Amukelo lay back against the wheat, and he let out a long breath as he stared upward.
"I've been thinking," he said, voice soft, eyes locked on the sky. "About what those people in robes said in the pub earlier. The way they were preaching… about salvation and hell." He paused. "I didn't get it, not really. But… it stuck with me."
Pao sat down beside him, pulling her robe tighter as she followed his gaze up into the stars. "What exactly about it?" she asked gently.
Amukelo shifted his hands behind his head. "I started wondering… about my mother. Where she is now." His voice cracked just slightly, and he blinked quickly. "I mean, she was good. She was kind, loving… she always told me to do what's right. She used to talk about God. So… she must be in heaven, right?"
Pao turned toward him. Her face was touched with moonlight, her expression soft and thoughtful. "Well…" she began, carefully, "I can't tell you anything for sure. And I don't know as much about it as maybe Bral or Idin do. They have studied more about different beliefs. But…" She paused, her voice lowering slightly as if choosing the right words. "From what I understand, it's not really about whether someone is a 'good person' or not."
Amukelo turned his head slightly, confused. "What do you mean?"
Pao took in a slow breath, brushing a hand through her hair before answering. "I think… salvation isn't earned like a reward for good behavior. From what I've read or heard… it's something God offers freely. A gift. It's not about how many good things you did or whether you were better than someone else." She looked at him. "It's more about recognizing that we all fall short, and still… God forgives. Completely. If we seek Him genuinely, if we open our hearts to Him, and accept the salvation He offers—not through our works but through His grace—then that's what leads to heaven."
Amukelo blinked slowly. "So… it's not about how much we do for Him?"
Pao shook her head. "Not exactly. I think He cares about the heart behind our actions. Not the quantity, not the 'score.' More like… whether you loved Him, trusted Him, accepted His mercy. And if your mother taught you to follow what's right, and talked to you about God with love…" Her voice softened further, almost like a whisper. "Then I believe she's with Him now. And I believe… you're on a path to see her again."
Amukelo didn't answer right away. His eyes lingered on the stars, and for a while, silence sat between them like a soft blanket. The night was still, but his thoughts were moving slowly. He let the idea settle in his chest—his mother, not just gone, but somewhere, waiting.
"I'll meet her one day," he said finally, the words heavy with emotion, but calm.
Pao gave a small smile and lay down beside him, her shoulder lightly brushing his. She murmured, "Yeah… and we'll all meet together. You, me, her…"
He turned slightly, glancing at her profile as she lay beside him. Her eyes were fixed on the sky too, and for a second, he felt like everything that was confusing or heavy about the world faded. Just for a moment. The stars watched in silence, as if acknowledging something sacred in the quiet between them.
A few more moments passed before he spoke again. "But… why would God just give us salvation?" His voice carried a deeper wonder now. "Why would He offer something that… that important, something so eternal, for free? What did He gain from that?"
But no answer came.
He turned to look at her, and found her breathing softly, eyes closed. The moonlight caught her face in a gentle glow, and her expression was peaceful, like someone who trusted the world would be okay.
Amukelo smiled quietly. "Well… I guess that question can wait."
He watched her for a long time. The breeze made her robe flutter lightly. She shivered once, and he carefully pulled off his jacket and laid it over her. She curled slightly under its warmth, murmuring in her sleep.
Amukelo lay back again, hands behind his head, staring into the stars once more. The world felt a little quieter now. A little more still. And in the silence, something inside him began to settle.
He whispered. "Thanks for always having answers for me… Without you, I'd be lost."
During the days that followed their chaotic arrival to the village, life slowed down for the group. There were no monsters to fight, no quests to chase. It was peaceful, almost suspiciously so for adventurers used to living on edge. But for once, none of them minded it. They all seemed to embrace the slower rhythm of village life.
After their crowded experience in the inn, things changed quickly. The next morning, while searching for a better place to sleep, they passed by a frail old man struggling to split logs outside his home. The axe was heavy, and the pile beside him was still high. Bral had stopped and asked, "Do you need a hand, sir?"
The man had chuckled at first, but when Amukelo casually picked up the axe and split a thick log in one swing, the man's eyes widened with gratitude. "Well now," he had said. "If you young folks are lookin' to earn your keep, I've got a proposition."
So the group helped him chop and stack wood all morning, and by the end of it, a solid pile sat neatly under the shade beside his house.
"As promised," the old man had said, wiping his forehead. "You can stay here until the meteor shower. Got two rooms inside. It's not the fanciest place, but I raised four kids in this house. You'll manage."
Grateful, they accepted. Bao was especially thankful. "Finally, no more stable jokes," she'd muttered, giving Bral a side-eye. He, of course, smirked.
Over the next few days, the group settled into a calm rhythm. Every morning they'd rise with the sun, eat a simple meal, then split off across the village to help where they could. Idin helped reinforce some of the village fences. Bao worked with some older women in the marketplace, assisting them with carrying goods and dealing with stubborn merchants. Bral taught a group of boys how to throw punches without breaking their own wrists, and afterward, tried to explain mana flow to a very confused audience of eager ten-year-olds.
Amukelo and Pao often helped with decorations—tying up streamers, arranging festival garlands, and moving bundles of material. They worked well as a pair. It just… happened. When someone handed out tasks, they'd naturally end up together, talking as they tied cloth between posts or lifted baskets of supplies to rooftops for hanging ornaments.
One afternoon, as the sun filtered through the orange sky, they were setting up lanterns outside a small cottage. The job was light, and their conversation had drifted from practical to playful, to something deeper. That's when the old man they'd helped with wood approached them again.
"You've been a big help around here," he said kindly. "Most visitors don't lift a finger for anyone. They just come to look at the sky and drink our ale."
Amukelo smiled. "Well, if we're staying here till the shower, it feels wrong not to help."
Pao nodded beside him, tucking a ribbon between her fingers. "Everyone's been kind to us. It's the least we can do."
The man gave a small nod, then his gaze drifted toward the distant hills. "You two seem close," he said with a twinkle in his eye.
Pao blinked, clearly a little caught off guard, but didn't argue.
The man leaned slightly on his walking stick and added, "I know a place. One that'll give you the best view in the whole village. And no one else knows about it."
That caught both of their attention. "Really?" Amukelo asked, curious.
The man chuckled. "Well, I suppose some do know about it. But not in the way I do. I found it by accident, with someone I loved, many years ago. Every sixteen years, when the meteor shower came, we'd sneak out there. Just the two of us. Not once were we disturbed."
He pointed toward the hill that loomed just beyond the village's northern edge. "On the top of that hill, there's a clearing. You won't see it from here—lower trees block the sight. But once you climb it, you'll see. There's a great tree at the center, old and strong. You sit under it, and the whole sky opens up above you. Best view you'll ever get."
Pao's eyes lit up with that soft gleam Amukelo had come to know well. "That sounds incredible," she said.
Amukelo glanced at her, smiling. "We'll check it out. Thank you."
The old man waved his hand, as if brushing off the gratitude. "It's no trouble. Just don't tell anyone else, or it won't be special anymore. And ser get there a nit before the sunset, because it takes some time to get there."
They nodded, watching him shuffle away. When he was gone, Pao turned to Amukelo and nudged his side. "Looks like we've got a private viewing spot for the big night."
Amukelo laughed. "Looks like it."