The morning dew clung to my mechanical legs as I stood with the gathered villagers and refugees. Harke adjusted the straps of his pack one final time, his hands trembling slightly. The sight made my chest ache with an emotion I couldn't quite name.

  All around us, people wiped at their eyes. Even the usually stoic Old Willem dabbed at his face with a sleeve. Harke had been their rock during those dark days in Qordos, his healing magic and quiet strength keeping hope alive.

  Mallie broke from her parents' side and rushed forward, wrapping her arms around Harke's waist. "I'll miss you," she sobbed into his robes.

  I watched, wishing I could express my own feelings so freely. But my monstrous form and cursed voice made such tearful displays impossible. Instead, I extended my flesh hand forwards when Harke approached.

  He gripped it firmly. "Thank you," he stammered, voice thick with emotion. "F-for everything. I wouldn't be here without-" His words dissolved into unintelligible sounds as tears welled up. "I p-promise I'll return as soon as I can!"

  The display made my own chest feel uncomfortably warm. I gave his hand an awkward pat with another of my arms.

  Safe travels.

  Harke shouldered his pack and turned west, following the road we'd traveled together. He was bound for larger settlements where he could hire transport to Remembrance, which was this kingdom's capital. From there, a ship would carry him across the sea to the Kingdom of Fallen Stones. A short carriage ride would take him to Yorr where he could report his fallen companions' fate to his guild.

  I remained rooted in place as his figure grew smaller, my mental vision tracking his progress long after the other villagers had dispersed. Only when Harke finally vanished over the horizon did I lower the mechanical arm I'd raised in farewell.

  My first true friend since awakening in that cursed earth was gone. The thought settled like lead in what remained of my chest. But I knew this wasn't truly goodbye; he'd promised to return. And something told me Harke always kept his promises.

  The days crawled past without Harke's presence. My mechanical feet traced the same paths through Weath's dirt roads, watching farmers tend their crops and merchants hawk their wares. The peaceful routine felt strange after weeks of constant vigilance in the Hellzone.

  I approached the wheat fields one morning, hoping to assist with the harvest. My four arms could surely speed up the work.

  "We've got it handled," Farmer Tull said, backing away from my form. "Don't need no help here."

  The other workers kept their distance, tools gripped tight. I turned away, my gears clicking in resignation. It had been a cold reminder that while I may be tolerated here in this human village, I was not fully trusted.

  At least the refugees still welcomed me. Old Willem would wave as I passed the tavern, and Derek often brought me interesting bits of metal he'd found. But their numbers dwindled daily as messages arrived from distant families or they simply decided to chance the journey home.

  "My sister's sending a wagon from Millbrook," Pip told me yesterday, practically bouncing with excitement. "Says she's been searching for me since the slavers took me."

  He lived with his sister in a neighboring village and had only come to Weath to visit relatives. That was when the slavers attacked and captured him.

  I was happy for him, truly. Each departure meant another life restored, another family reunited. Yet watching them leave, one by one, reopened the hollow space in my memories where my own past should have been.

  Young Tommy's parents left this morning, clutching their son's wooden pendant. It was all they had left of him. The couple chose to move to a larger settlement nearer the kingdom's center. With Tommy's younger siblings to consider, they couldn't justify keeping their family in a frontier village like Weath, believing the risks were too great for their remaining children. Mallie stood beside me as we watched their wagon disappear down the road.

  They can mourn him properly. Now. I said through Mind Speech.

  Mallie nodded, wiping her eyes. "I still see him sometimes, you know? In my dreams. He's always smiling, like he used to."

  I placed one mechanical hand gently on her shoulder, careful not to squeeze too hard. The gesture felt inadequate, but it was all I could offer.

  The village settled into its routines around us; women washing clothes by the stream, children chasing each other through alleyways, men returning from the fields with tools slung over their shoulders. Such simple moments of life, yet they felt alien to me. Like watching actors in a play I couldn't quite understand.

  I found myself missing the constant threat of the Hellzone. At least there, my purpose had been clear: protect, fight, survive. Here in this peaceful hamlet, what role could a monster like me possibly serve?

  The news hit the village like a thunderclap. Farmer Sholz, his wife, and their two children had been found butchered in their beds. The neighbor who discovered them had emptied his stomach in the yard before running to alert the mayor.

  I stood at the edge of the gathering crowd as Antos addressed the villagers. His usual jovial demeanor had vanished, replaced by grim determination.

  "Keep your doors barred at night. No one travels alone, especially after dark." His eyes swept across the frightened faces. "Until we know what happened-"

  A voice cut through the murmurs. "We know what happened." Farmer Tull pointed at me. "That thing's been watching us, waiting."

  The accusation struck like a physical blow. I wanted to protest, to explain how wrong they were. But my cursed voice would only cause pain.

  "It killed all those slavers, didn't it?" Someone else called out. "Tore them apart!"

  "My cousin saw it rip out Chanos's throat with its teeth!"

  The crowd's fear found a target in me. Suspicious glances transformed into open hostility. I saw hands tightening on pitchforks and scythes.

  "No!" Mallie pushed through the crowd. "No Eyes saved us! She wouldn't hurt innocent people!"

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  "It's a monster, girl." Tull's voice dripped with venom. "That's what monsters do."

  Derek and Old Willem joined Mallie's defense, along with a few other refugees. But they were drops of reason in a sea of fear.

  I looked down at my mechanical hands, built for protection, now viewed as instruments of slaughter. They weren't wrong about Qordos. I had killed without mercy, had felt satisfaction watching the slavers die. Perhaps that was my true nature, merely dormant until now.

  I did not harm. The Sholz family, I projected to the crowd, causing several to flinch at the mental contact. But I understand. Your fear.

  "See? It's in our heads now!" A woman clutched her child closer. "Reading our thoughts!"

  Mayor Antos raised his hands for silence. "Calm the fuck down! We have no proof-"

  "We don't need proof! Look at it!"

  The hatred in their eyes sparked memories of that first group of travelers I'd encountered, of how they'd attacked me without hesitation. Because that's what humans did when faced with monsters.

  Perhaps they were right. Perhaps this peaceful coexistence had been nothing but a dream.

  The crowd's hostility pressed against me like a physical force. I readied myself for violence, calculating how many I could disable without killing before they overwhelmed me. Then a stern voice cut through the chaos.

  "ENOUGH!"

  Ludwig's command froze everyone in place. The priest hobbled forward, his walking stick striking the ground with sharp, angry taps.

  "Is this how the people of Weath behave? Like a mindless mob?" His cold gray eyes swept across the crowd. "The Holy Twelve frown upon such disorder. Such... unruliness."

  Several villagers lowered their weapons, shame creeping into their expressions. Ludwig's presence seemed to drain the bloodlust from the air.

  "You let fear rule you," he continued. "Acting like the very monsters you claim to hate. We are human. The gods blessed us with reason, with minds to think rather than simply react."

  I watched him, puzzled. This was the same priest who'd questioned my humanity, who'd suggested my memories were divine punishment. Yet here he stood, defending me.

  "Yes, this being before you is a monster." Ludwig gestured at me with his staff. "But the gods do not punish the innocent. Where is your proof of guilt? Your evidence? Without it, this creature stands blameless before divine law."

  The crowd shifted uncomfortably. Tull opened his mouth to argue, but Ludwig silenced him with a sharp look.

  "Or perhaps you know better than the gods?" The priest's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Shall we ignore their teachings of justice and proper order?"

  One by one, the villagers backed down. Some muttered prayers, others simply looked away. The weapons lowered, though the fear and suspicion remained in their eyes.

  I glanced at Ludwig, trying to understand this unexpected intervention. He met my eyeless stare, his expression remaining as stern as ever.

  I watched Antos regain control of the situation, his weathered face set with determination despite the lingering tension in the air.

  "Thank you, Ludwig." He clasped the priest's shoulder before turning to address the crowd. "Now, we need men to patrol. Six groups of three. Rotate every four hours."

  The organization gave people purpose, drawing their attention away from me. Hands that had gripped weapons now raised to volunteer. I noticed most positioned themselves to keep me in sight while they discussed patrol routes.

  "Tom." Antos beckoned a lean youth forward. "Take my mare. Ride to Millbrook, tell Baron Holstoff what's happened here."

  "Waste of time." Farmer Drell spat on the ground. "When the slavers attacked, his lordship didn't lift a finger. Same with every other time Weath was in danger."

  Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. I observed the shared bitterness in their expressions, the resigned acceptance of nobility's indifference.

  "Could be different this time." Antos's eyes found mine, glinting with something that might have been amusement. "After all, I have seen stranger. It's nobility's job to protect us simple folk, after all. And by Naori's big bouncing jugs, it'll happen eventually!"

  Several men laughed while Ludwig rolled his eyes. "Mayor, if you could please keep your blasphemies to a minimum while in my presence."

  Antos's words sparked an odd sensation in my fragmented memories, something about nobles and responsibility, about duty to those under one's protection. But like all such glimpses into my past, it slipped away before I could grasp it.

  It was really starting to get annoying.

  The crowd dispersed as Antos arranged the patrol schedules. I noticed how the chosen groups carefully divided the ones with fighting experience among them: Old Willem with his battle-scarred hands, Martin who'd proven himself during our escape, others who'd fought well at Qordos. Smart. The mayor was ensuring each patrol had experienced fighters.

  I watched Mallie push forward through the dispersing crowd, her hand raised. "I want to help patrol!"

  The reaction was immediate. Katherin's shriek could have rivaled my cursed voice. "Absolutely not!"

  "But Mom, I'm an Archer now!" Mallie's freckled face flushed with determination. "I gained that class during our escape for a reason. I can help!"

  "She's right about one thing," Antos scratched his beard. "Aside from our mechanical friend here, she's got the highest combat level in Weath."

  "And the War Academy wants me!" Mallie pressed her advantage. "They wouldn't invite someone who couldn't handle themselves."

  Katherin's face reddened. She turned to her husband with pleading eyes. "Moskin, tell her no. She's just a child."

  I observed Moskin's weathered face as he considered his daughter. The quiet farmer hadn't seen her fight at Qordos, hadn't witnessed her determination and skill. Yet, he knew his daughter.

  "You can join the patrols," he said.

  "Moskin!" Katherin's voice cracked.

  "Yes!" Mallie bounced on her toes, then sprinted towards their house. "I'll get my bow!"

  Katherin's gaze found me, filled with such venom that had I possessed normal flesh, it might have ignited. In her eyes, I saw the blame, for her daughter's transformation from child to warrior, for the loss of the innocent girl Mallie had been before her capture..

  I could not disagree with her assessment. The events at Qordos had changed Mallie. I had changed her, showing her both the darkness in the world and her own capacity for violence. Yet I also remembered her tears for Tommy, her compassion even toward a monster like myself. Her desire to protect.

  Perhaps that transformation wasn't entirely for the worse.

  Once the crowd scattered to their assigned duties, I approached Antos. My mechanical feet made soft clicking sounds against the packed dirt, causing him to tense slightly before turning to face me.

  I wish to help, I projected. I can. Create weapons. Traps. Defenses.

  The mayor's weathered face creased with discomfort. He ran a hand through his white beard, avoiding my eyeless gaze.

  "Look... No Eyes. Best thing you can do right now is keep your distance." He sighed heavily. "Ludwig may have calmed them down, but folks are scared. Seeing you around... it'll just make things worse."

  They still. Suspect me.

  "They're simple folk. When something terrible happens, they look for what's different. What's changed." He gestured at my mechanical form. "And you're about as different as it gets."

  I processed his words, noting how he spoke of "they" rather than including himself. Do you. Suspect me, Mayor?

  "Of course not!" The response came too quickly, too forcefully.

  I studied him, noting the subtle tells: the way his fingers twitched, how his eyes wouldn't quite meet my faceplate, the slight shift in his stance. Despite his denial, fear lurked beneath his jovial exterior. He saw me as others did: a monster, a killer, a thing to be feared.

  I turned my back on Weath, each mechanical step carrying me further from the village's fearful stares. My disgust grew with every click and whir of my joints; disgust at their quick judgment, at Antos's transparent lies, but mostly at myself for believing I could ever be anything but a monster in their eyes.

  Past the worn dirt road, beyond the neat rows of farmland, I entered the woods. The trees welcomed me with indifference, caring nothing for my mechanical form or eyeless face. I found a small clearing, a pocket of solitude within a copse of ancient oaks, and sat heavily on the ground.

  If they wanted me gone, so be it. I'd give them exactly what they desired: a monster safely out of sight. The evidence was clear, trying to live among humans had been foolish. They would never see past what I was, never look beyond my mechanical shell to whatever soul might dwell within. I had two choices: somehow recover my lost humanity, or accept eternal isolation as my fate.

  My thoughts threatened to spiral into darkness, into places I didn't want to explore. I reached into my Depository, pulling out pounds of scavenged metal and materials. I didn't have a plan, didn't need one. The simple act of creation would be enough.

  My Assembly ability hummed to life as I began fitting pieces together. Gears interlocked, metal bent and folded together, shapes taking form beneath my mechanical fingers. I couldn't shed tears in this constructed body, but I could build. Each component I assembled pushed back against the memory of villagers' hatred, every connection I forged drowned out the echo of Antos's false assurances.

  The work absorbed me completely. In the manipulation of metal and machinery, I found something like peace; or at least a temporary escape from the pain of rejection. Here, alone in the woods, I could pretend that what I created mattered more than what I was.