The Blue Water River's mouth stretched before us, its waters catching the last rays of sunlight. Our group moved with practiced efficiency now, setting up camp and posting watches. The children no longer needed help pitching tents.

  I stood sentinel through the night, my mechanical body requiring no rest. The rushing water's sound reminded me of something, but like all my memories, it slipped away before I could grasp it.

  Dawn broke crisp and clear. We broke camp quickly, everyone eager for this final stretch. The dense forest gave way to sweeping grasslands, dotted with wildflowers that made Derek sneeze. A well-worn dirt road cut through the pastoral landscape, wide enough for our entire group to walk together.

  Other travelers passed us regularly now. Merchant wagons loaded with goods. Adventuring parties in their gleaming armor. Farm carts piled with produce. Most gave me a wide berth, but their fear was tempered by curiosity about our unusual group.

  "Refugees from the Hellzone," Harke would explain when asked, his stutter barely noticeable now. "Heading to Weath."

  "Weath?" A merchant raised his eyebrows. "That tiny backwater? Why there?"

  "It's home," Mallie would say simply, and something in her tone discouraged further questions.

  The days blurred together as we walked. Nine sunrises, nine sunsets. The children's excitement grew with each milestone passed. Even the adults walked with lighter steps, recognizing landmarks from their captures months ago.

  Through Mind Speech, I asked Harke, What will you do. When we reach. Weath?

  "Head to Yorr," he replied quietly. "The Guild needs to know what happened to my party."

  I nodded my head. We'd discussed this before. I couldn't follow; the Kingdom of Falling Stones had strict policies about intelligent monsters. But watching these people I'd freed walking toward their home, I felt... something. Not quite satisfaction. Not quite pride. But something.

  Pip's shout broke through my thoughts. "Look! Look there!"

  On the horizon, barely visible in the morning light, stood the first buildings of Weath village.

  I kept to the back of our group as we approached Weath, my mechanical form casting long shadows in the morning light. The first farmers we passed dropped their tools, mouths agape at the sight of nearly a hundred ragged travelers trailed by a four-armed machine.

  Through my mental eyes, I watched men emerge from their homes clutching pitchforks and scythes. Their suspicious glares followed our progress down the main road, muscles tensed for conflict. I adjusted my grip on my weapons, ready to defend our group if needed.

  A piercing wail cut through the tense atmosphere. An elderly woman burst from her home, her gray hair flying wild as she ran toward us.

  "Tomas! My boy! My Tomas!"

  The young man who'd spent nights by our campfire bragging about future conquests broke into tears. "Mother!" He sprinted to meet her, collapsing into her embrace.

  That single reunion broke the dam. More villagers poured from their homes, weapons forgotten as they recognized familiar faces among our group. Names rang out across the street, followed by cries of joy and disbelief.

  "Little Pip!"

  "By the gods, Sarah, we thought you dead!"

  "Willem? Old Willem lives!"

  But the most heart-wrenching moments came as parents found their lost children. Mallie's father, a broad-shouldered man with her same freckles, fell to his knees when she ran to him. Derek's older sister covered his face with kisses while their mother hugged them both. Even tough-faced Pip dissolved into sobs in his grandfather's arms.

  Through Mind Speech, I shared with Harke, Their joy. It feels. Right.

  He nodded, watching the reunions unfold. "This is what we f-fought for at Qordos."

  The suspicious glares had transformed into wondering looks as the villagers realized we'd brought their loved ones home. Though they still gave me a wide berth, there was less fear in their eyes now. Just curiosity about the strange mechanical being that had helped return their family members.

  I remained at the edge of the celebrations, my metal feet planted firmly in the dirt road. This moment wasn't for me. It belonged to the humans who'd survived, fought, and finally made it home.

  Sadly, this homecoming was not all joy and celebration.

  I watched as more villagers approached our group, their hopeful expressions turning to grief as they learned the fates of their loved ones. Each death we reported carved new wounds into my heart. These weren't just names on Harke's list anymore; they were sons, daughters, parents, friends.

  Tommy's parents approached Mallie, their faces already etched with the knowledge that came from months of uncertainty. Mallie's small hands twisted in her shirt as she spoke, tears streaming down her freckled cheeks.

  "He saved us," she whispered. "When the fighting started, he helped the younger ones escape. He was so brave."

  His mother collapsed against his father's chest, their shared grief a tangible thing. I remembered hearing about Tommy's final moments from Mallie, of how the poor boy fought bravely, but his courage was sadly not enough.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  More villagers pressed in around us, their voices rising in a cacophony of questions and exclamations. Some sought news of missing family members. Others simply stared at my mechanical form, whispering behind raised hands.

  "Everyone! Clear the road!" A strong voice cut through the chaos.

  An elderly man in fine clothes, though not as fine as the fragments of memory that sometimes surfaced in my mind, strode toward us. Despite his age, he carried himself with authority.

  "This is no place for such matters," he declared, looking over the crowd. "I am Antos, mayor of Weath. We should move this gathering-"

  "To the town hall!" someone called out.

  "The town hall won't fit half these people," another voice protested.

  Antos waved away the concern. "Then we'll gather in the street outside. It's a better spot than this dusty road, and we can at least pretend to have some proper order to things."

  I admired his practical approach to maintaining dignity in an impossible situation. Even as he spoke, he was already herding people in the right direction, his calm presence bringing structure to our chaotic homecoming.

  The mayor's weathered face turned toward me, his lips pressing into a thin line. Though his expression remained controlled, I caught the slight widening of his eyes, the instinctive step backward.

  "What in Altanava's glorious, holy tits is this thing?" His voice carried authority despite the vulgar wording.

  Harke moved forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "This is N-no Eyes, Mayor. I assure you, it's perfectly safe! Without it, none of us would have escaped Qordos. It led the escape, helped arm the p-p-prisoners, fought-"

  "And who the hell are you, exactly?" Antos cut in, shifting his attention.

  "H-harke of Vensor, a healer. I was c-captured by the slavers months ago, forced to tend their prisoners." His stutter grew more pronounced under the mayor's scrutiny. "We-"

  Antos raised his hand, silencing Harke mid-explanation. "Save the details. We'll hear everything once we're properly settled at the town hall." He turned back to me, studying my mechanical form with clear unease. "This... No Eyes. You sure it'll behave?"

  "Y-yes, sir," Harke straightened his spine. "No Eyes is not dangerous." A pause, then he added with surprising firmness, "At least, not to regular, honest folk."

  I remained still throughout this exchange, my four arms held carefully neutral. Through Mind Speech, I assured Harke, I will be. Good.

  The slight nod he gave showed he'd received my message. These people had suffered enough without a monster causing panic in their streets.

  The combined mass of displaced survivors and local townspeople wound their way along the narrow lanes toward the central meeting house.

  I stood at the edge of the gathering, watching over the crowd assembled before Weath's town hall. The building seemed modest compared to the grand structures that sometimes flickered through my fragmented memories, yet it held a simple dignity that suited this farming community.

  I monitored the conversations around me, particularly focusing on Harke as he addressed Mayor Antos. My healer friend's stutter grew more pronounced under the pressure of so many eyes.

  "The s-slavers attacked my party in the night," Harke explained, wringing his hands as he relived his capture. "They k-killed most of my friends. Took me and the wounded. They w-w-were sold. I wasn't."

  "Three months ago, my caravan was attacked, right on the road in the middle of the day!" A merchant added, his eyes leaking tears. "My w-wife was killed. They took me and me daughter. She was sold off immediately. Gods, please let her be safe!"

  Others joined in, their voices overlapping as they shared their experiences. I watched Mayor Antos absorb each detail, his weathered face growing grimmer with each new revelation.

  "Get these people food and water," he commanded a group of villagers. "And someone fetch Marta, she'll know which houses can take in extras for now." He turned to a young boy. "Run to the outer farms. Tell them their people have returned."

  The mayor's efficiency impressed me. Despite the chaos of nearly a hundred refugees suddenly appearing, he maintained control, delegating tasks with the precision of a well-oiled machine.

  I observed as villagers brought out bread, cheese, and water skins. The refugees, despite their hunger, shared everything equally, a habit formed during our long journey. Even now, they looked to Harke and me before eating, though I gave no signal. These weren't prisoners anymore, but the patterns of survival died hard.

  "And the escape?" Antos pressed Harke. "How did you manage it?"

  "It was No Eyes," Mallie piped up from beside her father. "She made weapons for everyone!"

  "We lost good people," another survivor added. "But we made the slavers pay."

  I shifted uncomfortably as more stories emerged about my role in the uprising. The mechanical joints of my four arms creaked slightly as I adjusted my stance. The villagers nearest to me startled at the sound, creating a small clear space around my position.

  Harke continued his account, other voices chiming in to fill gaps or confirm details. The full story of Qordos emerged: the cruelty, the resistance, the final bloody battle for freedom. Through it all, Mayor Antos listened intently, his sharp eyes occasionally darting to my mechanical form as survivors described my part in their liberation.

  I remained silent throughout, knowing my shriek-cursed voice would only cause panic. Instead, I watched this community work together to absorb its lost members, impressed by their efficiency and care. It was a stark contrast to the brutal world we'd left behind in the Hellzone.

  Through my mental eyes, I watched Mayor Antos turn to face me directly. His gaze lingered on my mechanical form before shifting to Harke.

  "Can this... thing talk?"

  Before Harke could answer, I projected my thoughts toward the mayor. I can communicate. Through mind.

  Antos jumped, his hand clutching his chest. "Ayen's succulent elven ass! What the hell?!"

  "What? What happened?" Several villagers pressed closer, their faces a mix of concern and curiosity.

  "I heard..." Antos steadied himself. "A voice. In my head. Like a whisper."

  Frightened murmurs rippled through the crowd. An elderly man in beige robes pushed forward, his staff tapping against the packed earth.

  "Evil spirits," The old man spat, making the sign of the Holy Twelve. "This... thing brings dark magic into our village!"

  "No, no!" Harke stepped between the man and me. "It's not evil spirits. No Eyes uses Mind Speech, a system ability. It's perfectly natural."

  Antos raised his hand for silence. "So you can speak to me?" He addressed me directly. "Through… thoughts?"

  Yes.

  "Huh." He rubbed his chin. "Where did you come from? What are you exactly?"

  I answered his questions, watching his reactions as my mental voice touched his mind. Other villagers kept interrupting, asking what I was saying, which clearly irritated the mayor.

  "Can you speak to more than one person?" Antos asked. "It would be easier than having me repeat everything."

  I hesitated.

  Unsure. Never tried.

  "Sometimes I can hear what No Eyes tells Harke," Mallie piped up. "But only when I'm really paying attention."

  I focused on my Mind Speech ability, imagining my mental voice expanding outward like ripples in a pond. I pushed more power into it, trying to project to everyone gathered.

  Greetings.

  My mental voice thundered through their minds, causing the entire crowd to flinch. Several people clutched their heads. I quickly reduced the power.

  Apologies. Still. Learning.

  A collective gasp rose from the villagers as my whispered thoughts reached them all. A blue status window appeared before my eyes:

  "Well," Antos said, rubbing his temples. "That's certainly something."