Dyea's POV
My feet stopped.
But he didn't.
Narren kept walking, casually brushing a branch out of his path, like he hadn't just whispered something that rewrote everything I thought I knew how to feel.
"If I had known you were still waiting for me..."
"...I would've come back sooner."
What the hell was I supposed to do with that?
"Dyea, you coming?" Katleyn's voice snapped me back to reality.
I blinked. The rest of the group had already moved ahead, chatting, laughing, arguing. Typical.
I picked up my pace, catching up beside Katleyn, who was giving me a look. The look.
"What?" I asked.
She smirked. "Nothing. Just... saw you freeze up back there. Like someone said something that hit you right in your romantic trauma center."
"I will stab you with my sword and say it was self-defense."
She held up her hands. "Hey, hey, I didn't say anything. But he did."
I groaned and let my eyes drift toward Narren, who was a few steps ahead, talking with Henry and Arthur like nothing had happened.
Typical.
Still...
My heart hadn't quite gone back to normal.
We passed the outer edge of the Elder City just before noon, where stone gave way to moss-covered hills. The path to Marellis stretched long and winding, lush green plains rising toward fog-kissed cliffs.
The wind carried the scent of pine and something else... something faintly magical.
Arthur whistled low. "Can't believe we're actually heading to the Wastes."
"They say it used to be full of temples," Henry added. "Before the sky cracked."
"That's just a myth," Ismuel said. "Sky doesn't crack."
"Neither did Narren's control," Harold muttered. "And we all saw how that turned out."
I shot him a glare. "Enough."
They quieted.
But I saw it.
Narren's fist clenched just slightly as he walked.
Still haunted.
Still holding back.
And I knew, if we were heading into prophecy and darkness...
We'd need all of him. Even the parts that scared him.
Henry, Ismuel, Arthur, and Harold's POV
(Group whisper mode: activated.)
"So... it's him," Henry whispered, watching Narren from behind a bush like a soldier in a war film.
"I didn't think that guy would look like that," Harold muttered. "I mean, look how handsome he is?"
"Hey! You're making him sound more handsome than us!" Arthur hissed.
"I mean... it's kind of true," Ismuel whispered back, nodding. "Look at his body. That's definitely the kind of guy Dyea would fall for."
"HEY!" Henry, Arthur, and Harold whisper-shouted in unison.
They all glared at Ismuel in betrayal.
"What?" Ismuel shrugged. "I'm just saying what we're all thinking."
Arthur groaned. "We've got armor. Loyalty. Personality."
Harold folded his arms. "Yeah, and zero brooding backstory."
Henry sighed dramatically. "Ugh. It's always the mysterious ones with sword scars and unresolved guilt. Girls eat that stuff up."
"...I do have unresolved guilt," Ismuel said quietly.
"Over what? Eating the last piece of bread this morning?" Arthur deadpanned.
Ismuel crossed his arms, offended. "It was herbed flatbread, Arthur. It had garlic. That was emotional for me."
Henry groaned. "Okay, focus. We need a strategy if we're gonna survive this quest and not get friendzoned into oblivion."
"Step one," Harold said, raising a hand. "Grow a tragic backstory and mysterious powers overnight."
"Step two," Ismuel added, "don't be us."
"Too late," Arthur muttered.
They all sighed.
Then, silence fell.
Until-
"Wait," Henry said slowly. "What if we form, like... a brotherhood."
"Like a pact?" Harold asked.
"Yes. A sacred one."
"To protect Dyea?" Ismuel said.
"No. To keep each other from simping too hard and embarrassing ourselves," Arthur corrected.
"...That too."
They all put their hands in the middle like they were forming a boy band.
"For honor," Henry said.
"For dignity," Harold added.
"For garlic flatbread," Ismuel whispered solemnly.
"For love," Arthur said with a tear in his eye.
"Guys."
The sudden voice made them all jump and spin around.
It was Dyea.
Arms crossed.
Eyebrow raised.
Looking entirely unimpressed.
"...We were just-uh-stretching," Henry lied.
"Group prayer," Ismuel coughed.
"Brotherhood yoga," Arthur added.
Dyea stared at them.
Then slowly walked away without saying a word.
Harold looked at the others. "We are so losing this quest."
They stood in silence. Embarrassed. Shamed. Possibly spiritually defeated.
Harold rubbed his face. "We trained for years, survived beast raids, climbed the Arven cliffs, and still..."
"We got obliterated by one girl's eyebrow," Arthur muttered.
"I think that was a silent 'y'all are pathetic,'" Henry said.
"I heard it in my soul," Ismuel whispered.
Just then-
Footsteps.
They turned to see Narren walking past them, calm as ever.
He paused. Looked at them. Smirked.
"Brotherhood yoga?" he repeated, like he'd heard everything.
The boys froze.
Then Narren kept walking, tossing one last line over his shoulder-
"Careful. If you stretch too hard, you might pull your feelings."
They stood there.
Speechless.
Murdered.
Emotionally wrecked.
"Okay," Henry muttered. "He's gotta go."
DYEA'S POV
"Oh my Dyniris, those guys are such... Grrr!" I groaned, dragging my hands down my face as I stormed ahead.
Katleyn trailed beside me, grinning like the menace she was born to be.
"Let them be, Dyea," she said sweetly. "I mean... having a harem? Not the worst life~"
I shot her a death glare. "It's not a harem!"
She gasped dramatically. "Oh right, right. Sorry. It's a love polygon with swords, trauma, and unresolved tension."
"I will push you off a cliff."
"And then you'd miss me and come rescue me with one of your many emotionally wounded lovers."
I groaned. "This is why I don't tell you anything."
Katleyn winked. "Too late. I already know everything. You pause every time Narren talks, flinch when Ismuel looks at you too long, and panic every time Arthur says 'what if we die today.'"
I stopped walking.
"...Okay, I might push you off a taller cliff."
Katleyn cackled, linking arms with me.
"Just admit it," she whispered. "You're the main character."
"No i am not! I mean what the hell is that shit?"
A FEW HOURS LATER
I didn't push her off a cliff.
Barely.
The trail bent downward after that, stone gradually turning to cobbled ruins, swallowed by moss and time. Trees bowed overhead, like they knew we were stepping somewhere sacred.
"Marellis," I whispered, as the fog parted before us.
The ancient village lay below, a ghost of its former self. Towers, half-cracked. Arches, leaning. Statues worn down by rain and memory.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that makes your spine itch.
Katleyn stopped beside me. "Charming."
"It's cursed," Narren's voice cut in as he walked past, eyes fixed ahead.
The boys caught up too, breathing slightly heavier, like they'd been arguing.
(Ismuel's hair looked weirdly windblown. I chose not to ask.)
Arthur whistled. "Looks like every bad prophecy dream I've ever had."
"Exactly," Narren said without turning around. "This is where the sky cracked."
"Again," Harold muttered, "that's not a thing."
Narren turned, slowly.
His eyes glinted.
"Want to bet?"
We all went silent.
Even Katleyn didn't have a comeback for that.
I stepped forward.
The ground felt heavier here, like we were walking through memory. Through something waiting.
Somewhere, in the far back of my mind, a whisper curled around my thoughts like smoke.
"Return to where the light first fell..."
I froze.
"Dyea?" Katleyn nudged me.
I blinked it away.
"Yeah," I said quickly. "Let's keep moving."
The wind shifted.
And for the first time since we stepped into Marellis...
I felt it.
Something deep beneath the ground.
Like the ruins were breathing.
Like they remembered me.
I blinked, shook it off, and caught up to the others.
Narren was up front, guiding the path like he'd been here before.
He probably had.
He always seemed to know things he shouldn't.
"I don't like this place," Harold muttered behind me, hand on his blade.
Arthur grumbled. "You don't like any place that doesn't have a tavern or bread."
"I'm just saying..it's too quiet. No birds. No bugs. Not even wind."
"Don't tempt fate," Katleyn muttered. "Last time you said something like that, we got chased by a ghost deer."
Henry stepped forward. "We're not here to fight. We're here because the Elders sensed something. Remember what they said?"
My chest tightened.
They were talking about me, weren't they?
Even if they didn't know it yet.
We reached a wide stone platform shattered in places, but still standing. Vines crept up its edges like fingers. And in the center...
A statue.
Or... what was left of one.
Its body had been cracked in half, torso and head completely missing. Only one hand remained, outstretched, reaching for the sky.
Narren stepped toward it.
"This used to be a temple," he said softly. "To the Origin."
I swallowed. Hard.
Katleyn glanced at me. "You okay?"
I nodded. "Yeah. Just... déjà vu."
Harold knelt beside the statue's base. "There's something carved here. It's old. Faded."
Henry moved beside him, brushing off moss. "Wait... I can read some of it."
He squinted. Then froze.
"What?" I asked.
He looked up slowly.
"When the sky cracks... the Fifth will return."
"Light and shadow will break as one."
Silence.
A breeze passed, dry and cold. Strange, considering how still the air had been before.
Arthur scratched his head. "Weird wording."
Harold stood. "Why the Fifth though? Weren't there only four gods in the old songs?"
Ismuel nodded. "Storm, Flame, Stone, and Night."
"And... no Light?" Katleyn asked.
Henry looked thoughtful. "Maybe it wasn't counted... or maybe it left."
I didn't move.
Something about the word left hit the base of my spine like a chill.
I didn't understand why.
Narren stepped forward and touched the cracked base of the statue.
He didn't say anything. But his expression...
Like he'd seen this before.
Or remembered something he shouldn't.
I stared at the outstretched hand of the broken figure.
One vine had curled tightly around its wrist, like it had been trying to pull it back into the earth.
Like it never wanted to rise again.
We moved on.
But I couldn't shake the way my fingers tingled every time I passed the broken carvings.
As if... something in the stone recognized me.
Like an old friend trying not to speak.
By the time the sun began dipping behind the twisted ruins, Henry declared we should set up camp.
"We'll rest here," he said, dropping his bag near a collapsed column. "No fires. Just in case."
"Scared of ghost deer again?" Katleyn teased.
"No," he grumbled. "Scared of ancient temple death magic, actually. Thanks."
We all started unpacking.
But I couldn't relax. My heart kept pulling toward that statue.
Its hand still reaching.
Still waiting.
LATER THAT NIGHT
The fire crackled low.
Everyone had settled into quiet murmurs and shifting bedrolls.
Even Katleyn had stopped teasing.
I stared up at the stars, waiting for sleep to come.
And then-
I wasn't in Marellis anymore.
The sky was silver.
I stood on a cliff of crystal, the stars above me swirling like ink dropped into water.
The world below was... nothing. Just clouds and soft light, like the edge of a dream that hadn't been formed yet.
A soft voice echoed around me, familiar, but I didn't know why.
"You returned... after all this time."
I turned.
No one was there.
Just a glowing outline in the mist, of a woman.
Hair flowing like silk. Gown like starlight. Eyes... blinding.
She stepped forward, but not fully. Like she was afraid I'd break if I saw too much.
"They called you lost."
"But you are not lost."
"You were hidden... by your own light."
I tried to speak. My mouth moved, but no sound came.
"You must remember," she whispered.
"When the Fifth breaks... the world follows."
The ground cracked beneath me.
The stars trembled.
And suddenly, behind the woman-a shadow appeared. Towering. Silent. Watching her from behind. Its eyes glowed green.
My heart stopped.
"He was always watching."
Then-
The stars shattered.
I gasped awake. My skin damp with sweat.
Katleyn stirred beside me. "You good?"
I nodded too quickly. "Yeah. Just a weird dream."
But I didn't sleep again that night.
Not with that voice still echoing in my head.
"You were hidden... by your own light."
The dream wouldn't leave me.
It clung to my skin like dew, sitting heavy in my chest. That voice, gentle but full of warning, echoed through every breath I took.
I slipped out of my blanket quietly, careful not to wake Katleyn, and stepped beyond the broken walls of Marellis.
The air was colder out here. Crisper.
The moons hung low and full, the stars shimmering like they knew secrets they'd never share.
I stood on a crumbled ledge, arms wrapped around myself, staring up.
Trying to breathe.
Trying not to remember.
"You were hidden... by your own light."
What did it mean?
Why did it feel like something was slowly breaking open inside me?
"Couldn't sleep either?" came a voice behind me.
I didn't need to turn to know who it was.
Narren.
He stepped up beside me-quiet, calm, like he always was.
But something in his posture told me he hadn't slept much either.
I glanced at him. "You saw me leave?"
"Yeah," he said. "You weren't exactly stealthy."
I smiled faintly.
We stood there for a while in silence.
Two ghosts under the stars.
"I had a dream," I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Narren turned slightly, watching me. "About what?"
I hesitated.
How do you explain a glowing woman in the sky, talking about forgotten light and a shadow watching her from behind?
Instead, I said, "It felt... familiar. Like I was supposed to remember something, but it slipped just before I could."
Narren didn't speak.
I looked at him again. "Do you ever feel like... the world knows you better than you know yourself?"
His jaw tensed slightly. Just for a second.
Then: "Every day."
Our eyes met in the moonlight.
And for a moment... something passed between us.
Not just history.
Not just emotion.
But a flicker of something bigger.
Ancient.
He looked away first.
"We should get back," he said gently. "Tomorrow won't wait for us."
I nodded.
But neither of us moved.
Because sometimes... silence says what words never can.