Every morning, an old woman would buy bread at the bakery.

She would cover her eyes with an old bandage before she left her house. She would walk blindly but with confidence. The road to the village and back to her dwelling was already too familiar for her. The old woman also wore an old cloak. And yet, she could still feel the ray of sunshine on her skin.

Sometimes, people would be kind to guide her especially those who knew her routine. But at that moment, she noticed fewer people were out despite the time of the day. The market should have been buzzing with several voices by now. But there were less noise and what was dominant was the tension in the air. Even the baker who put the ordered package in her hands was anxious as other customers whispered. It was uncommon for the villagers to gossip about her. Either they discovered something intriguing or terrifying. She could only hope it was not the latter.

“Is it true that you are the oldest person who lives in our village?”

The old woman smiled. She would have looked at the boy who approached her if her eyes were not closed and covered.

“Why do you ask, little one?”

“Well… you look older than my grandmother. And my grandma used to say she knows better than me because she is older,” the boy answered as if giving it some thought. “She has thinning white hair, too. But she already died last month.”

“And?”

“And some say you might know about the past more than anyone unless your mind fails you. Does your mind fail you?”

She laughed softly. “No. My mind is still sharp as ever.”

“Were you blind since you were born?”

“No, I wasn’t blind when I was born.”

“Oh, good. Then, is it true that immortals used to live here among us? Have you ever seen one before? And did they leave?”

Her amusement was gone. She understood why the boy approached her. They wanted to know the past that they knew she was part of. For they guessed she was a hundred-year-old woman and indeed she was. But memories are a tricky thing. Even those who reminisce what has been part of history are not reliable. History has its secrets and biases.

It was common knowledge that during the earlier time, humans and immortals inhabited the world. However, it has been decades since she last saw an immortal. Until there came a time it was inevitable to think that immortals were becoming scarce. These days, humans only knew of the gods and goddesses as a source of tragedy or miracles. Monsters still lurk in the forests. Curses and spells are still common. Demigods and demigoddesses still live among humans. But the gods and goddesses were rarely seen.

“They are simply vanishing,” she replied honestly to the boy.

The boy scratched the side of his head and looked away.

“I guess you may be the oldest here. But you're not the smartest—Aww!”

The boy flinched when his father smacked the back of his head.

“Is my son bothering you?” asked the barber. The barber seemed concerned with how the boy spoke to her. But she does not mind how the boy conversed.

“Oh, no. Not at all,” she answered. I agree with your son. Being the oldest does not mean being the smartest.

“Do you need us to walk you home?” the barber offered.

“Thank you. But my feet are still working fine.”

The boy gasped. “But… you’re blind! And alone,” said the boy.

She laughed again at his remark.

“That is why I have this,” she showed them the wooden stick she often carried with her. It made her appearance seem weak and in need of constant support. But no. She can still walk as fast as other people in their village if she wants to. She brings the stick for a different purpose.

The barber pinched the boy in his ear and apologized to her.

“Please do forgive my son. He was only worried about the ongoing war. Other villagers were also leaving. They fear we would get caught in a crossfire.”

The old woman did not respond.

“We need to sacrifice to the gods so they can give us a miracle!” the boy insists.

“But what sacrifice would satisfy them?” she asked.

“How am I supposed to know? I am only a child. That was why I asked—Aww! Father! That really hurts!”

She guessed the father of the child pinches the boy harder this time.

In their small village, life seemed dull and unchanging. Despite knowing the ongoing conflict between kingdoms, the war seemed far away or like a myth people only heard from random folks.

But now it was causing terror.

Four kingdoms arise as humans procreate faster than the immortals. But even if they outnumbered the deities, monsters, and shapeshifters, the humans remained the weakest clan. The problem lies when humans wanted to prove to themselves they could do more.

When a war ignited between two kingdoms, the other two kingdoms both had a different reaction to it. One prepared to defend, while the other chose to hide and not be involved with the conflict.

It was not due to a lack of compassion that they remained in the village. Only they did not know how to stop the pain and suffering of others. Especially when they also struggle with how to deal with their fears and doubts.

Despite any news they heard, some villagers tried to do their business as usual. Barters and inventions are common in the Scien Village. It is the perfect place for artists and inventors. The villagers create anything that can help with daily life. It was through their inventions and ideas that they can sustain their resources. Most villagers are more fascinated with inks and paints than tears and blood. And because of their good nature, the old woman knew they were all helpless once they were attacked.