Before the three of them were to be whisked away to the marble spires of Paraiso, King Batlaha granted a final mercy: ONE WEEK.
Seven days to return to the dirt and stone of their childhoods, to pack their meager belongings, and to bid farewell to the lives they were leaving behind forever.
At the towering gates of the Arena, the three teenagers stood side by side, a stark contrast of destiny.
Jay, the boy with the Ten-Tailed beast, looked at his companions with a grin that was both terrified and exhilarated.
"I'll be heading back to the Everbluelake village in the Mahar territory," Jay said, his voice cracking slightly with excitement.
He patted the massive, shimmering flank of his beast. "See you guys at the capital!" With a single leap, he hopped onto the beast's back, and the creature blurred into a silver streak, sprinting toward the horizon.
Reign turned to Leib. The rain had stopped, but the dampness seemed to have settled permanently in Leib's eyes.
"Where is your hometown, Leib?" she asked softly.
"Elkahari Spinewoods," he muttered, staring at his boots. "It's a forest hill tucked between Fiero and Selenam. Just a small village. Most people haven't heard of it."
"Do you want to ride with us? We can reach it much faster," Reign offered. She gestured to the opal serpent hovering nearby. "Right, Opa?"
"Opa?" Leib blinked.
"Yes! I named her Opa, after my birthstone. Look at her scales, don't they look like shifting opals?" Reign's face lit up, a small spark of joy in the somber afternoon. "Opa, up!"
The serpent glided downward, its body undulating like silk in the wind. It hovered just inches above the ground, wide enough to serve as a floating platform. With Reign's help, Leib climbed on. As they ascended, Leib couldn't help but run his hand along the creature's side. The scales were smooth, cool, and hummed with a rhythmic vibration of pure power.
I should have had this, he thought. I should be feeling this bond. The jealousy wasn't sharp; it was a dull, heavy ache.
After three hours of soaring above the canopy of Hirayi, the dense, ancient pines of the Spinewoods came into view. As Opa descended toward the center of the village, the quiet afternoon was shattered.
Villagers poured out of their modest timber homes, their eyes wide and jaws dropping. Even the local Gabays, sturdy work-dogs and messenger hawks, let out cries of submission and awe at the sight of a Mythical creature landing in their town square.
Leib slid off the serpent's back. The moment his feet touched the soil, the crowd swarmed him.
"We saw the broadcast through the view-mirrors, Leib!" one man shouted, his voice thick with emotion.
"That's okay, son!" a woman added, pushing through the crowd to grab his hand. "You know all our Gabays love you. If the well was stingy, you can just play with ours! You've always been one of us."
"Everything happens for a reason," another elder said, patting his shoulder. "Maybe you aren't meant to be a fighter. Maybe you're meant for bigger things, like taking care of others' spirits, right?"
They were trying to be kind. They were trying to lift the weight. But as the cheers and words of encouragement washed over him, Leib's composure finally dissolved.
He had been crying for hours, but it seemed his grief was a bottomless well. He wept openly, his shoulders shaking as the villagers huddled around him.
They knew how much this boy had dreamt of this day. They had seen him as a toddler, chasing butterflies and pretending they were dragons. To see him return empty-handed was a collective heartbreak for the village.
"Maybe we need to rest," Reign whispered, placing a steadying hand on his arm. "Let's go to your house."
Leib nodded blindly, leading her away from the sympathetic crowd.
When they reached a small, weathered cottage at the edge of the woods, Leib didn't knock. He didn't call out a greeting. He simply pushed the door open and stepped into the dim, dusty interior.
Reign followed him, looking around the cramped space. It was impeccably clean but desperately lonely. "Isn't your family home?" she asked, her voice echoing in the small room.
Leib was silent for a long time. He went to a small stove and began to stoke a fire. "There's no one else here, Reign."
As the evening progressed, the truth came out in quiet pieces. Leib's parents hadn't died; they had simply vanished years ago, leaving a young boy to fend for himself in a village that looked after him out of pity and communal love.
That was why he was so close to every villager, every hearth in Elkahari had fed him at some point.
For three days, Reign stayed with him. She watched as he spent his hours looking at old, tattered books about Gabay evolution, his eyes tracing the diagrams of creatures he would never command.
She saw his independence, how he chopped wood with a mechanical precision and cooked simple meals without a word. He was a boy who had learned to survive the silence of an empty house, fueled only by the hope that the Awakening would change everything.
On the fourth day, it was time to visit Reign's home. They bid a tearful farewell to the villagers, who packed Leib's bags with enough dried meat and bread to last a month.
"Take care of yourself!" the village elder cried as Opa rose into the air. "Don't let the city change you, Leib!"
They flew toward a different horizon, eventually reaching a gargantuan, ancient tree that seemed to touch the clouds. It wasn't a town; it was a solitary, majestic spire of nature.
"This is where I live," Reign said, her voice dropping.
As they sat among the massive roots, Reign shared her own story. "I was in an orphanage in the city. But once I turned twelve... no one wanted to adopt an 'older' child. They wanted the toddlers. So, I ran. I've lived in this tree for three years on my own."
Leib looked at her, truly seeing her for the first time. They were mirrors of each other. He had a village but no parents; she had a home but no people. Both of them were orphans of a world that valued them only for what they could become.
"The only difference," Reign whispered, glancing at Opa, "is that the Bátis gave me a reason to belong. And it gave you... whatever that shadow was."
"Is that better?" Leib asked.
"I don't know yet," she admitted.
The week vanished like mist. On the seventh morning, the golden spires of Paraiso loomed on the horizon. The capital of the world was a city of white stone and impossible riches, a place where the air itself tasted like magic.
As Opa flew toward the royal palace, Leib felt the cold throb in his chest intensify. He looked at Reign, then at the sprawling city below. They were no longer children of the woods or the orphanage. They were the King's property now.
"Are you ready?" Reign asked as the palace landing bay approached.
Leib looked at his empty hands, then clenched them into fists. "I don't think it matters if I'm ready," he said, his voice colder than it had been a week ago. "Whatever is my journey gonna be... im already here."
As they stepped off the serpent and onto the royal marble, the heavy gates of the palace began to groan shut behind them. Leib looked back one last time at the open sky, but the shadows of the hallway were already reaching for his feet.
He was in the heart of the world now, but the true journey was only just beginning.