With the Stormrune Clan defended and their land restored, Raelan returned to the spot where he had told Alyssa to wait. The dark-haired girl stood there, vigilant despite her weariness, her eyes darting around as if expecting shadows to emerge at any moment. Alyssa was the last of her race, the Abyssalwalkers, whose domain Zaros had all but obliterated. She was a child still, but Raelan could sense the remnants of her people’s power in her—strong, unyielding, with a raw, untapped potential that held promise even in the face of her tragic losses.

As Raelan approached, Alyssa’s gaze met his, a mixture of defiance and vulnerability in her expression. She straightened, her small frame belying the fierce determination that had allowed her to survive the devastation. Raelan felt a pang of respect and sorrow for this young soul forced into strength so early.

“You’re back,” she said, her voice steady despite everything she’d been through.

He nodded. “The Stormrune are safe now, Alyssa. They will not face Zaros’s forces again.”

She hesitated, as if gauging whether she could trust his words. He took a step closer, looking at her thoughtfully.

“You have a talent,” he said finally, his tone firm but kind. “Your strength—it’s beyond what any child should need to bear, but it’s a gift. A powerful one.”

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Alyssa looked away, her fingers fidgeting with a stray lock of her dark hair. “My people… they had gifts too, but it didn’t save them.” Her voice was almost a whisper, and in it, Raelan could hear the echoes of a wound too deep for words.

“That’s true,” he replied softly. “Gifts alone don’t protect us. But when guided, when harnessed with purpose, they become more than just power—they become strength. I want to help you find that purpose, Alyssa.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, a glimmer of hope beginning to break through the fear that haunted her gaze. “Why me?”

Raelan knelt down so he was at her level, meeting her gaze with a steady resolve. “Because you are the last of the Abyssalwalkers. Your people deserve to be remembered, and their legacy deserves to continue. I would like to take you as my disciple, if you’re willing.”

Alyssa stared at him, her expression wavering between disbelief and longing. For so long, she had carried the weight of survival alone, with no promise of a future. To have someone recognize her strength and offer her a path forward was something she hadn’t dared to hope for.

“Do you mean it?” she whispered.

“Yes,” Raelan replied, his voice as certain as he could make it. “I promise that I will guide you, and that your people’s legacy will live on through you.”

With a nod, she accepted. Raelan rose to his feet, extending a hand toward her. “Come with me. We’ll return to the Sunborn together, and I’ll introduce you to the others. There are Stormrune survivors who can help you understand that you’re not alone.”

She took his hand, and together they began their journey back. The weight of their losses still hung heavy, but a new hope had sparked in the young Abyssalwalker’s heart.

Raelan would honor that hope, knowing it was the first step toward uniting those who had suffered under Zaros’s hand.