In a vast, dark void, in a place no one could see—a realm hidden and safe, where not even the gods themselves could pry—six thrones stood tall in a silent circle. Each was carved from a different, ethereal substance, glowing with one of the six colors that defined the elements governing Calvenoor: crimson red, sapphire blue, pristine white, earthen brown, emerald green, and brilliant yellow.

  In an instant, four figures materialized on their respective thrones. They each wore deep, hooded robes that matched the color of their seat, their faces completely obscured by shadow. Yet, the thrones of white and yellow remained empty, their vacant seats a stark, unnerving presence in the quiet council.

  "So, those two are still not here," the figure in green said, their voice a low, weary whisper like the rustling of ancient leaves.

  "It has been decades," the figure in brown grumbled, their voice a deep rumble that seemed to shake the very fabric of the void. "Where could they have gone? With all our power, there should be no force that dares challenge us, no prison that can withstand us. Yet, they are gone." The brown-robed figure turned their hooded head toward the figure in red. "So, why have you gathered us today? Does it have to do with your roleplaying in Ruhong?"

  "No," the figure in red snapped back, their voice sharp with an authority that could melt stone. "This is not about my 'roleplay'. It is about the Fallen. I encountered one."

  "A lone and errant Fallen," the figure in blue scoffed, their voice a melodic, theatrical note. "A mere fleeting shadow upon our world's grand stage. Surely such a trifle warrants not a council of our gravity?"

  "A lone stray is not an issue we would normally convene for," the red-robed figure agreed, their voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. "But this time... this time was different." They paused, the weight of their next words seeming to suck the very light from the void. "This time... IT knows."

  A collective, sharp intake of breath filled the chamber.

  "It took control of my body," the red figure confirmed, their voice a strained whisper. "It knows we didn't achieve a proper extinction. It knows the Fallen still exist."

  "Why?" the brown-robed figure growled. "I cannot understand. Why now, of all times?" They shifted in their massive stone throne. "I have started to remember, too. Fragments. Like echoes in stone."

  "I don't know," the red figure admitted. "But we must be ready for what is to come."

  "Then wherefore doth this silent god stay its hand?" the figure in blue questioned dramatically. "For what grand and terrible purpose doth it watch the world tremble, and not act?"

  "Perhaps," the one in green said, their voice calm and measured, "IT is calculating. Judging. Deciding if it is the right time to intervene."

  The others nodded in grim agreement.

  "Therefore, we must act as if IT is ready to move," the red figure declared. "We must be one step ahead."

  "I cannot believe I am saying this," the brown one grumbled, "but I agree." They paused. "But what about Ruhong? I have heard murmurs. From a good friend of mine."

  All eyes turned to the red figure.

  "That was nothing. I can handle it." Their gaze shifted to the figure in green. "But those murmurs... they seem to be heading in your direction now."

  "Is that a plea?" the green figure asked, a hint of amusement in their weary voice. "A cry for help?"

  "Perhaps," the red one admitted, their tone softening almost imperceptibly. "Those murmurs contain potential. I would like for you to observe it."

  "Then observe them, I shall," the green one replied simply.

  The figure in blue clapped their hands once, the sound a sharp, theatrical crack in the silence. "Hath this grim play reached its final act, then? For the hour grows late, and my beauty is a treasure this world cannot afford to see tarnished by the weary touch of dawn. I must take my leave!" With a dramatic flourish of their robes, they vanished in a shimmer of sapphire light.

  "As boisterous as ever," the green one said, and with a soft rustle of leaves, they vanished as well.

  The brown figure turned to the red. "You have changed. Have you remembered something?"

  "No," the red one replied quietly. "But... I would be lying if I said I did not change. I have met people who have... helped me."

  "Good," the brown one rumbled. "That is what we need more of." With a final, heavy sigh, they disappeared, leaving the red-robed figure alone in the vast, silent void before they, too, faded into the darkness.

  The sun was high, its heat beating down on the caravan as its wheels rumbled over a long, gravelly road. The quiet fields of Moulang were far behind them, replaced by the rugged, open plains of southern Ruhong.

  At the front of the main carriage, pulled by a majestic brown yak, Bob held the reins. Inside, Mila sat quietly, her arms crossed. Next to her, Lin was humming a soft, tuneless melody, her silver eyes bright as she watched the scenery pass by. Across from her, Kun was fast asleep, his head lolling against a sack of grain.

  The carriage wheel hit a large rock, jolting the entire wagon and waking Kun with a start.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "Are we there yet?" he asked groggily.

  "Welcome back, sleepyhead," Lin said, smiling.

  "No, we're not, young man," Bob’s cheerful voice boomed from the driver's seat. "We still have to get to the harbor at the very south of Ruhong, then take a ship to Hanyuun."

  "I see." Kun rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his expression turning serious. "Are you sure you want to help us this much, Bob? The clothes and ride were more than enough."

  Lin nodded. "Kun's right. You're willing to take us all the way to Hanyuun. What's in it for you? We don't have anything to give in return."

  "Hohoho! I told you both already, I don't want anything," Bob replied warmly. "Just making sure you two are safe. I promised that kind lady from Moulang I would. And besides, Hanyuun was where I was originally going anyway, before I got distracted by a couple who were half-dead on the road."

  "We're not a couple," both Kun and Lin said in unison, then immediately fell quiet, a faint blush on their cheeks. "...yet," they both added, too quietly for anyone else to hear.

  Kun, trying to change the subject, gave Bob a sideways glance. "Are you perhaps hitting on Miss Yinzi?"

  "Hohoho, nonsense!" Bob boomed. "I'm a happily married man, see?" He held up his left hand, showing them a simple, well-worn silver ring.

  "Oh, my bad," Kun said, a little embarrassed.

  "Is your wife not coming with you on this journey, Bob?" Lin asked, her voice gentle.

  "Hohoho, no, dear," Bob replied, his cheerful tone never wavering. "She is in a much better place than here."

  Next to him, Mila stiffened, her gaze fixed on the road, her expression disturbed.

  "Anyway," Bob continued, seemingly oblivious. "The harbor is just a few hours away. Be patient, young man."

  "Okay," Kun said, slumping back into his seat, the unspoken sadness in Bob's words hanging heavy in the air.

  Mila suddenly held up a hand. "Master," she said, her voice a low growl.

  "Mila, it's not Master, it's—"

  "Tama," Bob ordered, cutting himself off. The massive yak came to an instant, silent halt.

  A chuckle echoed from the bushes lining the road. "It seems like someone in there has a good nose."

  From the shadows, figures began to emerge—bandits, a dozen of them, faces masked and weapons drawn. One of them, clearly the leader, stepped forward with a smug grin.

  "What do you want?" Bob asked, his voice losing all its earlier cheer.

  "Just a simple transaction." The leader pulled out a crumpled, familiar wanted poster with Kun's face on it. "Our intel suggests this person is with you. Be kind, give him to us, and there won't be any trouble."

  "This provocation is trouble enough," Bob grumbled. "Mila."

  "Yes, Master." She paused, then glanced at Lin with a challenging smirk. "But I think I should let her do this. You ready, Snow Flower?"

  Lin nodded, a confident smile on her face. "It's Lin," she corrected, jumping out of the carriage. "And it's about time I stretched my legs."

  Mila leaned against the carriage, crossing her arms. "Remember our training. Keep the threat outside the perimeter of what we're protecting."

  "Yes, ma'am," Lin replied, pulling out two sleek daggers.

  "Feeling daggers today?" Mila asked.

  "Very much so," Lin confirmed, before moving in a blur.

  The first bandit didn't even have time to react. Lesson one, Lin thought, don't wait. She sliced the hand holding his sword, then kicked him squarely in the face, knocking him out cold. Lesson two, be in tune with your body. She exhaled as another charged, parrying his swing and knocking him out with a powerful punch to the gut. Lesson three, always be aware of what you protect. She saw a third bandit charge the carriage and threw a dagger, stabbing him in the knee. Mila, without moving from her spot, swung the scabbard of her greatsword, knocking him unconscious.

  Lesson four, don't get overwhelmed. Lin moved with a swift, deadly grace, always forcing a one-on-one situation, taking down one bandit after another without a single flicker from her Core. The leader, left alone and speechless, was quickly dispatched by another casual swing of Mila's scabbard.

  "Hey, I had that one," Lin protested, though she was smiling. She walked back to Mila, not a single bead of sweat on her. "So, how did I do?"

  Mila stuck out her hand for a high-five. "Not bad, Alex—"

  Her eyes widened in shock. The name, a slip of the tongue, hung in the air like a curse.

  "Alex?" Lin asked, confused, as she completed the high-five. "Who's that?"

  "Master, I didn't mean—" Mila started, her gaze darting to Bob.

  Bob was already walking toward her, his warm expression gone, replaced by an uncharacteristic, cold rage.

  Slap.

  The sound was sharp, echoing through the now-silent plains. "After what you said back in Moulang," he scolded, his voice a low, dangerous growl, "you dare utter that name?" He turned, his face a storm of emotions. "Back to the carriage. Now."

  Lin was unable to process what had just happened. Her triumphant victory, her bond with Mila, all shattered by a single, unknown name. She and a now-trembling Mila walked back to the carriage in a stunned silence.

  "Kun, did you see—" Lin started, but the words died in her throat.

  Kun was on the floor of the carriage, hands over his head, his body cowering and shaking as if he had just seen a ghost. He looked up at her, his face pale, his eyes wide with a fear she had never seen before. "Oh... it's over," he said, his voice a strained whisper as he tried to force a laugh. "Not bad, Lin. You made a lot of progress. Hahaha."

  The atmosphere for the rest of the journey was sour. An awkward, heavy silence filled the carriage. We won, Lin thought, but the victory, and the progress she had made, felt completely and utterly unrewarding.

  Night fell as the caravan stopped at a small, quiet dock. Bob's men quickly began loading the wagons onto a sturdy-looking ship.

  "Master," Mila's voice was quiet as she knocked on the steel door of Bob's private cabin. "I'm coming in."

  She entered to find the giant of a man defeated, sitting on the floor, clutching a blurred, water-damaged picture. He was crying, an ugly, broken sound.

  "I'm sorry, Sam... I'm sorry, Kade... I'm sorry, Alex... I'm so sorry..." he kept muttering, his voice a choked whisper.

  "Master," Mila said again, her own voice thick with an emotion she rarely showed. She knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around his large, shaking frame.

  Outside, on the deck of the ship, the salty night air was cool and damp. Lin and Kun stood by the railings, looking out at the dark, churning water.

  "I've never been on a ship before," Kun said, his voice a little too loud, a little too cheerful. "This will be exciting."

  Lin didn't reply for a moment. Then, her voice quiet, she asked, "So... what was that back there about?"

  "The Mila slap? I don't know," Kun replied, shrugging, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

  "Not that, idiot," Lin said, her voice firm. "That was something personal. We shouldn't intrude." She turned to him, her silver eyes serious in the faint moonlight. "I'm talking about you. The shivering on the floor. The cowering."

  "I have no idea what you're talking about," Kun said, a forced, awkward laugh escaping his lips. "Hahaha."

  Lin just sighed, a small, sad sound almost lost in the wind. She turned back to the sea, her own thoughts a swirling storm. I guess he'll tell me when he's ready.