In the days that followed, A'Valei Manor took on a somber atmosphere. Its formerly lively halls now felt like a mausoleum, silent except for the faint hum of enchanted runes and crystal that cast a soft glow. Malik's room, a spacious chamber with high windows and intricately carved walls, became the center of growing tension and despair.
At the bedside, Amara worked tirelessly. Her healer’s robes flowed around her as she channeled gentle waves of white energy into Malik’s unconscious body. Each of her movements was precise, and her expression reflected the strain of days spent in effort.
Kamari stood nearby, his fists clenched at his sides, his eyes locked on Malik. Byron leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed.
Amara finally stepped back, her shoulders slumping as the light around her hands faded. She turned to them, her face heavy with sorrow.
“I’ve done everything I can,” she said softly. “His body is stable, but his soul... it’s damaged in ways I cannot mend. He’s too close to the edge.” Her gaze shifted between Kamari and Byron. “I can keep him alive, but I can’t bring him back.”
The room fell into an oppressive silence. Kamari’s chest tightened. Malik, the steadfast warrior he had always admired, was now trapped between life and death. The man who had fought so fiercely for others was now unreachable—and there was nothing Kamari could do.
Unless...
Maddox’s voice echoed in his mind: You’ll learn to wield the Core fully—not just to heal Malik’s body, but his soul.
Kamari swallowed hard, his voice breaking the silence. “I have to go.”
Byron’s head snapped toward him, his brow furrowing. “Go where?”
“To Maddox,” Kamari said. “I need him to teach me how to unlock the Core’s full potential. If I can do that, I can heal Malik.”
Byron straightened, his jaw tightening. “Absolutely not. You don’t know what Maddox is really after. The man reeks of ulterior motives.”
Kamari took a step forward, his voice rising with raw emotion. “And what’s the alternative? Letting Malik waste away here? Watching him slip further every day while we do nothing?”
“We’re not doing nothing!” Byron snapped back. “We’ve brought him to the best healers in the Realm. We’ve done everything we can.”
“It’s not enough!” Kamari’s voice cracked. “You heard Amara. His soul is damaged. There’s only one chance left, and you know it.”
Byron’s face hardened. “And you think trusting Maddox is the answer? That man is dangerous, Kamari. He’s manipulating you. Can’t you see that?”
Kamari’s shoulders sagged, his gaze dropping to the floor. His hands trembled, but when he spoke, his voice was quieter, filled with determination. “Maybe he is. Maybe he has his own reasons. But what if he’s right? What if I can do this? How can I stand here and do nothing when I know there’s a chance to save him?”
Byron opened his mouth to argue, but Amara stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Kamari’s arm. “Kami,” she said softly, her voice like a balm against his storm.
He turned to her and closed his eyes briefly, leaning into her touch for a moment before pulling back. “I can’t lose him, Amara."
“You won’t,” she said, her gaze steady. “But you need to be sure of your choices. Don’t let your emotions blind you to the risks.”
Kamari looked down at Malik, his heart warring with fear and hope. “I don’t have a choice,” he said finally. “If there’s even a chance, I have to take it.”
Byron exhaled sharply, his expression etched with frustration and worry. He paced the room before stopping directly in front of Kamari.
“Fine,” he said gruffly, his voice heavy. “But listen to me. Maddox isn’t someone you can take at face value. He’ll test you, manipulate you, push you to your limits. If you’re going to do this, you have to stay sharp. Don’t trust him blindly.”
Kamari nodded. “I won’t.” He looked at Malik one last time, his throat tight. “I’ll bring him back,” he said softly. “No matter what it takes.”
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The hallway leading to Elijah’s room was suffocatingly quiet, the kind of silence that pressed against Kamari’s ears and made every step feel heavier. He paused outside the door, raising his hand to knock but hesitating. The worn wood in front of him felt like a wall separating the room and Elijah himself, sealed off in his sorrow.
Kamari released a slow breath and lowered his hand, resting his palm against the door. “Eli,” he called softly. “I know you don’t want to talk right now. I get it. But I couldn’t leave without checking on you.”
There was no answer.
Kamari leaned his weight against the door, his fingers curling slightly against the wood. He could feel the stillness on the other side, the heavy air of someone buried in grief. He pressed his forehead lightly against the door, letting the quiet stretch a moment longer before he spoke again.
“I’m not here to push you. Take all the time you need to grieve. No one’s rushing you. But…” His voice faltered, and he drew a deep breath to steady himself. “Just promise me you won’t let it win. The grief. It’s strong, Eli. I know how easy it is to get lost in it, to let it swallow everything.”
Inside the room, Elijah lay curled up on his bed, his knees drawn to his chest. The darkness around him was thick, broken only by the faint golden rays of sunlight sneaking through the curtains. He stared blankly at the far wall, his back toward the door, listening to Kamari’s words in silence. His chest ached, a knot of sorrow and exhaustion he couldn’t untangle.
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Kamari’s voice carried through the quiet like a lifeline. “It’s not weakness to feel it. You’re allowed to. It’s not a weakness to take your time.” His voice dropped slightly. “But don’t try to carry it all alone. That’ll only make it worse.”
Elijah shifted slightly, the faint creak of the mattress betraying his movement. He didn’t speak, but the sound was enough to let Kamari know he was listening.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Kamari continued. “Just don’t shut yourself off completely. Okay?”
The silence returned—heavier this time. Kamari lingered, his fingers pressing harder against the door, but when no reply came, he pushed himself upright and turned to leave.
As he stepped back into the dimly lit hallway, he almost bumped into Imani, who stood quietly in the shadows just outside. She had her arms crossed, her expression calm but touched with concern.
“You heard all that?” Kamari asked, a small, tired smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Imani nodded, her eyes flicking briefly to the door before settling back on him. “He listens to you, even if he doesn’t say it. He talks to me sometimes, but it’s slow. He’s still trying to find his way through it.”
Kamari’s smile faded into something more serious. “Then keep looking after him while I’m gone.”
“I will.” She uncrossed her arms and stepped closer. “Take care of yourself out there, and good luck. I hope Arkea provides you with what you’re looking for.”
“Thanks."
Kamari gave her a faint smile, then turned and walked away, the shadows of the hallway swallowing him. Imani watched him go, her gaze lingering on the space where he’d been before she turned back toward the door.
Inside the room, Elijah remained curled on the bed, the echo of Kamari’s voice replaying in his mind. For the first time in days, the knot in his chest loosened slightly, and a single tear slid down his cheek into the darkness.
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The wind roared across the training grounds, carrying the sharp tang of sweat and the earthy scent of fresh soil. Leon moved like a force of nature, his wind-forged blades slicing through stone targets with unrelenting precision. Each strike sent shards scattering.
He was mid-swing when the faint crunch of approaching footsteps pulled his attention. Turning smoothly, he spotted Kamari standing at the edge of the grounds, his figure silhouetted against the fading glow of the evening sky.
“Kamari,” Leon said. With a flick of his wrist, the shimmering blades dissolved into faint wisps of Enre that drifted into the air. He stepped forward, brushing dust from his hands. “What’s up?”
Kamari moved closer, his hands tucked into his pockets. The faint breeze tousled his hair. “I wanted to talk to you before I left.”
Leon tilted his head, his sharp gaze narrowing slightly. “Left? You mean... with Maddox?”
Kamari nodded. “I’ve decided to go with him. To Arkea. I need to—”
Leon raised a hand, cutting him off with a faint, knowing smile. “You don’t need to explain. I trust your decision.” He stepped closer and placed a firm hand on Kamari’s shoulder. “Follow your gut. If this is something you feel you need to do, then go. Don’t let anyone make you second-guess it.”
Kamari’s shoulders eased slightly. “But what about Tempest? I’m leaving you and the squad when you probably need me most.”
Leon chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Kamari, Tempest will manage. We’ve been through hell and back; we’ll handle this too. There’s always a place for you on the squad, but right now, this is something you have to do. Don’t worry about us.”
Kamari looked down. “Thanks,” he said quietly.
Leon’s smile widened slightly, and his voice dropped to something more personal, more heartfelt. “I’m proud of you, you know.”
“Proud of me? For what?”
“For facing your demons. The fire in you—it’s burning steadier now. I can see it. You’ve come a long way.”
The words hit Kamari like a spark to dry kindling, igniting something deep within him. For a moment, he stood there, unsure of what to say. Finally, he smiled. “That means a lot, Leon. Really.”
Leon nodded as he stepped forward and pulled Kamari into a firm embrace. “Stay safe out there. And don’t forget—when you’re ready, we’ll be here.”
Kamari embraced Leon tightly for a moment before releasing him. As they stepped back, Kamari locked eyes with Leon once more and nodded.
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The port was alive with motion, a symphony of creaking wood, clinking chains, and the shouts of dockworkers echoing against the salty breeze. Ships rocked gently in their moorings, their sails catching the evening light. At the pier's edge, Kamari stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the vessel before him.
The ship was imposing, its sails bearing the golden phoenix crest of the Sulis Tribe. Its polished wood gleamed under the amber glow of the setting sun. At the bow stood Maddox, his crimson-and-gold armor glinting as he watched over the bustling activity below.
Kamari gripped the strap of his pack tightly, drawing in a steadying breath. The enormity of what lay ahead pressed against his chest, but a familiar voice broke through the noise before he could take his first step.
“Kamari.”
He turned sharply to see Byron approaching, his strides purposeful, his expression unreadable. The sight stopped Kamari in his tracks. He hadn’t expected Byron to come.
Byron reached him and stood silently for a long moment, his eyes scanning Kamari as though trying to memorize every detail. Kamari braced himself, expecting a lecture or one last attempt to dissuade him. But Byron surprised him.
Without a word, Byron stepped forward and pulled Kamari into a hug—brief but firm, the kind of embrace that carried weight far beyond words. When they parted, Byron rested a hand on Kamari’s shoulder.
“Be safe. And keep in touch,” he said, his tone softer than Kamari had ever heard.
Kamari nodded, his throat tight. “I will.”
Byron’s gaze softened. “You know,” he said, his voice almost wistful, “Your father was a good man. Strong, determined. I see in you more than just his strength. You’ve grown into a fine warrior, Kamari. A strong young man. He’d be proud of you. And so am I.”
The words hit Kamari like a wave, leaving him momentarily speechless. “Tell Nia goodbye for me,” Kamari said. “I wish I could’ve said it myself, but... you know.”
“I’ll let her know.”
Kamari glanced back at the ship. The gangplank beckoned, but leaving now felt harder than he’d expected. He looked at Byron one last time and, with a nod, Kamari turned and boarded the ship. The wooden planks creaked beneath his boots as he made his way to the bow. Maddox stood there, the Roc feathers on his shoulders shifting with the wind. His sharp eyes gleamed with approval as Kamari approached.
“This,” Maddox said, gesturing toward the horizon stretching endlessly before them, “is the beginning of a new chapter. One filled with challenges, growth, and change.” He turned fully to face Kamari, his tone quieter but no less commanding. “You’ll need courage to face it all. Are you ready for that step?”
Kamari squared his shoulders, met Maddox’s gaze, and nodded. “I am.”
Maddox’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Good. Then let’s begin.”
The sails unfurled, snapping sharply in the wind as the ship glided slowly away from the dock. The city of Ceiala grew smaller with every passing moment, its noise and chaos fading into the distance. As the ship cut through the waves, Kamari cast one last glance back toward the shore, Byron’s words echoing: You’ve grown into a fine warrior.
A flicker of determination burned in his chest. He returned his gaze forward. He was ready to meet whatever lay beyond the horizon.