The silence dominated the area, only the whispers of the wind and the hissing of sand leaving a misty dust cloud in the air could be heard. In the middle of the vast desert stood a massive rib bone, half-exposed, buried in the sands.

Seated on her knees, the woman in meditation slowly opened her eyes to her new surroundings, her eyes shifting from instant surprise to a knowing sparkle, returning to her usual calm—though she couldn’t prevent the hairs on the back of her neck from standing up.

She checked the sword standing next to her, resting in its scabbard. Slowly standing up and dusting herself off, she drew it from its sheath with a soft ring.

The blade, about forty inches long, was in solid condition except for some minor scratches, and featured a slight curve with an elegant and sleek design. This did not make it any less lethal or fragile.

Every detail is there. Just as I had guessed, this place...

After swinging the sword a few times, she sheathed it again, hanging the scabbard on her belt, smiling slightly at the familiar weight.

When she raised her eyes to the intersection of the sharp rib bones, she saw a long shadow cast by the burning sun behind it sitting there.

"And then?!" The woman started, shielding her eyes from the sun as she shouted to carry her voice. "Is the view nice from up there?!"

The response came soon after, a short, echoing chuckle. The figure stood up, revealing its height, and then jumped down from about fifty feet.

Boom!

As its feet met the ground, a resounding thud echoed, scattering a dust cloud around the landing spot, covering it with an invisible mist.

A slight, nostalgic grin formed on the woman's face. "Had I known you missed me this much, I would have come sooner, old man," she quipped dryly, placing one hand on the slight curve of her hip.

The figure's eyes sparkled ominously behind the mist as it stepped out slowly. And what emerged was a man, as magnificent and burly as she had last seen him.

His fur-trimmed cloak rustled with each step, the open front revealing his muscular and equally hairy upper body. His disheveled gray hair merged into the cloak’s gray furs, and in the single braid of his small goat beard dangled a sharp tooth. This burly man looks in his forties had a mature and charismatic air. Sharp facial features across his paper-white skin formed a stark contrast with the black veins.

The man approached the woman with slow steps, a slight but sincere smile on his face, "Welcome, little one. I’ve been waiting a long time for you," he said, his voice booming yet tender. "First off, let me satisfy my curiosity, how many years has it been out there?"

The woman looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow, "Since we last met?" she asked meaningfully. "Almost half a century, I guess. Not that long."

I had many chances to visit.

But I couldn’t.

I... wasn’t ready...

...for you.

The man grunted slightly, and the woman looked around, "And how long has it been in here?" she asked, her eyes finally resting on the man's deep, gray eyes.

It must have been a lot.

"Quite," the man said with a light sigh, clasping his hands behind him, causing a slight jingle from the steel-scaled arm guards running from wrist to elbow. "I stopped counting a long time ago. Time doesn’t hold much value here, as you well know." He twirled the tooth in his hand, "But if you say it’s been half a century out there, then it must be about... two thousand years here. I still can’t quite gauge the correlation between the outer world’s timeline and the inner realm."

The woman's eyes widened momentarily in surprise before she grimaced slightly. She nodded lightly, emotions flickering in her eyes.

It must be hard...

...being a soul trapped under the darkened dust.

After a short silence, the man looked at her intently, raising his thick eyebrows. "I see you’ve developed quite a bit since I last saw you, Xarnyth," he praised, his eyes making it impossible to miss the implication as he gazed at her body.

Xarnyth?

Zar-nith...

It’s been a long time since I heard that name...

The woman, before kicking the sands lightly, chuckled and shook her head from side to side. She raised her hand to eye level, surveying her palm filled with scars and various burns and shadows on her tanned skin.

She knew he wasn’t talking about her injuries.

"I almost thought you wouldn’t notice for a moment, old man," she said cheerily. "I was about to be disappointed waiting for that moment when you would praise me."

You’ve changed too, not looking the same to my eyes...

Loneliness has made you its own.

The man replied with a light yet meaningful smile. "How could I not? After all, my daughter’s illusions have reached the capability to deceive even my spiritual realm." He looked her up and down once more, his eyes lingering on her beautiful face for a long time. His deep gray eyes fell into her sea-green eyes, filled with longing.

You look just like your mother with this look.

Xarnyth ran her fingers through her short hair, scratching her head while turning her gaze away and chuckling softly. The tips of her long, pointed ears—each with multiple ear cuffs, one cut in half—were nearly imperceptibly reddened.

She was never fond of praise, but his was different. It did not annoy her, it pleased her. Praise from him would never be snubbed, nor humbly responded to.

There’s nothing quite like a father’s praise for a daughter, and she now understood more than ever how much she had missed it. She was reminded again of her desire to be worthy of them.

How old am I, and still I enjoy such things. How embarrassing...

But no matter the age, which daughter wouldn’t be pleased to be doted on by her father?

Finally, she turned her head toward him, her eyes clearly indicating she was about to say something mischievous. However, after catching his distracted gaze, she fell silent. After a while of meeting his eyes, "You miss her, don’t you?" she asked, her expression slowly fading into a solemn, almost serious look.

The man closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, then nodded affirmatively. "How is she?"

Xarnyth paused for a moment, then pursed her lips with discomfort, "I guess she’s alright."

A woman who had lost her spouse twice, a mother caught between her children, and a queen bearing the weight of a kingdom...

Even under these circumstances, she was managing herself well.

The man, responding to her ambiguous words, briefly shadowed his expression with a slight sadness as he looked down at the sandy floor. He knew all too well what she meant by 'alright.'

He turned away from the woman and began walking slowly. Xarnyth watched him for a while, not knowing what he was trying to do, then followed him, her boots scuffing in the sand.

However, she involuntarily tensed up, feeling the hairs on her neck rise again, pausing to cast a cautious glance around. She sensed something was off, something indescribable.

It felt like something, someone, was watching them. The intensity had been layering since she first arrived.

Looking at the man, she narrowed her eyes, thinking,

This is your realm, isn’t it? Then why doesn’t it feel as secure as it should, as it used to?

Finally, the man stopped, looking down at the sand at his feet, his eyes beginning to glow with a faint white light. And then, a few meters ahead, a dust cloud began to rise, swirl, and eventually coalesce into a form.

The woman, keeping her rising tension under control behind a composed mask, watched the event more with curiosity than astonishment. She silently observed the intertwining and knitting sand grains, until the sands revealed two horse figures. Both appeared as alive, their bodies now fully colored like those of real horses, complete with saddles, reins, and stirrups.

The woman, a slight grin forming on her face, cast a brief sidelong glance at her father.

After all, everyone is the god of their own realm, right?

A deep look formed in her eyes, her hand resting subtly on the hilt of her sword.

I hope you still have control on it.

The man, responding to her gaze with his own warm and dignified look, approached one of the horses and, with unexpected agility for his heavy frame, hoisted himself onto it.

Without needing to say a thing, Xarnyth also demonstrated her usual dexterity and speed in handling the horses, positioning herself in the saddle with a leap.

"Tsk-tsk..." The man gently urged the horse forward with a light tap of his heel, and the horse responded as if it had been trained by him for years, beginning to pound its hooves at a pace that was neither a walk nor a gallop, providing time for the woman who set her horse into motion with the same command to catch up beside him.

Xarnyth adjusted the scabbard swinging at her waist while keeping one hand on the reins. Her blonde hair fluttered slightly backward, like the man's gray strands, as their bodies gently bounced with each hoofbeat.

"So..." the man resumed the conversation, continuing from the same topic, "How's the one she married after me? Or your brother? How are they doing?" he asked, his voice piercing through the sound of hooves and the wind blowing under the golden horizon.

Xarnyth kept silent for a moment while driving her horse beside him. Her eyes wandered over the desert landscape, which never changed yet seemed more oppressive with each passing. "She died too," she said without any emotional undertone. "After Wu'diiyn, she gave birth to another son, his name is Tee'yhan."

His eyebrows raised in surprise for a moment, then he muttered to himself, "The second spouse also died, huh?" As he tugged on the reins, he followed up with another question, "How long ago?" He relied on her for news from the outer world, and after thousands of years of solitude, he craved conversation – especially with his daughter.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The woman sighed lightly, her face expressionless. "I heard she died a few months after Tee'yhan was born. So, about... thirteen-fourteen years, I suppose."

The man nodded briefly and grunted lightly in response.

Not too long ago then.

After a few seconds of silence, the woman started snapping her fingers, curling her lip in distaste, "I won't say I'm sad about it, I never liked that woman." There was a venom in her voice, almost too faint to catch, but not missed by her father. "It's just annoying that the boy had to lose his second mother without getting to know her."

No, maybe it's better that he never knew her. If he had lost her while being aware, he might have had to shoulder the trauma and pain. Plus, that woman's venomous tongue could have turned him into a second Wu'diiyn.

You really did die at the right time, Riell.

"Hmm..." He hummed neutrally. "How are things with your brothers, then? Are you and Wu'diiyn still sparring? And the other boy, what was his name, Tee-man? Anyway, can you get along with him?" he asked, interestedly.

Xarnyth was silent for a moment before shrugging briefly. "I haven't clashed with Wu'diiyn recently, and I have no issues with the little one." She moved her head to crack her neck, causing her ear cuffs to jingle lightly. "You don't need to worry so much, father. I'm fine, and I don't intend to create problems with my brothers. Even if I'm irritated by the middle one, we still share the same blood. I'll tolerate it," 'somehow' she said.

Before looking forward again, she glanced at her father with a slight smile, her eyes briefly darting to the single sharp, long protrusion on his forehead. "After all, weren't you the one who told me to always look after my siblings, no matter what happens, no matter how they behave?"

His eyes widened briefly at her words, then he returned his gaze to the horizon with her. For a moment, the silhouette of a person began to materialize on the horizon, tall and dark, nostalgic. When he blinked, it disappeared, but lingered in his thoughts for a while longer.

I wonder, how is he doing now?

Sighing lightly, he turned his thoughts back to his daughter. As a concerned father, he had to ask about her situation, knowing the struggles she described in the outer world. However, she must also feel alienated within the palace environment, especially since, according to her, she had left the palace after his death and rarely returned.

When I promised we'd travel the world together, I had no idea it would turn out like this.

I didn't know the weight of my words and that they would crush me...

His eyes, hidden with pity and sadness, fell on his daughter's stoic figure atop her horse. Her sea-green eyes looking into the horizon lacked their former brightness. They bore the dull look of a person steeled by experience and pain.

When you decided to face the outer world alone, I'm sure you wanted me by your side many times.

Every time you came here, you couldn't hide the voices of your soul from me, even if you never spoke them aloud.

Do you think I didn't hear the screams in your soul while you glossed over each pain and hardship as if they were nothing and sought comfort in your achievements?

Each time you returned, you were wounded not just physically but also spiritually.

Loss, betrayal, death, corruption...

Every time I saw your eyes become emptier, you didn't know how much it pained me.

How painful it is for a father to witness his daughter's suffering, yet be unable to comfort her, to do anything about it.

I wish I could have been there for you...

I wish I could have protected you...

The father's hands gripped the horse's reins tightly, his claws digging into his palm and drawing a bit of black blood.

I can't hear those screams anymore...

I can't sense how you feel anymore...

As he looked at the image of his daughter, which he could no longer distinguish from reality, he felt both an incredible pain and an irreplaceable pride.

You've grown, Xarnyth...

You've grown, my precious flower...

"Well," the first word slipped from the woman's lips with a light sigh, pulling the man from his deep thoughts. "Shall we get back to the main topic? The reason you called me here," she asked, tilting her head slightly to look at him.

Considering you haunted my dreams to summon me from the other end of the world to your grave, it must be something important.

The man looked at her with his steel-like grey eyes, twisting his lip in a similar distressed expression to his daughter's. "Time doesn't pass here, I mean, then again–"

"I know," she interrupted, leaning back in the saddle to look up at the bright sky before speaking. "A day in the outer world corresponds to years here but..."

"I don't plan to stay here that long."

After her words, a palpable silence fell between them for a moment, filled only by the rustling of the wind, the clashing of hooves, and the snorting of horses.

"Oh..." The man's eyes widened for just a moment, but he regained his composure as he turned his gaze to his horse's mane.

I guess that's normal...

After all, you wouldn't have wanted to live in such confinement for years as a young woman.

In such a place, even with your father, you wouldn't have wanted to endure the hardship.

Or maybe...

...I'm no longer as important in your life as someone you would want to live with for that long...

Xarnyth knew she was the reason for the silence and that her words might have hurt her father; however, she remained indifferent, holding onto a stoic, rigid outer mask while turning her gaze towards the massive teeth and skeletons in the distance.

I'm such a terrible daughter, aren't I?

But time is for discovering.

As much as I want to stay with you, I can't let you see the darkness inside me, within me, deepest part of me, not anymore...

I will leave you alone again, like a disobedient child.

I would have preferred to be buried by your side forever...

If I didn't have sins in my past that I can't change.

I'm sorry, dear father...

Your daughter isn't as pure as you think...

I can't let you see her tainted in your eyes.

The silence continued a bit longer, with the horses slowing down to small steps, the murmurs between them entering a quiet rhythm. Finally, after a deep sigh, the silence was broken by the man's words, "Something's happening, Xar." There was a seriousness in his voice that the woman couldn't ignore, matched by his hardened gaze.

Xarnyth turned her head to her father before raising her eyebrows, "What is it?" she asked, with a slight undertone of worry shadowed by curiosity in her voice.

If he says so... Something really is wrong.

When he returned her gaze, his eyes took on a deep and intense look, as if heralding something ominous. He seemed completely different from the father figure just moments before, so much so that Xarnyth felt a brief shock. Seeing him like this was rare; she had only seen that look once or twice in her life, usually before a bad event.

Something really is wrong.

Is this about the unease that hasn't left me since I was here?

Or did you manage to steal information from them again?

From that damn council?

When the man gently pulled on his horse's reins, bringing his mount to a halt, the woman followed suit. As he opened his mouth to speak, Xarnyth eagerly awaited the words to come. But instead of speaking, his lips parted, and the words slowly formed in the silence, breath by breath.

The woman shifted uncomfortably in her saddle, leaning forward slightly from her seat to read his lips, her brows furrowed as if questioning why he was doing this. Before he could relieve her curiosity by pointing vaguely upwards, his lips moved to form the words.

'Their eyes on me.'

Xarnyth's eyes briefly widened, betraying her emotions, but she quickly corrected it with a furrow of her brows.

I hope...

I hope it's not what I'm thinking...

As she raised her gaze with the slowly increasing tension inside her, her sea-green eyes lingered in the blue sky, scanning through the scattered clouds and the flying dust.

Where? She impatiently questioned inwardly, her hairs slightly prickling.

Just as she was about to lower her gaze back to the man, her eyes felt compelled to revisit a spot they had scanned over several times but hadn't initially drawn much attention—a small, shadowy point.

This little shadowy spot, a distance even elf eyes would struggle to see clearly, at first appeared to be an insignificant optical illusion. But the reality was so profound that it cut her breath short and widened her eyes in uncontrollable fear. Her hair stood on end, and her heart raced to the point of skipping.

Something ominous was amidst the dark clouds, intensely palpable. It felt like thousands of eyes were watching them from the depths of darkness, amidst the red lightning. No, they were definitely watching!

The same intense, raw fear she had experienced years ago began to envelop her again.

The Eights... The Eights?

The Eights?!

The intensity I've felt since the beginning... That feeling of being watched...

...so that was it!

Xarnyth's mind suddenly tingled, and a burning sensation around her eyes began. An incredible pain clouded her vision with a dark mist, rendering her unable to think, her ears ringing. As the line between the spiritual realm and the outer realm blurred, she found herself being drawn into the darkest memories sealed deep within her soul, memories she never wanted to recall again.

"No! Don't, this isn't you–" Shrrip!

Thud!

Darkness, very dark. Screams, all turning into a vacant hum, bodies flung about like a child's broken toys.

I'm flinging them...

Open, open... Deeper...

Tear... Rip...

No!

I'm watching their annihilation down to their cores.

They're all looking at me. Death in their eyes.

I can't believe how delightful they look.

They're laughing. Their voices tear at my eardrums.

Laughing at what I'm doing, at me, into my deepest, most private self.

I can't believe the beautiful chime they make alongside their torn flesh.

No!

Like a siren's song...

Their breaths crack my skin. Muddle my mind.

My body is light. My heart is numb.

So beautiful... So delightful... Intoxicating...

I want to hear more, slowly, savoring it.

This is what the claws were for...

"Shrrrk... Squelch... Crrrk... Rip."

I savor the feeling jumping from my fingertips to my nerves. I watch the soft portrait I've painted in awed silence.

I wanted more blood...

No!

This is what the teeth were for...

"Riiip... Gnash, gnash, gnash! Slurp... Glrk."

I savor the dense taste of metal seeping between my teeth, surprised by how intoxicating it is. I swirl each drop in my dimples with relish, replacing the raw taste sliding down my throat with new bites. The still twitching nerves settle in my stomach as they flutter in their final spasms.

I couldn't get enough of their flavors...

No!

Dark eyes, souls faded, consume me from within.

Jala, Yenyen, Kala, Helen...

Derim...

How delightful it was...

It wasn't me!

I want it again...

They did it!

How beautiful it was...

I didn't do it!

I felt so good...

They did it!

"Xarnyth!" The man shook her by the shoulders, pulling her back to now as she recoiled in fright, momentarily seeing herself reflected in his eyes.

Aquamarine faded, steel clashed with steel for a moment, a wild sparkle delving into the depths, gazing at the monster reflected within—until worry and warmth were detected, dimming its glow.

The man involuntarily held his breath, his expression grave, worried, and troubled as he looked at her, his eyes widening at the pale black-grayish tears streaming from her gray eyes.

You... What has happened to you since I last saw you?

As the man moved to wipe the tears from her eyes, she quickly withdrew as if dodging a blow, causing him to gasp. She took a long while to suppress the nausea rising to her throat and to return to her usual posture, attempting to calm her racing heart.

Her chest heaved, her breath was short and ragged, each breath desperate and uncontrolled, each feeling like a thorn in her lungs. "Hhhk... Haah... Hhhk" Her eyes narrowed under the influence of those dark moments, shadowed and tingling in a dark vignette.

Never had the spirit realm felt so much like the real world; heart palpitations, nausea, sweating, dizziness, headache, the need for air.

Damn it! Why?! Why?! Why?!

Why now, after forgetting for so long?!

Stay calm! Don't show it!

When body and spirit fully merged, one became aware of oneself, carrying pains and sensations in both the inner and outer realms simultaneously, with memories encompassing both realms.

This damn thing served to intensify the pain!

I never wanted this in the first place!!

Don't show it! Don't let him know!

Spirit and body, merging into one personality, fully recognizing each other.

It brought one step closer to the monster inside!

Mask! Mask!

Fucking mask!!

As her hands held the reins, her skin slowly returning to its -non-original bronze tone, the whiteness of her knuckles emphasized by the tight grip. Taking deep, shaky breaths, she couldn't bring herself to meet her father's eyes. One hand trembled as she wiped her tears while turned the horse around, showing her back to him.

"Old man..." After what seemed like an eternity, she started speaking in a flat tone contrasting her previous state. Yet a fragility skillfully hidden in her voice didn't escape her father's ears, it couldn't. "How much did you..."

How much did you see...?

She couldn't complete her sentence, neither wanting to reveal too much nor wanting him to hear.

"I... am sorry..." The few whispered words from the father were so heavy they carried a pain that could not be expressed in many words.

A brief glance into her most private self shattered the father's heart.

Xarnyth did not turn back to him, lost within the deathly silence that had formed between them. Her mind was blank. She could think of nothing. It felt as if boiling water had scalded her brain.

Minutes, hours, days—how long did they spend in that silence, motionless?

Hard to tell in the darkness of the mind, the father gave her the time she needed, the silence required for inner thought.

He allowed her to lose herself in herself. In the end, everyone was within themselves.

A person's own living space, where even the closest cannot enter unless the thickly woven walls' doors are opened.

Despite the pain, he had to respect that, could not force out or question something she did not want to share. It would only serve to thicken the walls further.

Finally, Xarnyth turned her gaze towards the man, her eyes more dull and tired than when she first arrived.

"I think I understand why I was summoned here," she began in a tone devoid of emotion, so different from her outer world persona.

You've intercepted another message from the Eights, but this time you've drawn their suspicion.

They have their eyes on us, their ears with us.

Simultaneously in multiple realms of spirits, simultaneously on hundreds of people.

I had escaped them.

But...

I hope when I leave here, I won't see them again in my own realm.

And now, I'm not sure if I can ever see you again.

The man looked at her with a concealed worry in his eyes. Finally, he too sighed deeply and nodded, his lips slowly moving to carve his sentences into the wind, into nothingness, into silence.

'They're going to attack Liubaneg.'

The woman's brows furrowed slightly, her fingers unknowingly pulling at the horse's mane as she nodded for him to continue.

'Why?' She mouthed the question.

With a serious expression, the man explained, 'It's just a distraction. They are after someone, and by plunging the city into chaos, they aim to draw attention away from themselves.'

She looked at the man with a stoic expression, while deep-seated worry bled through.

Someone? Who?

Who could be so important that they are being pursued, even in the city where I am now?

It can't be me, can it? Can't it?! It can't be! No, it can't be... I haven't done anything to draw their attention again.

I didn't!

Stay calm.

Before holding her breath, she etched the word 'Who?' into the air with her pink lips.

As the man idly scratched the saddle with his claws, his gaze drifting to a few rolling tumbleweeds, he squinted.

Finally, when his gaze returned to Xarnyth, his lips described the words she awaited into the void.

'One of her thousands of scattered soul shards.'

The one with the most shards, the vessel of the ancient one.

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. One of her thousands of scattered soul shards?

'Who? Whose soul shard are you talking about?'

The man cast a fleeting, evasive glance at the darkness before resuming his word shaping. As he began, the images formed by the man’s lips slowly widened Xarnyth's eyes.

.

The greatest of an era.

..

And the one with the most tragic end.

...

Silence dominated the area, with only the cold wind's whistles and the muffled hum of snow covering the air with beams of snowflakes heard.

Seated on her knees, Fyr'driin slowly opened her eyes to the outer world around her, her eyes as cold as the snowflakes around her and tense from what she had learned during her conversations with her father.

She checked the sword that stood beside her; it rested in its scabbard.

Then, she turned her gaze to the grave in front of her, where her father's body lay. She looked at the coffin of that person, encased in a stone wrapped in snow, a decaying body trapped inside, for a long time. Her hands wandered over the cold stone, pushing aside the snow accumulations, with love and longing, before she slowly stood up.

"Farewell, my dear daughter..."

His farewell words echoed in her ear from their last parting. This time it was harder because it seemed like he knew she would not return.

He knew.

After slowly standing up and shaking off the accumulated snowflakes from her clothes, she picked up her sword from the ground and hung its sheath on the belt at her waist, a calm sadness forming on her face. Closing her eyes, she let her hand linger on the stone a bit longer, the emotions on her face visible only for this moment, unseen in her solitude.

"Farewell, old man..."

Farewell, dear father.

*