… seeing you so level-headed, so independent.”

Rhea turned to her mother, studying her profile against the soft glow of the fire. Talis’s once youthful face now bore the lines of a woman who had seen far too much hardship in her lifetime. She was an elf, so her aging had always been subtle, but the recent attack had clearly taken its toll.

“I had to grow,” Rhea replied, her voice low. “Being in Fiore, among the Rune Knights… it taught me more than I ever thought possible. But here, seeing what’s happened… I feel like I failed. Like I should have been here.”

Talis shook her head, her silver braid catching the glints of firelight. “No. You were right to leave. I sent you to Fiore for a reason. You needed to learn, to experience the world beyond this village. And now that you’ve come back, stronger, we need you more than ever.” She paused, slowly shifting her eyes back to her plate. "I know you have questions about your father, and I promise I'll answer them tomorrow morning. Tonight, let's enjoy this peace while we have it. Gods know this whole thing has been taxing on us all."

The Dragoness tucked her lips, nodding slowly. She was too eager to know what had been kept away from her for so long, but she knew she would learn. It had been a while since she'd been home so...perhaps waiting was best.

"Alright, mother."