As Baltimore's dark essence dissipated into the ether, Thorn lay on the cold, unforgiving ground, his body wracked with pain, his life slipping away. The battle's end brought no joy, only the bitter taste of imminent farewell.
Josh and Scotch, their faces streaked with tears, knelt beside him, their hands shaking as they tried to comfort their friend, their brother in arms. "Thorn, hold on, please," Josh pleaded, his voice breaking.
Thorn's eyes fluttered open, his gaze weak but filled with a serene acceptance. He looked at his friends, his comrades, with a love that transcended the pain. "I can see her... my wife... she's smiling," he whispered, his voice barely a breath.
Scotch, gripping Thorn's hand tightly, sobbed openly. "You can't leave us, Thorn. Not like this."
Thorn managed a slight shake of his head, his eyes softening even more. "I won't leave... I'll watch over you all. From... from above." He paused, gathering strength for his final words. "Tell my children... tell them their father loved them more than the stars in the sky."
A tear escaped from Thorn's eye, rolling down his cheek, mingling with the blood on the ground. "Promise me, you'll keep them safe... guide them... let them know..." His voice faltered, his strength waning.
Josh, his voice choked with emotion, nodded fervently. "We promise, Thorn. We'll make sure they know. They'll know everything about their brave father."
Thorn's hand weakly moved to his chest, where a locket lay hidden beneath his armor. "Give this to them... so they remember me." With trembling fingers, he managed to unclasp it, revealing a small, worn picture of his family.
The last light of the day seemed to fall just on Thorn, casting a gentle glow around him, making his features almost ethereal. He looked towards the setting sun, his breath becoming slower, more labored. "I'm coming home, love," he murmured, his last words a whisper of love, of hope, of an eternal promise.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Thorn's hand fell limp, his eyes closing for the last time. The silence that followed was profound, filled with the weight of loss and the echo of heroism. Josh and Scotch wept, their grief a testament to the bonds they shared, to the sacrifice they had just witnessed.
In that moment, the battlefield, once a place of violence, became sacred ground, a place where love transcended death, where a hero's story ended but his legacy began. Thorn's name would be whispered in stories, his courage celebrated in songs, his love for his family an eternal flame in the hearts of those he left behind.
Josh wiped his eyes, his voice steadying. "I hope Miss Burnham is still traveling to Ignisia. We won the battle, just like Thorn said."
Five hours remained until the king's summit.
40 Years Ago: The First Meeting
Forty years ago, in the lush gardens of Ignisia's grand castle, a voice echoed from the high stone wall overlooking the flowerbeds. "Hello, Arin," it called.
Prince Arin, heir to the throne and future king, looked up sharply. A boy about his age—ten years old, with tousled hair and a mischievous grin—sat perched above, looking down. "Who are you, child?" Arin demanded.
"My name is Thorn. I live just a few blocks from this castle," the boy replied, swinging his legs casually.
Arin frowned. "Hey, get down from there, or I'll call the guards!"
Thorn stood, balancing effortlessly. "This garden is beautiful. No wonder you always come here."
Arin flushed, caught off guard. "Are you spying on me? Get out of here, or I'll call the guards on you!"
"Relax, my prince," Thorn said with a laugh. "If I wanted to harm you, I could've done it weeks ago."
"What do you want, then?" Arin asked, crossing his arms.
"Nothing. Let's just be friends."
Arin scoffed. "I don't need friends. I'm the prince of Ignisia; I have better things to do." He turned toward the castle doors and strode away. Thorn watched him go, then hopped down and vanished into the shadows.
Days of Persistence
Day 2: Thorn greeted him from the same perch. "Hello, Prince Arin."
"You... What do you want? I said I have better things to do than deal with you," Arin snapped.
Thorn sat dangling his legs. "Don't you get tired of watching the same flowers every time?"
"No," Arin replied curtly. "Let me ask you—how do you sneak past the guards?"
Thorn grinned. "Now that, I won't tell." Arin glared and walked away.
Day 3: "Hello, Prince Arin." Arin hurled a rock; Thorn dodged and fled, laughing.
Day 4: "Hello, Prince Arin."
"Thorn, I'm really getting tired of you. Leave me alone," Arin groaned.
"Why would I leave a friend alone?" Thorn teased.
"We are not friends."
Thorn leaned forward. "We're not? And yet, you keep coming back here, knowing full well I'll be waiting." Arin stormed off; Thorn finally stood and left.
Day 5: Arin visited the garden alone, lingering by his favorite red spider lilies. "Hmm, he didn't come today. Not that I care anyway," he muttered.
Day 6: "Hello, Prince Arin."
Arin surprised himself by replying, "Good morning to you, Thorn."
"You finally greeted me back. Miss me?" Thorn beamed.
"I do not miss you. In fact, I was happy... I thought the guards had finally caught you." Thorn leaped from the wall, landing nimbly. "Huh? What are you doing?! Are you crazy?" Arin shouted, genuine concern flashing in his eyes.
Thorn dusted off his hands. "You've never been outside the castle. Meet me here tomorrow."
"I won't be leaving this place. I need to—"
"One day, you'll be king. What kind of king doesn't know how his people live? If you want to be a great king, follow me." Thorn turned to leave.
"Wait," Arin called. "Tomorrow I won't be around. Let's go today."
Thorn's eyes lit up. "Okay."
"That's all it takes to convince you?" Arin asked, half-amused.
Thorn grabbed his hand. "To escape, we need to go into the castle. The path I take will get us caught, but you know the guards inside, and I know outside."
The Great Escape
Four hours later, they slipped out unnoticed—or so they thought. A vigilant guard had spotted them and reported to Orion, the prince's personal assistant, who shadowed them in secret.
The castle's labyrinthine corridors felt like the jaws of a beast ready to snap shut. Thorn moved like a predator, eyes scanning every shadow. Arin's breath came ragged, each step a risk.
"Move like a ghost," Thorn whispered. They ducked into a narrow servant's passage, dust choking the air, silence suffocating.
They emerged in a forgotten courtyard under a reluctant moon. Thorn signaled stillness; eternity passed before he whispered, "This way." An ancient gate groaned open, protesting their intrusion.
Outside, the city was a tapestry of darkness. Thorn's steps whispered on cobblestones; Arin's echoed clumsily. Alleys reeked of refuse and chill, shadows hiding threats.
Near the market, tension peaked. Thorn shoved Arin into a doorway as guards approached, their voices like knives. Thorn's grip tightened; relief came with their passing. "Run," he urged.
They sprinted to a decrepit city wall gate. Thorn's fingers trembled on the cold lock; it shrieked open, betraying them. Beyond the walls, sharp air cloaked them in night, but fear lingered. "We're not safe yet," Thorn whispered.
Unseen, Orion watched, his eyes calculating. The chase had only begun.
Arin: "So, where do you live? Show me your house first."
Thorn: "Okay."
They arrived at a dilapidated house, one scarred room standing defiant. "This is my home. Let's get inside." Inside, faded pictures of Thorn's parents adorned the walls. A single bed, a table with cabbage, carrots, and a sack of pap—that was all.
"Hey, where are your parents?" Arin asked softly.
Thorn's smile faltered. "I never knew them. These pictures are the closest I have to family."
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"
"It's fine. I'm used to it... I have you now."
"Don't you have friends?"
"I did, but they bullied me because I lack elemental abilities."
Arin nodded. "I've been trying to sense your core, but... nothing."
"Yeah. Okay, let's hit the markets."
As they exited, five boys blocked them, led by a young Blackwood Thane. "Hello, Thorn. Looks like we finally caught you."
Flames of Friendship
Thorn and Arin bolted through Ignisia's streets, Thane and his gang in pursuit. They hit a dead-end alley, a towering wall ahead.
Thorn spotted rusted pipes snaking over it. "We can climb these!"
Arin struggled, but Thorn hauled him up. At the top, Thane's group arrived. One hurled a fire-infused bottle; it shattered on the pipes, igniting a blaze.
Arin slipped; Thorn caught him. Flames spread, and a burning pipe crashed down, pinning Thane's leg. Fire licked closer.
"We have to help him," Arin said, despite the bullying.
Thorn nodded. They descended into the inferno. Arin soaked a cloth in a puddle, and they used it as a rope to drag Thane free. Heat scorched their skin; flames singed Arin's sleeve.
Thorn patted it out while Arin freed the pipe. Thane, burned and shocked, stared in gratitude and fear.
This near-death experience forged a tentative bond. As they limped to safety, Arin sensed change. They weren't friends yet, but survival had planted the seed.
Thorn escorted Arin back via his secret path. "That was fun," Arin said, wincing at his burns.
"This is my life every day," Thorn replied. "I come to the castle to watch flowers and rest." They parted ways.
The King's Decree
Orion reported to King David III, fifty, robust despite his age, a hunter and traveler who demanded spicy food, renowned for leadership, peace treaties, and an undefeated record.
"My king, the prince has returned safely."
"Let him have his fun. To be a great king, you must know your people. Orion, a question: That boy—was he the one sneaking into the flower garden?"
"Yes, Your Highness. Thorn Hosi. He lives alone, struggling, but your people care for him. He always seems happy."
"Lend him an entrance card. The prince needs a friend. I can't trust the boy yet, but Arin might learn from him."
"Yes, Your Highness."
As Orion turned, the king added, "One more thing. The Verdani child has been found. Retrieve him from Zowe as soon as possible. Do not fail."
Orion saluted. "Yes, Your Highness."
Summoned to the Castle
Days later, Thorn was summoned to the castle, heart pounding—he assumed trouble for his sneaking. Instead, King David granted him a place to stay, an entrance card, and permission to roam (within reason).
Relief washed over Thorn. "I... thank you, Your Highness. I won't let you down."
"Prove it by keeping my son out of too much trouble," the king chuckled.
Thorn moved into a modest room near the gardens. He and Arin dove into daily adventures: sword practice in hidden courtyards, mock battles by the river, and late-night escapades into the city. Thorn's lack of elemental powers didn't deter him; his raw determination shone.
Arrival of the Verdani Siblings
A few days in, Orion returned from Zowe with two stranded children: Rose Verdani, a beautiful girl of ten with sharp eyes and a quiet grace, about Thorn's age; and her brother Oarkborn, who looked young but towered like a short giant—broader and taller than most men, yet with a boy's playful energy.
The siblings had been found orphaned in Zowe's wilds, survivors of a raid, clutching tales of their clan's ancient guardians. The king housed them for protection, sensing their Verdani heritage held secrets.
Arin and Thorn heard whispers and snuck to investigate. Bursting into their guest room, Thorn exclaimed, "Wow, the room is huge!"
Arin: "Every castle room is like this—it's normal, and..."
From above, Oarkborn lunged, mistaking them for intruders. Arin dodged and kicked, sending the giant boy tumbling. Oarkborn charged again; Thorn tripped him, pinning him down. "Stop! We're not enemies!"
A gentle voice cut through: "Yes, stop it, Oark." Rose sat by the bed, reading A Thief and a Ballerina Princess. She closed the book, standing gracefully. "Sorry, sister—I thought they were intruders," Oarkborn grumbled, rubbing his side.
Rose approached. "We forgot introductions. I'm Rose Verdani, and this oaf is Oarkborn Verdani, my brother. And you are...?"
Arin: "I'm Prince Arin, and this is Thorn Hosi, my friend. Hey, Thorn, say hi."
Thorn stared, shocked—Rose's poise reminded him of lost dreams. "Hey... hey there, Rose."
Arin pulled him aside. "Bro, what's up? You look shocked. Pull yourself together—you're embarrassing me."
Thorn shook it off. "Sorry, got caught up in the moment."
Back with the others, Rose asked, "So, what do you want from us, Prince Arin?"
"Just checking on the new kids," Arin said.
Thorn pointed. "One kid? Look at Oark-guy—he's huge!"
"My name's not Oark-guy," Oarkborn protested.
Arin laughed. "Yeah, he's dad-height. Sneaking him out? Impossible."
Thorn: "Let's just stay in, then."
They spent the day sharing stories: Rose's herbal knowledge from Zowe, Oarkborn's giant tales, Thorn's street smarts, Arin's royal burdens. Laughter bridged gaps, but tension simmered—Oarkborn's protectiveness clashed with Thorn's bravado.
The Short Conflict
By evening, a spark ignited. Oarkborn, feeling caged, shoved Thorn during a playful wrestle. "You castle brats don't know real struggle!" Rose defended her brother; Arin sided with Thorn. Words flew—accusations of entitlement, isolation.
Fists nearly followed, but Rose stepped in, her voice steady: "Enough. We're all lost here. Fight each other, and we're no better than the raiders who took our home."
Silence fell. Thorn extended a hand to Oarkborn. "Truce? Show me that giant strength tomorrow." Oarkborn grinned, clasping it—nearly crushing Thorn's fingers. The conflict melted into alliance, bonds forged in vulnerability.
Adventures and the Fifth Member
Adventures ensued: sneaking Oarkborn to the markets (disguised as a "visiting noble"), Rose teaching herb lore in the gardens, group escapades evading Orion. During one city romp, they stumbled upon Thane—now wary but intrigued from their alley encounter.
Thane joined reluctantly, his blue flames a spectacle. Shared dangers—dodging thieves, outrunning guards—wove him in. "Fine," Thane admitted. "You lot aren't half bad."
Time Skip: Five Years of Growth
Five years have blurred by in a whirlwind of memories. Thorn (15), Arin (13), Oarkborn (14), Thane (15), and Rose (12) formed an unbreakable crew. They grew stronger: Arin's swordsmanship and flame mastery dazzled; Oarkborn's brute force shook the grounds; Thane's lightning-tinged blue flames burned bright; Rose delved into medicines, her intellect a quiet power. Thorn, elemental-less, trained relentlessly—sword slashes, fitness, meditation—challenging Thane to duels for sparring.
One afternoon in the training grounds, exhausted after a grueling session, they lay sprawled. Thorn asked, "Hey, Thane, why flames? I thought Blackwood clan used lightning."
Thane shrugged. "Saw a capital soldier as a kid. Thought they were cool, so I learned 'em."
Arin: "Not strange... but blue flames? You burn out fast."
"Yeah, no clue," Thane said.
Thorn sat up. "I have an idea. Duel me—no holding back. Got new techniques to test."
Oarkborn sighed. "I'll call Rose to patch you idiots up. She'll be furious."
Thane grinned. "Okay, let's have fun."
They took center stage. "All out from the start," Thorn declared.
Thane drew his sword, igniting it in blue flames. Thorn gripped his, whispering, "Total Concentration: Balance." Steam aura enveloped him, balanced energy flowing.
Arin: "This is new."
Oarkborn: "Never seen Thorn this strong. Training paid off."
They charged, clashing in a power struggle of speed and fury. Who would win?
The Duel's Fury
In the medic house, Rose sorted plants for medicines when a massive explosion shook the castle, vibrations toppling her. "What was that?" She scrambled to the window, spotting blue light spiking across the training ring—too fast to follow.
Oarkborn laughed from the sidelines. "So Thorn's been holding back this technique the whole time?"
Arin: "Incredible. He learned energy control alone—balanced, unlike ours."
Oarkborn boomed, "The brute's done it again! He's gonna surpass you, my prince! Hoohohuha!"
Arin sighed, smiling.
Thorn evaded rapid blue flame shots with acrobatic grace. "Is this all you've got?"
"Stand still, brute!" Thane roared, switching to a head-on assault. "Flame Style: Divide!" A massive fireball hurtled forth.
Thorn leaped aside, but two more followed. Damn. He flung a string-wrapped pocket knife into the wall, yanking himself to safety. That was close. Enough playing. Landing on the vertical wall, he exploded toward Thane, striking him across the grounds.
Oarkborn: "Wow, he's fast."
Arin: "Terrifying speed..."
Thane rose silently, charging. "Flame Style: Divide!" Thorn dodged, counter-charging. Thane leaped skyward; Thorn pursued. No escape, Thorn. A blue flame wave slammed Thorn down, exploding in dust.
Thane landed, smirking. That might be it. But Thorn burst through like a bullet. "Total Concentration: Surge!" His punch's shockwave hurled Thane airborne. Thorn pursued a finisher, but Thane dissolved into flames—a decoy.
Blue fire illusions encircled Thorn. Unfazed, he squatted and clapped thunderously, snuffing them like candles. Thane erupted from below, smashing Thorn's jaw and sending him flying.
Oarkborn: "Think that's it for the brute?"
Arin: "Nah, he just got angry."
Oarkborn: "Ah, Arin—look who's coming."
Arin's excitement soured. "Great, here she comes."
Thorn staggered up, jaw throbbing. "Strategy credit, but... I won't lose in this form!" He punched the air, unleashing a pressure wave that gut-punched Thane, drawing blood and flinging him across the grounds.
Oarkborn: "Hoohuhoo... what was that?"
Rose stormed in. "That was the last move you make today, Thorn!"
"Huh? Rose! What are you doing here?"
"I'm busy with important work, and you idiots make noise and vibrations! Stop this fight now!" she shouted, furious.
Thane rose, groaning. "Damn... just when it was fun." He trudged to Arin and Oarkborn.
Thorn: "Since we're at work, can you tend our injuries?"
Rose sighed. "You guys never change. Okay, I'll take a look."
They walked off together, bonds unbreakable.
Back to the Present: A Final Echo
Memories flooded Thorn as he faded, a smile on his lips. "I'm not a brute," he breathed, his last words a defiant whisper.
Josh closed Thorn's eyes, draping white silk over his face. "Farewell, Hosi Thorn." A yellow light brightened the sky as dawn rose in victory over Baltimore.
Scotch: "We have to dig a proper grave."
Darwin arrived, seeing the silk, tears streaming. "Farewell, Mr. Thorn. You fought valiantly. Thank you for your sacrifice."
Minutes later, Thorn's grave stood atop the wall Josh had raised at battle's start.
Josh: "I hope Miss Burnham delivered the message safely."
Scotch: "She's probably still traveling—it'll take days to reach Ignisia."
"Yeah, you're right."
Deep underground in Ignisia's castle, a giant chatted with Mole when a tear fell from its eye. In the king's chambers, Arin wept silently. In a distant room, Blackwood Thane clutched his chest. Simultaneously, they whispered, "Farewell... Brute."
Three hours and eighteen minutes remained until the king's summit.
To be continued...