By the time they reached the village, the sun was nearly gone, and the sky had turned the color of rusted bronze.
The place looked like it had been built in a hurry and rebuilt even faster. Half the homes were patched with mismatched stones, driftwood, and sun-bleached cloth. The other half leaned at awkward angles, as if they were tired of standing upright. Smoke drifted from a few fire pits. The smell of dried fish, old clay, and spiced ash clung to the wind.
A cracked wooden sign at the village edge read:
KAAR'S REST.
Idyll squinted at it. "Who's Kaar?"
"Some dead warlord, probably," Thessa muttered.
Idyll frowned. "That's a weird thing to name your home after."
"It's also weird to name your sword, but mortals do that too."
A few villagers spotted them from across the square. They froze, staring. One woman grabbed her child and pulled him inside. A man sharpening a rusted blade paused mid-stroke.
"I think they know we're not from around here," Idyll said.
Thessa kept walking. "It's the robes. Divine fabric always gives us away. That and the fact that you're barefoot and look like you could bench press a house."
They reached the center of the village—a broken statue stood there, worn down to a pair of legs and a sword hilt. Offerings of bone tokens and herbs were piled around the base.
"Another dead god?" Idyll asked, nodding at it.
Thessa bent to look at one of the tokens. "No. This is older. This was a godling—a local one. Maybe a harvest guardian or river-spirit. Forgotten, probably. But still respected."
Idyll tilted his head. "So gods still matter here?"
"To some."
She straightened just as a new voice cut through the stillness.
"You two from the north?"
A tall, sunburned man stepped out from under a canvas awning. He had one eye, a dozen scars, and a wooden cudgel tucked into his belt. His tunic was patched in three places and stained with what looked like blood.
"Depends which way's north," Thessa said calmly.
"You're standing in the square without offering a token," he replied. "That's either rude, or dangerous, depending on your reasons."
"We're travelers," Thessa said. "We won't stay long. Just passing through."
The man eyed Idyll. "That one doesn't look like he passes through anywhere."
Idyll lifted a hand. "Hi."
The man didn't smile.
"Is there an inn?" Thessa asked. "Food? Water? Roof?"
The man hesitated, then jerked his head toward a low, crooked building with faded red paint along the doorframe.
"Resthouse's got room. Don't ask for stew. Roof leaks when it rains. You break anything, you fix it."
"Fair trade," Thessa said. She reached into her satchel and pulled a thin silver thread—barely a hair's width—and dropped it into the offering pile at the statue's base.
The man watched her closely.
Thessa turned back to Idyll and spoke low. "One thread of divine script is worth three days of goodwill. But if anything attacks us while we sleep, you're doing the punching."
Idyll smiled. "Finally."
Inside the resthouse, the air was thick with smoke and damp wool. A few travelers sat at uneven tables, heads low. The fire pit in the center crackled quietly, fed with blackwood that gave off little flame but a lot of heat.
They found a corner table, and Thessa began quietly sketching what she'd seen so far. Idyll leaned back, watching everything.
He looked different here.
Back in the realm of the gods, he was strange. A curiosity. Down here, he looked like someone to watch closely. Maybe someone to fear.
"I like this place," he whispered. "Feels honest."
Thessa didn't look up. "It's honest because it doesn't expect anything from you."
"I don't think anyone expects anything from me."
She paused. "That's not true. You do."
They sat in silence for a while.
Then a voice nearby said, "Heard a god walked into the north marsh last week. Never came out."
Another voice replied, "Good. Let them stay where they belong."
Idyll frowned. "They don't like gods here."
"Not many do anymore," Thessa said. "The gods stopped coming when the world got messy. People remember that."
Idyll looked down at his hands.
He wasn't a god.
But he'd come from their world.
And he was beginning to wonder if that was going to matter more than he thought.