Haldren valemount
He was falling. He could touch stars if he wanted. He could fall once and sleep forever.
Haldren half opened his eyes. All he saw around him was water, swirling around him. His limbs felt heavy underneath the mercy of it. He wanted to speak, wanted to be free but all he could do was shake his head and fall as each breath took him towards his death.
What had happened?
All he could remember was... He fell.
Haldren was sure he was dreaming, or was he? Something had crashed towards their ship… what was it? He tried to remember but his memory faded as he sank deeper into the water.
Cold closed around him like a fist. The sea swallowed sound, turning screams into distant echoes. Above, the surface rippled with shattered light and drifting shadows, broken planks, a torn sail twisting like a dying bird. He reached upward, but his arms felt heavy, slow, as if the ocean itself held him back.
I don't want to die...
A shape moved beneath him. Not wreckage. Not a man. Eyes opened in the dark water, pale and watchful.
Bubbles slipped from Haldren's mouth as panic clawed through his chest. He kicked weakly, boots dragging him down. The crashing thing, he remembered a flash of iron, a scream cut short, a streak of fire splitting the night sky. Then nothing.
The shape drew closer. A hand, or something like one, brushed his arm.
The sea darkened. His lungs burned. Memory a haze and limbs heavier than stone.
A figure rose from the deep like a living storm. An ancient god shaped by tide and fury. Long white hair drifted like sea foam, and a crown of jagged coral framed a face carved from centuries. In his grasp rested a sword so immense it bent the water around it. Its edge glowed with a dull, terrible light, a weapon forged to cut through cities as though they were sandcastles.
Haldren's heart pounded. Recognition flashed through his mind, sharp and sudden. Old tales whispered by drunken sailors. Temple carvings hidden in forgotten ports. He understood what stood before him. Yet he remained silent, fear sealing his lips tighter than the crushing depths.
The god's hand shot forward.
Water roared as Haldren was yanked upward. One instant he drowned, the next he hung suspended in open air. The ocean rose with him in spiraling torrents, spinning around his body like ghostly mist. Waves curled and froze mid motion, circling him in silent orbit. Droplets drifted like stars in a shattered sky.
Haldren forced himself to meet the figure's gaze.
Ancient eyes stared back, heavy with storms and endless horizons. The face came into focus and the truth struck him like thunder.
Areyan. The Sea God.
Shock froze Haldren's breath as the world fell silent around them, the sea itself waiting for its master to speak.
Brumen sadika
"You don't know it sonavr... He would kill me if he finds out...that I want to become a sworn knight", brumen scowled.
Sonavr shrugged. "I would suggest you to drop that plan".
Brumen turned. "And why should I?"
"Because capital is not a good place. I finally heard from my father and mother. They told me everything".
"Everything? Everything what? Tell me".
"My father... Well he is son of king kaisran and my mother, she is a light elf. I cannot tell you anymore. Father made sure i give him my word for that".
Brumen smiled. "I knew it. Both your parents were too noble looking, they never seemed merchants or herdsmen to me".
"I... Still cannot believe that they are of such importance. I always thought I will be the one who'll be extraordinary".
"Does that make you insecure?"
"No. Not at all. On the contrary I feel quite happy that they let me in on the truth. But... Like brokel coins, people's feelings also has two sides. On one hand its like sweet milk but when I ponder over it... It's leaves a bad taste like a young boy drinking beer for first time".
"Huh? What do you mean? Beer... Milk. Say clearly what you want?"
Sonvar sighed. "I feel happy that I learnt the truth but on the other hand I feel that whatever I achieve from now on will forever be small by their looming shadows".
"I get what you mean", brumen smiled. "A light elf makes laws in capital and your father was a prince, son of famous king kaisran, king of five continents".
"Brumen. Are our dreams worthless? Even if I become an adventurer or you a sworn knight... Will we ever be known in the world? What if our dreams are like empty air that just occurs without damaging anything? There is lot of adventurers, lots of young man who wants to travel the world... Want to become sworn knights... Do we have what it takes?"
Brumen shaked his head. "Our dreams might be same but our intentions are different, i just realised sonavr".
Sonavr cocked his head. "How so?"
"I want to become a sworn knight because I want to escape my past, my father who beats me like a dog. I never cared for name. Never cared for fame either. Becoming a sworn knight is like a freedom that I will forever run for... Once I grab it I'll never let go... Never", Brumen nodded and looked at sonavr. "You on the other hand, you care more about name and prestige. You can't help it, it's in your blood, gold in your veins and all that. Said by a famous captain I am sure. If you want to gain name by becoming an adventurer... I'll gladly come with you, for it will help me hone my skills as a knight and it will be beneficial for both my father and me if we stay away from each other, cause one day I am sure... Either he or me will die".
Sonavr shrugged. "I disagree About everything you say save for your freedom from your father. If you want to come with me by all means but don't call me noble or say dumb shits like gold in veins".
"Alright. I will try to control myself ", brumen said, his smile deepening.
"By the way, father and Iken going to teach me how to defend myself. You want to come and learn with me?"
"Of course. Learning how to fight from a prince would be my honour", brumen bowed.
"Oh come on. Stop that", sonavr said, clearly annoyed.
Brumen guffawed.
Maekan wollis
Jorath and maekan were riding hard on nightingale road. The road was dangerous for many reasons. Here and there small kurvatis would come and throw fire and ice from their mouths. These small dinosaurs were pain in the ass for maekan. On top of that, several flesh eating tribes dwell in those shady looking tents watching and waiting for riders. Here and there the road broke and streams of water flowed with several poisonous fish that could kill one in an instant.
Damn you... Kreydan...
Everything was changed. Kreydan was defeated and they had trapped him. When maekan saw eldros, he ran and ordered jorath to do the same.
Did i betray him? Should have stayed there and fought?
But how does one fight a god who has power of tombs, that too in numbers...
Aldros would have snapped him in half, if he wanted too. Jorath was useless.
Oath of aegis in the hand of unworthy...
Maekan shifted in saddle and spat.
"Where to?", jorath asked.
"Ahead of nightingale road, we come to a stop where lake of rumadil starts. We are going to cross that lake and approach North until we see grave of the sky fallen king. There lives a seer who should help us. If not I am going to kill that bastard and steal gold, silver, lokels... until I can live my days peacefully".
"This is a mess. I thought kreydan was... Capable. What of eldhaven then?"
"Fuck eldhaven and eldros. Kreydan was a fool to believe he could win. I should have stopped him".
"Why didn't you?"
"I am a greedy bastard. He offered me youth and i gladly accepted. Took him seriously. No one can defeat eldros, no one!"
"Well he offered me more power too but—"
"Even if you get more power, you will not improve. You are Rotten to core".
Jorath halted. "For the very last time. I came with you cause I want to go back to capital and I don't know my way in eldros continent. Just because I am helpless doesn't mean I will allow a old turd to make mockery out of me", he unsheathed his sword and pressed it against maekan's chest.
Can only dominate weaks... This fake prince...
Maekan smiled. "Very well. No need to be hostile now".
Jorath nodded and they continued, riding away from eldhaven to grave of the sky fallen king.
Josen forheil
Footsteps approached. Light, confident. Familiar. Amberia.
She wore no colors of any faction now. No sigils. No apologies either. Her eyes swept over him, lingering on the thin blanket, the bruised knuckles, the scar at his jaw she once traced with quiet fascination.
"You look smaller without an army behind you", she said.
"And you look the same", he replied. "Dangerous enough to ruin empires".
She leaned against the damp wall. "You should hate me, First Sword".
"Former First Sword", he corrected. "Titles die fast in cages".
She tilted her head. "Still correcting people. Still clinging to pride. You really are hopeless".
"Realistic men do not survive betrayal", he said. "Hopeless do".
She folded her arms. "Be realistic, Josen. I sold you out. King kaisran threw you away. You are a forgotten knight sitting in a cell waiting for a trial that will end with a rope".
He studied her face, searching for cracks in the mask. "If that is all true", he asked quietly, "why do you visit me?"
She gave a thin smile. "Curiosity. I like to see how a legendary knight is going to rot".
He chuckled softly. "Legends belong to gods and kings. I was just a soldier who got lucky".
"Oh, they will make a song about you", she said, voice sharpening. "The great First Sword who died loving a whore. They will sing about how you trusted the wrong woman. You will become a warning for every foolish boy who confuses lust with loyalty".
He leaned back against the cold stone. Somehow the chains around his arms feeling heavier than usual. "Songs are meant for gods and kings", he said. "Not for losers like me".
"Losers make the best tragedies", she replied. "People need someone to pity".
"I do not want pity", he said. "And I never mistook you for anything simple".
She paced the narrow cell, boots scraping against grit. "You should be furious with me".
"I was", he admitted. "The day they stripped my armor. The night they locked this door. I wanted to curse your name until my voice broke".
"And now?", she asked.
He met her eyes. "Now I just want to know why you keep coming back".
Silence stretched. The distant clank of chains echoed through the corridor.
She scoffed. "Maybe I enjoy watching the great First Sword reduced to nothing".
"Then you would not bring me wine", he said, nodding toward the small flask she had set on the floor.
Her jaw tightened."Well...You noticed".
"It is the same spiced wine you used to steal from my tent", he said. "The one you claimed tasted like victory".
She looked away. "Old habits".
He took a sip, warmth spreading through his chest. "You remember too much for someone who claims not to care".
"Do not make this sentimental", she snapped. "You...loved a lie".
"Maybe", he said. "But the woman standing in front of me still comes to a condemned man's cell. That is not nothing".
Her shoulders sagged for a heartbeat before she caught herself. "You... Do not deserve this".
"That sounds like regret", he said gently.
"It is practicality", she shot back. "I am poison, Josen".
"You warned me of that once", he said. "I ...drank anyway".
She moved closer then, close enough that he could see the faint glimmer in her eyes. "You think this is romantic? You sitting here waiting to die because you loved the wrong woman?"
"I do not regret loving you", he said. "Even now".
Her hand lifted, hesitated, then reached out to adjust the torn collar of his prison shirt, fingers brushing his neck. The touch was quick, almost accidental. Almost tender.
She stepped back immediately, voice turning sharp again. "Do not read into that. I fix problems. It is what I do".
He smiled faintly. "You never used to fix my collar unless you were worried".
She froze. The silence between them thickened with things unsaid.
"Josen", she whispered, his name softer than it had any right to be in a place like this.
He felt it then. Beneath the cruelty. Beneath the mockery. A flicker of something that refused to die.
"I am a hopeless fool", he said quietly. "The First Sword who lost everything for a woman who calls herself a whore. But you would not keep coming back if you felt nothing".
She did not answer. Instead she placed her hand over his for a brief, trembling second. Then she pulled away as if burned.
The guard's footsteps approached, fast and thumping.
She moved, hands in air, a curtain opened behind her. "Try not to die before they finish that song about you", she said, forcing a smirk.
"I will try", he replied. "And if they sing it, make sure you listen".
"Why?"
"So you remember that even fallen swords can still love like kings".
She paused, back turned to him. Her voice came out low. "Take care of yourself… First Sword".
The curtain lingered in the air long after she left.
He sat alone in the dim cell, feeling every ounce of his foolish hope. He knew he was broken. Betrayed. Forgotten by a kingdom he once protected.
And yet, as he held the flask she had brought and replayed the softness in her voice, he felt something stubborn and warm inside his chest.
Maybe he was a hopeless fool.
But hopeless fools did not imagine trembling hands. They did not invent old titles spoken with quiet pride.
Somewhere behind her cruelty, behind her lies, Amberia still loved him. He was sure of it. Even if he died believing in a dream, it was a dream she kept returning to visit.
World of sumaka through eyes of lore keeper —
We have recorded power given by tombs. Every tombs gives a power that is different from each other.
One tomb worth of power makes one awakened.
Five tombs make one a demigod.
Seven tombs make one a new god.
Ten tombs worth of power makes one an ancient god.
Beyond that, something lingers, which we don't know. Wish we discover soon.