Char's legs burned as he carried Mira on his back, but he pressed on, ignoring the ache in his muscles. The night air was cool against his sweat-dampened skin, the distant hum of the funeral afterparty still echoing faintly from the settlement behind them. Mira's weight wasn't unbearable—she was lean and light—but every step felt heavier with the storm of thoughts raging in his mind.
Flint is here. He's inside the settlement, manipulating Lucien.
The realization had hit him like a hammer to the skull. It was no longer a matter of if things would go wrong—it was a certainty. Flint would never stop. Never. The man was like a rot, spreading his influence with whispered words and careful nudges until everything around him decayed.
And now Selka was in his grasp.
Char's jaw clenched as his thoughts churned. There was no straightforward way to handle this. If they went in now, just the three of them, they'd be walking into a death trap. Lucien had taken the throne too quickly, too violently. His grip on power would still be tenuous, and if Flint had his way, that meant paranoia. Unstable rulers were the most dangerous.
They needed an advantage. Something to tip the scales.
His mind flashed to the Tome of Ascendancy, to everything he'd read about the Valkari's past. About the stones hidden deep in the Jaffalex range. Ascension Stones weren't just myths—he knew they existed. He'd written about them. The people of Oryn-Vel had spent generations seeking them, believing they were lost, buried beneath centuries of war and shifting land. But they weren't lost. They were here.
And if Char found one…
If any of them found one…
A deep breath. He focused on the path ahead, pushing the thoughts aside for now. Mira was stirring, murmuring softly against his shoulder.
"...You're muttering to yourself," she mumbled groggily, voice thick with exhaustion. "Planning something, aren't you?"
Char smirked faintly. "Maybe."
She shifted slightly, arms tightening around his shoulders. "You're always planning something," she murmured. "Even when you pretend you're not."
He exhaled through his nose. "Yeah, well, planning is the only thing keeping us alive right now."
She hummed in vague agreement, then sighed. "Char, I—" She hesitated. "I hate this. I hate that we ran away while Selka—while that monster has her."
Char's expression darkened. "We didn't run away," he said firmly. "We regrouped. If we charged in now, Flint would tear us apart. He's expecting that. He wants us desperate."
Mira was quiet for a moment, then whispered, "And you're not?"
He hesitated before answering. "...Of course I am." His grip on her legs tightened slightly. "But being desperate and being stupid are two different things. We can't let him control the situation."
A silence stretched between them before Mira sighed, resting her forehead against the back of his neck. "I trust you," she murmured. "But I just… I hate waiting."
Char softened. "I know," he said quietly. "But we'll get her back. I promise."
As the settlement lights grew more distant, the rocky terrain sloped upward, and soon, they spotted Merrick. He was slumped against a boulder, still holding a half-empty drinking flask. His head was down, his shoulders hunched in quiet misery.
But the moment he saw Mira—bloody, with her body battered and her arm broken —his entire demeanor shifted.
The fog of drink lifted from his eyes in an instant. His expression sharpened, his spine straightened, and in one swift movement, he tossed the flask aside. He was no longer the brooding, tipsy scholar—he was a brother who had just seen his sister hurt.
Merrick's fists clenched, his entire frame trembling. "Who did this?" he said, voice low and dangerous, "And where's Selka?"
Char set Mira down carefully, watching as she steadied herself. "They took her to Lucien," he said. "And Flint is with them."
Merrick inhaled sharply through his nose, then exhaled. When he looked at Char again, there was no hesitation, no fear—only sheer, cold determination. "We're getting her back."
Char nodded. "Yes. But not yet."
Merrick blinked, startled. "What?"
Char motioned for them to move behind a rock outcrop, where they could speak freely. As they crouched low, Char turned to Merrick, meeting his gaze with steady resolve.
"We need an Ascension Stone," Char said firmly. "Before we do anything else."
Merrick's mouth opened, then closed. He stared at Char, trying to process the words. "You're telling me—" His voice rose, then he gritted his teeth, lowering it again. "You're telling me we're going on a treasure hunt while Selka is in danger?"
Char exhaled sharply. "I'm telling you that if we don't, we lose."
Merrick ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident. "Damn it, Char, you don't know if we'll even find one in time—"
"I do," Char interrupted, voice quiet but firm. "I know where one is."
Merrick's eyes widened slightly. "...You do?"
Char nodded. "Not the exact location, but close enough. And I know it's here. Ascension Stones aren't just some legend. If we find one, we'll have the power to fight back."
Merrick hesitated, conflict clear in his expression. He wanted to argue. He wanted to run straight back to the settlement, to tear apart the walls with his bare hands if that's what it took to get revenge for his sister and get the little girl back. But he also wasn't an idiot. He knew Flint. He knew what they were up against.
Finally, after a long pause, he exhaled sharply through his nose. "...How long?"
"If we go now? A few hours, at most."
Merrick clenched his jaw, staring at the ground. Then, finally, he looked back up and nodded.
"Fine." His voice was steel. "We find the stone. Then we get Selka back."
Char nodded, then turned to Mira. She had been watching them both in silence, eyes filled with exhaustion but understanding.
"You'll stay here," Char said gently. "Rest. We'll be back soon."
Mira frowned but didn't argue. She knew she wouldn't be much help in her current state.
As they secured her in the safest spot they could find, hidden behind the outcrop, Char turned back to Merrick.
"Let's go," he said.
And together, they disappeared into the darkness, searching for the one thing that could change everything.
*
Selka sat in the dimly lit chamber, her small hands clenched into fists, eyes wide with confusion and fear. The chains around her wrists had been loosened, but they still sat on her lap, as if mocking her. Across from her, Lucien stood, arms crossed, looking as though he was struggling to form the right words.
Ferme stood off to the side, expression unreadable, watching silently.
Selka's gaze darted between them, her glowing yellow eyes flickering with emotion. "Where's Chief Rhun?" she demanded, her voice small but sharp.
Lucien swallowed, his throat bobbing. "Selka…" He hesitated, running a hand down his face, then sighed. "You need to listen to me. There's something you don't know—something that was kept from you."
Selka tensed, gripping her chains. "Where is he?"
Lucien's jaw tightened, but he pushed forward. "He's gone."
Selka froze. The words struck her like a physical blow, her breath hitching. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "No, he's not—he can't be. I just saw him yesterday—"
"He's gone," Lucien said firmly, though there was a tremor in his voice. He exhaled sharply, as if trying to steel himself. "And I'm the Chief now."
Selka stared at him, her expression slowly shifting from shock to something unreadable.
Lucien hesitated, then took a step closer. "Listen to me. There's more you need to know." His voice softened slightly. "Rhun… he wasn't just your Chief. He was your father."
Selka blinked. She barely reacted at first, as if the words had slid right past her comprehension. But then, her brow furrowed.
"What?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Lucien knelt in front of her, looking her directly in the eyes. "You're my sister, Selka," he said carefully. "We share the same father. He kept it a secret to protect you."
Selka's lips parted, but no sound came out. She shook her head, gripping the fabric of her tunic. "No, that's not… my parents died. They—" She faltered, her mind racing.
"That's what he told you," Lucien said, his voice laced with bitterness. "But it was a lie. He had to hide you from the rest of the settlement, especially after Mother—" He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. "He didn't want you to live in the shadow of war. He wanted you to have a normal life."
Selka's face twisted in confusion and anger. "Why wouldn't he tell me? Why did he lie?" Her voice cracked as she trembled, her breathing growing uneven.
Ferme, still standing off to the side, finally spoke. Her voice was calm, but edged with something firm. "Because Rhun knew the dangers of power," she said. "He saw what happened during the war, and he wanted to shield you from it. To give you something different."
Selka's small frame shook, her fingers curling into the fabric of her tunic. She wanted to refute it—to scream that they were lying—but deep down, something about their words felt too real. Too painful.
She looked up at Lucien, tears welling in her bright eyes. "And you?" she asked, her voice wavering. "You knew all along?"
Lucien hesitated, then gave a stiff nod. "Yes."
Selka stared at him, searching his face for something—an answer, an explanation, anything.
"…I don't know you," she whispered finally.
Lucien flinched, his fingers twitching at his sides. He clenched his fists. "I know," he said quietly. "But that's going to change."
Selka said nothing, her shoulders shaking as she sat there, staring down at her lap.
Lucien turned slightly, glancing at Ferme. She met his gaze evenly, as if waiting for him to decide what came next.
Lucien exhaled slowly. This is how it begins, he told himself. This is how we move forward.