In an infirmary where the starlight dusted its specks, the first elder, standing next to the second, wore a dark expression while gazing at the boy lying motionless before them.

“I’m sorry…”

Yana Roxelana muttered with a little over a little strength.

As her long pink hair flowed in gentle waves, her soft eyes of the same color lost their glimmers after another thorough examination. The results were as usual.

Her flowing robe, predominantly in white and pink hues, accessorized with a delicate purple sash at her waist and surrounded by pink cherry blossoms, fluttered as she shook her small head.

The first elder froze in his place. Murad was fuming with anger.

“You’re telling me he's long recovered… and just roams the Spirit World?”

“Yes…”

The timid girl nodded while whispering in a hushed voice. Murad placed his hand on her shoulder, his grip tightening.

“How does that make any sense!?”

Murad asked, his voice booming across the quiet of the infirmary. Roxelana, her figure slight and her demeanor meek, looked up with teary eyes.

“I can’t look at his soul sanctum… but he’s definitely become a seeker… No matter how many times we check, the results won’t change…”

Her voice, barely audible, trembled as she responded. Her ability was to heal the soul and restore spiritual energy. As such, she could not be of any help as the boy was already fully healed.

But the strange thing was, she could not perceive the boy’s soul. Even the greatest of rank two seekers couldn’t escape the grasp of her ability, so how?

“We should inform the clan head…”

“Absolutely not!”

Murad gave an instantaneous response. Roxelana didn’t know why he was so adamant about keeping it a secret. Perhaps the first elder knew something she didn’t.

Suddenly, her expression contorted. A sudden change overtook Roxelana.

The soft pink of her eyes dimmed from earlier sorrow and ignited into a vivid red. Her hair, previously flowing in orderly waves, became disheveled as she moved abruptly, framing her face in a wild and tangled mess.

“Da fuck is your problem!? Ha!?”

Her timid demeanor was gone, replaced by sudden ferocity. Her voice, once a whisper, now erupted. Murad sighed, already accustomed to this situation. He leaned back slightly, giving her space, a precaution learned from past encounters.

At times, although very rare, seekers lived in symbiosis with some of the souls inhabiting their bodies. As such, Roxelana had two personalities. Two beings lived in a single vessel.

The first was Rosy, a timid girl.

The second was Lana, a murderous keeper. This Lana was a far cry from Rosy. Her presence was dominating, hinting at a more powerful entity that gave a fearsome edge.

“How dare you raise your voice at my girl!? HA!”

She snapped, her eyes blazing a fiery red that pierced through Murad’s soul. Her persona, once calm and charming, now gave off an aura of someone deranged. Murad recoiled slightly, taken aback by the unexpected outburst and the pressure exerted on his soul, yet he was also on edge.

“You only have one job and fail miserably at that! You two have been roaming outside, doing whatever you please, with no repercussions whatsoever. Before anything else, Rosy is a member of the Yan clan. Remember. Or should I perhaps issue an exorcism on you? How presumptuous of you to think that you, as a keeper, can freely roam alongside the people! Stop immediately!”

Murad pointed at her, glaring ferociously at her crimson eyes.

“Hahaha… How scary.”

Lana's grating laughter burst forth, more akin to a scoff. It was a raspy cackle that seemed to scrape against Murad’s ears. Her mouth twisted into a smirk, not of joy but of contempt. Her eyes flashed menacingly. She intensified the pressure on the first elder’s soul.

“Lad, you think you can take advantage of us with your puny brain? I bet it tastes disgusting. You must be grateful that I’m a part of your meager clan. Hmm… I’ve always wanted to thrust your sly eyes. Guess now’s the time.”

As she slowly strode toward Murad, her nails grew. They sharpened into lethal points, glistening under the light of the stars fluttering through the windows.

“You have no authority in the clan, lad. All you have going for you are the funds and some connections in the capital. Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Each step she took seemed to fuel their growth. Her fingers curled into claws, poised and ready as she neared him.

Murad stood silently, his face calm. He knew words would be futile. His hands moved through the air with controlled motions, conjuring a swirling vortex that absorbed the light. Its edges rippled, distorting the space around it.

As the portal stabilized, it revealed a pulsating gateway that appeared to lead to another dimension. Murad's expression hardened. He was the seeker of the dimension pathway. He wanted to send her somewhere where her fiery spirit could be contained.

As the air crackled with elemental energy and the pressure between the two intensified, someone interrupted their quarrel.

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“What the hell are you two doing!?”

It was none other than Hakan, with Fatma wrapped in her arms. The girl appeared frail and ghostly pale. The marks of soul corruption had taken their toll, weaving vein-like patterns across her skin. Her eyes had a dull, distant sheen.

Upon seeing Fatma in such a dire state, Murad gasped. His hardened face crumbled into terror. The portal flickered and then dissipated in an instant as his focus shattered.

His hand clutched his chest as he coughed violently, splattering blood onto the floor. At this sight, even Lana's stance softened. Her claws retracting slightly, her fiery eyes now filled with confusion, the quarrel between her and Murad came to an abrupt halt.

Before Murad could voice his shock, Hakan added.

“Ros- Lana. She’s my disciple. Help her!”

Hakan spoke succinctly, her voice reverberating in the air as she approached the second elder and laid Fatma across the bed.

“Soul corruption!?”

Lana was immediately taken aback by the girl’s state. She placed her hand on the area of her heart.

“There’s no soul sanctum. She is not even a seeker! This makes no se-”

“I have no idea myself! Save her at any cost!”

As Hakan and Lana bickered, the former felt something piercing through her body. As she looked at the site of her heart, she saw a blackened hand.

“Explain.”

His voice was heartless as he demanded an explanation with chilling callousness. The first elder was now beyond furious. If he removed his ability, the shadow hand would materialize, piercing through Hakan’s heart as she would die.

The heart was the most vulnerable area for both seekers and keepers. It was where their rune lay for the keepers, and for the seekers, their soul.

As such, Hakan was completely at Murad’s mercy. Despite his age and the physical disadvantages he might face in a direct fight against the younger and perhaps stronger women, he was still the best among the group at taking others’ lives.

Neither Hakan nor Lana had felt his looming presence. It was the least that could be expected from Murad, the former assassin, the Seeker of Shadow.

Hakan raised her hands in the air in resignation.

“As I said, old man, no idea.”

At her words, the hand retracted as it momentarily tightened its grip around the heart, squeezing with an intensity that forced a stifled cry of pain from Hakan.

“Oh, you better have,”

Murad noted calmly. The usually composed elder's calm facade barely masked the volcanic anger beneath. How could he not? His only remaining kin, Fatma, was on a deathbed.

“I was helping her awaken and suddenly lost my bond. The moment I regained consciousness, she was in this state. I have no idea how this foreign soul infringed on her body.

Hakan said painstakingly. She turned her head and looked at Murad with a deadpan expression.

“So, what now? Are you going to continue with this tirade while your niece’s situation worsens with each passing moment?”

Murad’s eyes widened slightly at Hakan's words. The tension in his jaw relaxed as he processed her words. His stance shifted from one of outright aggression to a more contemplative posture.

His eyes darted back to Fatma’s frail form, lying still and vulnerable on the infirmary bed, her life hanging by a thread.

"So?"

Hakan straightened slightly. Her gaze was firm.

Murad’s face hardened again, but this time with resolve rather than anger. He turned to glance at Lana, who had remained silent. Her eyes were closed, and her brows were furrowed. Her hand was lightly clasped against Fatma’s barren chest.

As he retracted his shadowy hand, they neared Fatma’s bedside. Lana’s other hand hovered over Fatma, glowing faintly with soft light.

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The battle was unfolding amidst the remnants of a crumbled temple. The battlefield was thick with dust and debris stirred up by the violence. The warriors, a magic swordsman and a lance-wielding knight, were locked in a deadlock against the monstrous atrocity that seemed to descend from hell.

The creature, floating mid-air, was a fearsome entity with multiple glaring eyes and sharp, menacing spikes. Its skin seemed rough and durable, complemented by vivid purple accents that gleamed ominously.

An archer, a wizard, and a priest stood at the back, supporting the two warriors.

A cloaked figure wielding a staff channeled a swirling mass of blue energy aimed directly at the creature.

Song of Ice and Wind

The creature got distracted momentarily, and the armored warrior who bore a lance, utilizing the opening, charged forward. He rode a beast that resembled a boar. The lance glowed with a teetering energy that matched the creature’s accents.

Windbreak, Final Act - Defiance

The ground trembled under the weight of his charge. The knight’s lance aimed for the creature’s underbelly. The thrust was precise, piercing through the toughest armor or flesh. An eye-blinding explosion of light and energy erupted, tearing open wounds from which ichorous blood spilled onto the tiles below.

The creature was enraged as it retaliated with force. It lashed out with tendrils of dark energy that whipped through the air. The magic swordsman narrowly dodged, the tendrils scorching the stone where he stood moments before. Meanwhile, the knight parried a swipe from one of the beast’s spiked limbs.

The archer jumped and positioned herself atop a partially collapsed column. She had been waiting for the perfect moment to strike, her presence undetected by the beast focused on others.

She calmly and precisely knocked a slender arrow into her bow. The arrow glowed with a faint light and had enchantments woven into its shaft.

Snippet of Daybreak

The archer drew the bowstring back, her eyes narrowing as she aimed for a small weak spot - a spot revealed by her comrades' relentless assault.

She released the arrow. It sliced through the air, a swift line straight to its target. The sound of the bowstring's release was but a whisper compared to the clashes of the ongoing battle, yet what followed was anything but silence.

The arrow penetrated the atrocity’s flesh, burying itself deep. The impact caused a momentary pause in the creature’s movements. The light radiated outward, causing its eyes to widen in shock and agony.

Its massive body began to convulse uncontrollably, each spasm with more bursts of light shining through its orifices. It stood paralyzed, overwhelmed by the devastating power that coursed through its body.

The monster's body disintegrated into a dark dust cloud, leaving only a single rune behind. The archer lowered her bow, her expression grimly satisfied, as her companions paused to take in the sight of the fallen keeper, vanquished at last by her decisive blow.

They each nodded in gratitude, acknowledging the skill and timing that turned the tide of the battle.

Each played a significant role in this battle.

All except the blonde priest at the very back.

“So cool!”

Others were confused by the priest's usually calm and nonchalant behavior being replaced with childlike excitement. The priest didn’t mind as he clapped his hands enthusiastically, his face alight with awe and admiration.

Fatma had never seen a battle so epic!

“Good job!”

Seeing that others couldn’t understand her, she gave a thumbs up. But of course, this too, others didn’t understand.

Fatma lifted her other hand and extended her middle finger towards them.