As they slept, taking refuge in the night's peace, a seed stirred beneath the surface.
A thought shifted into motion.
A dream crossed the line into reality...
Yujo was exhausted.
He'd spent the entire day training, sat through Garuba's long, dragging story about how he found them, and then that little feud by the fire—yeah, that was the last straw.
He didn't feel remorseful. Not even a little.
He'd said what he said, and he meant it.
Hunda didn't carry the same burden he did—she couldn't.
She was, in every ramification, the chosen one.
And he hated how they all looked at him afterward. Like he was the problem. Like he had said something wrong.
He wasn't crazy... was he?Compared to the rest, he was the runt. The smallest. And if he was being real with himself, the weakest.
Yakuso could steal anyone's blessing and still be considered royalty. Reo could turn into any creature she wished. Kahito bent light like it was clay, shaping it however he pleased.
And him? He was just a walking armory. Big deal.
And him?
His blessing? He could turn any part of his body into a weapon.That was it.
The only person that truly understood his plight was his only friend—Mi Lai.
Blessed with the same power as Garuba, and having trained under him his whole life, you'd think Mi Lai would be the natural heir. Someone destined to live up to Garuba's legacy—maybe even surpass it.
But that was the problem.
It was the assumption that Mi Lai should be as powerful as Garuba that crushed him. The constant comparisons. The weight of expectation. It ate away at his confidence and slowly made him weaker.
This was what he and Mi Lai bonded over—the burden.
Yujo felt small and inferior around the rest, like the odd one out, while Mi Lai felt like a failed successor to a man he could never measure up to. Different struggles, same weight.
He wasn't lonely—someone kept him tethered—but he sometimes felt like he was alone.
Maybe it was true.
Mi Lai was great and all, but he'd always wished for a change in circumstances.
A shift in fate.
A hand reaching out.
A saviour.
Someone who saw him outside the shadows of legacy or power.
She did. Sometimes.
He drifted off to sleep, his dreams staying what they'd always been—just dreams...
Except they weren't.
When sleep came, it felt wrong—like slipping under ice. His body was heavy, breath slow, yet his mind wouldn't stop thrashing.
Then the dark shifted.
Somewhere between sleep and silence, a figure appeared. He sat on a log beneath a giant oak tree, a flickering campfire casting long shadows around them. Another log stood opposite him—empty, expectant. The figure looked up.
It was a man.
Salt-and-pepper, ash-brown hair, slick and perfectly untouched. His eyes were deep green, sharp, alive. The kind that seemed to look through you, not at you, like he already knew what Yujo was thinking.
He was clad in purple robes, edges trimmed with silver—royalty. A cape hung from his shoulders, stitched with a symbol Yujo almost recognized but not quite. It tugged at something in his memory.
He looked to be in his mid-forties but his face hadn't aged. Not really. Only one thing disrupted the man's flawless presence—a jagged scar, carved from the center of his forehead, slicing across his nose, and settling at the edge of his lips. The scar made the man's presence eerie. Hell, this whole situation was creepy and confusing.
Everywhere was pitch black except for the campfire. He couldn't even see a platform to stand on so how the hell was he upright? What was going on? Who was the mysterious man? What was he doing here?
As if reading his thoughts, the man spoke.
"I see you're confused—rightfully so. Come, sit. Don't be afraid; I have simply come to talk."
The man's voice was not what Yujo expected. Despite his eerie presence, it was calm—soothing, even. It filled the silence and rang in his ears, yet somehow made the man feel less of a threat. Even so, Yujo was hesitant. He disliked the old man, but one thing he'd learned from Garuba was never to dismiss a strange situation as harmless. Even when it seemed safe, always remain vigilant.
"Not coming? I had intended a short conversation but if you wish, we could just stay here forever. Time works differently here — a single minute out there is a week in Draumr. " the man added.
Yujo's initial hesitation vanished—not because the man seemed safe, but because he didn't want to be stuck here for God knows how long.
He approached the log cautiously and sat down. The man turned to face him.
"Hello, Yujo," the man began, clasping his hands together.
Yujo raised a brow. "How do you—"
"Oh, come on, Yujo. You're smarter than that. I walk into your dreams and you think I wouldn't know your name?" the man said, a tinge of irritation lacing his words.
"True," Yujo admitted, biting his lower lip.
"Indeed. So, how's life at the glade?"
"Well, it's more of a field than a glade, but... it's alright, I guess," Yujo replied.
"Are you sure?" The man's brow arched, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth.
Yujo narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
"Yes. I'm sure."
"I see," the man sighed. "I'm curious—do you take pleasure in deceiving yourself?"
Yujo cocked his head in confusion. "Excuse me? No, I don't... deceive myself..."
"Then why do you keep doing it?" the man asked.
"Doing what?" Yujo snapped, though a crack of unease threaded through his tone.
"Lashing out at people. Your mentor, your siblings, your friends. Why do you think they have to be on the receiving end of your insecurities?" the man challenged, his expression deadpan.
"I'm not lashing out at anyone...," Yujo began.
"Then what would you call the situation that happened tonight? What term, Yujo, would you use to describe it then?" the man drilled further.
"It's not the same..." Yujo paused, his brows knitted together, his face twisting. "How do you know what happened tonight?"
"I've been watching you, Yujo. You and your 'siblings'. I've seen how much you pale in comparison to them. They surpass you. Power, discipline, intelligence—on every front, you fall short. At least most of them do. Someone who mirrors your inferiority" the man answered.
"Mi Lai. Yeah... we bond over that. Makes you feel less alone, y'know?" The words came out too quickly. His instincts screamed at him—this man was dangerous. The fact that he claimed to have been watching them put him on edge again. Who was he? Why was he watching? This man seemed dangerous but if he meant any harm to them, why hasn't he attacked them already? Was Garuba stronger than him? Was that why? The man's reply pulled him away from his thoughts.
The man leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "There it is again—the self-deception. Mi Lai's potential is buried under fear, not lack. You've made that fear a lifeline, twisted it into comfort. But it's not comfort, is it? It's a chain. You've dragged him down to drown with you."
Yujo just stared, his face bathed in horror. Somehow, this strange man had managed to cut him down, peel away his layers. It terrified him. Terrified him immensely.
"Why are you telling me this? So what if I'm using Mi Lai as my coping mechanism? So what if I quietly chip away at his self-esteem so we stay stuck on the same level? I don't see Mi Lai complaining about it" Yujo retorted, though his voice cracked more than he wanted.
The man leaned back and let out a hearty laugh, "Calm down, Yujo. I'm not judging you—far from it. In fact, I admire it. I know you yearn for the strength to finally stand with your peers. I know you're tired of being the chaff among the wheat. But it doesn't have to be that way. I could show you how to rise above them... if only you'd swear yourself to me."
Yujo was stunned. He expected danger not an invitation. The man's words rang too clear, too close to the secret ache he buried each night.
Fortunately, his face didn't betray any emotions this time.
He leaned back, crossing his arms. "What makes you think I'll agree to this offer?"
"Because I also know, Yujo, that you're desperate." A sinister smirk crept on the man's face.
Yujo let out a deep sigh. He opened his mouth to reply—but stopped. Until now, the only noise in this place had been his own voice, the man's voice, and the crackling of the fire. This was different. Sobbing.
It came from a few meters to the man's right. Yujo glimpsed a scrawny, hunched figure before it vanished, the sobbing cut off as suddenly as it had begun.
Something was wrong here. Deeply wrong. Yet, against his better judgment, Yujo brushed it aside, the temptation pressed heavier than the unease. Could he really make him stronger? Could Yujo finally surpass his siblings? Training had never been enough. But maybe—just maybe—this man could offer him something greater. Something worth the risk.
But he caught himself. How was the man going to do that and what exactly did he mean by 'swear yourself to me'?
"How exactly are you going to make me stronger and how am i supposed to 'swear myself to you'?" Yujo asked, rubbing his chin.
"Well—" the man was about to speak but his form shifted, like a glitch. He regained his form and sighed.
"Seems like my time is up. If you want answers to your questions, come to the palace and you'll see me. Until then, sweet dreams."
His body dissolved into nothing, and with him, the world itself unraveled. Yujo felt as though he were rising through water, lungs burning as he clawed for air, breaking the surface at last—then everything vanished.
His eyes flew open.
But even as the dream faded, the word clung to him, etched into his mind like a scar: Emönæ.
*********
Yujo woke up to realize that his whole body was drenched in water. His eyes widened as it dawned on him that his encounter wasn't a dream. It had really happened. No, it had finally happened. His prayers had been answered and his cry for help had been heard.
He looked outside and saw that it was still dark. Maybe an hour past midnight. The night was also very cold. He looked around the longhouse to check on the rest and sure enough, they were asleep. His only real problem was Garuba. He slept in an inner room and had felinesque hearing so he couldn't really check if he was asleep. Screw it, he was going to gamble it.
As soon as he made sure the coast was clear, he ran away from the longhouse. He didn't carry anything with him. The plan was, after all, to leave this life behind. He ran away from his mentor, his siblings, his whole life. He ran past the training ground, the field, and into the forest. He didn't look back, not even once. He kept running, as far as his legs could take him into the forest. As he ran, he cried; not out of remorse or regret, but of relief and enthusiasm. He had finally broken free from his reins. He could actually get stronger. No longer would he have to feel inferior to his peers. The very thought of freedom and power made him emotional.
As he ran deeper into the forest, he looked up and saw steam rising from somewhere in front of him. The tears on his cheeks evaporated into nothing, replaced by beads of sweat trickling down his temple. The once cold night suddenly became very hot. As he questioned what the reason for the change in temperature could be, a thought came up in his head and he was immediately filled with dread.
"Not that, anything but that" he muttered to himself, goosebumps popping on his arms.
He had slowed down his run to a cautious walk. As he approached the cause of the steam, he saw a clearing. In the middle of that clearing was a rock, and on top of that rock was Garuba, resting his elbow on his raised knee, his body releasing so much heat Yujo had to squint.
A wave of horror swept over Yujo—the thought was right. The only logical reason for the change in temperature was Garuba. It just had to be.
"W-what are you doing up this early?" Yujo stuttered, his body shaking violently with fear.
"It's funny how I could ask you the same thing." Garuba said as he sat up, the heat around him slowly dissipating.
"Um... I... couldn't sleep. Thought I'd go for a walk to clear my head." he lied, taking a step back.
"Why are you receding?" Garuba asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.
"I'm feeling sleepy" Yujo muttered.
"That's unusual. You had quite the dream but suddenly you feel sleepy? Come on, don't you have somewhere you need to be?" Garuba pressed.
Yujo opened his mouth in shock. He tried to speak but no words came out.
"You didn't really think you'd go dark and I won't find out, did you?" Garuba chuckled bitterly. "I had foreseen this day. I knew this will happen and I knew what I must do."
"Okay, fine. You caught me, but can you really blame me? I saw my peers soar while I was still struggling to walk. I've tried to hardest to catch up to them but I just keep lagging behind! It's not my fault they're so gifted and I'm... me. What did you expect me to do?!" Yujo cried out.
"Gifted?" Garuba chortled. "Reo can turn into any animal. Kahito bends light to his will. Yakuso is useless without another's blessing and Keira doesn't even use hers. You, however, can turn any part of your body into any weapon you choose. In terms of gifts, you should be the strongest. But that's not the case. In a fight, anyone of them outclasses you effortlessly. You blame fate for your weakness, when in truth, you were dealt the better hand. The difference is, they trained. They mastered their blessings. They pushed their power to levels you can't even dare to reach. And you? I've watched over you every single day and every single day, all you do is whine and lash out at your siblings like it's their fault you're lazy and lethargic. You even blinded Mi Lai so he wouldn't discover his true potential—fed him doubts and lies. The poor boy is crippled by fear of his own power. So what I expect, or expected you to do, was train, Yujo. To see your potential. To take responsibility instead of blaming everyone else. Next time, don't envy their triumphs until you've counted their wounds."
"Expected?" Yujo's shoulders slumped, his expression collapsing into dread and regret. "It's too late, isn't it?"
"Yes, my son," Garuba manifested a bow of fire and drew back an arrow, his gaze unflinching. "I'm afraid it is. You've chosen the path of Prismix and therefore are an enemy. Farewell, Yujo. I no longer wish you well." Garuba muttered, steam sizzling around his eyes.
He shot at Yujo, the fiery arrow tearing through the air. Yujo brought his hands together, and they formed a shield, flesh and bone meshing together to block the arrow. For a heartbeat, it held. Then the arrow erupted on impact, hurling him across the clearing. He skidded across the ground and until his back cracked against a tree trunk. The recoil nearly snapped his neck, sharp pain shooting down his spine.
Garuba exhaled slowly and let the bow dissolve into smoke.
"I don't think you understand the gravity of this fight. If you keep being sloppy, you will die." He shot forward, using his fire to propel himself, and closed the distance between him and Yujo. He kicked at Yujo's side, but Yujo put up his arm, blocking the attack. Garuba twisted mid-air and kicked at his face. This time, Yujo wasn't fast enough; Garuba's foot connected squarely with his cheek, sending him flying again.
Yujo shook violently with fear as he got up, his body covered in scratches. He spat out blood and looked up at Garuba, his fear slowly morphing into anger. He raised his fists in a fighting stance, his hands changing into triangular gauntlet-shields. He lunged at Garuba and punched at him. Garuba parried by pushing his arm away, but Yujo bent down as jagged spikes grew out of his legs. He swept at Garuba's feet, but the old man was too nimble. Using his fire, he propelled himself upward to dodge the attack. The flames from his feet burned Yujo's leg, forcing him to withdraw it and stagger backward.
But Garuba didn't wait for him to recover.
Using his firepower to propel himself, he backflipped in the air and, with one swift motion, brought a devastating kick to the back of Yujo's head, sending the boy crashing into the ground. The boy groaned and winced in pain as he struggled to get up. The pain from his burnt leg was roaring in his ear. His clothes were still smoking, and the smell of his seared flesh nauseated him. The faint flicker of rage was slowly dissolving back to what he was meant to feel: fear. He shuffled on the ground trying to get away from Garuba, but the old man grabbed him by his robe, dragged him across the ground, and sat him up against the rock in the middle of the clearing.
"I—I'm s-s-sorry. Please, I'll c-come bac-k" Yujo stammered, tears welling in his eyes.
Garuba's gaze wavered, sorrow flickering across his eyes before hardening again. "Look at you, you can't even stand by the side you chose. You've made your decision and now I'll teach you, Yujo, that decisions... have consequences. Get up," he commanded, flames erupting from his fists. He stepped back to create distance between him and Yujo.
"I said, get up!" Garuba roared.
Yujo slowly and painfully stood on his feet, using the rock as support. He clenched his shaking fists and raised them up, blood trailing from his nose and lips.
"Better," Garuba muttered.
He surged forward. Yujo mirrored him, his arms twisting into a blade. He swung—Garuba stepped aside, thrusting his palms out and a powerful column of fire erupted from his hands. Yujo narrowly dodged the attack but the heat was so strong, it singed his hair. The fire hit trees and began to grow, hungry flames devouring everything in its path. Smoke thickened, swallowing the clearing.
"Tch. I hate destroying nature," Garuba sighed.
Garuba formed a sword out of fire and charged at Yujo. He slashed at Yujo, who parried. The flames hissed, swallowing what little air remained. Yujo's lungs burned before the blade even came close. Sparks and fire clashed in the smoke-filled air, steel and flame colliding again and again, neither yielding ground.
Tired of the stagnant back-and-forth, Garuba swung at Yujo with an overhead strike, and as expected, Yujo parried. Flames erupted from the old man's elbows as he launched the next attack—a sickening punch to Yujo's gut. The blow hurled him backward, but Yujo was ready this time. His hands transformed into a rope dart, and he caught onto a tree to stop his fall. He yanked himself toward the trunk and landed on a large branch. A flaming branch snapped, crashing to the ground. Yujo's eyes narrowed.
Perfect.
He vanished into the treetops, leaping from branch to branch, snapping twigs with each landing, the pain from his leg flaring up with every jump.
Garuba still stood in the clearing, hands ablaze, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.
"What are you planning this time, Yujo?" he whispered to himself. Without warning, something whizzed toward him. He turned quickly, dodging it. When he looked closer at the projectile, he grinned.
It was a tree branch.
"I thought you weren't paying attention when I taught you this" he shouted, chuckling.
"I was." Yujo replied. He was perched on a branch with small, make-shift arrows beside him. He had whittled the branches into crude weapons. He molded his arm into a bow and fired another arrow. "I just didn't think it mattered... until now."
"How would it not be important?" Garuba cried out, dodging again. "Without this, you're useless at range. Your body isn't built to fire arrows—you'd be tearing yourself apart!"
"I see that now. Thank you for teaching me. Too bad your innovation is being used against you" Yujo yelled, nocking another arrow.
"Bah! Wouldn't be the first thing being used against me today." A fiery bow and arrow manifested in his hands and he nocked it. "Also—something you'd have known if you'd paid attention to your lessons—as an archer, you must remain completely silent... so as not to give away your location."
He released the arrow, and Yujo leapt away from the tree just before it exploded. He didn't have time to carry his ammunition, and it went up with the tree.
"AHHHH!" Yujo roared, launching himself at Garuba.
His legs twisted into a massive war hammer, and he slammed it squarely into the old man's chest. Garuba hit the ground hard, rolling before snatching something up. Yujo brought the hammer down again, but Garuba rolled aside and rose in one fluid motion.
Hands ablaze, the old man drove something into Yujo's shoulder. The boy screamed and clutched his arm. It was one of his own makeshift arrows—now burning. He yanked it out with a snarl, his gaze burning hotter than the flames.
His good arm warped into a sword, and he lunged at his mentor. Garuba slashed, but Yujo stepped back and parried. The old man tilted his head, puzzled. Behind Yujo loomed the massive rock at the center of the clearing. To anyone watching, it looked like he was backing himself into a corner.
But he wasn't.
Using the rock as leverage, Yujo vaulted into the air, twisting mid-flight to face Garuba's back. His injured arm reshaped into a bow, string already drawn. He fired the lone arrow he'd kept clenched in his fist.
Garuba turned just in time to deflect it with his sword.
But Yujo was already turning again, his back to his mentor.
The second arrow whistled through the air and struck true. It slammed into Garuba's chest, pinning him against the rock after his first block left him open.
Yujo landed wobbly and nearly fell, the pain in his leg flaring up.
Garuba slumped against the massive rock, Yujo's arrow pinning him in place. His chest heaved, blood seeping from the wound, but instead of silence, a chuckle escaped him. Then laughter. Then a fit of coughing that splattered red across his chin.
"How did... how did you get the second arrow?" he rasped between wheezes, eyes glittering with a mix of pain and curiosity.
Still with his back turned, he raised his shirt to reveal a crossbow.
"Before you blew up the tree, I already had an arrow nocked. Even though you blew up my ammunition, I still had that one arrow left in my hand," Yujo said, facing his father. "So I formed a crossbow, primed it, and waited for the right moment. When you drove that other arrow into my arm, I knew that was the perfect opportunity."
Garuba grinned through bloody teeth. "That was... really smart of you." He coughed up blood, and his sword turned to smoke. "Ah, I finally see the cold hands of death." He shivered faintly, as if the fire in his veins was finally dimming . "I don't like it. I've never been a fan of the cold."
The forest fire was beginning to die down, the air was getting clearer and dawn was nigh. Yujo clutched his injured arms and started limping away from Garuba, setting course in the direction he'd been heading before.
"Yujo!" Garuba called out with a raspy breath. "You do know that you have now brought on the full wrath of your siblings? They will not forgive this."
Yujo stopped for a brief moment, Garuba's words hanging in the air. His shoulders rose and fell with his breath. Slowly, he looked back over his shoulder.. "Let them come," he replied. "I'm not afraid. My only fear is now pinned to a rock on his way to hell. I welcome their wrath with open arms."
Yujo limped forward, smoke scratching at his lungs with every breath. His leg dragged uselessly behind him, and the copper taste of blood lingered in his mouth. Yet the forest wasn't silent. Behind him, laughter split the air—Garuba's laughter. Harsh. Broken. Endless. It sank into the trees, crawled along the ground, and pressed against Yujo's back as if refusing to let him leave.
He slowed. His hand caught a tree trunk, nails digging into the bark as his body trembled. What if he isn't dead? What if he's still waiting for me to turn around? The thought pulled at him, almost enough to twist his steps back toward the clearing. He closed his eyes and listened—only the echo of that laughter answered him.
Garuba was gone. His father was gone.
The forest quieted, but Yujo's heart did not. Fear coiled inside him, whispering of the wrath his siblings would soon unleash. Yet he lifted his head, jaw set, forcing his body forward.
The future stood before him—merciless, unyielding.
And Yujo walked into it.