Akamori lay on his back in the soft grass of the fields on Hoshun. The night was just taking over the sun’s charge. The moon was nearly finishing its slow and steady climb. It filled the air with the peaceful chirping of the bugs. A warm breeze teased the skin, and he sighed.

“I’m dreaming again, aren’t I?”

“Yup.” the strong baritone voice of his father replied. A voice he’d not heard with his ears since the massive crimson tail spike had plunged through his chest and impaled his father. The scene of his father’s pained face reaching out to caress his face as he fell away dead flashed through his mind. He hated these weird, lucid conversations with his subconscious.

“What makes you think I’m just a figment of your mind? How do you know you’re not actually talking to me?” Kalenza asked.

He opened his eyes and saw his father sitting next to him. Chin lifted to the sky as he looked at the moon. His father had loved the stars, and he’d inherited that love from him. He finally allowed himself a shrug, not bothering to get up.

“Ghost or imagination. Neither prospect really strikes me as appealing. You’re still dead, and I’m still talking to myself either way. Worse, when I wake up, you’ll be gone.”

“Ouch. See how fast he is to forget us?”

“He’s carrying a great burden, Kel. Have some mercy.” His mother said, and he shot upright, looking for her. Sure enough, she was sitting right next to his father, their hands laced together.

“We should have joined you in the fields more often. But…we wanted to give you your space. We knew your soul needed to be on the move. In the stars. It was just hard to let you go.” His mother said.

“We thought, the more we tried to pretend it wouldn’t happen someday, the more we could just go on like a regular family. We knew the mundane life would have suffocated you. You’ve got the heart of an adventurer. Dashing out headfirst into trouble and stopping it. Being a simple farmer wasn’t a life for you.” Kalenza said.

“I was an ungrateful brat.” Akamori said with a tight voice. His eyes burned, and he felt like an invisible hand was threatening to choke him. “For nights your deaths, and everyone in Hoshun… it’s haunted me. How can I forgive myself?”

“For what?” Kalenza asked. A dark black bushy brow raised curiously.

“For not being able to save everyone?”

A large arm wrapped around him and pulled him close to his father. “Oh son. You can’t save everyone. Gods know you’ll try. As you should. But some fates can’t be stopped. The best we can hope for is to enjoy the opportunities we’re given. Live son. Don’t dwell in the shadows of death. Carry on the light of Hoshun. Fight with the void. Use its destructive power to propel you forward if you must, but always carry the light. Become a Warrior of Light.”

“Morality lectures by my imagination.” he groused.

His father chuckled and nudged his mother gently. “He thinks we’re his imagination.”

“We never taught him about what happens in death, sweetie. He’s been through a lot.”

Kalenza nodded with a soft frown. “A final lesson then.” Kalenza rose, brushing off his pants. “We’re no imagination or hallucination. We’re souls. When we died, we already committed our souls to Anazi because of our worship and prayers. The dread lords weren’t able to shackle a single soul from Hoshun, because the instant we died, our souls were gone.”

Akamori blinked as stunned realization settled in. It was a miracle. He wasn’t sure how or why he’d been gifted such a boon. “I was certain I’d never get to see or speak to you ever again. But why?”

Kalenza shrugged. “We thought you might need a swift kick in the ass. You’ve been through the thick of it. But it’s only going to get worse. Worse things will happen. But don’t let them bog you down. Get back up. Keep up the fight.”

His father and mother began to fade, going semi translucent. He pushed off the ground and his father and mother each put a hand on his shoulder. “Yours is a heavy burden to bear. But you must be carry it. You will grow weary. You will lose friends and allies. You’ll stumble. Question yourself, and fall. But always get back up. Promise me.”

He nodded to his father. Unable to speak as his throat constricted in grief. His vision grew blurry knowing that when he woke up, they would be gone. This truly would be the last time his family was whole again.

“Do not mourn us. We are at peace and happy to see the strong young man you’ve grown into. We’ll always be watching you from beyond.”

His body wracked with sobs as he tried to fight back the tears and couldn’t. Falling to his knees, he cried. All the pain came flooding out. Losing his village. His home. His family. No more harvests, no more festivals, no more celebrations. His old life had well and truly died then. He stayed doubled out on his knees in the grass as he continued to grieve. Eventually, his mind faded to unconsciousness.

Wakefulness came slowly. His awareness slowly asserting itself. Rising slowly from the bed, he shut off his alarm before it went off. He buckled his sword belt on and strode out of his personal quarters, which reeked too much of old oil. Shuffling through the corridor, he passed Arjun, who was bent over welding something along the wall. The acrid stench of burned plastics and ionized ozone tinged the air, teasing at his nose and sinuses, drawing a sudden sneeze as he passed by.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

He found Amara in the mess hall early, with a cup of coffee in hand and a floating book next to her as she read from a different one. Ever since they got back from Hidros and she’d gone to that Weaver spell college, she’d become quite the book wyrm. He wondered how much that translated into her ability to fight. More importantly she was exactly the person he needed to speak to.

She turned and gave him a welcoming wave and smile, gesturing for him to take a seat at the table opposite her. “Oof. You look like shit. Nightmares again? You didn’t blast the bulkhead with a void bolt, did you?”

He slid down onto the bench with a grunt and shook his head. “Nah. Nothin’ like that. Maybe the opposite, actually. I… I saw my parents.”

Amara’s gaze fell somber, and she nodded. “Oh.”

“Not like normal. This wasn’t so much nightmare torture fuel as it was heart string tugging torture fuel.”

“What do you mean?”

“They came to see me one last time and say goodbye.”

“Wait, wasn’t Hoshun sacked by shacklers and necromancers?”

Akamori nodded with a grim smile. “It was.” He said. Almost smug about it. “But they hadn’t counted on nearly everyone there being a devotee of Anazi.”

Realization swept Amara’s expression, and she clapped, “Meaning they committed their souls to the Air Mother. They can’t shackle what isn’t there!”

“Exactly.”

Amara smiled as she glanced back down at the book she’d been reading. Her expression was sad. “That’s good. It was hard for me to accept the possibility they might have bound the priests’ souls.”

Akamori shook his head. “I got the impression everyone from the village that didn’t make it physically, made it there spiritually.”

Amara placed a hand to her chest above her heart and whispered a soft prayer of thanks to the Air Mother. When she finished, she glanced up at him curiously. “So what dragged you out of bed and tugged you hear before me? Surely not to tell me that.”

Akamori shook his head. “No, I came because… I didn’t really know who else to go. I find my heart is too heavy. I don’t really know how to go forward from here.”

Amara rested her chin on her palm. Her elbow planted firmly on the table. He studied the runes on her armor for a moment, noting that they seemed a bit more developed than he remembered from Hidros when they left. She studied him with those golden eyes she’d first manifested on Hidros.

“Something is different about you. Did you get more magic?”

He shifted on the bench, partially thankful that she’d redirected his mind while also having matured enough to realize that she was actively doing it this time. He gave her a pleased nod. “I impressed my head master enough that she saw fit to take me to the golden pool. I’ve got a new ability.”

“The Blessing of light. Wards against aetheric corruption and soul shackling? Interesting. Seems to make your will as a higher value than any incoming attack belonging to those two origins.”

“I have to admit, I was a little deflated at it. But… not being soul shackled or aetherically corrupted sounds nice, too.”

Amara’s head canted. “You mean you haven’t noticed? Check your stats.”

He willed the fiery translucent scroll to appear. Casually scrolling down, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Not until Amara reached over and pointed to where an entry used to exist.

“Your Blessing of Light nullified the shackling the Captain cast on you. Your conscription is over.”

He blinked. He was officially a free man again. Albeit by the strangest of methods. “So…. I’m not a lieutenant anymore?”

Amara shrugged. “Not as far as the Federation cares. Not that they ever cared to begin with.”

He blinked again. This was a lot to process. He was still waking up after all. This was usually one of those revelations he liked to deal with after a full breakfast and a few hours to shake loose the cobwebs. Before, coffee was the worst time for heady stuff.

“Um. So… what am I now?”

Amara pursed her lips thoughtfully, lifting her other hand up to rest her chin on both palms now. It made her look cute in the girl next door kind of way. A refreshing change from the obnoxiously beautiful Aerynians. “At a guess? I’d say an Adventurer now? Congrats. You finally made it. Now you can travel the stars and do whatever you’ve always wanted to.”

His smile faltered when he realized the war with the Sauridius would chase him no matter where he went. Even if it didn’t, the memories would. He shook his head. “Not really. I can’t turn my back on the fight against the Sauridius. Not after what they did to our home.”

“Then perhaps it’s time we started taking the fight to them on our own?” Morwen said from behind him, sliding down onto the bench at the table next to him. She slid a steaming mug of coffee over next to him. Her own glass was full of golden and white sparkling motes. Light wine. An old vintage by the sweet scent rolling free of her glass.

“What about everyone else’s contracts? You, I could see them letting go happily. But everyone else?” Akamori asked. He was worried about potential slapassery from the Federation brass. He knew they were capable of startingly immense stupidity.

“A bridge we’ll have to cross for later. For now, let’s just focus on the immediate problem. Like stopping whatever plot the Sauridius has in store for our world.”

Akamori nodded, then allowed himself several silent moments to sip half the cooling coffee mug before letting out a pleased sigh. No hot bean water makes Akamori extra murdery. “Speaking of, what’s our sitrep?”

“We should be on target to arrive soon. Everybody gear up.” Sirsir said from the corridor that led to the cockpit. SirSir’s shift was nearly up. Akamori could see the nights strain of staying awake leaving its mark on him. Sirsir spent a point of magic and cast a hasty heal spell, and all signs of exhaustion faded instantly. Akamori sighed in magic envy and Amara chuckled softly at him. Sure, having a permablock against soul shackling was cool, but light magic would have been much nicer.

“Stupid magic ability. Should have gotten light magic.” He grumbled as he stood up with everyone else and shuffled back to his quarters to gear up.

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