Joshua followed Maydee into the dimly lit chamber, the flickering torches casting elongated shadows on the stone walls. The air was thick with the scent of burning incense, a solemn reminder of the village's losses. Amador sat upon his throne beneath the mounted skull of a behemoth, the great beast's hollow sockets a silent testament to past battles. Before him, Bran stood, his voice barely above a whisper as he delivered his report.
Maydee stepped forward, her voice soft yet firm. "Are we interrupting, Father?"
Amador's deep-set eyes flickered towards them, his lips curling into a rare smile. For a man of his stature, one who had seen countless battles and buried too many comrades, such an expression seemed out of place, as if his hardened face resisted the notion of warmth. But just as quickly as it appeared, the smile faded, replaced by the commanding presence of a battle-worn leader.
He turned his attention back to Bran, his expression sharpening. "Bran, you are dismissed. Take a few of the rested warriors and patrol the perimeter of the village. Form quads. I want the perimeter watched day and night. We cannot afford another attack like this."
Bran bowed his head, his features carved from stone, his presence exuding pure killing intent. "Nothing shall breach the perimeter, Chief."
Without another word, he dissolved into the shadows, vanishing like smoke caught in the wind.
Joshua exhaled, feeling the weight of the moment. The war had been won, but at what cost? The village had survived, but scars—both physical and emotional—ran deep. He could still hear the echoes of the battle, the cries of the wounded, the roars of the beasts, and the sound of his own heartbeat as he unleashed devastation upon the battlefield.
Amador gestured towards the heavy wooden table at the center of the room. A large map of the surrounding territories was spread across it, marked with hastily drawn lines and symbols. "Sit. We have much to discuss."
Joshua and Maydee obeyed, settling into their seats as Amador leaned forward, his powerful hands resting on the table's edge. His gaze locked onto Joshua. "You've proven yourself, outsider. The power you wield… it is unlike anything I have seen."
Joshua remained silent, sensing there was more to come.
Amador's voice dropped to a lower tone, almost reverent. "You saved this village. Your attacks crippled the enemy before they could overrun us. Had you not been here, we would have been wiped out."
Joshua shifted uncomfortably. He was used to praise, but not like this. The weight of responsibility pressed upon him like a boulder. "I just did what I had to do."
Amador let out a short, dry chuckle. "And that is exactly why I called you here. We honor our fallen today, but we must also prepare for the future. The one who controlled the beasts… that was not just some rogue Gifted. He was organized. He had intent. And he will not be the last."
Maydee nodded grimly. "I sensed it too. This attack was not random. We were a target."
Joshua clenched his fists. The battle had ended, but the war had just begun.
Amador's voice rang with finality. "Tonight, we mourn. Tomorrow, we prepare."
After making small talk about the battle, Joshua led by his Master exited the hall. They left the chief to speak with other personnel for the upcoming event.
Maydee led Joshua through the winding halls of the chieftain's house, the scent of freshly baked bread and roasted meat growing stronger with every step. His stomach growled in protest, reminding him just how much energy he had expended. The battle had drained him, but now, the promise of a warm meal and good company made him feel almost human again.
As they stepped into the kitchen, the sight before him was enough to make his mouth water. A grand wooden table, adorned with platters of food, awaited them. Thick cuts of roasted boar, their skins glistening with a caramelized honey glaze, sat steaming in the center. A large bowl of hearty stew, filled with chunks of tender venison, root vegetables, and fragrant herbs, sent curls of savory steam into the air. Beside it, freshly baked dark rye bread, still warm from the oven, was sliced and buttered, the golden spread melting into the crust. A tray of assorted fruits—deep purple grapes, golden pears, and slices of crimson starfruit—offered a refreshing contrast to the rich meal. Wooden goblets filled with a spiced berry mead completed the feast.
Joshua let out a low whistle. "I feel like I just walked into a king's banquet."
Maydee smirked as she took a seat. "You earned it. Besides, you've been out for days. You need to regain your strength."
Joshua didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed a thick slice of meat and bit in, the juices exploding with flavor. He groaned in appreciation. "By the Mother, this is incredible Master."
Maydee chuckled as she tore off a piece of bread. "The village cooks outdid themselves. It's a way of celebrating the victory."
Joshua swallowed a mouthful of stew, savoring the rich broth. "A victory feast, huh? I like the sound of that. Though I don't remember much after launching my last attack. Did I do much damage Master?"
Maydee set down her goblet and leaned back. "That last shot? You obliterated everything in a wide radius. Bran checked after the battle, there wasn't much left of that patch of forest where the Gifted once stood. It was like the land itself had been carved away."
Joshua smirked. "Good. That bastard had it coming."
A comfortable silence stretched between them for a moment as they both took another sip of mead. The drink was warm with notes of honey and cinnamon, soothing in a way that almost made the grim reality of war fade.
Maydee was the first to break the silence. "What do you plan to do next?"
Joshua wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I don't know Master. My goal was always to get stronger, to keep moving forward. But after this fight, I realize there's still so much I don't know." He tapped his fingers against the wooden table. "I think I need to train more, master my abilities. There's a lot more to learn. If I could expand my core and strengthen my energy lines, I believe I could dish out more damage faster. Also, maybe next time, I will not faint from exhaustion."
Maydee chuckled and nodded approvingly. "That's wise. Strength without control is a dangerous thing."
Joshua grinned, grabbing another slice of meat. "That, and I kind of want to see what other meals I can earn Master."
Maydee rolled her eyes but smirked. "If that's what motivates you, then so be it."
They ate in comfortable camaraderie, the food nourishing not only their bodies but also their spirits. The battle was won, but the journey was far from over. For now, though, they had a warm meal and a moment of peace. And that was enough.
—
That night, Maydee led her disciple Joshua to the center of the village.
Two massive pyres stood tall in the heart of the square, erected in honor of the two fallen warriors. Smaller pyres lined up beside them, each marking the resting place of the four younglings who had given their lives to defend their home. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows, stretching across the gathered villagers and warriors who stood in solemn silence.
Not a word was spoken. The air was heavy with sorrow, thick with the weight of loss. The only sound was the distant crackling of torches held by those closest to the pyres, their flames barely swaying in the stillness of the night. The scent of burning oil and dried wood lingered, mingling with the unspoken grief of the gathered people.
Amador stepped forward, his presence commanding yet burdened. His broad shoulders, usually unshaken by battle, carried the weight of this moment. In his right hand, he held a torch, its flame burning bright against the night sky. He stopped before the pyres and turned to face his people. His battle-worn face was carved with sorrow, his expression hardened by the knowledge that some sacrifices, no matter how great, could never be undone.
His voice, deep and resolute, broke the silence.
"Tonight, we honor our fallen. Warriors who have walked through the Abyss and returned time and again, steadfast in their duty, unwavering in their resolve. Their blood has been spilled not in vain but in the name of our people, our future. May the Mother's embrace welcome them into eternal rest."
He turned to the smaller pyres, his grip tightening around the torch. His eyes, filled with grief yet brimming with pride, looked upon the younglings who had fought beyond their years.
"And to these young warriors," he continued, his voice softer yet no less powerful, "we owe a debt beyond words. They were no mere children. They stood where many would flee, they fought where many would falter. They gave their lives not for themselves, but for all of us. They shall not be forgotten. Their names will be etched into our hearts, their courage a beacon for generations to come."
A heavy pause followed his words. The villagers stood straighter, their faces etched with sorrow, yet their spirits hardened by loss. The parents of the fallen younglings, their hands trembling, held their grief within them like a storm waiting to break, but they did not wail. They stood proud, for their sons and daughters had died with honor.
Joshua clenched his fists. His chest ached with a newfound fury, his heart burning with a need for justice. He did not know these warriors personally, nor the younglings who had perished—but he felt their sacrifice in his bones. He felt the pain of those left behind, the smoldering anger of a village wronged. A single tear slipped down his cheek, a silent promise that their deaths would not go unanswered.
With a solemn nod, Amador lifted the torch high. "May the Mother guide them home."
One by one, he lowered the flame to the pyres.
The fire roared to life, consuming the wood, licking at the night sky as if calling to the heavens. The heat surged outward, its glow illuminating the faces of the mourning villagers. Warriors stood tall, their jaws clenched, their eyes fierce with silent oaths of vengeance. The killing intent in the air was thick, unspoken yet undeniable, a force that would not be ignored.
As the flames crackled and roared, Joshua took a slow, steady breath. This was no mere battle—it was a message. And he would not rest until he had uncovered the truth behind the attack.
The flames rose higher, and with them, the promise of retribution.