Cale’s gaze lifted.

  He peered down the winding path through the trees, his expression heavy. In the distance, he spotted a cart—drawn by a tired-looking horse, its hooves slow and steady against the dirt. On the front seat sat two familiar figures.

  Lui and Bor.

  Cale’s face tightened.

  His brows drew together, not in anger, but in a sadness too old for his years. His lips pressed into a thin line, jaw clenched. His shoulders were slumped, arms loose at his sides, as if every ounce of energy had drained from his limbs.

  The cart drew closer.

  As it neared, the wheels creaked to a stop.

  Lui was the first to spot them. He nudged Bor, and both men’s eyes locked onto the pair—first Tiana, then Cale.

  They climbed down from the cart in silence.

  When they approached, both bowed their heads respectfully to Tiana.

  She gave them a nod and gestured for them to come closer.

  Tiana didn’t waste time. Her voice was steady, but low, as she began to recount what had happened.

  "A group of cultists entered the hamlet. Ten in number. They carried fire, spoke of purification. We stopped them."

  She paused.

  "But in the end... they sacrificed themselves, triggering an explosion that destroyed everything."

  Lui’s eyes widened. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came.

  Bor blinked rapidly, his hands curling into fists.

  "Everyone...?" he asked quietly.

  Tiana nodded.

  "The hamlet is gone."

  Silence fell.

  Bor exhaled sharply and turned away, pacing a few steps, dragging a hand through his hair. Lui remained still, but his face paled.

  Cale didn’t speak.

  He stared down at the ground, jaw still clenched. His fists trembled at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. There were no words that could make it right. Nothing he could say to bring any of them back.

  Bor turned back toward them, voice rough.

  "They were just people... farmers, children... and now? Why?"

  Cale’s head dropped slightly lower. The guilt sat on his shoulders like a stone.

  Tiana, watching him closely, didn’t speak.

  The forest around them was quiet, the only sound the soft rustling of wind through the leaves.

  Eventually, Bor sat heavily on a log near the trail, rubbing his face with both hands. Lui joined him silently.

  And the four of them sat in the shadows of grief, the weight of loss binding them together—if only for a moment.

  "Are you sure everyone is dead?" Lui asked, his voice low, his gaze fixed on the dirt.

  "I am sure," Tiana said quietly.

  Lui didn’t respond. His lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came. The weight of the confirmation settled over him like lead.

  Finally, after a long pause, Lui stood. The movement was stiff, like something forced through pain. He turned toward the cart without another word.

  "Bor, hop on," he said. "We need to see what happened to our home."

  Bor stood as well, but before he could take a step, Tiana spoke.

  "I advise going back to the city."

  Bor paused, one foot half-raised off the ground. Lui turned to her slowly.

  "There could be more coming," she said, her voice firm but not unkind. "If you return, you may not make it out."

  Lui opened his mouth, then closed it. The muscles in his jaw clenched. He turned back to the horse, grabbing the harness and adjusting it, the leather creaking under his grip.

  He pulled the cart around, the wheels groaning as they shifted direction.

  "Hop on," he said, settling back onto the bench. His voice was weary, hollow. "We’ll head back to the city. Might as well go together."

  Bor sighed, dragging his feet as he followed, climbing up to sit beside his brother.

  Cale and Tiana approached in silence. Cale held out his hand and helped Tiana climb into the back of the cart. Then he pulled himself up and sat beside her, knees drawn in slightly, hands resting on his lap.

  The cart rolled forward.

  Wooden wheels creaked as they moved down the narrow path. The sound of hooves against dirt was slow and steady, a rhythm of mourning.

  Cale stared at the road ahead for a while, the trees passing like ghosts.

  Then he spoke.

  "Tiana... should we have looked for the spirits of the cultists?"

  Her eyes didn’t leave the horizon. Her voice was quiet.

  "I did. There weren’t any."

  He turned to her, confused.

  "None?"

  She shook her head slightly.

  "Whatever that explosion was... it didn’t just destroy their bodies. I think it erased their souls too. Maybe as fuel for the spell. Or maybe as a result of it. I can’t say for sure."

  Silence followed.

  The weight of that truth pressed against Cale’s chest.

  Even the dead should have had something left.

  He sat in silence for a few more minutes before asking again.

  "Tiana?"

  She glanced at him.

  "What’s a cult?"

  She studied his expression. He looked so young again—vulnerable, haunted.

  She exhaled slowly, as if considering how to put it into words.

  "A cult is a group of people who follow a belief or a leader with absolute devotion," she said. "Often blind devotion. They’ll sacrifice anything—sometimes even themselves—for what they believe gives them power, or purpose."

  Cale frowned.

  "But what do they believe in?"

  "In spirits. Elemental ones. Fire, water, wind, earth. Some are ancient. Powerful. People pray to them—for a warm winter, for rain during drought, for healthy crops. And sometimes... those prayers are answered."

  Cale’s brows furrowed.

  "Back home, we prayed too. My mother used to light a candle during storms and ask the wind to be kind. My father would offer a drop of wine to the soil during planting season. I never thought much of it. I didn’t know it was real."

  Tiana looked at him, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she nodded.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  "It’s real enough to make people hope. Real enough to make others desperate. And sometimes... real enough to make them dangerous."

  Cale turned his gaze back to the road.

  The trees swayed in the distance.

  And no one said anything for a long while.

  The cart rolled on in heavy silence.

  The rhythm of the wheels over stone and dirt was the only sound for a long time. Shadows stretched beneath the trees.

  Then, softly, Lui broke the silence.

  "I told my sister about you," he said, his voice hoarse. "Her name was Tere."

  Cale turned his head slightly but didn’t speak.

  "The woman you scared by the river," Lui continued. "She was washing clothes. You really startled her. She dropped the laundry. Lost my favorite shirt because of you."

  Cale remembered.

  She had been no older than twenty, with sun-kissed skin and golden hair that glimmered like a halo. Her laugh had been light, like birdsong. Her eyes—bright blue, full of life—had widened with fear when she’d seen him.

  He had meant no harm.

  But she had run all the same.

  Lui gave a short, bitter chuckle.

  "She said you scared the life out of her."

  His hand rose to his face. His fingers trembled as they brushed away tears that had begun to fall freely. Then, without warning, his fist slammed into the wooden bench beneath him.

  "Damn it!" he shouted.

  His shoulders shook as sobs broke free.

  Bor placed a hand on his brother’s back, steady and silent.

  Cale’s lips parted, and he forced the words through the knot in his throat.

  "I’m sorry."

  Both brothers turned toward him.

  Cale’s gaze was cast down. He couldn’t bear to meet their eyes.

  "It’s my fault," he whispered. "Everyone died... because of me. If I had been more decisive. If I hadn’t hesitated—"

  "Stop it," Lui snapped, his voice breaking.

  The cart fell still again.

  Lui wiped his eyes roughly and looked away.

  "This isn’t the time," he said, forcing calm into his voice. "We’ll talk more later. After I’ve had a drink. Something strong enough to help me dull the pain."

  He leaned forward, elbows on knees, staring into the road as if he could outrun the memory.

  No one spoke again.

  Not for a long while.

  By midday, the city came into view.

  From atop the hill, Cale caught sight of the outer walls—tall, timeworn, and weathered by wind and rain. Thick stone stained with moss towered over the land like a sentinel. The peaks of distant buildings rose beyond the ramparts—spire-tipped towers and rooftops crowned with weather vanes. Banners fluttered in the breeze, catching slivers of sunlight through the overcast sky.

  As the cart rolled closer, more details emerged.

  The gates were flanked by sentries clad in chainmail, their spears crossed and eyes watchful. A long line of travelers snaked toward the entrance: merchants with wagons of grain and cloth, peasants on foot, and nobles in carriages marked with family crests. A woman near the gate called out prices for her fruit, while a young boy was chasing a stray dog.

  Then came the scent of the city—hearth smoke, spiced bread, leather, manure, and the sweat of countless lives woven together. It was the scent of survival, of stories stacked atop one another like bricks.

  Cale sat still in the cart, absorbing it all. The city loomed vast and alive.

  As they passed beneath the great arch of the city gates, Tiana raised her hand.

  "Stop here," she said quietly.

  Lui glanced over, hesitant, but pulled the reins. The horse slowed, and the cart came to a halt just inside the threshold.

  Tiana turned on her seat to face them. Her emerald eyes were clear and unwavering.

  "This is where we part ways."

  Bor’s brows furrowed, but he said nothing. Lui leaned forward, concern flickering behind his eyes.

  "You sure? After everything, maybe we should stick together—"

  Tiana shook her head gently. "There are places I must go. Things I must tend to."

  Her gaze shifted to Cale.

  Lui nodded slowly, then turned to Cale.

  "There’s a tavern called the Broken Pike," he said. "It’s down Silverstone Alley—two streets past the market square. Look for the red shutters."

  He gave Cale a firm look.

  "Find me there. Tonight or tomorrow. We’ll talk."

  Bor stepped down from the cart. He stood tall, then gave Tiana a respectful bow.

  "Lady Tiana."

  Lui followed, bowing in kind. "My thanks—for everything you’ve done for us all these years."

  Tiana inclined her head, her expression unreadable.

  With nothing more to say, the brothers took the reins and steered their cart deeper into the city, their silhouettes swallowed by the crowd.

  Cale stood beside Tiana in the busy threshold, watching them disappear into the current of people.

  It felt like the closing of one chapter—and the hesitant beginning of another.

  Cale followed close behind Tiana, weaving through the crowded city streets. The sounds were overwhelming—merchants shouting their wares, the clatter of hooves against cobblestone, and the steady hum of countless conversations flowing like a river through the avenues.

  "There are so many people here," said a familiar voice.

  Cale turned his head to the right and blinked.

  Xentar floated beside him, casting a soft green glow that flickered faintly in the daylight.

  "What are you doing here?" Cale asked, puzzled.

  "I’m following you. That’s evident," Xentar replied matter-of-factly.

  "Why?"

  "Because there’s no reason for me to remain in that forest," the wisp answered with a faint touch of melancholy.

  Before Cale could respond, Tiana glanced over her shoulder and whispered, "Shh. Both of you."

  Cale winced. Right—no one else could see Xentar. To everyone else, he probably looked like a lunatic speaking to himself.

  They continued down the winding streets until they stopped before a squat, weathered building. Its crooked wooden sign swung lazily from rusted chains and read: The Crooked Lantern.

  Tiana pushed the door open.

  The tavern’s interior was warm and worn, its wooden walls glowing in the light of a hearth fire crackling to the right. The air was thick with the smell of roasting meat, smoke, and spiced mead. Laughter echoed from every corner as locals clustered around tables, eating, drinking, and forgetting the world outside.

  Tiana led the way to the counter, where an old man leaned on his elbow, polishing a mug with a rag that had long given up the fight against grime. He looked up with a weary, practiced smile.

  "Good day, travelers, and welcome to The Crooked Lantern. How can I help you?"

  "A room for two," Tiana replied calmly.

  "Two silver coins," the man said.

  She placed the coins on the counter without hesitation.

  "And something to eat. Something good."

  "That’ll be another silver. I’ll have Mera bring you roasted chicken, lentil stew, and some bread. Simple, but filling."

  Tiana nodded and slid the third silver across the counter.

  The man turned to a wall lined with keys, his fingers brushing across the labels. He selected one and handed it to her.

  "Upstairs. Fourth door on the left."

  Tiana accepted the key and motioned for Cale to follow.

  They climbed the narrow staircase, their steps softened by the worn carpet runner. At the door, she unlocked it and stepped inside.

  The room was plain but clean—two modest beds, a small wooden table by the window, and a single candle already flickering on the sill.

  Tiana reached into her robe and pulled out a small cube inscribed with delicate runes. She placed it in the center of the room, and it began to glow faintly. A soft shimmer spread outward, forming a near-invisible veil of protection—likely a ward against sound or magical intrusion.

  With a sigh, she tossed her robe onto one of the beds and sank down onto it. She crossed her legs, rested her chin in her palm, and closed her eyes for a moment. The lines on her face eased, exhaustion softening her normally sharp features.

  Cale sat slowly on the edge of the opposite bed. Xentar floated silently nearby.

  "Where are we headed?" Cale asked quietly.

  Tiana opened her eyes halfway.

  "I don’t know," she admitted. "I keep thinking about where to go next, but nothing feels right. Valtara has some interesting places we could visit... especially ones where you might train your Spirit Bending."

  "Valtara..." Cale echoed, the name tugging at his thoughts like a half-remembered dream. "Aren’t we in Arkanthar?"

  Tiana’s eyebrow lifted slightly.

  "No. We’re in the eastern region of Valtara. Arkanthar is far north of here."

  Cale said nothing for a moment, stunned.

  'How did I end up so far from home?'

  "Are you alright?" Xentar asked gently.

  "Just... confused," Cale replied, his voice distant.

  Tiana turned to him and studied his face.

  "Cale," she said gently, her voice barely above a whisper. "You never talk about where you came from. About what happened to you before we met."

  He hesitated, glancing up at her. Her face was patient—open. No pressure. No judgment. Just quiet understanding.

  He took a breath. Then another.

  "Everything started after I was inspected by a mage in our village," Cale said, his voice low. "They said I had an affinity for metal."

  Tiana gave a small nod, encouraging him to continue.

  "My parents cried when they found out. Not with pride. With fear. I didn’t understand why. I was just a boy. I thought it meant I was special... but they knew what it really meant. What came next."

  He paused, lips pressed tightly together, struggling with the memory.

  "The next day, a man came for me. A metal mage in black armor. Kaelthar. He escorted me and three other children—Tristan, Mirelle, and Davion. We were told we were going to the Forge of the Dominion in the far north to begin our training. But somewhere along the way, our destination changed."

  He looked at her again, voice quieter now.

  "They brought us to a massive black castle. Cold. Empty. Silent. Surrounded by stone and sky. That’s where we met Isa—the strongest metal mage in Arkanthar."

  He swallowed hard.

  "She stood before us and said: 'You have all been chosen for something far greater than you can yet comprehend. You are here because you are special—because within you lies the potential to become more than ordinary metal mages. You stand at the precipice of something greater than Vallmoria has ever seen.'"

  He closed his eyes, remembering the awe that had once filled him.

  "She told us: 'You will undergo rigorous training—training that will push you past your limits, that will break you and rebuild you. Through discipline, hardship, and sheer will, you will forge yourselves into warriors unlike any the world has known. You will become something greater than mere magic users. You will become the steel that shapes the future of this continent.'"

  Cale opened his eyes again, haunted.

  "And I believed her. I wanted to believe her."

  His hands clenched in his lap.

  "The training was brutal. We weren’t children to them—we were weapons. Garret, one of the older recruits, made it worse. He bullied me and I snapped. My hands changed. Shifted into claws. I cut him. Badly. I could have killed him."

  Tiana didn’t flinch, but her eyes darkened slightly. She was listening.

  "They praised me after that. Said I was powerful. That I was destined for greatness. That my strength was a gift."

  He shook his head.

  "So I kept training. Kept pushing myself. Because I wanted to protect the others. Tristan. Mirelle. Davion. They were everything to me. They were my family."

  His voice cracked.

  "Then came the day I escaped."

  He looked at her, as though needing to be grounded.

  "It happened after another one of their procedures. I’d gone through so many by then. But this time, something changed. I had a dream. I saw Tristan. He was calling to me... but he looked wrong. Empty. When I woke, I followed something... a pull. And I found myself in a surgical chamber."

  His hands trembled.

  "I found his body. Tristan. Lying on a cold metal table. Mummified. "

  Cale covered his face with his hands.

  "There were more. In vats. Preserved. Gone."

  He shook with the memory.

  "I ran. I ran as fast as I could. I didn’t think—I just needed to get out. I reached the outer wall. I saw the forest. I was so close. But then... something crushed my chest. Like a hand. My heart... it burst. I felt it. I died."

  Tiana gasped softly. Her hand rose toward him instinctively, but she stopped short, uncertain.

  The room fell into silence, thick with grief and unspoken horror.

  Cale sat still, staring down at nothing.

  "I woke up near a river. Alone. And not long after... I met you."

  Xentar drifted closer, his glow dimmer than usual.

  Tiana reached across the space and gently rested her hand on Cale’s arm.

  "You’ve carried this alone for too long," she said. "But you don’t have to anymore."

  Cale didn’t answer. Not right away.

  But his shoulders eased.

  The weight, though still heavy, no longer rested solely on his shoulders.