Prologue:

A week had passed since he defeated Demon King Pascal. The entire world - or what was left of it - celebrated jubilantly. Kingdoms that had once been at each other’s throats now drank and danced together. Kingdoms that had historically been secluded had opened their borders to their neighbors. Collaborations among great minds, which once seemed impossible due to political tensions, were now more attainable than ever. It seemed that humanity was more united than ever. Everything was just as he had wished it to be, yet still, the hero Sepharion was restless.

He rode in a carriage alongside the surviving members of his party who had helped him defeat the Demon King, dazed and secluded, his mind wandering elsewhere. They were part of a celebratory parade leading to the royal palace of the Kingdom of Desiris, where all the kings from across the world, some newly-elected or recently inherited, had gathered to finalize the week-long celebrations of humanity’s victory over the Demon King and his army, and the destruction of Hell itself – this time for good.

Their carriage, leading the parade, was large and luxurious, crafted from lacquered brown wood. Inside, it was the epitome of comfort. The seats were arranged in a spacious, face-to-face configuration, providing ample room for each person to stretch their legs freely. While both the seats and the walls were covered in rich, red-colored velvet. The king of Desiris wouldn’t settle for anything less for the heroes who had saved the world.

Rosa, their defensive mage and Sepharion’s lover, sat beside him. She was the definition of natural beauty. Her long, blonde hair, tinged with a soft pink hue, cascaded down her back in gentle waves. She wore a flowing white dress, with a gold belt cinched at her waist, accentuating her lithe figure.

Elistaer, their wise and aged offensive mage, sat across, facing her. His short silver hair was neatly combed back, while his attire was simple and subdued, despite the celebratory atmosphere outside – a simple deep-blue robe over a set of black trousers and a white buttoned-shirt.

Seated beside him, and across Sepharion, was Karina, their healer from the cold northern lands of Skandia. Her auburn hair, streaked with strands of silver, was pulled back into a neat braid that hung over one shoulder. She wore a long, red flowing gown, the fabric thick and warm, not matching the hot weather of Desiris, yet a comforting reminder of the cold land she called home.

“Aren’t you hot in this gown, Karina?” Rosa asked, her tone laced with genuine concern. “I told you we should’ve picked something lighter for you.”

Karina chuckled at the suggestion. She spoke, her tone laced with a heavy Skandian accent. “Darling, the moment I think of Mother Skandia, my body temperature drops immediately. It works better than magic. Trust me, I’m good.”

“Speaking of Skandia.” Elistaer began. “Are you planning to return there now that the war is over?”

Karina nodded. “I feel like I must. I haven’t been home in like what...twelve years?”

“Twelve years...” Elistaer echoed softly. “Almost the entire length of this war.”

“Will you reopen your clinic?” Rosa asked, trying to steer the conversation away from the grim mood Elistaer had unintentionally set.

“I will.” Karina nodded again, a hopeful smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I feel like my people need me now more than ever. Morvash butchered many of us, but we’re a proud bunch. We’ll recover from this and repopulate our cold island once again.” She turned to Elistaer beside her. “What about you, Elis?”

Elistaer rubbed his eyes and shrugged. “Honestly, I haven’t decided yet, but I suppose I’ll go back to teaching at the university in Larina.”

“How does your saying go? You can take the university out of old Elis, but you can’t take old Elis out of the university?” Karina teased, a wide smile spreading across her face.

Rosa laughed. “Something like that.”

Elistaer chuckled, accepting the joke with a smile. “Laugh all you want. Education might not be the first priority after such a gruesome war, but I believe the new generation would need guidance, especially considering what they’ve inherited from us.”

“That’s true.” Karina nodded thoughtfully, before turning to Rosa. “What about you, love? What will you and the quiet Seph over there do?”

Sepharion heard his name, and his attention shifted to his companions, but he hadn’t been following the conversation, so he opted to stay silent.

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Rosa smiled shyly. “We haven’t discussed it yet, but maybe we’ll just travel around the world. We always talked about it in the past, and now seems like the perfect time.” She looked at him, and he just nodded, still dazed.

“That’s wonderful.” Karina replied. “You’ll finally get to relax. Gods know you’ve both earned it.”

Rosa smiled. “We all have.”

The palace and the tall and majestic mountains behind it were already in sight when Sepharion looked out the carriage window and saw a multitude of people – of different colored skins and various ethnicities and nationalities – all together, gathered to welcome their heroes, their smiles joyous, their waving ecstatic.

He felt Rosa’s hand wrap around his own, and his eyes immediately darted to her.

“Seph, they’re here to see you.” she said, her smile sincere and loving. “You need to at least smile at them.”

Sepharion nodded, and as if coming out of a trance, he mustered the best smile he could and turned to the crowd, occasionally waving to greet them.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Rosa spoke. “Who would’ve thought that all of these people would be standing together like this, forgetting about their differences, just celebrating?”

“And all it took was a war of extermination where we lost more than half of humanity.” Karina said, her tone grave. “It’s a shame they weren’t as united at the beginning of the war. Took them ten years to understand that humanity needed a joint front against Hell.”

Elistaer nodded, his expression pained. “True. We lost too many lives, most of them in the first years of the war.”

“What’s done is done. Don’t be so grim about it now.” Rosa said, trying to lift their spirits. “What’s important is that in the end, humanity stood united, and that we won. Surely, from here on out, everything will be better.” She turned to the quiet Sepharion. “Isn’t that right, Seph?”

He was deep in thought and her question startled him. “Hmm? What? I wasn’t listening.”

She gave him a worried look. They all did.

“Are you alright, son?” Elistaer asked, concerned.

“You’ve been looking out of it ever since the fight against Pascal.” Karina added.

Sepharion sighed. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

“You sure don’t look fine.” Karina disagreed.

Sepharion sighed again. “Everything’s fine. I just had a lot on my mind lately.”

“Like what?” Karina pressed, but he didn’t want to answer.

“I hope you’re not blaming yourself for the others’ deaths.” Elistaer said. “We all knew what we were getting into. I’m sure they're proud of us. And don’t forget that their names will be immortalized now.”

“I know.” Sepharion answered simply. That wasn’t what was bothering him.

“Then is it the gods?” Karina asked, her curiosity as aggressive as usual. “You’re upset Vitara and Eludranth didn’t descend from the heavens to shake your hand for a job well done? Come on, you’re not that naïve, are you?”

“They did descend from the heavens to give the calcite to the four of us, so we could defeat Hell once and for all.” Rosa interjected.

“And Seph said that the stone expired after he used it, so it’s not like they needed it back. So, what’s the problem?” Karina shot back.

“I never said it was a problem.” Sepharion replied, trying to keep his cool.

“Then what’s been eating at you?” She pressed again.

Sepharion sighed. “I liked you more when you didn’t speak Balarian so freely.”

She chuckled. “I just want to make sure you’re alright. I’m a healer - worrying about people is what I do. Don’t get mad at me for that.”

He shook his head slowly. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

Her gaze suddenly darted between Elistaer and Rosa. “Did you hear that? I’ve never ever heard him apologize to anyone. Something is definitely wrong with him.”

“Is it something the Demon King said during your fight?” Elistaer asked, trying a different approach. “We weren’t there to help, but you know better than anyone that whatever he said was just mind games.” He then pointed at his own head. “You’ve already beaten him. You don’t need to keep fighting him here.”

Sepharion remained quiet. Despite their efforts to ease his mind, the conversation had the opposite effect. Rosa noticed it immediately and stepped in. She knew him too well. “He’s just tired.” She offered a simple explanation, hoping to get them off his back. “Seph had to face the Demon King all on his own, and using the calcite to destroy Hell took a lot out of him, and I’m not just talking about mana. Just give him some space for now.”

“Okay.” Karina conceded. “Just know that we’re here for you, even after we disband and return to our kingdoms.”

Sepharion nodded, his hand tightening around Rosa’s in a gesture of thanks.

“Wait, is that a kalumba?” Karina asked in excitement, leaning outside the carriage’s window.

“A what?” Elistaer asked, confused.

“A kalumba!” she repeated. “Elistaer, are you even real? It’s a harp-lute with twenty-one strings, native to Desiris. Everyone had heard of it!”

“Let me see, let me see.” Elistaer said as he tried to move Karina from the window.

“Twenty-one strings? I have to see this.” Rosa said, excitement filling her voice as she peeked out the window as well.

Sepharion raised his head, his gaze falling on the people on the streets. There, a dark-skinned man played the kalumba. The instrument was large, covered by stretched animal hide. The twenty-one strings were carefully plucked by the local musician who created a rhythmic and uplifting melody that grabbed the attention of everyone around him. The pale-skinned people of the central continent danced in circles, moving quickly and joyously to the sounds of the music. To their side, the Kaseans, with their almond-shaped eyes and golden-hued skin moved with fluid and rhythmic motions, representing the dances of their homeland. Near them, the Muscesians, with their deep-brown skin, stomped their feet and clapped their hands, showing off their traditional dances.

The scene felt surreal, too good to be true. This was what he was fighting for and yet his mind was still in turmoil.

Despite the buoyant mood of his comrades and the united celebrations outside, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had made a terrible mistake – one so grave that even the graceful Vitara seemed to have turned away from him. A mistake the future generations would have to pay for. It weighed heavy on his mind, as the calcite he never used lay dormant in his pocket.