Legosia was but a blade for his king. He listened, and he obeyed. He took the king’s armies, their hallowmancers and soldiers, and he led them against the other nations of the world. The young Remont had not the wisdom to see what he would bring. The first to fall was Tekel.

-From the 7th Chapter of “The Remont of Elneshe”

The message had been quick. Atreon arrived one day, blood covering one of his suits. He dropped down near the edge of the camps, besides a group of training hallowmnacers. They bombarded him with questions, detaining him until a noble could appear.

Galeon hadn’t seen it, hadn’t heard anything. He only learned afterwards when someone came slamming on his door.

“Open the door!” Noviselle shouted. He could hear her heavy breathing even from his bed.

Galeon shot up and met the poor countess, who was red in the face from exhaustion.

“Treomish’s son… in the camp. Nlaoja was attacked,” Noviselle told him.

Galeon grabbed his clothes, his boots and his jacket, putting them on as quickly as he could. He spared a glance for a grenade placed on a table. The trinket he’d gotten.

Then, he pushed past Noviselle, but she grabbed onto him.

“Not just them. Other settlements near the outskirts too,” she told him. “Scout squadron was already sent out. Go!”

Galeon nodded, jetting off as fast as he was allowed. He flew through the air like a bird, freeing as much bewl at once as he could. But no matter how fast he flew, he knew he wouldn’t reach it in time.

Energy coursed through his veins that morning, as soon as he’d set out. But soon that dissipated, leaving him isolated in the skies. With no one to talk to, the sights began to blend together in the Afterburner’s mind, leaving his imagination open to paint the scene.

Nlaoja only had the one hallowmancer, and he wasn’t even there. What in Seraphas’ name were they thinking! Atreon was their only defense and they sent him away? The stupidity made him pause. Should he even be helping these people?

But it was a stupid thought, he knew. He discarded it, but it kept coming back, like it was attracted to him. Each time it did, Galeon felt like accepting it a little more. It grew more comfortable in his head.

He could stop right now. He was far enough from camp, wasn’t he? Phasgoria couldn’t spare the soldiers to search for one hallowmancer. They’d leave him be, focus on slaughtering each other. He’d never have to lift a finger against another man again.

Cold numbed his skin, while the flight numbed his mind. Galeon didn’t even know if he was going in the right direction, letting his body guide him towards Nlaoja instead. Maybe he’d already passed over it, and made his decision.

The young Afterburner found some form of solace in that. Novi would forgive me, right? He consoled himself. But then he chuckled. Nah.

She’d hate him for the rest of his life. He probably would too, in her position.

But then the horizon revealed something. A bulbous black pillar rising into the sky. Smoke. Galeon dropped down near to the ground as he approached, and the sight of the smoke grew larger.

Underneath it all lay embers, and finally, the burnt village of Nlaoja. The houses were in utter disrepair, unrecognizable from his last visit. He couldn’t even recall the shape of the village from up close.

Galeon stood floating, the wind blowing smoke into his nostrils. It smelled horrible, mixed with the scent of something rotten. Galeon glanced towards the ground, only to shut his eyes closed at the first body. He couldn’t look anymore.

It would’ve been better had he just passed over it. The way it had turned out, he’d seen something that was carved into his brain.

He landed near the ground, trying to utter a few words.

“Is…. I-Is anyone there?!” He shouted, his voice cracking. He repeated the shout a few more times, each with less force behind it. He just couldn’t muster it up for what was in front of him.

Galeon walked through the ruination with teary eyes. Smoke threatened to leak into them, stinging and blinding. He was met with a few bodies, but he knew there had to be more. These were just the ones he could recognize.

The inn where Leane had burned her tongue. The shops where he’d seen Noviselle and Isil do their shopping. Even Treomish’s house, the rustic and inviting home, was razed to the ground. Not a reminder had survived.

He lifted wooden supports and broken housing out of the way, searching for even a cursory sign of life. A child, or a pet or something. But nothing arrived. It destroyed him again and again as he reaffirmed the truth.

Nlaoja was no more.

Then the rest of the squadron arrived. They didn’t even question Galeon, only stood in awe at what he’d already witnessed. He rubbed at his tear-stained cheeks, eking out a question.

“Are the other villages…” but it fell flat on his mouth.

“Just the same,” one of the Afterburners answered.

Galeon started stumbling towards the broken manor, hoping he could find something in his search, when that same Afterburner stopped him. he placed a hand on Galeon’s shoulder and pulled him into a hug.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“Fly home, brother. There’ll be something better for you there.”

Galeon nodded, afraid to utter another word. He drank in all the bewllan he had, taking off into the skies once more. He couldn’t get far enough quickly, tears drying up in his eyes as quickly as they appeared.

His jets didn’t work right, but he couldn’t figure out why. Just forcing the bewl through his body was a hard enough task. He’d spend half as much time walking through the hills, his body wrung out of bewl and his crystals empty. The young Afterburner truly didn’t care about returning back to the camps.

What am I going to tell Atreon? The question made him slow his step more often than not. The boy would break. He’d break harder than Galeon, having lost his entire family at once. Would he have to be the one to tell him?

No, no, no I can’t!

“Please don’t make me tell him,” he prayed. Galeon looked to the skies and grit his teeth.

“Why would you do this! What’s the point? The lesson?!” he shouted out. Every single Phasin God held the domain of war. Every single one of them was committed to battle and death and torture. Why would they make the world so?

“Answer me!” he begged, but his voice only echoed through the valleys and hills.

He wore his throat hoarse with all of his shouting, leaving him with nothing to return with. Galeon only realized he’d ended up back at the camp once he’d landed, and even then, it felt like a haze to him. Then Galeon collapsed to the ground.

****

Galeon awoke covered in a blanket. He felt the soft fabric caressing him, and wished it’d stay that way forever. But life was rarely so easy.

“Wake up, Dullhead,” someone said. Galeon shot up immediately in fear, only to find Leane looking with her hands held in front of her.

“And Novi says I take commands literally,” Leane chuckled. Galeon sighed, rubbing his eyes. He was safe here.

“I thought you were someone else,” he replied, laying his head back against the bench. Even if the wood was hard, the room he was in was warm enough for Galeon to not care.

“Who?” Leane asked.

“The twin hallowmancer, Retruv, called me Dull-end in our fight.”

“Oh… well I think you’re quite sharp,” Leane complimented him. He let out a chuckle.

“Thank you, Leane. But where are we?” he asked. The walls around him were fabric, not stone. Whose tent had Leane taken?

“Stables. It was the closest place to where you passed out,” Leane told him.

“I passed out?”

“Right at the edge of camp. Some of the others caught you and brought you here.”

“How long have I been out?” Galeon asked.

“A few hours.”

Galeon started to take the blanket off of himself, but Leane stopped him once again.

“I’ve already told Novi. You don’t need to report anything to her,” she said.

“And Atreon?” Galeon asked with a lump in his throat.

“Atreon knows,” she said.

Galeon hung his head low, wrapping himself in his arms. Even if it hadn’t been him, someone had told Atreon about the razing of his village. How could anyone accept that?

“…How is he?”

“He needs time, Leon. And you do too,” she told him, raising his head with a hand.

“Come with me. Let me show you something,” she urged him, guiding his hand out of the tent.

She took him towards the horses, who were resting in their own pens. Some other workers were there feeding them. Leane took Galeon to one of the empty ones, where a mare rested. She had a foal near her hooves, laying on its side.

Leane grabbed a brush out of a bucket, then sat down on folded legs. She grabbed the head of the mare, brushing her mane down her back. Galeon watched for a few moments, as a serene smile spread across her face.

He took a seat beside her, observing the entire process. Long slow strokes of the brush straightened out the mare’s hairs, and took out any debris from her coat. Was this what Leane did to calm herself?

“Here, now your turn,” Leane offered the brush to him. both the horse and Leane looked at him expectantly, but Galeon refused.

“Leane, I don’t think this will help,” he told her.

“Why not? You haven’t even tried it?”

“It won’t. You wouldn’t understand.”

Leane took offense. She frowned at Galeon, making him feel guilty.

“Because I wouldn’t remember it?” she asked. Galeon nodded.

“Did you know that Novi’s writing letters to Isil and Emile’s families?” Leane asked.

“She started already?”

And it was Leane’s turn to nod.

“I was there with her yesterday while she was making them. It made me remember… some things about my past.”

“Your family?” Galeon asked. Another nod.

“I don’t think I had parents. Not a mother and father like most people do,” Leane told him. “I was raised by a very old man instead. In some ways he grew to be my father. He taught me to read, write, and speak. Taught me everything he could teach me.”

There was something about the smile she held, that Galeon found different. It only grew as Leane recounted more.

“He wasn’t the perfect father, that much I know. Sent me out even when I didn’t want to go. But given what I was like, I couldn’t blame him. I think he did his best with what he could.”

“He was a terrible cook though, that I remember!” Leane joked.

“And where is he now?” Galeon asked.

“Somewhere, out there. He was always so afraid of letting me go, but I think even he realized when he couldn’t keep holding on….” the smile on her lips faded. In its place was confusion, of a decision already made.

“I’m sure he’d be proud of what you’ve become, Leane.”

“Yes, I hope so,” she replied.

Then she reoffered Galeon the brush.

“So, won’t you try?”

Galeon plucked it from her hands, and then set to work, with Leane as his teacher.

****

Galeon stopped mid-stroke, as he heard marching and shouting from outside. There were so many mixed in with each other, he couldn’t make out a single noise.

“What is that?” he asked.

“You should go and see,” Leane told him.

Galeon ran out of the stables in a sprint, past merchants and soldiers who were all going in the same direction. The entire camp seemed to be funnelling that direction, from where Galeon had come.

He reached the front of the crowd, a genuine smile spreading across the hallowmancer’s face. Afterburners were carrying men and women back with them. they dropped them near the entrances and took the injured to nurses and doctors.

Treomish was at the helm of the group, a single scar running down his eye. Galeon rushed to meet the man, stopping in front of him.

“You’re alive!” he gasped.

“Evidently, I am,” the chief replied in good humour.

“But Nlaoja. I searched through it, it was destroyed!”

“Old war tactic, boy. We hid away from the Ravenishtanis, biding our time. When they’d cleared, your Afterburners helped those who remained reach this camp,” Treomish answered him.

He walked past the young Afterburner, sizing up the settlement.

“You’ve built quite a base for yourselves here. Impressive.”

A portal opened up besides the man, and Atreon came out of it. He hugged his father tightly, squeezing the air out of him.

“Atre… hallowmancy,” he whispered, and the boy let go of him.

“Where’s mother?” he asked.

“Right at the back. You go help them, boy, I’ve got some people to meet here,” Treomish told him.

“But, your eye!”

Treomish placed a hand over it.

“It’s a flesh wound,” he told his son. But the boy glared back at him.

“And what did mother say?” Atre asked him. Treomish groaned, and Galeon wondered who between them was really the elder.

“Fine, I’ll have it checked,” he told the boy, allowing more nurses to whisk him off into the camp. Atreon turned to Galeon, giving him a slight nod.

“You flew all the way there just to help my father. Thank you, Afterburner,” he told him.

“There were people I couldn’t save, Atre…. I’m sorry.”

“None of us are all-powerful, Afterburner Galeon. You did what you could,” Atreon told him, before he turned to leave as well.

Galeon looked back and saw more men and women approaching. There were still injured among them. Galeon took to the skies once more, rejuvenated, as he raised a hand to help them.