As the dimly lit throne room hums with the energy of countless spirits, a new presence enters. The door opens with a soft creak, and a creature spirit steps into the hall, his form amorphous and constantly shifting, much like the mist he seems to be made of. His name is Valkorin, the Spirit of Stasis. His eerie, glowing blue eyes flicker as he steps forward, his movements deliberate but unhurried, as if time has no hold over him.
Ignis's fiery gaze snaps toward him, and Goliath's stony face turns slowly to acknowledge the newcomer. The air in the room grows even heavier as Valkorin approaches.
"What do you want?" Ignis asks, his tone sharp and suspicious, flames flickering higher around his form. Goliath remains silent, watching with his granite-like eyes, as still as the mountains he seems to resemble.
Valkorin pauses a moment, then speaks in a voice that echoes like distant whispers, "I was... remembering Malvoria. It's been 18 years since she left." His eyes glow dimly, as though lost in a distant memory.
Ignis's flames flicker, softening momentarily as he nods. "Yeah... I miss Seraphyx too." His voice drops, losing its usual edge. "He was my only friend... and the only one who could withstand the heat." His fists clench slightly as the mention of Seraphyx brings an ache of longing, though he quickly swallows it down.
Goliath's massive form stirs. His voice, deep and resonant like a landslide, breaks the silence. "I sometimes... cry... remembering Torrath." The words are gruff but heartfelt, filled with a sadness that seems to echo off the stone walls. "My son... chosen, like the others." His gaze drifts down, as if seeing his son's face in the stone beneath his feet.
A heavy silence lingers between the three spirits, each lost in their memories. The weight of their losses, and the strange coincidence that all those they cared for were chosen for a higher purpose, binds them together in shared sorrow.
But Valkorin's voice breaks the quiet, sounding almost serene. "I find peace in this void. Time here means nothing. It's... a sanctuary, where we're untouched by the endless passing of—"
Ignis cuts him off sharply, his flames flaring with renewed intensity. "Enough!" His voice is stern, and he steps forward, staring down Valkorin. "We're not here to drift through eternity. It's the King's order to find a way out of this void, to break through the cursed gate." His eyes blaze with purpose. "So far, those people are our biggest hope. If they don't succeed, we're stuck here. Forever."
Goliath nods in agreement, his heavy brow furrowing. "Hope lies with them. We must believe in their strength... even if it means the end of our waiting."
Meanwhile, at Zaheer's house…
Zara returned home after her training with Sophia, her mind buzzing with everything she had learned. She found Zaheer lounging on the couch, casually flipping through channels on the TV.
"Hey, how was school?" Zaheer asked, glancing at her briefly before focusing back on the screen.
"It was fine," Zara replied, trying to sound normal, though her thoughts were racing. She had just learned about their family's spirit energy, and now she couldn't shake the question burning in her mind—did Zaheer have it too? Almost everyone from their bloodline inherited spirit energy, and if he did, it could change everything.
She glanced at her brother, wondering if he had any idea about the power that might be lying dormant inside him. But what if he doesn't? The doubt nagged at her. She had to know.
Zaheer, sensing something was up, turned toward her. "You okay? You look like you've got something on your mind."
Zara bit her lip. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said quickly. But she wasn't. Not until she knew for sure. "I was just... thinking about something."
He shrugged. "Alright, let me know if you need to talk."
As he went back to his show, Zara decided she couldn't wait any longer. She needed to find out if Zaheer had spirit energy. She took a quiet breath and focused, just as Sophia had taught her, closing her eyes and reaching out with her senses. Slowly, she tuned into the energy around her—she could feel her own spirit energy pulsing inside her like a soft, warm glow.
But as she extended her focus toward Zaheer, there was... nothing.
Her brow furrowed. She concentrated harder, scanning the space around her brother, trying to sense even the faintest trace of spirit energy. But again, she found nothing—no aura, no presence, nothing that indicated he had the same power coursing through him.
Zara opened her eyes, her heart sinking. He doesn't have it. Zaheer was the one in a hundred—the rare exception in their family line who hadn't inherited the spirit energy.
Zaheer, noticing her silence, looked over again. "You sure you're okay? You've been staring off into space."
Zara blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. "Yeah, I'm fine," she replied quickly, forcing a smile. She decided then and there—Zaheer didn't need to know about this. If he didn't have spirit energy, there was no point in dragging him into this dangerous world. He deserved a normal life.
"You want to order something?" Zaheer asked, turning his attention back to the TV.
Zara nodded, still feeling conflicted inside. "Yeah, anything's fine," she said, trying to sound casual.
Zaheer shrugged, grabbing his phone to place an order. As she watched him, Zara made a silent vow. Zaheer doesn't need to know. He doesn't have spirit energy, and that's a good thing.
Meanwhile, at Mount Cimmerian…
Matteo ascended the steep path, his breath heavy but his resolve unshaken. The wind howled through the jagged peaks, carrying a biting chill that bit at his skin. Finally reaching the entrance of an ancient cave, he paused to gather his thoughts. The cave was a sacred place—where generations of his family had safeguarded their most prized artifact: the Sword of the Blackwood family.
Matteo entered cautiously, his eyes adjusting to the dim light within. The air inside was thick with an almost palpable energy, the weight of centuries pressing down on him. At the far end of the cave, upon a stone altar, the sword rested—gleaming faintly, as though waiting for him. Its dark blade seemed to pulse with life, the spiritual energy around it swirling in quiet power.
He approached it, heart racing. As his hand hovered over the hilt, Matteo whispered a prayer of thanks, grateful that the spirits hadn't discovered it yet. "Thank God," he murmured.
He grasped the sword, feeling its energy surge through him. Though their family tradition had forbidden wielding the sword unless absolutely necessary, Matteo knew he had no choice now.
"I don't know how strong those remaining spirits are," he muttered to himself, his voice low and resolute. "But if any of them can pick this up, it'll be catastrophic."
With a determined grip, he lifted the Sword of Blackwood, feeling its ancient power resonate within him. "I have to break our family's tradition and take it into my own hands. There's no other way."
Matteo gripped the sword firmly, feeling its immense power course through him. His eyes narrowed with determination as he whispered, "Now, I have to check the other sword."
Meanwhile, at Mount Erebus, Seraphyx stood before an ancient altar, his gaze locked on the sword of the Sterling family. A twisted smile curled on his lips as he whispered to himself, "I will free them all… with you, Ancient Sword of the Sterling family."