Azyen Vayne
People come and go, each on their own path, following the quiet currents of fate. I do the same, wandering alone when I must. But even so, I do not bear the emptiness of solitude.
Being lost, letting the absence of purpose and direction to gnaw from within, hollowing me out with visions of a world void of warmth, where people exist yet humanity is lost—a society of empty shells?
I refuse to accept this fate. I refuse to let it become my reality.
Loneliness is like poison for the human heart, a hollowing void that eats away from within. But I know that one can never be truly alone. Not when they are everywhere.
When I first crossed into this world, I came as a gift, woven from my mother’s fervent prayers—a shard of celestial hope in a land overshadowed by darkness. My bloodline is marked by an angel's grace, a rare and powerful inheritance.
Many spirits who find form here arise not from light but from the depths of a darker ether. Raw, untamed beings roam these lands, trapped in flesh, here to evolve, to seek what lies beyond their instinctual callings.
Yet, even in the murk, there must be sown seeds of light; without them, this shadowed world would collapse under the weight of its own darkness. Pure souls are sent as such seeds—warriors of light concealed in mortal flesh, each bearing a quiet mission that only the stars and hidden chambers of their hearts understand. These envoys of higher realms walk unnoticed among mortals, carrying hidden purposes and desires.
This, I have come to believe.
Ordinary eyes cannot distinguish an angel’s wings from a demon’s talons. But I can. From the day I first saw this truth, my training began, a rigorous study of the spirits hiding behind human façades. The world opened before me, its harsh reality clear: no one is ever truly alone, though few perceive it.
As a child, I was innocence itself, untouched by the darkness that shadows the hearts of others. I knew neither malice nor hatred, and my world was bound by warmth—a mother’s love, a younger brother’s laughter, a hearth that chased away the cold.
Yet, before my fifteenth year, everything I held dear slipped through my fingers. Every vow I once made to this world, every promise imprinted on my spirit before my arrival, I broke them all. I lost it all.
** “What? Another child gone missing?” Girath’s voice was a low rumble, marked by the years and the weight of his worry.
"I’ve warned you since last year. The village needs stronger defenses." Marvin, his longtime friend, replied, his voice straining under frustration.
"You warned me," Girath scowled. “And just who am I supposed to tell this to? Do I look like a man with influence around here?”
"You’re the strongest mancer this village has ever seen, Girath." Marvin’s words were firm but edged with hesitation. "The chief may be stubborn, but he can’t ignore you forever."
“The chief?” Girath scoffed, a bitter smile tugging at his mouth. “The man’s as deaf as he is senile. Do you think I haven’t tried? Half these white hairs of mine are from dealing with him. Every year, another child vanishes, and every year, he finds a new excuse. It’s as if his one purpose is to stall, to weave tales that pacify the villagers just enough.”
“Is it truly so bad?” Marvin asked, his gaze softening. He visited infrequently, bringing medicine for the boy under Girath’s care, but he had never grasped the depth of the situation here.
Girath’s expression hardened as he drained his cup in silence.
Marvin sighed. “It’s a tragedy for the families. But if neither the chief nor the people are willing to defend their own, then there’s only so much we can do. Maybe it’s time for you to leave, Girath. You could move closer to the city, be with your son. I could visit more often. You deserve to find a companion in your twilight years, not live in solitude hidden from the world.”
“Women, women, women…” Girath waved a dismissive hand. “Is that all you can think of, Marvin? What’s wrong with a little quiet? I’ve enough thoughts to keep me company.”
Marvin chuckled, though his eyes held a glint of sympathy. “As you say, old friend. As you say.”
Girath’s smirk faded, and his gaze drifted. When he thought of companionship, a single image lingered—a picture, preserved with care on his nightstand, of a woman lost to him now, her memory etched in gentle lines and laughter.
“How is the boy?” Marvin’s voice broke through Girath’s reverie, his tone lighter but curious. “I swear, you must be hiding some miraculous herb. His recovery has been… remarkable.”
“Herbs? You jest.” Girath shook his head. “You know I’m no healer. Whatever strength that kid has comes from within. He’s no ordinary child. Why, just the other day we sparred, and I nearly paid the price. If I hadn’t taken him seriously, he would’ve sliced my throat without a blink.”
Marvin’s brow furrowed, a hint of concern shadowing his eyes. "What exactly are you training him for?"
Girath sighed, his voice rough with the weight of his answer. "The same thing I trained myself for: survival. This world isn’t kind to those who are too gentle."
They lapsed into silence, each lost in their own thoughts, each carrying the weight of lives they had touched, protected, or lost. **
I watched as Girath and Marvin rose from their seats and drifted silently from the corner of the room. Passing through the walls, I slipped back into my body that lay resting on the cot.
Their voices, low and muffled, grew closer outside my room. Then Girath knocked, his tone softer than usual. “Azy, Marvin’s here to see you. May we come in?”
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I stirred, opened my eyes, and managed a quick reply. “Please, come in.” I got up and pulled the door wide open.
Marvin shuffled into the small, cluttered room, nudging books aside to clear a seat, while Girath settled on the bed beside me. His old eyes held a faint gleam—a warmth that seemed to hint at pride.
My room was a familiar disarray, but I hadn’t the heart to tidy it up. The learning materials were brought down from the attic by Girath, and I couldn't bear to put them back up there. It would be cruel to banish the books that had brightened my days of sickness. So, they stayed here, scattered and beloved.
Marvin leaned in, his gaze keen and kind. “How are you feeling, young man? Are my medicines still working their wonders?”
I nodded, smiling, a gentle but knowing expression crossing my face. “Quite well, Mr. Marvin. I feel stronger every day.”
He raised a skeptical eyebrow, likely catching the hint of mischief in my eyes. “I suppose there’s more than just herbs at play here, isn’t there?”
Girath chuckled, crossing his arms. “Oh, this one’s much more than he seems, Marvin. You could pour the entire apothecary into him, and it still wouldn’t account for the changes we’ve seen.”
Marvin’s eyes sparked with a wry glint. “Ah, my medicine is responsible for your recovery, you say? Tell me, then—can my humble Lavia Root powder regrow teeth as well? Or can the simple Eucola Oil bandages with a touch of Farius Mushroom somehow knit bones together as if they’d never been broken?”
He shook his head, sarcasm coating his words. “What truly surprises me though, is which of my incredible remedies healed your internal injuries to such a degree that you can now spar with a 3rd Sky mancer like Girath? By all means, enlighten me, because I seem to have forgotten the miraculous properties of my own medicines.”
I had known this day would come—the day when they would finally seek an explanation. But even if I told them the truth, would they believe it?
Keeping my voice humble, I bowed my head. “I never claimed your medicines alone healed me, Mr. Marvin. But they did help ease my pain and hastened my recovery. Without them, I doubt I’d feel as strong as I do now.” I rose from the bed, cupping my hands and bowing deeply. “I am forever grateful for your kindness and generosity.”
Without the two of you, I would still be trapped in the cold prison that had become my heart.
Marvin’s gaze softened as he looked down at me, then flicked up toward Girath. A faint glimmer of pride passed between them. He was acknowledging the manners Girath had instilled in me.
Don't be so arrogant, I had good manners before meeting him.
With a nod of approval, Marvin’s voice softened. “Lift your head, Azy.”
Waiting for this cue, I rose, meeting his gaze with a calm face. Though I was grateful to Marvin, my full respect could only be paid to my master alone.
Girath broke the silence, his voice steady, but there was a hesitation that I could not ignore. “Listen, kid. As much as it pains me, I’ve spoken with Marvin, and I think…” His voice trailed off before he continued, a subtle weight pressing on his words. “I think it’s time for you to go with him.”
Go with him?
Marvin cleared his throat, but Girath pressed on.
“I’m not casting you aside, Azy. I want you to know that.” He looked at me with a mixture of love and sorrow that I hadn’t seen before. “But I can’t bear to watch you waste your potential here, hidden away with me in this village. You’re too gifted, and you’ve fought too hard to reclaim your health. You deserve more than just these quiet days with an old man.”
His eyes met mine, the emotions in them raw and genuine. “You have too much within you to be kept here.”
Why are you like this now?
Hearing, seeing Girath act like this was more than I could bear. Without thinking, I knelt before him to show the depth of my appreciation. That was what I felt doing. My heart was full of gratitude, yet my gaze remained fixed on the floor.
I couldn't look him in the eye, I was too ashamed to do that.
“Master,” I said, my voice shaking with emotion. “I would never doubt that you want only the best for me. For what you've done, even if I were to chose to stay here, to spend my life quietly by your side, I’d have no regrets. It would be an honor—to remain and repay the debt I owe you.” My voice cracked, and I bowed lower, nearly to the ground. “But… I’ve chosen a different path. For that, I beg your forgiveness, Master.”
My forehead touched the cold floor as the first tears escaped. Girath had brought me back from the edge of despair, lifted me from shadows and shown me light again. In the frozen void of my heart, he had planted a spark, a seed of light that he also nourished. He pulled me out from darkness when it threatened to consume what little I had left.
For that, I dared not lift my head.
“What are you doing, boy?” Girath’s voice quavered as he bent down, pulling me clumsily yet firmly into his embrace. “You’re as close to me as a son could be. There’s no need for a son to bow to his father.”
To someone who had grown up without a father, his words felt like heaven itself.
“But a son who owes everything to his father can only humble himself in gratitude.” I looked up at Girath, my voice softened with determination. “For me, bowing to you isn’t a shameful act but an honor. I’m alive because of you, and I’ll always cherish the second chance you’ve given me.”
Marvin coughed, gently breaking the solemn moment. “Girath, there’s something you should know,” he said, a sly smile creeping onto his face as he pulled a small green plate from his robe and pressed it into my hands. “I kept my promise, Azy.”
Girath’s brows knitted in confusion. “What is this about, Marvin?”
Marvin clapped a hand on Girath’s shoulder, chuckling. “It means, old friend, I’ve registered Azyen here as your son. Unlike your eldest, Azyen will follow in your footsteps—he’s bound for the Mercenary Hall.”
Girath’s expression shifted between shock and sadness, eyes flickering between Marvin and me.
I straightened, sensing his silent questions. “Master, I’ve made my decision. I plan to join the Mercenary Hall, just like the other village youths. I want to become a Contractor, to hone my skills, grow in strength, and walk on my own path.”
Girath’s face darkened slightly, considering my words. “The life of a mercenary is no easy path, Azy. You’ll face dangers beyond measure, and the work leaves little room for stability or family. You may find yourself bound by contracts, with no freedom to settle down. And one bad injury… it could end everything.”
I knew the risks, but I needed money, connections, and the strength to forge my own future. And no path could shape me quite like this one. At least none that I was aware of.
“Being a mercenary gives me the freedom to see the world, to gain knowledge and strength. Risking my life will push me to grow stronger, and only after I become a Contractor will I consider building a life beyond that. With the wealth and allies I’ll gain, I could even start my own business someday.”
Girath studied me in silence, thoughtful. “But you have a gift for medicine, Azy. If you stayed and learned from Marvin, you could become a healer, or a herbalist. It’s safer. It’s secure. You’d still have wealth and status, and a family one day—all that and more.”
That would be true—if I only saw the safe side of the coin.
“Even the greatest healer can be vulnerable, Master. A mancer’s wrath is merciless, and if someone of high status takes a dislike to me, what would I do then? A healer cannot intimidate the powerful; he must rely on others to protect him.”
Girath sighed, resigned as he sensed the firmness of my resolve. “If this is truly your choice, then I’ll prepare you as best I can. You’ll have my training for this next year, and Marvin will bring you new materials if possible.”
Marvin chuckled knowingly. “Oh, Girath, I don’t think he plans to stay that long.” He gestured toward the bag resting by the door—my belongings were already packed.
Girath blinked, clearly taken aback. “But… you weren’t registered to leave this year. The wagon is already full.”
I smiled. “Don’t worry, Master. The chief’s grandson won’t be leaving the village this year.”
Marvin raised an eyebrow. “I saw him training with the others when I arrived. He seemed in perfect health.”
I glanced at the clock. “Well, in about half an hour, he might find himself in need of medical attention.”
** In that moment, Girath realized the extent of Azyen’s resolve—unyielding, strategic, and fiercely independent. The boy had indeed transformed, and as Girath looked into Azyen’s eyes, he saw not just a kid but a man capable of standing against the darkness on his own terms. The old master’s heart swelled with pride, laced with the bittersweet realization that he will remain alone sooner then anticipated. **