That night, Quntuam didn't sleep.
Not even a blink.
He sat by his small window, staring out at the silent village. Everyone was asleep. The lanterns dimmed. Chimneys no longer breathed smoke. But inside his chest, a storm was brewing.
Lune's warning played over and over in his mind.
"They will come for you."
He looked down at the stone she gave him. It was warm now. Not hot. Just steady—like a heartbeat.
He slipped it into the pouch with the book, heart pounding. If what she said was true, staying here was asking for death.
But leaving… meant leaving everything.
His home. His dreams. Even the people who, while distant, still nodded to him in the morning. Marda, the old man who raised him. The baker who slipped him warm bread sometimes.
Could he just vanish?
As he thought, a soft knock hit his door.
Quntuam froze.
Another knock. Two taps. Slow. Measured.
Not normal.
He grabbed a stick from beside his bed. Not much, but better than empty hands.
He crept toward the door.
"Quntuam," a voice whispered through the wood.
Marda.
He opened the door just a crack.
"Old man?"
Marda stood there, eyes wide, hair messy like he ran here.
"Get inside," Quntuam whispered.
Marda stepped in, closing the door behind him quick.
"They know," he said, voice low. "Someone told the guards."
Quntuam's blood went cold.
"About what?"
Marda looked him dead in the eye.
"You. The fire. The book. They're saying an Alchemist lives in the village."
Quntuam couldn't speak.
Marda stepped closer, grabbed both his shoulders.
"I don't know how true it is. I didn't tell them. But you have to leave. Now."
"But where would I even—"
"There's a path," Marda said. "Through the old well behind the shed. Leads into the forest. You take it, you keep going until you find the Silent Woods."
"The Silent Woods?" Quntuam asked.
Marda nodded. "Old land. Forgotten by most. But it's where secrets hide… and where no one dares follow."
Quntuam felt like the floor was slipping beneath his feet. He wasn't ready. Not yet. But the world wasn't waiting.
"I'll pack my things," he said.
Marda held up a small bag. "Already did."
Quntuam smiled. Just a little.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Just stay alive."
They hugged—quick, tight, rough like real love.
Then Marda slipped out the door and vanished into the dark, leaving Quntuam with nothing but the book, the stone… and the path ahead.
He looked out at the sky.
No stars tonight.
But he didn't need them anymore.
He had his own light now.
And it was time to let it burn.