As Lysaria was pondering over her thoughts on Riku's attitude, Riku had already turned back to his desk, rifling through a set of fresh sheets.
"You mentioned a church," he said. "Any thoughts on the layout?"
She blinked, regathering herself. "I… have a few ideas. A sanctuary. A small prayer chamber. Perhaps a bell if we can cast one."
"Perfect," Riku said, and immediately began sketching.
His fingers moved like they were alive on their own — lines forming arcs, curves rising like spires, pillars shaped with both grace and functionality. Within moments, the faint lines of a modest but elegant church design filled the page.
At the center, he placed an open rotunda under a sloped dome, designed to capture sunlight at all hours. The walls would be stone and timber, but the windows — large, curved, perfectly framed — would filter in golden hues even during overcast days.
On the altar space, he drew a starburst carving behind a crystal light socket — a subtle suggestion that light itself was the offering.
When he stopped, the parchment was nearly full.
Lysaria leaned in, lips parted, unable to hide her awe.
It was… beautiful.
Not opulent.
Not grand.
But pure. Quietly radiant.
"This is…" she whispered. "I have seen churches raised by kings and temples designed by court architects. But this…"
She looked up at Riku — who was now calmly sipping his green tea and smiling.
"This feels like a place the divine would choose to dwell. Not be forced into."
Riku looked at her and smiled.
"Then let's build it right. But first, we need to get materials. Let's speak with Barou tomorrow."
---------------------------
The next morning came just like any other.
The rains had not yet returned, and the skies remained stubbornly dry — but it no longer mattered.
Because the well was always full..
From morning till dusk, villagers formed gentle processions from the well to the fields, wooden yokes across their shoulders, clay pots balanced and sloshing. They carried water not with dread, but with pride — each bucket a symbol of the village's survival. Of hope.
Sister Lysaria moved among them, sleeves rolled to her elbows, her simple robes dusted with flecks of earth. A wooden pail in each hand, she followed alongside Barou as they took their turn toward the western plots.
They passed rows of sprouting pulses and fresh vegetables — lentils with delicate leafy tops, short bushy beans, bulbous turnips, and even early tomatoes tied with string to bamboo stalks. The land wasn't lush, but it was alive.
And so were the people.
Children chased chickens between tool sheds. Eren and Donn argued while setting up windbreaks. Gnord could be seen adjusting wooden cart wheels near the grain stores, pausing only to wave as Lysaria passed.
She paused at one of the furrows, knelt, and poured water gently around a patch of sprouting greens.
"You don't have to help, Sister," Barou said with a smile. "You've done more than enough."
Lysaria shook her head.
"If this is a place blessed by the light," she said quietly, "then surely the light would wish for me to carry a few buckets of water."
Later That Evening — At Barou's Home
The low table was laid with hot barley stew and spiced roots as Riku and Lysaria sat with Barou, who rubbed his chin thoughtfully over Riku's sketches.
"I can have the kiln started for bricks," Barou said. "Timber too. We've got a few good trees marked for the next cut."
"But steel?" He shook his head. "No forge in Elowen could manage that. And as for plaster, or stained glass… we'd need to source those as well."
Riku nodded slowly.
"Then it's settled. I'll head to the nearest city — Vintross, right?"
Barou nodded. "A merchant town just west of the old hill pass. You'll get what you need there."
"Sure, then me and Lysaria will head out tomorrow."
Before anyone else could speak, Lila — who had been standing quietly by the doorway — turned and walked out.
Fast.
Too fast.
---------------------
Riku found her sitting behind the inn, knees hugged to her chest, moonlight brushing against her hair.
"You are just planning to go to a better place and settle there, right?" she asked without turning.
Riku walked over, then sat beside her on the stone ledge.
"I wasn't going to vanish," he said. "I just thought I'd slip out quietly and return with goodies."
Lila didn't laugh.
"I know the cities are bigger. Cleaner. Brighter. People there have things we can't dream of. Once you go…" she trailed off. "I just worry you won't come back."
Her voice cracked slightly at the end.
Riku didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached out to a worn black wristband, made of braided synthetic fiber, which he had around his wrist since the day he came to Elowen.
"This," he said, offering it to her, "came from far away. A world with cities taller than mountains and lights that burn all night. I wore it every day. Back then, I was invisible to everyone."
He looked her in the eye.
"But here, I built something that matters. You all matter."
He gently wrapped the band around her wrist.
"I'll be back before this loses its warmth."
Lila stared at the band, then at him.
And before Riku could say another word—
She leaned forward, stood on tiptoes, and pressed a quick, feather-light kiss on his cheek.
Her face turned crimson.
"Thank you," she mumbled — then turned and bolted into the inn like a storm caught in a teacup.
Riku blinked, touching his cheek with a half-smile.
---------------------
The fog clung thick around the village gates, curling between fence posts and lantern poles like a living veil.
The morning was quiet — dew still glistening on cart wheels and thatched rooftops, a faint chill hanging in the air.
Riku stood beside the wooden archway that marked Elowen's edge, adjusting the shoulder strap of his travel bag. A simple cart waited nearby, loaded with essentials — a few sacks of dry rations, rolled-up maps, a tarp for rain, and a makeshift padded seat of bundled hay.
Next to him stood Sister Lysaria, draped once again in her white-and-gold vestal robes. She had refused to wear armor or carry a weapon, but her resolve was sharper than any blade.
They were just about to climb aboard when a voice echoed from within the fog.
"You weren't thinking of leaving without your guardian, were you?"