A shepherd, huh? I honestly never saw one in my life. In the Capital, sheep didn’t graze in open fields. Rather, they were grown in labs, processed in factories, measured by numbers, not by breaths. Even when I traveled to the other three cities on reconnaissance, I never saw shepherds. There was no need. Machines did the work.

  And yet, here I was, staring at them. Dozens of woolly bodies shifting together like a tide of white and gray, their bells chiming softly in the warm breeze.

  Steve’s smirk cut into my thoughts. “Did the sheep steal your heart or something? Why are you looking at them so intensely?”

  This sonova… I looked at him with a sigh. He was back to his old shenanigans.

  “Hey, Steve.” I paused, embarrassed. “So uh… how do shepherds actually do their work?” The ignorance in my voice made me wince.

  “Boy oh boy.” Steve smirked wider. “You seem oddly in a rush.”

  He turned his gaze to the man by the tree and.... wait, what? He was asleep? Just a moment ago he was awake.

  “Shep, get a hundred sheep ready by tomorrow morning. The sun’s setting. Head back with the flock,” Steve said casually, as if the man could hear him through his snoring. Then he signaled for me to follow.

  I guessed we were calling it a day. Probably for the best. My head is still throbbing thanks to this piece of junk.

  “So, Taseen,” Steve’s voice flattened, stripped of emotion. “How was the village? I know you didn’t visit every home, but you saw what mattered.”

  I thought for a moment. “I’ve never seen a village like this. It feels… prehistoric. The villages near the cities are advanced, full of tech.”

  Steve gave a long sigh, almost nostalgic. “Those aren’t villages, really. Once upon a time, they would have been called towns.”

  Steve looked… sad. Like something inside him was locked away, and he couldn’t break free from it. Maybe that’s why he helped me. Because our goals, deep down, were the same.

  “Can you tell me about that time?” I asked, curiosity slipping through before I could stop myself. What could have made Steve carry that kind of weight?

  “You’ll know,” he said quietly. “And when you do, you’ll look like this too.” His gaze sharpened suddenly, cutting through the dim. “You think I look sad and lonely. I can tell because of the way you’re staring at me. I can read faces, Taseen. With unmatched accuracy.”

  A chill ran down my spine. Woah, creepy. But the way he said it, I believed him.

  Darkness swallowed the path as we walked, the last trace of sunlight dying behind the trees. The village was pitch black now. There is no streetlights, nothing. Just darkness and a semi-blinded vision.

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  I fumbled for my phone, thumb hovering over the flashlight. But Steve clicked his own torch on before I could. Its pale beam cut the dark in sharp strokes.

  “Hey, Steve,” I said, falling into step beside him. “What’s up with this village being hidden? Why does nobody know it even exists?”

  “Who’s your teacher, Taseen?” Steve asked calmly, his eyes never leaving the path ahead.

  “Oh, that elder person!” I blurted out, then quickly added, “By the way, where is he? He just… left, didn’t he?” knowing that he won't teach me from now on.

  Steve didn’t answer. We took a right turn. Ten meters ahead, my so-called Safe Haven stood waiting.

  But something was off.

  The path opened suddenly into a wide hall-like clearing, ringed with houses. Structures I swore weren’t here when we left. My chest tightened. Had I missed them? Or had the village changed while we were gone? Or maybe the sedative's effect were still active?

  As we drew closer, passing the front of my house which stood at the right, a voice drifted from one of the houses across the clearing. Low. Measured. Almost mournful.

  “Unfortunate. Really unfortunate.”

  The words bled into the air like a curse.

  Steve hurried ahead, boots crunching against the dirt. He didn’t even glance at the houses to the right or left, he made straight for the one facing us at the far end of the yard. His pace sharpened, almost a run. I trailed after him, curiosity burning in my chest.

  “What’s going on?” I asked as I followed him inside.

  Steve didn’t answer. His face had shifted. No smirk, no grin. Just unease.

  Inside, the room was dim, lit only by a single hanging lantern that swayed faintly as if stirred by our entrance. Two figures sat within.

  The elder, calm but weathered, leaned against his bed. His gaze found Steve immediately, steady but troubled.

  Beside him sat another figure. A hooded man. Something about him tugged at my memory, scratching at the edges of recognition. Familiar. Too familiar. But my mind wouldn’t piece it together, as if mocking me with a puzzle I couldn’t yet solve.

  The elder spoke, voice low, measured, but his words cut sharp.

  “They caught onto a fortress.”

  Steve and the elder locked eyes, eyes with heavy meaning. Silence is stretching like a rope pulled taut. Then, after a moment of thought, Steve spoke.

  “Jashore?”

  The elder gave a single, deliberate nod. “Jashore.”

  Something in Steve’s shoulders loosened. His face shifted. Not to joy, not quite, but to relief, as though a burden he’d been bracing for had finally landed. He exhaled, a long breath he’d been holding.

  “Expectedly done,” he muttered, half to himself. “We have a new window now.”

  Without waiting for further explanation, Steve turned toward the door. “I’ll go. You take care of this.” He pointed his chin in my direction, a casual gesture loaded with responsibility.

  And then he was already leaving.

  Wait… Jashore? The name hammered in my skull. Jashore wasn’t some backwater or village. It was the second largest city in the world. A steel-and-glass behemoth, a fortress in itself. Their stronghold was compromised there… and Steve looked relieved?

  Relieved?

  My stomach twisted. What in the world had I been dragged into?