Kael's breath came in sharp bursts as he climbed, boots scraping over loose stone. The morning sun was warmer now, bright and unbothered, casting long shadows behind him.
Joran waited ahead near a rocky outcrop, arms crossed, watching the boy with his usual quiet intensity.
"You're late," Joran said as Kael stumbled up the final stretch.
"You always say that," Kael replied, half out of breath, half annoyed.
"That's because you're always late."
Kael dropped his pack, rolled his shoulders, and tried to look like he wasn't winded. The mountain air bit at his lungs in that clean, sharp way.
"I want to train," he said finally. "For real this time. Not just swinging sticks."
Joran raised an eyebrow. "Because of your father? Or the bird?"
Kael blinked. "...You saw?"
"I saw you see it. That was enough."
Kael frowned. "It died so easily. Just because it was slow. It didn't even fight. It just... fell."
Joran nodded once. "That happens more than you'd think. Most never get the chance to fight."
They said no more. The silence between them felt natural this time, like wind moving through the trees. Kael's hands clenched and unclenched as Joran handed him a practice blade — thicker, heavier than before.
The drills began in earnest.
---
Hours passed in a blur of movement and sweat. Joran showed Kael how to move lower, strike faster, breathe through his steps. His voice was sharp but never cruel. Kael fell more than once, and every time he rose again, mud on his elbows, breath ragged.
"Again," Joran said.
Kael wiped his brow. "I'm doing it!"
"No," Joran replied, circling him. "You're moving. That's different."
Kael wanted to argue but didn't. He gritted his teeth and lunged.
The sun crawled higher. Birds watched from the trees. Sweat soaked through Kael's tunic. His arms ached. And yet he kept going, not for glory, not even for pride — but because something inside him refused to be the weak bird.
Joran finally called a break.
---
They made their way toward a waterfall tucked in a high ridge. The sound of crashing water grew louder as they neared. The path twisted between mossy stones and golden grass.
"Here," Joran said, pulling back a vine.
The clearing opened before them: a sparkling cascade poured into a clear pool, its edges lined with smooth stone. Ferns whispered in the wind. Sunlight broke into prisms through the mist.
Kael grinned despite himself. "This is real training, huh?"
"Even blades need water," Joran replied.
Kael kicked off his boots and plunged into the shallows, splashing like a proper child. He laughed, water flying everywhere, soaking his hair. Joran sat at the edge, watching with a small, rare smile.
Below them, the village of Elarin lay peaceful. The rooftops glowed amber in the sun. The blacksmith's hammer rang faintly even from this high up. Smoke curled from the chimneys. Children played tag between the fields. A flute's melody drifted faintly up.
Joran breathed it in, letting the moment last.
"Hey Joran," Kael called, floating on his back. "You ever think about leaving? Like, going somewhere else?"
Joran didn't answer immediately.
"No," he said. "Everything I need is here."
Kael stared at the sky, letting the water carry him.
---
Back at the Manor
Lady Miriel stood at the balcony outside her chambers, her sharp eyes fixed on the mountain.
The wind brushed against her braids, but she remained still, her expression unreadable.
Two servants stood nearby, awaiting orders.
"Ready the horses," she said at last. "We leave by noon."
"Leave, my lady?"
"We need to go."
The servants exchanged glances but bowed. As they hurried off, Miriel stayed there, unmoving, lips parted slightly like she meant to say something more.
But nothing came.
She turned her gaze back to the mountain.
---
The Waterfall
Kael sat on a smooth rock now, drying in the sun, legs kicking lazily above the water. He hummed a melody he didn't know he knew.
Joran was still watching the village. His face had gone still. Then his brows furrowed.
"Do you see that?"
Kael blinked. "What?"
Joran pointed.
A shimmer.
A flicker in the sky.
Kael followed his gaze. A small orb, no bigger than a child's head, hovered high above Elarin. It pulsed faintly, like a heart.
"What... is that?" Kael asked.
Joran didn't reply.
The orb dropped.
For a few seconds, nothing happened.
Kael frowned. "Maybe it was just—"
Then came the light.
It wasn't fire. It wasn't explosion. It was a silent flash, too bright for the world to hold.
Kael screamed and shielded his eyes.
When he looked again, the village was gone.
Ash drifted upward, not downward. The trees nearby blackened and twisted. The smoke curled in reverse.
Kael stumbled to his feet, mouth open, legs shaking.
"No... no, no, no, no!"
Joran was already moving.
---
They raced down the path. Kael's wet clothes clung to him, his boots forgotten. They slipped through roots, ducked under branches, dirt smearing their arms.
The lower ridge gave them full view.
What had once been Elarin was now flat earth. Charred, glasslike. No buildings. No signs of life. No sound.
Kael fell to his knees. "Mother..."
Joran stepped forward, eyes sharp, jaw clenched. He scanned the horizon.
Something had passed here. Not a weapon. Not a fire. Something else.
"This wasn't natural," Joran muttered.
Kael turned to him, face pale, eyes wide. "What was that? Where's everyone?"
"Gone."
"But they were just... I saw them..."
Joran placed a hand on his shoulder.
Kael shrugged it off and stumbled forward.
There was nothing left to find.
---
Far Away – The Temple
The temple boy paused mid-sweep.
The breeze brought something strange with it. A scent. A silence. A memory that wasn't his.
Ash danced in the air, though no fires burned
nearby.
He looked up at the sky.
And for the first time in his life—
He frowned.
A bell chimed.
The chores would continue.
But something had changed.
---
[End of Chapter 6]