Armesto was seated at a colossal table in his courtyard, savoring an infusion of aromatic herbs while contemplating the cosmic spectacle unfolding on the horizon.
Prismatic waves of light serpentined across the sky, performing a majestic dance that rivaled the most elegant courtly ballets. The stars seemed to come alive in the firmament, serving as a backdrop for the imposing spaceship descending from the atmosphere towards distant realms. The largest of them all, a floating fortress of metal and light, was heading directly towards his city.
“How efficient they’ve been in bringing goods from other worlds,” Armesto reflected. “I hope to find some items of exceptional quality for Yakrare and Narek. Perhaps I might also secure something special for Tawnylon and his family,” he mused in his thoughts.
His meditation was interrupted by the contrasting sounds of two types of footsteps approaching: one heavy and resounding, like the echo of a war drum, and the other light, reminiscent of the gentle patter of rain on crystal leaves.
“Hello, Armesto. What are you doing here all by yourself?” asked a feminine voice as it drew near.
Turning around, Armesto recognized Aolani and Thamuz. His gaze settled on the latter, noticing significant changes: not only had he gained in height, but he was now wearing a sling that supported one of his muscular arms.
“I'm glad to see Thamuz is recovering so quickly,” Armesto commented, his eyes lingering on the young warrior.
Aolani took a seat next to Armesto, while Thamuz, due to his imposing build and height, chose to settle on the ground. Even so, his head was level with the other two.
“Tell me, Thamuz, are you aware that you emerged victorious in your third shamonak combat?” Armesto asked, taking a sip of his infusion.
“I don’t know. The final moments of the fight have vanished from my memory. It must have been an intense battle,” Thamuz replied, raising his gaze to the multicolored horizon.
Armesto exchanged a meaningful look with Aolani, who nodded slightly before fixing her eyes on Thamuz.
“Thamuz... have you heard about the fate of your opponent?” Armesto inquired, gently setting his cup aside.
“Bhaxmunt? I have no idea. As I mentioned, the outcome of the fight is a mystery to me,” Thamuz answered, turning his face towards Armesto.
“I’ll be direct with you, no beating around the bush: you killed your rival, Bhaxmunt exilias. And you did it in a... grotesque way.”
A deathly silence fell over the scene as Thamuz processed the information. Seconds stretched into eternal minutes until, finally, he raised his gaze, locking his eyes onto Armesto's with a disturbing intensity.
“How did I kill him?” he asked, his voice so cold it seemed to freeze the air around them.
Aolani shuddered at the iciness in her son's voice. Even Armesto, seasoned by years of experience, felt a chill run down his spine. Nervously, he reclaimed his cup and began swirling his pinky in the liquid, as if searching for the right words.
“During the fight, Bhaxmunt delivered a heart-shatter straight to your chest. Your body froze instantly. Your mother’s scream echoed through the stadium, and your father... your father looked like a beast ready to tear through the arena. But then, when Bhaxmunt let his guard down, it was as if you’d resurrected. You grabbed his head in your hands and...” Armesto paused, trying to soften what came next, “you compressed it until... it exploded. His remains scattered across the arena.”
“So that’s what happened,” Thamuz responded, maintaining that chilling tone that froze the blood.
“Son...” Aolani’s voice trembled, “you just took a life, the life of someone like you. Does that not affect you at all? Doesn’t it make you reflect?”
“In truth, he was also after my death. I didn’t know him; there was no bond between us. Besides, Mother, you yourself witnessed how he massacred and bled me out during the fight,” Thamuz replied, casting a piercing look at his mother.
Aolani was left paralyzed by her son’s response. She looked to Armesto, finding a slight smile on his face that she couldn’t interpret.
“I understand your point, but... that coldness of yours terrifies me. It’s... chilling,” Aolani whispered, shifting her gaze toward the multicolored horizon.
“He’s beginning to understand the nature of these lands,” Armesto interjected with laughter. “When someone threatens your life, the most sensible thing is to get ahead of their intentions.”
Aolani smacked him on the shoulder, indignant at his comment. Armesto laughed harder as he rubbed the spot where she’d struck him.
“Don’t listen to that nonsense, son. Even if there’s some truth to it, that doesn’t justify eliminating anyone who displeases you or shows you hostility,” Aolani explained, gently stroking Thamuz’s head.
“That would make me a killer,” he replied, gently brushing his mother’s hand.
“Precisely. Although...” Armesto placed his empty cup on the table. “There’s something about the way Bhaxmunt’s death happened that intrigues me deeply.”
“What do you mean?” Aolani asked, unsettled by the enigmatic tone in his words.
“You see,” Armesto began, leaning forward, “the heartshatter is a technique used only by the desperate as a last resort when they haven’t dedicated themselves to mastering it. Essentially, it’s a blow to the heart, but its execution...” he paused dramatically, “it’s as if an invisible spear pierces through you. The key is proximity: the fist must be practically fused with the opponent’s chest. It’s a technique with minimal reach but devastating power. Autopsies of its victims reveal hearts completely pulverized.”
“And what’s so intriguing about that?” Aolani questioned, crossing her arms with skepticism. “It sounds like a lethal shamonak technique, but nothing extraordinary to deserve so much attention.”
“It’s not the technique itself that unsettles me,” Armesto replied, mirroring her posture, “but rather what happened when Bhaxmunt used it on Thamuz.”
“Now that you mention it...” Thamuz interjected, turning his face towards Armesto. “I remember fragments of that moment. Bhaxmunt attacked me with lightning speed while I withstood his blows. His strange finger strikes were particularly painful. Then, I felt something sharp pierce my heart, and after that... only darkness.”
Armesto intertwined his fingers, studying Thamuz intently.
“The technique worked perfectly. You should be dead. Yet, not only did you survive, but you found the strength to counterattack brutally. Even when Bhaxmunt tried to pierce your abdomen with his hands, they shattered on contact, as if your body had transformed into living steel.”
“It must be a miracle from Azhamat,” Aolani interjected fervently. “The god granted Thamuz the strength to survive and prevail.”
“Perhaps...” Armesto murmured, raising his gaze to the heavens. “Or maybe it was something more powerful than Azhamat. It’s hard for me to believe that the god of life would grant so much destructive power to a mortal. If that were the case, it would mean that Azhamat has... changed.”
“Don’t you dare!” Aolani protested, her voice trembling with indignation. “Azhamat is unchanging. The god of life exists to ensure the well-being and fullness of his creation.”
A heavy silence settled between them as Armesto’s words hung in the air, laden with disturbing implications. It was Thamuz who finally broke the tension with a question that seemed to come from nowhere:
“How is my father?”
“Oh, Tawnylon...” Armesto let out a small laugh. “He's lying down, snoring like a beast. Better to leave him be—he’ll need plenty of time to recover.”
“After everything that happened, I’m not surprised he needs a long rest,” added Aolani with concern.
After several minutes of silent contemplation, Thamuz carefully stood up, distractedly brushing the dust that had accumulated on his legs.
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“Mr. Armesto, where’s Narek?” he asked, scratching his head with his left hand, the only one he could move freely.
Armesto pointed towards the cityscape, where the colossal spaceship was descending with majestic slowness over the city's edge.
“He went with Berkam to get a closer look at that,” he replied, lowering his hand.
“What is that immense thing?” Thamuz’s eyes shone with awe at the magnificence of the machine.
“It’s a spaceship,” Armesto explained. “Imagine a giant metal bird that transports people and goods between different planets.”
“Are there... other planets?” Thamuz’s voice betrayed his disbelief.
“You didn’t know?” Armesto raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised.
“No... I had no idea,” Thamuz replied, marveling at this revelation.
“Well...” Armesto cast an inquisitive look at Aolani. “What kind of education have you been giving him?”
“He’s only six years old,” Aolani defended herself, a slight trace of embarrassment in her voice. “With everything we've been through, we haven't been able to give him a proper education.”
“Understandable,” Armesto conceded, turning to Thamuz. “Why don’t you go to the city? You might find Narek and Berkam near where the spaceship lands.”
“To the city?” Aolani protested, holding protectively onto her son's good arm. “He has a broken arm and is barely recovering! It’s not wise.”
“Think carefully, Aolani,” Armesto replied firmly. “When will he get the chance to see a spaceship of this magnitude again? Besides, what will he do when he has to face life with more than just a broken arm? He’s six years old, yes, but he needs to build independence. Overprotection won’t do him any favors.”
Armesto's words struck Aolani with the weight of truth. After a moment of reflection, she looked directly into her son’s eyes, searching for the answer she feared to find.
“Do you really want to go back to the city?” Aolani asked softly.
“Yes,” Thamuz answered, barely containing his excitement. “The first time I went with Narek was amazing—the food, the fights, the music… everything. I’d love to experience that again.”
“Go get changed then,” said Armesto, rising with his cup in hand. “Yakrare has prepared appropriate clothes for you in your room. You can’t go wandering around half-dressed.”
“Thank you so much, Mr. Armesto,” Thamuz replied with sincere gratitude.
As Armesto headed to the kitchen, mother and son started up the stairs. Aolani guided Thamuz carefully, holding onto his uninjured arm to support him with each step.
When they reached the hallway on the second floor, a faint but unmistakable sound caught Thamuz’s attention: labored breathing. Following the sound, he approached one of the slightly open doors, and what he saw squeezed his heart.
Tawnylon lay in the bed, unrecognizable. His body, once strong and robust, had dwindled to a skeletal figure fighting for every breath. The sheets covering him quivered with each labored rise and fall of his chest, like leaves stirred by a feeble wind.
“Come, son,” Aolani whispered gently, holding his arm with soft reassurance. “I promise he will recover.”
They continued to Thamuz’s room, where a set of new clothes lay on the wide bed. With his good hand, Thamuz began examining each piece, appreciating every detail.
“They’re magnificent,” he murmured in admiration.
“Armesto chose them with you in mind, although…” Aolani gave him a critical once-over, “it seems you’ve grown more than we anticipated. They might be a bit snug.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Aolani watched proudly as her son dressed. The sturdy pants had an extended back, resembling traditional combat attire.
The rustic shirt, however, posed a greater challenge. Despite their combined efforts, Thamuz’s injured arm and his increased size caused an inevitable tear in the fabric as they tried to fit him into it.
The bracelets, impressive pieces of craftsmanship, adorned his forearms, though his right one required extra care and patience to put on.
At last, Thamuz turned to the mirror, examining his new appearance. The reflection revealed the image of a budding warrior, despite his tender age.
“You look magnificent, my son,” Aolani declared, her eyes bright with maternal pride.
“Thank you,mom” Thamuz replied, his genuine smile lighting up the room.
The scent of spices guided them downstairs, where sounds of activity came from the kitchen.
“I wonder what he’s cooking,” Aolani murmured curiously.
Entering the kitchen, they found Armesto intently focused on a colossal pot, stirring its contents with expert motions. He lifted a spoon to taste the brew, his expression critical.
“It needs a touch more sweetness,” he muttered to himself.
“What are you making, Armesto?” Aolani asked, stepping further inside.
“My special Tumek stew,” he replied, his eyes still on the pot. “I’ve used every part to maximize its healing properties.”
“Who is it for?” Thamuz inquired.
“For your father,” Armesto sprinkled aromatic herbs over the bubbling liquid. “You saw him upstairs, didn’t you? This stew has the power to restore his old vitality.”
“I hope so…” Aolani whispered, her voice tinged with worry.
“Don’t worry, his spirit will lift as soon as he smells it. Ah, Thamuz,” Armesto added, “you’ll find your payment on the table. Despite… the outcome of your match, the reward is greater than before.”
Mother and son returned to the main room, where a large bag of pamtan coins awaited on the table. Aolani’s eyes widened at the sight.
“By Azhamat! Look at the size of that bag!” she exclaimed, marveling.
“Armesto wasn’t exaggerating,” Thamuz confirmed.
With his good hand, he tried lifting the bag, but its weight forced him to set it back down. Opening it, he took out the coins: five radiant red pamtans and fifteen green ones, each gleaming under the light.
“I won’t be able to carry all this around the city,” Thamuz considered. “Could you store it in my room, Mom?”
“Of course,” she answered, stretching out her arms.
As she took the bag, her arms trembled slightly, but she held firm, gripping the small treasure with determination.
“Put it under my bed, with the other bags Armesto has given me,” Thamuz instructed.
“You haven’t spent any of it?” Aolani asked, surprised. “I thought you would have by now.”
“No“ Thamuz gently stroked his mother’s head. "I’m saving it for when we return home. I want to buy animals, build a farm, a bigger house… invest everything in our family.”
“My son…” Aolani’s eyes glistened with emotion. “Thank you.”
Thamuz leaned down to kiss his mother’s forehead in farewell. Aolani, standing on her toes, returned the gesture, barely reaching his forehead due to her son’s growing height.
With one last loving gesture, Thamuz said goodbye to his mother. His footsteps echoed heavily as he crossed the vast plains of Zarakel’s estate, until he reached that imposing ancestral stone gate, towering majestically, marking the boundary of the territory.
With difficulty, due to his dislocated arm throbbing with a dull ache, he repeated the ritual of turning the heavy wheel to open the gate. The smoothed stone groaned under his hands as he left the domains of Armesto, venturing into the outside world.
The solitude of the road greeted him like a silent blanket. The minutes dragged on with unbearable slowness as he waited for any carriage to appear and take him toward the city. Twenty minutes. Thirty. Fifty. A full hour passed without any means of transportation crossing that desolate landscape.
Then he heard it—the voice he had come to know so well.
"I see you’re a bit stranded on your way,” the demon’s voice slid into his mind like drops of water, familiar and disturbing at once.
This time, Thamuz didn’t feel the usual terror, only a deep irritation at having to deal with that supernatural presence.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you did in that room,” Thamuz said, his voice filled with resentment.
“It was my rightful claim,” the demon responded, sarcasm and cruelty lacing his tone. "You can’t break a contract unilaterally. Both parties must agree to dissolve it.”
“What do you want from me now? Have you come just to torment me while I wait?” Thamuz’s irritation was palpable in every word.
“Carriage? Here?” The demon let out a harsh laugh. “You’re a complete fool. I saw through your eyes as that spaceship descended from the sky, landing on the city outskirts as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Do you really expect there to be carriages available? Every inhabitant will be gathered there, marveling at such a sight.”
“What could you possibly know about this? You seem to be here just to annoy me,” Thamuz ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
"I know more than your mortal mind can comprehend," the demon's voice took on an ancestral tone. "I existed before this planet, before this galaxy, before this universe itself. My knowledge surpasses by eons that of someone who has barely lived six years."
"Now you're just boasting," Thamuz replied with disdain. "What use is all that antiquity if you ended up trapped in my body?"
The demon tried to respond, but something interrupted it. Its form materialized before Thamuz: a cadaverous head crowned with twisted horns and skeletal hands that seemed capable of tearing the very air.
"That's a valid argument, I won't deny it," conceded the demon, its eyes burning like embers. "But enough of this dispute. Do you want help getting to the city? Now that I can perceive the outside world, I'm intrigued to see that place with my own eyes."
Thamuz watched in awe the demon's manifestation, nervously scanning the surroundings, but only the silence of the wasteland accompanied them.
"What do you propose?" he asked, his curiosity momentarily overcoming his distrust.
"As I've explained before, I can control every aspect of your body, even its limits... and surpass them," the demon explained. "Do you need to get to the city as soon as possible, right?"
"As soon as possible," Thamuz confirmed.
"Good. Adopt the running position, but don't move until I tell you to," the demon ordered, vanishing into the air like black smoke.
Although the distrust was still present, Thamuz decided to take the risk. He positioned himself, feeling the earth beneath his feet.
"And now what?" he inquired, tense.
"Just... close your eyes," the demon whispered.
Thamuz reluctantly obeyed. Immediately, he felt his body beginning to transform: his heart pounded against his ribs, his muscles tensed like steel cables, his lungs worked like engines, and a metallic taste flooded his mouth.
"Now... run. Run as if it were the first and last time in your life."
Opening his eyes, Thamuz launched himself forward with superhuman strength. His figure vanished into the air like a mirage, leaving in his wake a trail of scorched vegetation. The air roared in his ears as his body bent space at an impossible speed, the friction threatening to ignite the air around him.
As suddenly as it had begun, he stopped. He doubled over, supporting his left hand on his knee, panting as if he had crossed continents in seconds. When he finally raised his gaze, there it was: the majestic city of Andraxius stood before him, as imposing and mysterious as the first time he had laid eyes on it, its silver towers brushing the evening sky.