"Twelve hours, remember that, Tawnylon," said Zarakel, mounting his beast and glancing sideways at Tawnylon.

The king walked alongside his beast towards the exit and, with a snap of his fingers, ordered the four soldiers who had loaded the cart to repeat their task. His wife carefully got into the cart while Gigantino stood staring at the sky, holding Shandam's lifeless body in his hand.

"Aren't you getting in the carriage?" asked Zarakel.

"No, I want to walk the entire way with the toy in my hand," Gigantino replied.

"Whatever my son says," said Zarakel.

Zarakel kicked his beast and it started walking. His army followed in orderly formation, the ground shaking under the weight of so many synchronized steps.

"They're finally leaving," said Tawnylon, letting out a sigh of relief.

The rumble of the steps was deafening, but it gradually faded until only an eerie silence remained. The townspeople exhaled in relief and tranquility, momentarily freed from oppression.

"My heart almost jumped out," commented one of them.

"I had never seen the king in person," said another, eyes still wide with shock.

Meanwhile, Thamuz, the strange and imposing figure, surveyed his surroundings. For the first time, he was outside, visible to all, and was surprised to see that, instead of being scared, the inhabitants were awestruck by his presence.

Two guards approached Tawnylon, trembling and clutching their spears.

"He-he's gone," said one.

"I know, we just saw," Tawnylon replied calmly.

"How many dead?" asked another.

"An elder and a royal herald. The others just had minor issues with the king's wife, and some are still scared by this sudden invasion," replied Tawnylon.

A large group of people had gathered around the corpse of one of the elders, one of the oldest in the settlement, at three hundred and sixty-four years old before his death. However, age also brings arrogance and pride, a combination that sealed his fate.

"I never liked that guy, he talked too much," said one of the villagers, looking indifferently at the lifeless body.

A large group of girls had gathered around Thamuz, admiring his remarkable physique and strange appearance. Some began to touch him, but this didn't bother Thamuz.

"How did you get that black skin?" asked one of them.

"I don't know, I was born this way," replied Thamuz.

"And these horns? Were you born with them too?" asked another, rubbing Thamuz's horns.

"I suppose so, in the photos with my father they're already this size," he replied again.

"Thamuz!" someone shouted his name.

Thamuz turned his head, seeing his father calling him over. Thamuz obeyed and left the group of girls behind, walking quickly towards his father.

"What is it, Father?" asked Thamuz, noticing the concern on Tawnylon's face.

Tawnylon straightened his back a bit to grab Thamuz's shoulders, looking him straight in the eyes.

"I have to train you in the shamonak, at least the basics, so you can kill that idiot giant Zarakel calls a son," said Tawnylon, gripping Thamuz's shoulders tightly.

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"What is the shamonak?" asked Thamuz curiously.

"I'll show you, but first I need you to go to the back of the house and wait for me there. I have to help your mother and the others with the damage Zarakel caused," replied Tawnylon, releasing Thamuz's shoulders.

Thamuz watched his father head towards one of the houses destroyed by Zarakel, seeing how they pulled out the lifeless body of the herald. Then he turned his head and walked towards the back of his house.

He arrived at the back and sat on one of the benches there to rest. He stretched his legs and put his hands behind his head, looking at the ceiling and reflecting on everything that had happened.

"I didn't know Shandam for long, but his eyes showed he had truly suffered. I can't let it end like this, I have to train hard to defeat the creature known as Gigantino," Thamuz thought to himself.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps coming from outside. He turned his head to see who it was and saw Tawnylon, carrying what seemed to be a large rock, almost the size of his father, and dropped it in the center of the backyard.

"What is that?" Thamuz asked, curious.

"It's a bonkam stone, one of the hardest materials on this planet. Those just learning shamonak start using this stone," replied Tawnylon, observing the rock.

"If it's one of the hardest materials, why use it for beginners? Shouldn't we use smaller or at least softer stones?" questioned Thamuz, looking at the stone with concern.

"Intense training makes your body adapt to physical punishment. Your bones would solidify to the point they'd be like armor, and your muscles would become so strong you could perform feats beyond this world," said Tawnylon, giving the stone a small tap.

Thamuz got up and approached the stone. He touched it and noticed its robustness; surely, hitting it would cause significant injuries to the attacker.

"What do we do now?" asked Thamuz, looking at his father.

"Now I can only teach you some basic shamonak techniques. They're simple but vital to withstand a fight against that giant," said Tawnylon. "I want you to hit this stone with an open palm."

"An open palm? Shouldn't I make a fist when hitting?" questioned Thamuz.

"Different styles use different ways of hitting, but shamonak uses an open palm because it distributes the impact more. Plus, it also helps to not hurt your hand too much when hitting your opponent," explained Tawnylon.

Tawnylon stood in front of the stone, extended his arm back, and then struck the rock with such force that it caused a small crack. Seeing the damage, he observed it had only left a small crack.

"It's been a while since I trained this way," he said to himself.

Thamuz admired the way his father struck the stone, so he stood in front of it and tried to adopt Tawnylon's stance, although with some mistakes as it was his first time.

"Now, hit it with all your strength," said Tawnylon.

Thamuz obeyed and hit the stone with an open palm. A dry sound was heard, and Thamuz grabbed his hand.

"It hurts!" he exclaimed.

"The first time always hurts, but perseverance is what makes us strong. I want you to do it again," ordered Tawnylon.

Thamuz looked at his father, took a deep breath, and prepared to strike again. Though his hands trembled with pain, the determination in his eyes was unyielding.

"Remember, Thamuz," said Tawnylon, "it's not just physical strength, but also the strength of will. Visualize your target and strike with the intent to overcome it."

Thamuz nodded, focusing all his energy on the next strike. He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining Gigantino's face and Shandam's suffering. With a shout of effort, he struck the stone with all his might.

This time, the sound was a bit more resonant, and although the pain was intense, Thamuz saw that he had left a small mark on the stone.

"Well done," said Tawnylon with a slight smile. "This is just the beginning. With each strike, you'll grow stronger. Soon, you'll be able to face any challenge that comes your way."

Thamuz repeated the process, alternating between strong and weak strikes, but Tawnylon noticed something special about him: his adaptability. The arm Thamuz was using to strike had grown a bit, the muscles starting to become visible under his skin. The more Thamuz struck, the less discomfort he felt.

"Give it one last strike, son. Do it with all your strength, with all your heart," said Tawnylon, watching with his arms crossed.

Thamuz looked at his father and tensed his muscles to the maximum. He gave the last strike, and this time, the sound was just as resonant as before. He looked at his hand and saw that it had several wounds and bruises.

"Don't worry about that, son; it makes your palms tougher," said Tawnylon, observing Thamuz's hand.

"And now what?" asked Thamuz.

"Now comes my favorite part, the grappling," responded Tawnylon.

"Grappling?" questioned Thamuz.

"Yes, using your own strength to throw your opponent to the ground. It's basically that: something so simple but difficult to do at the same time," said Tawnylon, looking at the sun on the horizon.

"Well, let's start. I'm intrigued to know what grappling is like," said Thamuz enthusiastically.

"First, we need to take off all our clothes except for our pants," said Tawnylon, taking off his shirt.

"Oh, I see," said Thamuz, imitating his father and taking off his shirt as well.

Father and son removed all their clothing except for their pants. Thamuz noticed the different scars and tattoos his father had on his body, but one scar in particular caught his attention: a line starting from his left shoulder down to his navel.

"What happened there, Father?" asked Thamuz, pointing at the scar.

"This? Well, it's a long story, too long, but I can tell you after we finish our training, okay?" said Tawnylon.

"Okay," affirmed Thamuz.

"Very well," said Tawnylon, lifting his leg to stomp on the ground.

The stomp made the ground tremble, revealing something huge beneath their feet: a structure that simulated a combat arena.

"This is what a shamonak arena usually looks like, this is what it will look like when you're face-to-face with your opponent," said Tawnylon, placing his hands on his knees.

Thamuz observed the combat arena. It was black with a red circle indicating the boundaries, simple but effective for its use.

"What happens if I step outside the red circle?" asked Thamuz.

"You're disqualified by default, but since it's to the death, I don't think there will be any issue," his father replied.

Tawnylon lowered his stance, now standing with his hands in front as if trying to grab something. His legs were firm like trunks and he stared intently at Thamuz.

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"Do as I do," he said.

Thamuz repeated the same process, lowering his stance, straightening his back, and placing his hands in front with firm legs.

Both began to walk in circles, Tawnylon calculating Thamuz's movements, while Thamuz tried to imitate his father as much as possible. Suddenly, Thamuz glanced behind Tawnylon and saw his mother sitting in a chair, watching them with a big smile.

"Hi, Mom," said Thamuz, raising his hand in greeting.

Tawnylon took advantage of this distraction and swiftly moved towards Thamuz, grabbing his waist and lifting him with one hand to then throw him to the ground with great force.

"Your opponents won't be so kind when you get distracted," said Tawnylon, looking down at Thamuz on the ground.

Thamuz was breathing heavily, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets. His whole body had been violently shaken by the way Tawnylon had thrown him to the ground.

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"Come on, get up, there's still a lot to learn," said Tawnylon, pressing his foot lightly on Thamuz's chest.

"Don't be so hard on him, dear, he's still a child!" exclaimed Aolani, showing visible concern.

"Don't worry, I'm just teaching him the basics," affirmed Tawnylon.

Thamuz began to get up slowly, and when he was finally on his feet, he placed his hands on his knees and started to vomit saliva.

"I didn't throw you that hard, don't be dramatic," said Tawnylon, returning to the combat stance.

Thamuz lifted his head and got into the same stance, determined not to give up. This time, Thamuz took the initiative and quickly approached his father.

Tawnylon noticed his son's intentions and quickly struck Thamuz's chin with an open palm. The blow left Thamuz stunned, and Tawnylon took the opportunity to position himself behind him and wrap his arms around Thamuz's abdomen.

"This is called a suplex," said Tawnylon.

He proceeded to lift Thamuz and throw his body backward, causing Thamuz's head to impact the ground. Tawnylon released Thamuz's abdomen and stood up.

"I hope you learn each grappling technique I show you," said Tawnylon.

Thamuz was left with his head embedded in the ground, his legs floating in the air, and his body stiff until he moved and let his legs drop.

"Get up," ordered Tawnylon.

Thamuz heard these words and began to get up slowly, this time with less energy. He returned to his combat pose and stared intently at his father.

The two faced off again, but this time, Thamuz moved more slowly, waiting for the moment his father would attack.

Tawnylon observed Thamuz's passivity and, in response, moved at almost sonic speed towards him. Thamuz couldn't react to the attack, and Tawnylon struck him with an open palm to the head, knocking him out instantly.

Thamuz fell to the ground, raising a large cloud of dust. Tawnylon squatted and observed his son.

"I think I overdid it," said Tawnylon.

But Thamuz immediately opened his eyes, trying to land an open palm strike on his unsuspecting father. Tawnylon reacted instantly and moved back, dodging the attack.

"That's playing dirty, son," protested Tawnylon.

"I know, but remember, it's a shamonak to the death. Anything goes," said Thamuz, getting to his feet.

Tawnylon flashed a big smile, impressed by his son's cunning. He raised his hands again, and both lunged at each other simultaneously.

The combat continued with increasing intensity. Thamuz began to recall every move and technique his father had taught him. Thamuz's resilience and adaptability became more evident with each bout. Aolani, watching from a distance, felt a mixture of pride and concern.

The planet's sun was at its highest point, painting the sky with a red sunset and announcing the imminent arrival of night. Finally, the two stopped fighting. Tawnylon stood, panting, with some visible bruises on his body, while Thamuz lay on the ground, covered in large bruises and wounds.

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"Not bad for your first time doing shamonak, son," said Tawnylon, looking at Thamuz with a mix of pride and worry.

"I can't move, Father," Thamuz replied with difficulty.

Tawnylon knelt down and lifted Thamuz, supporting him on his shoulder and starting to walk alongside him. Thamuz limped and held his lower left side.

Aolani got up from her chair and walked over to where her husband and son were, helping Thamuz walk and sitting him on a bench.

"Bring some bandamena water; Thamuz needs to heal his wounds quickly," ordered Tawnylon.

"Right away," replied Aolani.

Aolani went inside the house, while Tawnylon sat right next to Thamuz, who was panting in pain, watching the fading sunset.

"What did you think of your first shamonak training?" asked Tawnylon.

"I can get used to this," said Thamuz, stuttering from the pain.

"I'm sure you can, but remember, this was just basic training," added Tawnylon, looking at the horizon alongside his son.

Aolani returned with a bucket containing a liquid. She handed it to Tawnylon along with some rustic wooden cups and then left again.

"I'll start packing for the journey. Thamuz, once your wounds heal, take a good bath; blood starts to stink after a few minutes," said Aolani, leaving the two alone.

Tawnylon poured the liquid into one of the cups and handed it to Thamuz.

"Drink this. Bandamena water has healing properties. It will help your wounds heal faster," said Tawnylon, watching as his son took the cup with trembling hands and drank slowly.

"Thank you, Father," murmured Thamuz, feeling immediate relief as he drank the liquid.

Tawnylon also poured some water into his cup, drank its contents, and gave a great sigh.

"Do you still want to know how I got this scar?" asked Tawnylon, touching the scar on his left shoulder.

"Yes, I'm curious about how you got it," said Thamuz, intrigued.

"Alright, drink a bit more water; you need to be attentive to what I'll tell you," said Tawnylon, pouring more water into Thamuz's cup.

Thamuz drank again, this time more eagerly, until his cup was empty.

"When I was young like you, I was bigger and stronger than most kids my age. Some saw me as a freak, while others saw me as a wonder of this world. Your grandfather put me to train in shamonak when he saw my body's potential. I quickly learned the ways of shamonak and the various techniques that made it up, until the big day arrived," narrated Tawnylon.

"The big day?" asked Thamuz.

"Yes, the big day. On that day, the current shamonak was taking place, very different from the shamonak to the death. My father took me to the big city to be accepted as a fighter. I was immediately accepted, and my fight began that same day."

"I'm sure you beat your opponent with a single blow," said Thamuz, admiringly.

"Of course I did, but it was because my opponent was much smaller and quite thinner than me. But just when I was about to leave the fight, I saw it, the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in my life," Tawnylon paused, his eyes shining with the memory.

"What was it?" asked Thamuz, eagerly.

"I saw your mother. She was the princess of this world, sitting next to the king, her father, at the highest point of the combat arena. When I looked at her, she looked back at me."

"Love at first sight, I guess," said Thamuz, smiling.

"After that, we both became very interested in each other. Your mother would sometimes sneak out of her castle to meet me on a small hill, where every night the moon and the sun would meet for a celestial dance that illuminated the whole valley. But there was a small problem."

"What was it?" asked Thamuz, concerned.

"Your maternal grandfather didn't approve of our relationship. He was very possessive of your mother, so much so that one day he sent his entire army to bring her back to the castle. But I defeated them all; I only gave them some blows so as not to hurt them too much."

"They must have run away when they saw you; even I would," said Thamuz, smiling.

"In a way they did, but I let your mother go with them to stay on good terms with her father. It went on like that for a long time, until they greatly reinforced the castle's security, making it impossible for my beloved to return to me. But there's always a silver lining; an opportunity arose that would help me a lot."

"What was it?" asked Thamuz.

"The king was a big fan of shamonak. He resolved all his conflicts using shamonak as his most reliable means. So, to keep his daughter away from me, he organized a shamonak tournament to claim her hand. I immediately saw the greatest opportunity of my life, but I couldn't go as myself; they would surely deny my entry. So, I prepared a disguise: a black trench coat along with a mask that covered my entire face. I straightened my back so my height wouldn't be so noticeable and relaxed my body so my muscles wouldn't be so visible. They accepted me into the tournament right away. I easily defeated my opponents until I reached the final round, and in that round was Zarakel."

"Zarakel? The same king who came to the village?" asked Thamuz, surprised.

"The same. He was the king's favorite. He had been showered with women and luxuries, motivated to win the tournament to claim your mother's hand. But when it was my turn to face him, I ran towards him at great speed and gave him an open palm strike that sent him flying out of the combat arena, disqualifying him. Everyone was surprised, even your mother, who watched with eyes almost popping out of their sockets as the one they thought would win the tournament was defeated with a single blow. Then, when I went to claim her hand, I revealed my true identity to her father. His face paled instantly, and he drew his sword to attack me. I couldn't react in time, and he gave me a deep cut on my shoulder. That's why I have this scar."

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"What happened next?" asked Thamuz, eagerly.

"Your mother jumped into my arms, and I ran with her towards a castle wall. I broke through it and ran as fast as I could until we reached this settlement. The villagers helped us, and we've been here ever since, for forty years. After that, I only heard a few things about that city. Zarakel killed the king and took the throne, having a forced marriage with your maternal grandmother. But it seemed strange to see Zarakel in that form; it looks like he sold his soul to some demon or malevolent entity."

A noise came from the house. A door opened, and Aolani emerged, carrying heavy luggage with great ease, placing it in a carriage while Tawnylon and Thamuz watched. She turned to greet them.

"So, why didn't you fight the king? If you had defeated him, you would have kept his riches. I'm not saying we're living badly or anything, but it would have been nice to be somewhat rich," said Thamuz, returning his gaze to his father.

"Your mother agreed with that too. But in our culture, when you defeat or kill a king, you must take his place. I didn’t want that; I didn’t want that much responsibility on my shoulders. However, after knowing your mother for so long, I realized that I truly had something much more valuable than any diamond or coin by my side," said Tawnylon, looking expectantly at Aolani.

"I see," said Thamuz, turning his gaze to see what his father was referring to.

Tawnylon looked at the horizon and held his thumb up, noticing the sun was almost setting. He gave a slight sigh and looked back at Thamuz.

"We have seven hours before the tournament. Go take a good bath and prepare yourself; the journey will be very long," said Tawnylon, rising from the bench.

Thamuz also stood up and headed towards the house. Before entering, he looked back one last time and saw his father helping his mother with the load. She responded with a kiss on the lips.

"Much more valuable than any diamond or coin," Thamuz said to himself.

He entered the house and went upstairs. He entered the bathroom and began pouring hot water with a bucket into the large wooden tub in the center, until it was full. He undressed and slowly entered the water, adapting to the heat.

"Very relaxing," Thamuz said, expressing a sigh of satisfaction.

He started playing a bit with the water and saw various jars containing unknown powders on a shelf. He extended his long arm to reach one of them and noticed it had a label.

"Medhunenia powder, I wonder what it is," said Thamuz, carefully examining the jar.

He opened the jar and poured a bit of the powder into the water, feeling a chilling cold instantly, but it became more pleasant over time. He placed the jar back on the shelf, stretched his legs until they were out of the tub, closed his eyes, and let his body relax from the physical punishment he had received from his father.

It was then that he heard something whispering in his ear, something almost inaudible but intensely repeating.

"My essence," was the whisper he heard.

Thamuz immediately opened his eyes, looking behind him to see what was making the sound. Seeing nothing, he turned his head back, but saw something that chilled his blood.

He saw a black figure, with large horns and completely red eyes. It had no mouth and showed various wounds and scars spread across almost its entire body. It had a very prominent wound on its neck, which seemed to have been caused by a sharp object. But what impacted Thamuz the most was its peculiar resemblance to himself.

The figure remained silent, its red eyes fixed on Thamuz. He felt a shiver run down his spine as he tried to understand what he was seeing. He rubbed his eyes, thinking it might be an illusion caused by the medhunenia powder, but the figure remained there.

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"Who are you?" asked Thamuz with a trembling voice.

The figure didn’t respond. Instead, it raised a hand and pointed at Thamuz, its eyes glowing intensely. Suddenly, the room filled with a freezing wind, and Thamuz felt as if the water around him was turning to ice.

Desperate, Thamuz tried to get out of the tub, but his legs didn’t seem to respond. The figure began to approach, and Thamuz felt his heart pounding. Just as the figure was about to touch him, a bright light filled the room, and the figure disappeared, leaving Thamuz gasping and trembling in the tub.

Thamuz quickly got up and grabbed a piece of cloth to use as a towel. He ran to his room and looked out the window, seeing his parents still organizing the carriage. Thamuz returned and began to think.

"Surely the powder from that jar made me hallucinate," he said to himself.

He tried to find answers in his mind about why that event had happened. The creature looked a lot like him, only it had no mouth and its body was covered in abominable wounds. Meanwhile, Tawnylon also went to the house to bathe.

Thamuz pulled out several clothes and opted for a simple, somewhat stained gray shirt. He put on pants that looked like loose-fitting trousers, only they were much more rustic and battered. He left his room with several things in his hands for the journey until he encountered his father in the hallway, wet and with a piece of cloth covering him from the waist down.

"Were you bathing, father?" asked Thamuz.

"Yes, why?" questioned Tawnylon.

"Didn't you see anything there? Something out of the ordinary?" Thamuz asked again.

"No, why the question? Did you see something?" replied Tawnylon, looking doubtfully at Thamuz.

"No, nothing. I’m going downstairs to mother," said Thamuz, passing by his father and heading towards the stairs.

"These young people nowadays," said Tawnylon, with a tone of mockery.

Thamuz was in the lower part of the house. He went to the kitchen and grabbed some dried meat, which he was eating while looking around. The house was cozy, with several photos of him with his parents, various relics of uncertain but intriguing origin, along with other interesting things, like jars containing unknown minerals of different colors.

Suddenly, he heard a voice outside.

"Thamuz!" someone exclaimed.

It was his mother's voice. Thamuz devoured the last piece of dried meat in his hands and quickly went to his mother. She was in the carriage, trying to lift a sizeable box. Thamuz approached her and put everything he had in his hands into the carriage.

"Help me, son, I’m tired of carrying so much," said Aolani, panting while holding her hands on her knees.

"Right away, mother," said Thamuz.

Thamuz easily lifted the box with one arm and placed it in the carriage, making a loud noise and demonstrating how heavy it really was. Aolani climbed into the carriage and sat down.

"Come, son, sit with your mother," said Aolani, gesturing with her hands for Thamuz to come closer.

Thamuz obeyed and climbed into the carriage, sitting next to her. Aolani gave him a big smile and rested her body beside him.

"Did your father already tell you the story?" she asked.

"The one about how you met?" replied Thamuz.

"Exactly, I saw you both very focused talking," said Aolani.

"Yes, he told me the story, although it felt a bit summarized," said Thamuz, looking at his mother.

"It’s much more extensive, but someday we’ll have time to tell you the whole thing. The important thing now is to focus on reaching the great city, so you can fight in the shamonak to death," expressed Aolani, looking at the ground.

"Speaking of that, why aren’t you worried that I’m going to fight in something that has the word ‘death’ in it? I always see you so relaxed or serene when talking about the shamonak to death," Thamuz questioned with a tone of intrigue.

"Of course we’re worried, but we trust you. We know you’re capable of great things, like defeating Zarakel’s son. Besides, you’re the son of the great former shamonak champion, your father. How can we not have confidence in you?" said Aolani, giving playful taps on Thamuz’s arm.

"I suppose so. It’s comforting to know that, but I can’t stop thinking about it. It will be my first shamonak, a shamonak to death," lamented Thamuz.

"You know, your father always had a special technique in the shamonak when fighting opponents much larger than him. When they were going to attack, he would duck and, with his palms open, strike their ribs. That move made me fall in love with him. Maybe you should use it against that giant," Aolani recounted, imitating the move.

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"Thank you for the advice, mother," Thamuz said, hugging her.

Heavy footsteps were heard behind them. They turned their heads to see what was causing such a sound and noticed Tawnylon, who was carrying another much heavier box and placed it in the carriage, making it sink a bit.

"I brought several things in case we get hungry on the way," Tawnylon said.

"Thank you," Aolani and Thamuz said at the same time.

Tawnylon walked to the front of the carriage, grabbed the front with his arms, and lifted it with ease, making it move along with him.

"Thamuz, if you want to sleep, go to the back of the carriage. You need to rest enough to give your all in the fight," Tawnylon said, glancing back.

"Alright, father, wake me up when we get to the great city," Thamuz replied.

He kissed his mother on the forehead and went to the back of the carriage, where he found some sacks soft and light enough to position his head and feet, letting himself fall into a deep sleep.

While Thamuz slept, Aolani and Tawnylon exchanged looks of concern and hope. They knew that the shamonak to death would test not only Thamuz's physical strength but also his spirit and resilience. Aolani settled more comfortably in the carriage, stroking an old bracelet that her husband had given her the day they first met, as a symbol of protection and good fortune.

"Tawnylon, do you remember how you felt before your first shamonak?" Aolani asked quietly, so as not to wake Thamuz.

"Like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders," Tawnylon responded, "but I also felt a flame inside me, something that told me I could overcome any challenge. I see that same flame in our son's eyes."

The carriage continued its journey, with the moon rising in the sky, illuminating the path with its silver light. In the distance, the sounds of the night blended with the whisper of the wind, creating a natural symphony that accompanied the family on their journey. Aolani, looking at the stars, whispered a silent prayer to Azhamat, asking for protection and strength for her son