The morning sun cast a muted glow over the farm, its warmth doing little to ease the lingering tension. It had been a day since the group returned from Ronan’s trial. Exile had weighed heavily on him, even if he wouldn’t admit it. He leaned against the barn, arms crossed and gaze distant, his usual defiant posture tempered by quiet unease.
Nearby, Alexander worked silently, mending a section of the fence. His focus was sharp, his movements deliberate, but his thoughts were clearly elsewhere. Sorin, perched lazily on a hay bale, watched the two with amusement, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.
“Doesn’t seem like the barbarian life suits you,” Sorin teased, flicking a piece of straw toward Ronan. “Maybe you’re more cut out for farm work.”
Ronan scowled but didn’t take the bait. Instead, he glanced at Alexander, who met his gaze briefly before returning to his task.
Gabriel leaned against the fence, his green eyes scanning the horizon. “If you two are going to fight, just get it over with,” he muttered, his tone dry.
Alexander didn’t reply, but he cast a quick glance at Ronan before focusing on the fence. The silence stretched, uneasy but unbroken.
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As the sun climbed higher, the group gathered under the shade of a large oak tree for a break. Water and bread were passed around, the midday heat making them all more subdued. Alexander, however, seemed restless. Finally, he broke the silence.
“I’ve heard about Aura and Mana,” he began, his tone thoughtful. “But this... Praxia. What is it exactly?”
Gabriel leaned back against the tree, his tone flat but explanatory. “They’re all different. Aura and Mana rely on cores. Praxia doesn’t.”
Sorin leaned forward, always ready to fill in the gaps. “Aura’s the straightforward one. It’s physical—strength, endurance, resilience. Unlocking its circles means mastering your body and instincts.”
Jordan added, “Aura doesn’t require bloodlines, but awakening it without one is rare. Those who do are considered prodigies or miracles.”
“And Mana?” Alexander prompted.
Gabriel’s green eyes narrowed slightly. “Mana is tied to bloodlines. You need the Elixir of Arcanis to awaken it. Without a bloodline, it’s a gamble. Best case? Pain. Worst case? Death. And even if you succeed, you might not have an affinity for Mana.”
Sorin smirked. “That’s why Mana’s for the elite. Expensive, exclusive, and flashy. The kind of thing nobles love to flaunt.”
Alexander frowned. “And Praxia?”
Gabriel’s tone darkened slightly. “Praxia doesn’t need a core. It’s raw, unstable, and uncontrollable. Once you unlock Praxia, you can’t awaken Aura—it locks you out.”
Jordan nodded. “That’s why most people avoid it. Aura has honor, Mana has prestige, but Praxia? It’s messy. It’s for people with no other options.”
Alexander leaned forward, his curiosity piqued. “Then why did you unlock it?”
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Gabriel exchanged a glance with Sorin before answering. “We didn’t choose it. After our families were killed, Praxia was the only option we had left.”
Alexander blinked. “Your families?”
Sorin’s grin faded slightly as he nodded. “Gabriel and I knew each other before everything fell apart. We weren’t close, but when our families were gone, we had no choice but to stick together.”
Gabriel’s voice softened, but his tone remained edged. “Aura wasn’t an option. We didn’t have bloodlines or the luxury of training. Mana? Forget it. Praxia... it kept us alive.”
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Jordan added quietly, “I met them later. After my own struggles. Trust wasn’t easy, but we built this farm together. It gave us a purpose.”
Alexander sat back, his expression thoughtful. “So the farm... it’s more than just a place to live.”
Sorin chuckled, his smirk returning. “Call it whatever you want, noble boy. It works.”
Gabriel didn’t respond, his gaze distant as if the conversation had dredged up memories he didn’t want to relive. The silence hung heavy for a moment before Alexander spoke again.
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“And Kyros itself?” Alexander asked, shifting the conversation. “It feels... fractured.”
Gabriel’s posture straightened slightly, his tone sharper. “That’s because it is. Kyros is a collection of broken pieces pretending to be a kingdom.”
Sorin gestured broadly. “Up north, you’ve got the barbarians. Clans like the Ironfangs and Bloodhowls—fierce, proud, and constantly at war with each other.”
Jordan added, “They’ll band together if there’s a bigger threat, but once that’s gone, it’s back to infighting.”
“To the west,” Sorin continued, “you’ve got the Beyond. The Frontlines handle smaller monsters, but the Deep Beyond? That’s where the nightmares are.”
Alexander tilted his head. “The Deep Beyond?”
Gabriel’s tone sharpened. “The Five Great Beasts. Ashrend, Gorath, Nyssira, Skarn, Vaelith. They don’t care about borders or kingdoms. If they move, cities fall.”
Alexander’s expression grew serious. “And no one’s dealt with them?”
Sorin chuckled. “You don’t ‘deal’ with them. You survive them.”
“And the east?” Alexander asked.
Sorin smirked. “The House of Veridral, Kyros’ royal family. They’ve got their castle, their traditions, and their pride. But don’t expect them to fix anything. They’ve been isolated for years, content to play politics while the rest of us fight to survive.”
Gabriel added, “Kyros’ problems don’t start or end with the Veridral family. They’re just one more piece of a broken system.”
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Sorin’s grin widened. “But not everyone’s scraping by. Outside of Kyros, the world’s buzzing with rising stars—Leonar Ferros, pushing for his fifth Aura Circle. Mira Lysenne, working with the Nightveil Sect—dangerous girl, always was.”
Jordan nodded. “Dren Caldros, the monster hunter, and Velra Mareth, the Mana prodigy. Names that made waves when they came to Kyros.”
Alexander tilted his head. “They came to Kyros?”
Sorin nodded. “Yeah. They came here to test themselves. Kyros’ chaos and monster-infested lands are perfect for building a name. They got their fame, then left—like everyone does—when it stopped being convenient.”
Jordan added, “They left with Celestia when she met the Duke of the North.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened, his green eyes darkening. “And they didn’t look back.”
Ronan squinted slightly, his brow furrowing. “Celestia. Why does that name sound familiar?”
Sorin grinned slyly. “Oh, you know. She’s the one everyone talks about. Rose through the ranks, married the Duke, left Kyros behind. Perfect little fairy tale.”
Gabriel’s posture stiffened, his expression unreadable. Sorin let the silence linger, his grin widening.
Ronan’s gaze lingered on Gabriel, piecing the puzzle together. His eyes narrowed slightly as realization dawned. “You… you’re her ex-fiancé, aren’t you?”
Gabriel exhaled sharply, exasperated. “What? How? Even barbarians know what I look like?”
Ronan shrugged, his expression somewhere between amusement and disbelief. “It’s not exactly a secret. Your face was plastered all over the papers when they wrote about the ceremonies. Hard to forget.”
Sorin, already grinning, burst into laughter, clutching his stomach. “Oh, this is too good. Even the mountains know about Kyros’ most famous ex!”
Gabriel shot Sorin a glare, his lips tightening into a thin line. “Fantastic. Just what I needed.”
As the day stretched into evening, the golden glow of sunset gave way to a cooler, darker sky. The group had moved from the oak tree back to the firepit near the farmhouse. Time passed, and now, under the cover of night, the fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the group as they sat in comfortable quiet.
Ronan lingered slightly apart, his gaze fixed on the flames, though the usual edge of defiance in his posture seemed tempered. Alexander sat nearby, leaning back with an unusual ease, while Sorin stretched out lazily, his notebook set aside for the evening. Jordan worked methodically on his scythe, the steady rhythm of the whetstone blending with the soft chirping of crickets.
For the first time in a while, there was no tension pulling at the edges of their conversations, no burden weighing down every glance. The air between them felt lighter—not without its complexities, but easier, as though the shared silence was its own kind of understanding. Even Ronan, still adjusting to his exile and the group’s dynamic, didn’t seem out of place anymore.
Gabriel sat on the edge of the circle, his green eyes wandering between the fire and the horizon. For once, he wasn’t calculating or second-guessing. Instead, he simply sat, letting the moment settle. Whatever uncertainties lingered about Ronan’s presence or the path ahead, they could wait.
For now, there was just this: a rare, fleeting sense of camaraderie.