Karrim's POV
"Karrim! My son!"
I wake up, unsure if I'm trapped in a memory or just imagining things. Everything hurts—my chest feels heavy, and I can barely breathe. I try to slow down, to catch my breath.
The pain keeps me frozen. Then, I hear footsteps nearby. My vision is still blurry, but I can make out a shape—someone moving with a shaky, uneven walk. I blink, trying to see clearer. He's holding a sword. I blink again, and that's when I see it, he's driving the blade into my father's chest.
It's him. I know it. The Luxian armor, the sword—it's my father.
I try to move, but my body won't obey. Even my fingers have lost their strength.
I'm useless. Father, I'm so sorry.
But he's not done. The man presses his boot into my father's stomach and shoves the blade deeper. My anger builds, but before I can witness him finish his murder, my vision turns black, even though I'm still conscious.
What's happening? I'm awake! Why can't I see? Please, someone help! Help my father!
Are the heavens punishing us? Why is this happening to Sinagthala? Everything has felt wrong since that tremor. Our lives have been turned upside down, and I've been feeling strange things in my body. But I couldn't tell anyone, not even my father, because the war broke out at dawn. And I can't even help... I'm too weak to fight. I'm not trained enough.
Everything happened so fast. The bloodshed, the disaster—it's enough to drive anyone mad.
Countless people, our people, have died. Even the elemental beasts are not exempt. And now, my father.
I close my eyes for a second, and when I open them, I feel a powerful energy swell within me. I rise to my feet, my gaze fixed on the fading silhouette of the man who killed my father.
"I will never forgive you, Gat Lakkan of Luwalhat'ti."
Kiko's POV
The sand covers half of my face as I lie here, still and dazed. I remember being slammed against the side of the boat during the explosion—it knocked me out cold. I lift my head, and scattered fragments of armor, weapons, and lifeless warriors fill my sight.
Then reality strikes me, like a bolt of lightning, and I spring to my feet and scream, "Kino!"
I turn and wander in different directions, desperately searching for my brother. That's when I catch the eyes of enemy soldiers—survivors, just like me. But they aren't alarmed by my presence, probably because they see I'm alone and defenseless. Besides, the blood from the gash on my forehead and the stump of my severed arm tells them I'm no threat.
I ignore them, heading into the trees, still clinging to the hope of finding Kino. I'm bleeding, but the pain is numb now. I have to find my brother, and hopefully, some comrades alive.
I reach the forest's inner depths, leaving the shore behind, where only dead bodies greeted me. Here, it seems untouched, the explosion didn't reach this far. I hold my bleeding arm, pressing down to stop the flow. My steps are heavy, but I push myself to move faster. Kino could be suffering alone or worse, being tortured by Lakkan's knights. I spot a waterfall and rush toward the river. The cold water feels like a remedy for my aching body. I wash what's left of my arm, along with my other wounds and my face. Just as I'm about to dive into the water, I freeze. A body is floating toward me, wearing Sinagthalian armor.
No... Please, don't let it be Kino.
I quickly wade out to check, and when I see his face, I'm even more shocked. It's Yael!
I immediately pull him out of the water and lay him on the ground, checking his vitals. His heartbeat is weak, but he's still alive.
Why is he dressed in knight's armor? Did he take part in the battle? I'm lost in my thoughts when suddenly I hear Yael's faint voice.
"Kiko… I saw K-Kino."
Did he just say Kino? I lean in closer, my heart racing, as his trembling lips deliver the words I feared most.
"He's dead."
I'm silenced. A heavy weight drops in my chest as Yael's message linger, and Kino's voice echoes in my mind. Memories flash like flickering flames. My brother. My poor twin brother. I should be the one who's dead, not him.
I turn to the side and wail, grieving for Kino. But my cries are interrupted by Yael's coughing. He spits out blood, so I help him sit up, dipping my hands into the river to bring him some water.
"I'm sorry, Kiko. Kino's body was at the edge of the battlefield. The explosion must have thrown him there and killed him."
"No. I refuse to believe that. This war killed him, Yael. If it weren't for that egg, none of this would have happened." I stand up and punch a nearby tree, screaming as my fury takes over. Then a thought suddenly strikes me. My brother deserves a proper funeral.
"Yael, take me to my brother."
We arrive at the foot of the battlefield, now a grim graveyard. I recognize some of my friends, lifeless, and there, among them, is Kino. The blood on his body has dried.
I leave Yael behind and run to embrace my brother's corpse, crying as I apologize over and over. Why did it have to be this way? I'm sick of the realms fighting over power and territory. We promised each other we'd stand side by side in every battle, but that's not possible now. I failed, Father. I failed to protect Kino.
"Crying won't bring him back."
I pause, startled by the familiar voice. My head remains turned away, but I hear Yael call out to the boy behind me.
"Karrim?"
Third-Person POV
The sight of Karrim, standing in the middle of the ruins, sent an agony through Kiko. Karrim, whose father's spitting image, served as a harsh reminder of everything that had been lost. Grief, hatred, and an overwhelming urge to find someone to blame churned inside him, a storm ready to consume him.
Kiko lunged forward, his one good fist clenching and unclenching, the phantom pain in his missing arm, a cruel echo of his brother's absence. Yael instinctively stepped between them, his own wounds protesting as he braced for the inevitable clash.
Kiko's voice trembled as he called out, "Karrim," the name slicing through him like a shard of glass.
Kiko's voice heavy with sorrow shattered the tense silence. "Look at this… Look what your father has done." he exclaimed, gesturing wildly at the carnage surrounding them. His voice rose to a choked sob as he continued, "Look what's left of us. My brother… Kino… he's dead because of that wretched egg!"
Karrim recoiled, his youthful face etched with sorrow. Tears filled his eyes, spilling over and tracing paths through the grimes of his cheeks. "I lost my father too, Kiko!" he exclaimed, his voice raw with pain. He clutched his chest as if trying to contain the ache within. "I don't even understand what's happening to me!"
Kiko rounded on Yael, his voice turning vicious. Spittle flew from his lips as he pointed an accusing finger, his resentment boiling over in the face of overwhelming grief. "You! You should have stayed silent! This is all on you!"
Kiko turned away, his body shaking with silent sobs as he stumbled toward Kino's lifeless form, collapsing beside his brother. He reached out with his remaining hand, gently tracing the familiar contours of Kino's face, now cold and still. Hot tears fell onto Kino's blood-soaked armor, mingling with the dust, blood, and filth of the battlefield.
Yael felt a deep sense of despair as Kiko's words, sharp and cutting, broke through his grief. The accusation lingered heavily, wrapping him in guilt. He had been the one to find the Mythical Egg, which sparked this tragic war. If he had remained silent, perhaps Sinagthala would still stand, and Kino would still be alive.
"I'm… I'm truly sorry," Yael murmured, his voice barely audible. "I never wished for this… I never thought…" he lowered his head, unable to face Kiko's accusing stare.
Karrim's heart raced, each accusation weighing heavily on his already burdened spirit. He glanced at Kiko, whose pain reflected his own, and then turned to Yael, who faltered, unable to articulate the depth of his regret.
Karrim felt an urge to shout, to defend his father and explain the impossible decision Akkainu had faced. Yet, the words caught in his throat, tangled in a mix of anguish and confusion.
"It's not fair," he finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "My father… he gave up everything to keep us safe. He didn't want this… he never wanted any of this."
Tears filled his eyes, blurring his vision as he fought the impulse to lash out and blame someone, anyone, for the pain overwhelming him. Yet deep down, he understood that assigning fault wouldn't bring his father back or restore Sinagthala to its former glory.
The raw pain in Karrim's voice hit Kiko like a blow to his chest. He looked at the boy feeling his heart break. Memories flooded back of the day Akkainu had taken him and Kino in, two orphans left to fend for themselves after their father vanished from the realm. Akkainu had been their father and protector, the one who imparted all their lessons. He instilled in them values of courage, loyalty, and honor. Kino had died embodying those very principles. The weight of Karrim's loss bore down on him; the boy was now the last of his lineage, an orphan in a world turned to ashes.
Kiko's anger deflated, leaving behind a hollow ache in its wake. He couldn't hold Karrim responsible; the boy had endured so much loss. And he couldn't blame Akkainu either. The Emir had made a choice, one he had believed would save his people.
A sob tore from Kiko's throat, his shoulders quivering. "Kino…" he whispered, the name a mournful echo. He sank to his knees, the weight of his grief crushing him. "He's gone… and it's my fault." He buried his face in his hands, his tears mingling with the dust and blood. " I should have protected him… I should have been the one…"
His voice faded into the desolate silence of the battlefield. The world around him seemed to blur, the devastation a cruel mockery of the life they had once known. Sinagthala, once their home and sanctuary, now lay in ruins like a tomb. Kiko wandered through the wreckage, haunted by memories of the past and the shattered dreams of his future.
Yael's knees gave way, and he collapsed to the ground, his body wracked with silent sobs. He looked at Karrim, whose face reflected the same anguish he felt. Yael had watched Karrim grow up, teaching him how to bait hooks and cast lines. He had been a brother, providing comfort and guidance in the absence of Karrim's father. Now, he found himself delivering unbearable news, becoming the harbinger of destruction.
"I'm so sorry, Karrim," Yael choked out, his voice thick with tears. "I never wanted this… I never meant to hurt anyone."
He reached out a trembling hand to offer comfort but hesitated, pulling back in fear of his own touch. He felt tainted, his innocence lost in the chaos of war. He had brought this suffering upon them, and now he had to bear the weight of the consequences.
Yael closed his eyes, haunted by the images of tge battlefield flashing before him. The screams of the dying, the clash of steel, and the overwhelming darkness created a nightmare he couldn't escape. He had witnessed too much and experienced far too much. The simple life he once cherished was gone, replaced by a haunting reality that felt irreversible.
As Kiko wandered through the desolate wreckage of Sinagthala, a ghost in his shattered home, a faint sound pierced the oppressive silence. It was a muffled cry, a plea for help from somewhere beneath the rubble. His head snapped up, a flicker of purpose reigniting in his dulled eyes. He sprinted towards the source of the sound, his heart pounding in his chest.
In this moment, Kiko felt a surge of determination amidst the despair, driven by the instinct to rescue whoever was trapped beneath the debris.
Reaching a mound of debris, Kiko began to frantically dig, his fingers clawing at the jagged stones and splintered wood. "I'm coming!" he shouted, desperation thick in his hoarse voice. "Hold on!"
Yael and Karrim exchanged a glance as they watched Kiko's sudden burst of determination. The sight of the knight, fueled by renewed purpose, stirred something within them. Without a word, they joined him in the frantic rescue effort.
Together, the three of them, along with a handful of other survivors who had emerged from the chaos, worked tirelessly, their bodies aching, their hands raw and bleeding. They pulled, lifted, and dug, their efforts propelled by the faint cries and moans that echoed from the beneath the ruins.
"Over here!" Kiko shouted, his voice strained. "I think I found someone!"
They redoubled their efforts, adrenaline flowing through their veins. Finally, they managed to dislodge a large beam, revealing a young woman trapped beneath.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice weak yet filled with gratitude. "I thought I was going to die."
With each person they freed, hope flickered amidst the darkness. Exhausted but undeterred, they pressed on, combing through the wreckage, their ears straining for any sign of life.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the ravaged landscape, they gathered the lifeless bodies of those they couldn't save. In the heart of ruins, they held a solemn ceremony, bidding farewell to the fallen. Tears streamed down their faces as they laid their loved ones to rest, their voices joining in a mournful chorus of lamentations.
Karrim stood beside Kiko, their shoulders brushing, a silent bond of shared loss connecting them. Kiko's eyes were red rimmed, his face etched with grief. Karrim's heart ached under the weight of his father's death, pressing down like a mountain. Hesitantly, he reached out , his hand hovering before settling on Kiko's arm—a gesture of comfort and solidarity in their moment of sorrow.
As the funeral rites continued, Karrim's young heart hardened with a chilling resolve. The image of the man's boot pressing into his father's lifeless body, the cruel smirk on his face, seared itself into his memory. A burning desire for vengeance ignited within him.
Unbeknownst to Kiko and Yael, Karrim made a silent vow to find the man who had slain his father and brought ruin to Sinagthala. He would avenge Akkainu's death, even if it cost him death. Karrim was determined not to let his father's sacrifice be in vain; he would make the Gat of Luwalhat'ti pay for his actions.
"May they find peace," Yael murmured, his voice choking with emotion.
Karrim nodded, his face marked with sorrow, but beneath the surface, a steely determination burned. "They will be remembered," he said, his voice firm despite the tears in his eyes. Silently, he added to himself, "And their deaths will be avenged."
The weight of their loss hung heavy in the air, reminding them of the devastation that had befallen Sinagthala. But amidst the grief, a sense of unity emerged—a shared resolve to rebuild their shattered home.
As the last embers of the funeral pyres flickered and died, Karrim, Kiko, and Yael stood side-by-side, their gazes fixed on the horizon. They were survivors, scarred but unbroken. Sinagthala might be in ruins, but its spirit lived on in the hearts of its people.
"We will rebuild," Kiko declared, his voice filled with newfound resolve. "We will honor their sacrifice and make Sinagthala stronger than ever before."