The following day, the towering Angel Eye Research Guild cast a long, dark shadow over Eli as he stood frozen at its entrance. His heart pounded in his chest, the weight of the past pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. Memories resurfaced—the ruined laboratory, twisted bodies strewn across the wreckage, the sharp tang of burning equipment, and the blinding surge of energy that had annihilated everything. His breath caught, and his feet instinctively shifted backward. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to turn, to leave, to run far away from the nightmares this place held.

Just as he was about to retreat, a firm hand grabbed his arm, grounding him in the present. Eli flinched, whipping around to see Leila standing beside him.

"You actually came!" she said.

Eli avoided her gaze, attempting to shrug off her hand.

"I was just... passing by," he muttered, his voice laced with the lie. But he wasn’t fooling either of them.

Leila didn’t let go. Her grip tightened. "No, Eli. You can't keep running. You're the only one who understands this well enough to help. The Realm needs you."

Her words lingered in the air, sinking into his chest like a knife. Eli clenched his fists, jaw tight. He wanted to argue, to say that he wasn’t the one for this—that he wasn’t qualified enough. But Leila’s gaze softened, and her voice became more gentle, more personal.

"I know you don’t want to be here. I understand how hard this is for you. But..." She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "You’re the only one who can help us prevent what happened to your parents from happening again. You owe it to them—and to yourself—to try."

Eli’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of his parents. The memories were raw, always at the edge of his mind, but he forced them back down, as he always did. He took a deep breath, feeling his chest tighten. He could walk away and keep running like he always had. But somewhere deep down, he knew Leila was right. The Realm was on the brink of destruction, and hiding wasn’t going to change anything.

With a heavy sigh, Eli nodded, though the weight of the decision bore down on him. "Alright," he said reluctantly. "But I’m only consulting. That’s it."

Leila smiled, relief washing over her. "That’s all we need."

Eli followed her inside, each step feeling heavier than the last. The familiar hum of magic-infused technology filled the air, crystals, and potions lining the grand halls as they walked deeper into the building. Memories lurked around every corner, threatening to drag him back, but Eli kept his head down.

They finally arrived at a secured chamber, where Dr. Jyro was already at work, tinkering with the Knull Analyzer. He glanced up, his eyes tired but warm, and a small smile tugged at his lips.

"Elijah," Dr. Jyro greeted, his voice sincere. "I truly appreciate you being here. I know how difficult this must be."

Eli cleared his throat, brushing off the sentiment. "I’m just here to consult," he muttered, stepping forward to inspect the Analyzer.

The machine was in terrible condition—cracked crystals, frayed circuits, and malfunctioning components. It was barely holding on, its readings significantly lower than they should be. Eli furrowed his brow, inspecting the device closely. With a few quick taps and twists of dials, he immediately came to his conclusion.

"It’s worse than I thought," he said, his voice steady but serious. "The Analyzer’s been giving low readings because it’s damaged. From what I can tell, the actual Knull Energy levels are about fifty times higher than what we previously thought."

Dr. Jyro’s face paled at the revelation, and he exchanged a grave look with Leila.

Eli straightened, crossing his arms. "If this thing’s been malfunctioning for this long, we’ve been seriously underestimating the situation. The Nether Energy could be accelerating the Rift—potentially bringing it to critical mass."

Leila’s face darkened as the implications sank in. "How long do we have?"

"Two days," Eli replied grimly, "maybe less. If we don’t seal the Void Rift by then, the Aylvin Seal will break, and The Void will consume the Realm."

The gravity of the situation hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, no one spoke.

"Then we have no time to waste," Leila finally said.

Dr. Jyro nodded, walking over to a nearby monitor and tapping a series of buttons on the screen. "Thanks to your suggestion yesterday, I was able to detect an anomaly." He brought up a holographic map of the area surrounding the Void Rift, highlighting a specific zone.

"A Neutral Zone, about a hundred kilometers north of the Rift, appears to be hollow—protected by a field of pure Enre."

Eli studied the map, his eyes narrowing as he took in the data. It didn’t take long for the realization to hit him. "That’s where Zaire is hiding," he said quietly. "There’s no other explanation."

Leila frowned, her arms crossed. "But how do we get Stormfront there without them succumbing to the Knull Energy? We lost most of our gear during the incident..." Her voice faltered.

Eli’s face dropped at the mention, but he immediately shook it off, his eyes shifting to Dr. Jyro’s suit—the one he had used to inspect the damaged Analyzer. His mind began to work, ideas forming quickly.

Leila followed his gaze, immediately understanding his intentions. "No, Eli. The inspection suits weren't designed to withstand the extreme levels of Knull Energy present on Seliak."

"That's fine. We'll use them as a base. If we reinforce them with IronSilk and integrate Source Crystals, I can modify them to withstand the Knull Energy long enough to get Stormfront inside that dome."

Leila’s lips twitched into a faint smile. "Seems like you haven’t lost your touch after all."

Eli offered a small, weary grin in return. "Guess not."

But the mood quickly darkened again as Dr. Jyro addressed the elephant in the room. "We still need a plan to neutralize the Void Rift."

Eli’s grin faded, and he looked away, his mind racing. "The only thing that can neutralize Knull Energy is Source Energy... pure, unadulterated Source Energy."

Leila frowned. "But the amount you’re talking about... it doesn’t exist."

Dr. Jyro exchanged a meaningful look with Eli, both of them knowing exactly where the conversation was headed. Eli felt a knot tighten in his chest, his stomach sinking as the reality of the situation hit him.

"There’s one thing in the Realm that has enough Source Energy," Eli said slowly, his voice thick with reluctance. "The Aylvin Seal."

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Leila’s eyes widened, her shock evident. "You can’t be serious. You’re talking about tapping into the Core of the Aylvin Seal?"

Eli nodded gravely. "Sure, it is extremely dangerous and could easily lead to the destruction of the Realm, but there’s no other option to seal the Void Rift, especially with such a tight deadline."

Dr. Jyro placed a hand on Eli’s shoulder. "It may be our only chance. If the Rift goes critical in two days, the Realm is doomed either way."

The weight of the decision hung heavy over Eli, but as he stared at the map, the only thing running through his mind was the cost of tapping into the Seal. It wasn’t a choice he wanted to make, but with the fate of the Realm on the line, there was no other option.

With a deep sigh, Eli nodded, accepting the burden of the task ahead. "Let's get started."

----------------------------------------

In Ahwahl, the air carried the soft scent of rain, droplets rhythmically tapping against the stone pathways outside. Inside Kamari’s dimly lit room, the stillness was stifling. He sat hunched on the edge of his bed, his head low, eyes locked onto the floor as if searching for answers. Every failure replayed in his mind, a cruel loop of his shortcomings. The untouched leather bag by the wall stood as a silent reminder of how far he felt from the warrior he once was.

The door creaked softly open, and Amara entered, her presence filling the room like a breath of fresh air cutting through the heavy atmosphere. She stopped a few steps away, arms crossed, her expression a mix of concern and determination.

"Kami, you can’t keep doing this. Hiding in here won’t change anything."

Kamari didn’t respond, his gaze stubbornly fixed on the floor. He was sinking, drowning in guilt and regret. But Amara had never been one to back down. She wasn’t about to let him retreat further into himself.

"I’m heading into the Capital today," she said, her tone firm. "You’re coming with me. It’s time to get out of this room, out of your head."

Kamari mumbled something inaudible, but Amara cut him off before he could protest.

"No excuses, Kami. Get up."

He sighed deeply, a sound full of exhaustion and resistance. But slowly, he rose, the simple act of standing feeling like a monumental effort. The outside world felt unbearable, yet with Amara’s persistent gaze on him, refusing wasn’t an option.

As they walked through the bustling streets of Ahwahl, Kamari trailed a step behind, his thoughts still clouded with self-doubt. The lively Capital, usually buzzing with energy, felt muted to him—distant, as though he were watching the world from behind a thick glass. People greeted Amara warmly, recognizing her as the Great Shael, the Realm’s most revered healer. She smiled back, offering help to those in need, many of them victims of the endless Incursions. But Kamari barely noticed. The noise, the people, even the beauty of the city—it all blurred into a background he couldn’t focus on.

Then, as they approached a refugee center, a small, bright voice pierced through the fog in his mind.

"Fire Guy!" came an excited squeal.

Kamari blinked in surprise as a young girl, no more than six or seven, darted toward him, clutching a well-loved stuffed bunny in her arms. She wrapped herself around his leg with unexpected strength, her eyes wide with awe.

It took a moment for Kamari to place her, but then the memory hit him—Nala, the little girl he had saved during one of his early missions. Her smile beamed up at him, pure and innocent, as she clung to her bunny—Bun-Bun.

"You’re my hero!" she said, her voice filled with unfiltered joy.

Kamari’s heart clenched, his throat tightening at the sound of her words. Hero. He hadn’t thought of himself that way in so long. All he had seen were the times he wasn’t strong enough, fast enough—times he had failed. But in Nala’s eyes, he was something far greater. He was everything.

Her mother approached, a grateful smile on her face. "She hasn’t stopped talking about you since that day. She wanted to thank you properly this time."

Kamari knelt down, eye-level with Nala, her innocence and admiration piercing through the darkness he had been drowning in. His heart swelled, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he let himself breathe. He whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

"Thank you."

Tears threatened to spill over. For so long, he had been buried beneath the weight of his failures, but here, in this small moment, Nala’s gratitude lifted it all. He had saved her. That mattered.

They spent more time at the refugee center, Amara quietly by his side. Kamari observed the people around him—families, children, those who had lost their homes, their villages. But as his eyes moved through the crowd, recognition stirred within him. Many of the faces were familiar—refugees from towns he had helped save, survivors of battles he had fought. These were people whose lives he had touched, whose worlds he had helped protect, even if only briefly.

A slow realization began to settle over him. For all his perceived failures, for every moment he had doubted his worth, there were people who lived because of him. He had made a difference.

Amara leaned in, her voice soft, teasing but full of warmth. "See? Aren’t you glad you left your room?"

Kamari looked at her, and for the first time in days, a small, genuine smile touched his lips. He nodded, feeling the suffocating weight in his chest lift ever so slightly.

As they left the center, Kamari’s steps felt lighter. The world no longer felt as crushing as it had. A spark of hope had returned. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as much of a failure as he had believed.

----------------------------------------

Later that afternoon, Kamari returned to the lake. The crisp, cool air carried the scent of damp earth and the gentle sweetness of the surrounding forest. The stillness of the water mirrored the sky above, casting his reflection back at him like a ghost—searching, yearning for something that felt lost. He stood at the water’s edge, his eyes fixed on his own image, but it was as if he were looking at a stranger, someone distant, burdened by a weight too heavy to carry.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the fresh air fill his lungs. The words of those closest to him echoed in his mind, each voice offering support he had once dismissed or ignored.

"You’re being too hard on yourself, kid. You always are," Byron had told him.

Kamari opened his eyes and raised his hand. A small flame flickered to life in his palm—red at first, its glow soft and familiar. It shifted to orange, then yellow, as if responding to his focus. Furrowing his brow, Kamari pushed harder, willing the flame to become something more. For a brief moment, it flashed a brilliant blue—just a spark—but just as quickly, it faded back to yellow.

Frustration stirred in him, but this time, he didn’t let it consume him. Instead, he paused and took another deep breath, recalling Malik’s calm, guiding voice.

"If you want to truly control that power, you need a calm clarity—and focus."

Kamari exhaled slowly, the tension draining from his body. Malik’s words resonated with him now in a way they hadn’t before. The strength he sought, the power of the blue flames, wouldn’t come from anger or sheer force of will. It would come from something deeper—acceptance.

Leon’s words echoed in his mind.

"You’ve got heart. You care more than anyone I’ve ever met, and that’s what makes you strong."

He stared into the flame, watching it flicker gently in the soft breeze. His thoughts, unbidden, turned to the past—the moments he had buried deep, the memories that had haunted him for years. He could see them all: the day his parents fell, the devastation of the Red Massacre, the crushing weight of the Phoenix Core slipping from his grasp—Zaire’s cold, mocking voice cutting through it all.

The memories sliced through him like jagged blades, but this time, Kamari didn’t push them away. He let them stay and allowed the pain to flow through him. He accepted the loss, the mistakes, the moments where he wasn’t fast enough, strong enough, or good enough. And in that acceptance, he realized that those things didn’t define him. They didn’t make him weak. They made him human.

"You’re worth so much more than what you’ve lost." Amara’s gentle whisper came back to him, her words wrapping around his heart like a warm embrace.

Kamari felt the tension in his chest lessen as the weight he had carried for so long began to lift. The guilt, the shame, the self-doubt—it had all held him back. But now, in this moment of calm, he found clarity. He opened his eyes, and the flame in his hand flickered again. This time, the flicker didn’t fade.

He thought of Nala, her wide eyes filled with admiration. Her words, so simple yet so powerful, cut through the last of his doubt.

"You’re my hero."

Kamari smiled as a warmth spread through his chest. For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to feel it—the joy, the pride, the love. He wasn’t perfect. He didn’t need to be. His strength didn’t come from the Phoenix Core. It came from within, from the people he had saved, from those who believed in him, from those who loved him.

The flame in his hand deepened in color, shifting slowly from yellow to a rich, vibrant blue. It burned brighter, stronger, fueled by the strength he had found within himself.

With newfound confidence, Kamari raised his hand to the sky and unleashed a powerful stream of blue flames. The intense heat evaporated the mist hanging over the lake, sending thick tendrils of steam rising into the air. The water rippled violently under the force of his power, but Kamari stood firm, his smile widening as he watched the flames soar. He had done it—not through anger, not through desperation, but through acceptance.

As the flames died down, Kamari lowered his hand, his chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt whole. The weight on his shoulders, though not entirely gone, was lighter—manageable.

He stood at the edge of the lake, the breeze brushing against his skin, and for the first time in a long while, he felt something he had thought was lost to him.

Hope.