Becca faced the consequences of her decisions alone, the weight of leadership pressing heavily on her shoulders.

  Outside the Presence Room, a small crowd had gathered, their frustration boiling over into loud protests. More than ten people shouted questions and accusations, demanding answers.

  Philly and Cj stood firm, trying to hold them back, "Give her space to think!" Cj barked, but the crowd wasn't having it.

  "Where is the other leader?" a newly arrived woman yelled, her voice cutting through the chaos.

  "Are we even safe here?" asked a man who had only been in Neverport for two days.

  "Are you going to let that royal asswipe walk all over us?" snapped a man who had lived in the village for three years, his voice filled with betrayal.

  Becca sat inside, her head in her hands, the muffled shouting seeping through the walls. The noise and pressure felt unbearable.

  Finally, she snapped, "LET THEM IN!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the room.

  The doors swung open, and the crowd charged in, their voices overlapping as complaint after complaint flew at her. Each time Becca managed to answer one question, another came hurtling toward her.

  Their emotions—anger, fear, and desperation—were massive, and Becca felt each one like a dagger to her chest.

  One by one, most of the villagers stormed out, frustrated and unsatisfied with her responses.

  Six families announced they were leaving Neverport entirely, claiming Becca didn't care about their safety or well-being.

  As night fell, the room grew quiet again, but Becca remained inside, refusing to leave.

  Philly and Cj checked on her several times, urging her to go home and rest.

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  Each time, she brushed them off with a tired smile and the same lie: "Don't worry, I will." But she never moved.

  Sitting alone in the dim light, her thoughts drifted to a memory she hadn't visited in years.

  ---

  (Flashback: six Years Ago)

  Becca sat on a worn chair, watching her husband, Johnathan, as he prepared his armor.

  Today, he would leave to fight on the frontlines against the Midblade Kingdom.

  His sword and shield leaned against the doorframe, the old human English engravings catching the morning light.

  Emily, their daughter, slept soundly on Becca's lap.

  "How long will you be gone?" Becca asked, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to stay strong.

  Johnathan tightened the straps on his armor and turned to her, "No clue," he admitted, "but with Midblade losing support every day, we might be done by December."

  Becca carefully laid Emily down on the chair and approached him, her worry written across her face, "Please come back. Neverport needs a strong leader, especially now."

  Johnathan's expression softened as he pulled her into a tight hug, "You'll need to look after everyone while I'm gone," he said gently, "I don't know if I'll be back."

  Becca stiffened, pushing him away slightly, unable to meet his eyes, "Don't say that. I'm just—"

  Before she could finish, Johnathan placed his hands on her shoulders, grounding her. "I believe in you, Becca. Not just me, but everyone does. You're more capable than you realize. You won't be alone. The village will help you, but you need to be willing to help them, too."

  He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. "You've got this, love," he whispered before kissing her softly.

  ---

  (Flashback Ends)

  Becca's eyes fluttered open, drawn back to the present by a familiar warmth. Emily was curled up on top of her, fast asleep.

  She glanced around, realizing she was back home. Philly and Cj must have carried her here, she thought.

  Her gaze landed on the dining table, where a simple dinner sat waiting for her.

  Beside it was a crumpled piece of paper—a childish but endearing drawing of herself and Emily, stick figures holding hands under a bright sun.

  Becca's chest tightened as she looked at Emily's face. Tear streaks stained her daughter's cheeks.

  Was she crying because I wasn't home? Becca wondered. Did something happen? Was she scared?

  The flashback replayed in her mind as she brushed a strand of hair from Emily's face.

  "I'm not like Johnathan or Axel," she murmured softly. "I don't have the strength to lead. I'm no warrior or savior—just someone trying to hold things together but failing at every turn."

  She wrapped her arms around Emily, pulling her close. "But no matter how many times I fail, I won't let anything bad happen to you. Or to anyone I care about."

  Her eyes fell on the ring on her finger, the symbol of the druid alliance, and she clenched her fist tightly.

  "I will keep you all safe," she whispered, a newfound determination sparking in her chest.