...At least, that's what I thought. But I'm not thinking now. I throw myself at him, holding him with all my strength. My body crashes into his back, my arms wrapping around his waist to stop him from leaving. He loses his balance from the impact, and we both fall to the ground.
"Ume!" he exclaims, his voice betraying his surprise and annoyance.
He tries to break free, to escape my grip, but I don't let go. I cling to him as if my life depends on it, as if it's the last thing I can still control.
"Let me go!" he repeats, more harshly this time.
He finally pushes me away forcefully, freeing himself from my arms reluctantly. He steps back, standing up, out of breath and frustrated, while I remain there, on my knees, panting, crushed. Then, without wanting to, a strange laugh shakes me. It's a bitter laugh, a broken laugh. I can't stop, even though my tears are falling at the same time. It's not a laugh of joy, it's a laugh of despair. I look up at him, sitting on the ground, arms limp, and stare at him with a sarcastic smile.
"How do you plan to survive without powers, Naboru?"
I throw the question at him with biting cynicism, my tears mingling with my mad laughter.
He stops dead, frozen. His gaze hardens as he slowly turns toward me, visibly shocked by my words.
"What did you just say?"
His voice is low, almost a whisper, but it's heavy with meaning. He stares at me, his eyes gleaming with an emotion I can't fully understand. I say nothing. I stay there, my smile fading slowly, replaced by a pain I can no longer hide. I rise slowly, my legs trembling under the weight of my emotions, but I don't look away. I stare at him, silent. Naboru seems stunned, as if he can't comprehend how I could know.
"How... how do you know I've never had any powers?"
He repeats, his voice firmer now, but tinged with disbelief.
I remain silent, refusing to answer, but my silence is enough. He understands that I know, that I figured it out before he even wanted to accept it himself. He was never like the others. An anomaly in a world where everyone possessed a gift, a power... except him. A long minute passes, where neither of us moves. Then I see his shoulders slump, as if his entire being just gave in under the weight of this revelation. Naboru looks away, resigned.
"Very well..."
he murmurs, almost to himself. He closes his eyes for a moment, then reopens them, a flicker of exhaustion and acceptance crossing his gaze.
"You can come, Ume..."
His voice is low, but it sounds like defeat. Not against me, but against himself, against what he had imposed on himself. He finally accepts that I am here, with him, and that I won't leave. I look at him, quickly wiping away my tears, but without saying another word. He knows, I know, and that's enough for now.
Finally, Naboru stands, determined, as he looks at the ruins around us. His eyes seem fixed on an invisible point, as if searching for something beyond the debris and dust.
"I have to see Julius,"
he finally declares, without looking away from the wreckage.
The name of the King of Auratria falls like lightning in a dead city. I am shocked, my eyes widening in surprise mixed with disbelief.
"What?"
I ask, my voice betraying my astonishment.
"Why do you want to see the king?"
Naboru turns to me, his gaze both resolute and distant.
"I have to see him, Ume. That's all I can say for now."
I frown, trying to understand.
"But... it's His Majesty Julius Aurorion, King of the Dawn! You can't just go see him like that. Why won't you tell me what you have in mind?"
He remains silent, his lips pressing into a thin line. I feel a rise of frustration within me, a growing anxiety about the situation. I take a deep breath and try to reason with him.
"You don't understand, Naboru. If you go to see him, you'll be facing the man who is largely responsible for the misery throughout Auratria. He allowed monsters like Lysandros to exist, and he let people like me be subjected and crushed. Everything wrong here is partly because of him."
His eyes harden at the mention of these words, and I see a flicker of anger pass through his gaze. He clenches his teeth, his jaw tightening under the tension. He seems to struggle against a wave of inner rage. His response is brief, but it bears the mark of restrained emotion.
"I know what you're saying, Ume. But I have to go anyway. There are personal reasons I can't explain for now."
I can see he is unyielding, determined to follow his own path despite my objections. He doesn't explain further, but his expression betrays deep agitation, a pain he doesn't share. The silence between us stretches, dense and heavy, as I search for the words to convince him to give up. But the truth is, I'm out of breath, unable to find the arguments that could make him change his mind. My heart tightens at the thought of seeing him venture down this path without really knowing what awaits him.
He turns toward the road, ready to leave. His figure is rigid, marked by an almost desperate determination. I am distraught, but I know I can't force him to stay, not when he seems so resolute.
"Alright,"
finally murmur, my voice trembling with contained emotion.
"If you really have to go see him, then do it. But know that I'll be there for you, no matter what happens."
Together, we take the path, the first rays of the sun lighting our way. As we move forward, I hold on to the hope that, whatever happens, this decision will lead us toward an understanding and peace we are desperately seeking.