She was placed in a tent not too far from the war room, a bit more spacious than many of the ones the soldiers occupied. Ayah had insisted she share one of the other factions of the army, the healers, maybe. But none of the others listened to her.

Jamila had insisted on letting her go only after a clean bill of health, so she sat there for a while, waiting as Jamila worked her magic. She wasn’t surprised when she announced her body was in even better shape than the last check-up. She had leveled up a bunch since then.

“How’s our queen regent?” Ayah teased.

Jamila sat slumped forward, chin resting on the palm of her hand. She snorted. “You mean former queen regent. I’ve only occupied the cursed position for a week, and already I’ve thought twice about setting the whole castle on fire.”

Ayah laughed. “That bad?”

“Worse.” She shook her head ruefully, but the grin curling her lips bellied her amusement. “You’ve got your work cut out for you. But if you want, I offer my services to curse them once a week.” Her grin widened. “I have a list of untried curses I would like to study and have the best candidates in mind. It doesn’t hurt that those candidates are a bunch of bigots who believe bloodlines matter more than talent. Oh, this could be fun.” She cackled.

Ayah cursed under her breath as warmth traveled up her neck. She hoped the flush would be unnoticeable under the tent’s dim lighting. “Why does everyone keep making these assumptions?”

“They’re not wrong.”

“Doesn’t mean they’re right.”

Jamila shot her that look that screamed how can you be this oblivious? “He’s nice to you. The general is never nice to anyone– except Shoaib, but he’s his nephew, so…” She shrugged.

“That’s not true. He’s nice to many people.” Ayah somehow felt offended for Harith. In the last week, she has seen him risk his life to save others without expecting anything in return. How did that make him unkind?

Jamila gave her a look. “Are we talking about the same person?”

“He’s nice to you.”

“It’s different.” Jamila popped a grape into her mouth, chowing slowly, savoring the tangy taste of the fruit.

Ayah raised an eyebrow at her words. “Oh, really. How so? Please enlighten me.”

Jamila laughed, her head tilted to the side. “I’m the royal healer. He better be nice to me if he doesn’t want me to curse him into the next century.”

Ayah paused. She opened her mouth to argue further, to show Jamila what she should already know about Harith. She closed her mouth. Her protest would serve nothing but fuel Jamila’s claims. “Still doesn’t mean much.” She shrugged.

Ayah fidgeted under Jamila’s intense stare. She looked to the side, avoiding her searching eyes. The warmth that had now reached her face didn’t help matters either.

“Does it now?” the healer drawled, her voice laced with amusement.

Jamila left soon afterward, talking about ensuring everything was ready for the big day. It was baffling how the healer seemed calm at the thought of the approaching battle—not just Jamila but the other soldiers, too. Ayah had noticed a shift in moods around the camp. The soldiers seemed at ease, as if a burden had fallen off their shoulders at the sight of their general.

Once the darkness set its veil upon the camp, she ventured outside, nodding at the saluting soldiers, stopping to greet the ones who greeted her and thanking them for their heartfelt wishes. Her lips pulled into a strained smile as she listened for the umpteenth time to their words, to their gratefulness that she had decided to return with their general.

Where else would she go? Really…

She had asked Harith to tell his men to stop their weird behavior. The latter had merely shrugged, a strange smile curving his lips.

She threaded her way around the jagged rocks and climbed upward where she wouldn’t be found, not for a while at least. Girra had stayed behind in her tent, lazying over her makeshift bed, grumbling about stupid humans and their stupid wars. She couldn’t help but agree with him.

Making sure that she was finally blissfully alone, she asked Hayna, “What happened to the dragons? How did they go extinct?”

Hayna paused before responding. The screen floated in front of her, empty, and then words slowly started appearing.

[Without a host, I am unable to keep watch over Morr.]

[Only after our contract was I able to assess the continent’s dire state.]

[I can only attest to this: Girra is the only dragon within the land of Morr.]

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“I see.”

Ayah sighed, watching the vapor swirl in front of her face and dissipate under the moonlight.

“What’s this dire state you speak of?”

This time, no matter how long Ayah waited, no response came.

She looked down at the silent camp. She found her eyes roaming around, searching for a now–familiar figure. Was he resting? She hoped so. The only time he had –kind of– rested a bit was when she had knocked him out. She hoped she wouldn’t have to resort to such underhanded tactics again– cause she would if it came down to it. If any of them needed to lie down and restore their strength, it was Harith. If only the idiot were as good at caring for himself as he was at eliminating threats.

She blew into her hands, warming them. She couldn’t sleep. There was this restless energy thrumming under her skin, waiting to be unleashed. There was also this matter about her obscure fate that was eating at her nerves. She didn’t know why she was here nor what was expected of her. Some called her a demon spawn, while others proclaimed her a champion whose help was needed to save this world from a calamity no one bothered to shine any light upon.

“Didn’t think I’d find you here. Couldn’t sleep?”

She turned to Loaye. His hunched figure was sitting a few distance from her, perched on another level surface. Did he just get here, or did she fail to notice him earlier?

He laughed at her narrowed eyes. “I just got here,” he said as if he had heard her thoughts. He sighed, his shoulders sagging further. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Battle nerves?” Ayah ventured.

He shrugged. “Something like that.”

They sat in silence, watching the camp below as the soldiers scrambled around. Some changed shifts with their somewhat rested brethren and headed inside the tents to get some much-needed sleep.

“I traveled to your world to look for a powerful sacrifice.” Ayah startled at his words, almost forgetting he was here. She looked at him, waiting for him to continue. He paused, faltering. “Or that was what I told him anyway. In truth, I went to look for someone to stop him, someone powerful enough to put a stop to all of this.” He looked at her. “You know? The first emperor hails from your world, from the same land you belong to.”

“I figured,” Ayah said when it seemed he was waiting for her answer. Hayna’s memories were still vivid in her mind. All those champions kneeling to receive their blessings from the ancients.

He nodded. “I wanted to find someone like that, like him.” He sighed, his shoulders drooping under an invisible burden. “But then, I got to know them. I started talking to them, joking around with them. Five years is too long, you know? Before I knew it, I was a regular at the bakery down the street. Halima asked about my health after I failed to show up for three days– I was waaay behind on my manuscript at that time. I hardly had enough time to scratch my nose– she refused to get paid and scolded me about my inadequate lifestyle and how it would drive me to an early grave.” He chuckled, his eyes softening as his thoughts were lost in some long-gone memory, the warmth bringing some color to his pale face.

He shook his head as if banishing the images from his head. And soon, a somber look marred his face. “The longer I stayed there, the harder it was to fulfill my duty. I couldn’t do it.” His voice croaked. “I couldn’t condemn them to such a terrible fate… I just couldn’t…”

He paused, eyes watching the Pass below.

“I didn’t plan to return. It was going to be my last travel to your world. There was going to be no sacrifice, no champion.” He gave her a look. “But then you had to follow me.”

Ayah stared back at him.

“You’re a champion now, so it falls to you to stop whatever calamity will befall Morr. And it starts with ending this war. We can’t have the continent torn apart from within. Whatever made the ancients call upon you will require all our efforts to overcome it.”

Whatever made the ancients call upon you.

Ayah sighed. She had hoped Loaye would have some information about what awaited her. Still, she couldn’t help but ask him, a sliver of hope trekking its way to her voice, “What calamity are you speaking of? Is the Dark Lord returning or something?”

He paused, hesitating. “After the first emperor reunited the continent, something terrible happened. I don’t know what exactly it was, but it was so bad that it wiped out all the remaining champions in one day. Whatever had caused it had been sealed off, and the emperor’s descendants had been tasked with maintaining the seal, but each year, it grows weaker. Sooner or later, the seal would break, and whatever is contained inside will be unleashed upon Morr.”

“It’s not the Dark Lord?”

He hesitated. “I’m not sure. I don’t know, could be, could be not.”

Ayah frowned, mulling over his words.

Something that even the original champions couldn’t deal with. How could she stop it? She sent a silent question to Hayna, but as expected, the ancient refused to acknowledge her inquiry.

“But first, we need to stop the infighting. Each war weakens the continent. We need to staunch Morr’s gapping wound to stand a chance.” Loaye nodded to himself.

“To stop the war means to stop Aayan,” she said slowly, eyes fixed on him. “In the upcoming days, Harith and Aayan’s swords might collide. No, I’m almost certain they will. I hope you know that.”

His lips pulled into a thin line. “I do. It’s the only way to save him. I–”

Ayah’s snort cut through his words. “I’m not sure he needs saving. He needs to be stopped and held accountable for his actions. Someone like him is beyond saving.”

“That may be so. But I know that deep down, there is a frightened child who no one dared to save– no one cared to.”

Ayah stared at him. Loaye was delusional. It was as if they were talking about two different people, not the mass murderer who took joy out of bleeding his victims dry. Her thought must have shown on her face. Loaye shot her a betrayed look as if he expected her to agree with him and see what he was seeing.

She saw nothing but a blind man.

“I’m saving him,” he insisted. “If the reason is gone, if the champion steps up and assumes her duty, then maybe he’ll stop what he’s doing.”

Ayah glared at him. She sighed. “Things are hardly as easy.”

“I know, I know.” He sighed. Suddenly, he seemed older than he was. Years and years of keeping everything locked inside his chest finally caught up to him. His face crumpled, his expression twisted into agonizing pain. “I know,” he repeated, his voice now but a whisper. “But I can hope.”

Ayah didn’t know what to tell him. So she kept quiet, offering him the only thing she could—her silent companionship.

They sat there, the silence of the unspoken words ringing between them, refusing to be acknowledged.

For his sake, she hoped he was right, no matter how impossible she believed it so.