Griswa replied matter-of-factly, "That's exactly what she said."
"Yesdar grinned sheepishly. "Oh! Yeah, we never commented on your eyes, did we?"
Griswa raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "You never did. But what exactly is beautiful about my eyes?" 🤨
"They're colorful… or should I say, like a rainbow—multiple colors in your eyeballs," Malaes said, her tone reflective yet casual, as if she had just noticed something long overlooked.
Griswa's brow furrowed. "Huh? I never knew that. Why didn't you mention it before?"
Malaes shrugged. "We thought you knew about your own eyes."
"Yesdar chimed in, unable to hide a smirk. "One day, me, her, and Fheniz talked about it. Fheniz said it might be a Skaar God trait, but honestly, from the first day I met you, I wanted to say… you look creepy."
🤣🤣
Griswa sighed deeply, his voice laced with exasperation. "Wah! That's all?"
Yesdar shrugged, clearly unbothered. "Hey now, I didn't comment because I thought it was rude. But you asked why we never mentioned it, so… here I am."
As Griswa noticed the girl glancing at them in confusion, her eyes darting between them as though trying to grasp whatever strange conversation they were having, he sighed again, more out of obligation to the situation than the weight of the comments.
He shifted, deciding it was time to bring the focus back. "Sighs. Alright! Not like I care… we're getting off-topic. Our main concern is her. What are we supposed to do now? Ask her where her home is?"
The girl looked at them, her eyes wide and innocent, though they held the telltale confusion of someone who had just emerged from the edges of oblivion. Her breathing was still heavy, her body weighed down by the remnants of fear and exhaustion.
"There are villages nearby," Malaes noted, her voice steady and pragmatic. "I sensed the energies of living people long ago. We'll ask her where she lives and drop her there."
Griswa's gaze shifted, and a hint of impatience flashed in his eyes. "If she has a home here, maybe she knows where to go. The storm's going to calm soon, so why don't we just keep moving? She'll get home on her own." He paused, his tone hardening. "I think we've done our job saving her. The rest is her responsibility."
Yesdar frowned slightly, casting a sidelong glance at Griswa. "Gris, come on. She's still weak—can't you feel her energy levels? Leaving her alone won't work. Plus, we might get some important information if we explore those villages."
Malaes nodded, agreeing with Yesdar's reasoning. "He's right, Gris. Also, you know we're kind-hearted," she added with a sly grin.
Griswa's expression softened, as if he had resigned himself to their reasoning. "Umm, alright." His voice carried a hint of reluctance, but the decision had been made.
He turned to the girl, his eyes studying her as though he could see through whatever layers of confusion and fear still clouded her mind. "Listen up," Griswa began, his tone measured but firm. "You understand us perfectly well. Speak in the common tongue and tell us where your home is. We'll drop you there."
The girl's expression shifted, her once-innocent face growing more troubled. As she came fully to her senses, a heavy realization seemed to dawn on her, like a cloud settling over her features. Her eyes flickered with sadness and frustration, her breaths becoming more labored as if the weight of her memories had begun to crush her.
"You people," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "whoever you are… the way I understand it, you saved me, didn't you?"
Griswa sighed deeply, his impatience bubbling to the surface. "Oh man! Miss Tubelight, yes, we did. Now, would you answer my question? Where's your home? We'll drop you off, sincerely."
"Gris," Malaes cut in, her voice soothing but concerned. "She doesn't seem calm. Don't pressure her. She'll tell us when she's ready."
Malaes leaned closer to the girl, her tone gentle and reassuring. "Hey, see, my name is Malaes. He's Yesdar, and that's Griswa. The three of us were on a journey when we found you—frozen, dying in the cold. We brought you here, took care of you, lit these fires, and warmed you with heated stones. Now that you're awake, we just want to know where your home is, so we can take you there."
The girl's breathing quickened, her hand lifting to her head as if her very thoughts were causing her pain. Her chest rose and fell in labored breaths, each inhalation sharp as memories began flooding her consciousness. She winced, her face contorted in a mixture of frustration and deep-rooted pain, as if the weight of something terrible was beginning to press down on her all at once.
"I can't go back home now, noi." she whispered, her voice weak but laced with the sting of defeat.
Malaes' concern deepened, her expression softening as she pressed further. "Why?"
The girl clenched her fists, her frustration bubbling over into an audible groan, "Ahh," her voice cracking as her thoughts became too overwhelming to control. "My companions… where are they noi? Where are my companions noi? Did you save them too noi?" Her eyes darted wildly around the cave, scanning for any sign of the others, desperate, pleading, as if she could will them into existence by sheer force of hope.
Her voice trembled as she looked around, her eyes wide with fear and uncertainty. "Please… is there anyone else noi? Did you save anyone else noi?"
Griswa leaned forward, his voice low but steady. "Hey, calm down. Breathe."
Yesdar, now understanding her distress, turned to Malaes. "Malaes, is she talking about those people?"
Malaes' face darkened, her eyes filling with the weight of the truth she had to deliver. She looked at the girl, her expression pained. "I'm sorry," she began, her voice soft and full of regret. "By the time we arrived, you were the only one still alive. The others… they had already died from the storm's cold."
The girl's face went pale. Her hands trembled violently as she brought them to her face, covering her eyes as if doing so would block out the terrible truth. Tears slipped through her fingers, her body shaking with the force of her sobs.
"NO!…" she choked, her voice breaking. "NO!!… they didn't die from the cold noi! T-they were… they were killed."
In an instant, the atmosphere in the cave shifted. The weight of those words—they were killed—hung in the air like a blade poised to strike. Griswa, Yesdar, and Malaes, for a brief moment, sat frozen, the gravity of the girl's revelation sinking deep into their minds.
"They were killed?!" The trio's voices rang out in sync, a mixture of disbelief and alarm.
"Who killed them?!" Yesdar's voice echoed through the cave, sharp and demanding.
Griswa's expression darkened. "Why would they kill those people?"
The girl's eyes were filled with a haunting emptiness, her voice small and broken. "I don't know who to trust anymore… I don't even know why you saved me noi. It would've been better if I had died with them noi! At least then, noi… I'd be free from the curse of not being free."
Her words struck like a lightning bolt, each syllable tearing through the trio's minds with a force they hadn't expected. Not being free. The phrase echoed through their thoughts, resonating with a weight far heavier than any physical burden. It was a concept they all understood too well—freedom, and the struggle to obtain it. They had lived it, fought for it, suffered because of it. But now, hearing it from her, spoken in such despair, it felt different.
The questions began to swirl in their minds, intertwining with their own beliefs. What had they come back to fight for? Was it really freedom? What was freedom, truly? Was it merely the absence of chains? Or was it the choice to submit, to bend your will, your wishes to be a slave to something? Could freedom even be defined by actions, or was it a state of mind? A peace in nothingness? Was it to break free from the mortal chains? Or was it something far darker—a surrender to death in the name of final rest?Â
The girl's words lingered, twisting their understanding, munching at their certainties. Was their fight against the Yahunyens enough to free the world? Was their quest for freedom truly just about the breaking of chains? Or was there something deeper they hadn't yet considered? By the looks, the girl or the villages wouldn't seem to be under the rule of the Yahunyens, suffering from the misery of slavery. The trio's ideology of 'the world not being free' said that, none of the countries could wish to go against the Yahunyen Empire due to its power and influence, that was what made them 'not free'.
But here, things seemed to be different. It was necessary to know shit. They needed to confirm it—why? What exactly had caused this girl to lose her freedom?
What exactly was the first thing needed to be cultivated? Will of Freedom? Or Freedom of Will? Was her village, state or country, under the rule of the Yahunyens too? Or did something else took her freedom away?
The silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating, as Yesdar's question pierced through the girl's unspoken pain. "You aren't free from something? Why aren't you free? Tell me, tell us." His voice was not merely a demand; it carried a weight of relatability, a burden of his own longing for liberation. Yesdar's eyes searched her face for an answer, for something he, too, could grasp. But no words came from her.
"Yesdar, if she doesn't want to answer, don't force her." Said Malaes, her voice was gentle, yet concerned, betraying her own deep curiosity. She wanted to know as much as any restless soul eager to unravel the mysteries of this strange land. But there was a tenderness in her tone that hinted at understanding—a respect for wounds that hadn't yet healed.
Griswa, quiet as always, stood off to the side, his multicolored eyes glowing softly above the fire's light. He wasn't speaking, not yet. He didn't need to. His presence was enough, his gaze carrying something that once the girl couldn't quite place—a dark hope, a glimmer of trust, a feeling that tugged at the corners of her soul. She looked at him, really looked at him, locking eyes for the first time properly, since the rescue.
In those ethereal eyes, she found an odd clarity. It was as if they held a language all their own, an unspoken promise of safety, of understanding. The multicolored hues, shimmering and shifting in the shadows, seemed to ask her for trust. And in that moment, something deep inside her shifted. She had read of people like him, those whose very presence drew you in like gravity, compelling you to let go of your defenses.
She couldn't resist it. Even though she had never met him before, it was as though Griswa had been a part of her life all along. As though, somehow, he was someone she was meant to know. It felt inevitable.
Without speaking a word, she felt lighter. The burdened heart she carried—the weight of her fear, her anguish—lessened ever so slightly. And Griswa, without uttering a syllable, had relieved her. Not through grand gestures or clever words, but through the simple, silent connection of their shared gaze.
She inhaled deeply, her chest rising as if taking in her first breath of true air in ages. Then, slowly, tentatively, she spoke. Her voice, though soft, was steady.
"My name is Virumi... Virumi Razhack," she began, her words like fragile threads weaving together an amalgam of grief and defiance. "I am from the royal family of Razhack from the subclan of Mertromath... noi." Her voice caught slightly on the last word, but she pressed on, as if summoning strength from somewhere deep within. "Which subclan do you belong to... noi?"
The trio exchanged a quick glance, a shared look of confusion. Griswa's gentle smile was the first to break the tension. "Hello, Virumi," he said, his voice smooth and courteous, a gentleman's warmth in his tone. "Thank you for speaking. Honestly, we didn't know how to continue if you hadn't."
Malaes leaned in slightly, her tone polite but laced with concern. "We don't belong to any subclan," she explained, choosing her words carefully. "Nor any clan, actually. To be clear... consider us foreigners, travelers, if you will. We don't know much about your country or its clans."
Malaes' brow furrowed as she continued, "But what exactly do you mean by being from a royal family? And what did you mean about not being free?"
Before Virumi could answer, Yesdar, who was impatient, interjected. "And who killed your companions?" His voice carried the sharp edge of urgency, a need to understand what had led them all to this moment.
Malaes shot him a look—one that screamed restraint. "Shh, Yesdar," she chided, her voice low but firm. "Don't ask her that now."
Yesdar returned the look with one of his own, as if silently saying, come on, but he said nothing more. His curiosity, though burning, had to wait.
Virumi's eyes dropped, her gaze falling to the fire as her expression darkened with memory. A sadness settled over her features, one that the trio had not yet seen in her. It was as if, with the mention of her companions, a weight had fallen back onto her shoulders. Still, after a moment, she nodded to herself, as if deciding something.
"It's alright," she murmured, her voice low but clear. "I don't know why, but I feel like I can trust you. After all, you did save my life... noi."
The trio watched her closely, waiting as she gathered her thoughts. She inhaled again, but this time the breath was shaky, and her next words came out in a voice tinged with bitterness.
"The people who killed my companions... were the Ondra Hadrakshis," she said. The name lingered in the air, heavy with hatred and regret. "Just like my father warned. If only I had listened to him...I would have not seen them die."
Her words were a hammer blow to the group's curiosity, crashing through the haze of uncertainty. Ondra Hadrakshis. The trio repeated the name to themselves, tasting the foreign syllables on their tongues, trying to make sense of the revelation.
"What do you mean by that?" Yesdar pressed on, leaning in ever so slightly. "Who are these Ondra Hadrakshis?"
Virumi blinked in surprise, her eyes widening slightly as if the question itself was absurd. "You really don't know?" she asked, her voice laced with incredulity. "How can you not know about them? Or about us? You don't know our history?"
She searched their faces for any sign of recognition, any glimmer of understanding. But there was none. Her shock deepened, and for a moment she hesitated. The world outside her homeland must truly be blind to the intricacies of their existence in a modern era. How could that be?
The trio, meanwhile, exchanged another glance—this one longer, more deliberate. They had spent so much of their lives off Aeartha as they had been focused on other things. Fheniz hadn't cared to share a lot of history that was unimportant or unneeded for the main goal of freeing the world from the Yahunyens. Not like he cared much about the history of Aximia.
But of course, Fheniz had told them about the Amaulyans and Shulvris, the One Royal Kingdom and the next what had happened that we all know.
It was Griswa who broke the silence. His sheepish grin and easy demeanor seemed to disarm the tension a little. "Well," he started, "we're not exactly fans of history. We're more... travelers you know? We like to learn things along the way. To keep things interesting when you don't know what's coming next."
His attempt at humor lightened the air just a touch, and Virumi found herself nodding in understanding, even managing a small smile.
"I like adventures too, noi," she admitted, her voice soft but warm. "I always thought I'd see more of the world. I was enthusiastic that way. I wanted to be like you... free. I kept moving forward because I believed things would eventually work out... noi."
But then her face fell again, her features clouding with sorrow. "But now... I can't go home. Not anymore."
Her words hung there, laden with the weight of her predicament. The trio sat quietly, Griswa, Malaes, and Yesdar each felt the same growing confusion, the same burning need for answers.
"Can you tell us everything, so that we can understand what's going on, Virumi?" Malaes asked, her tone gentle yet firm. "And I mean everything—from the beginning. The history of this country."
Virumi paused, her gaze lifting to meet theirs once more, and for the first time, she felt she might be ready to tell the full story.