Chapter 15
The city of Solaria was still glowing under the touch of light Caelan had brought back, but amidst the restoration and joy, the sky remained partially veiled by dark, ominous clouds. Though the streets were lively, there was an undercurrent of uncertainty as the shadow of the looming threats still lingered.
On the roof of the city hall, a lone musician sat cross-legged, gazing out at the horizon. His simple instrument, a small lyre crafted from polished wood, rested in his lap. His fingers lightly brushed the strings, creating a soft hum that seemed to resonate with the shifting winds.
From this vantage point, the musician could see everything. The beautiful golden buildings below, the flickering lights of lanterns as the day began to fade, and even the swirling black clouds that refused to let the sunlight fully claim the sky. Yet, there was still something peaceful about it all—a reminder that the light had not given up the fight.
With a deep breath, the musician began to strum a familiar melody, his voice carrying softly across the rooftops. The song was simple but stirring, an old tune that many in Solaria had grown up hearing, though its meaning seemed more relevant now than ever.
"There will come a soldier
Who carries a mighty sword
He will tear your city down, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord
Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord
He will tear your city down, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord…"
As the music drifted into the air, several passersby stopped in their tracks, listening to the melancholic tune. The soldier in the song, with his mighty sword, reminded many of the battles that had shaken Solaria. The image of a warrior tearing down cities felt all too familiar, but the song also spoke of change—of transformation through struggle.
The musician continued, his voice growing stronger as more people gathered below, enchanted by the melody.
"There will come a poet
Whose weapon is his word
He will slay you with his tongue, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord
Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord
He will slay you with his tongue, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord…"
Caelan, walking back from a visit with Elden and Aira, heard the song from a distance. He paused, listening to the lyrics. They struck a chord within him, reminding him of his journey. Though he wielded the power of light, it wasn't always his sword that mattered most. His words, his resolve, and the hope he gave to others—that's what truly made a difference.
Intrigued, Caelan followed the sound, making his way through the crowd that had gathered to listen. As he stood among the people, he noticed how the music seemed to lift their spirits, even with the dark clouds still lingering above.
"There will come a ruler
Whose brow is laid in thorn
Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord
Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord
Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord…"
The final verse of the song rang out, powerful and haunting, carrying with it the weight of everything the city had endured. The musician's voice faded into the evening breeze, and for a moment, the entire square was silent, as if the song had left them all in quiet reflection.
Caelan gazed up at the musician, his eyes narrowed in thought. The song's message felt personal to him. He didn't see himself as a ruler, nor as a poet, but as someone thrust into a role he hadn't chosen. Yet here he was, standing among the people, trying to be their light.
The musician, noticing Caelan in the crowd, gave a small nod as if acknowledging the hero among them. Caelan smiled slightly, appreciating the moment of peace the song had brought.
As the crowd began to disperse, Caelan approached the building, making his way to the roof where the musician sat. "That was a beautiful song," Caelan said, his voice soft but sincere.
The musician, a man with long, dark hair tied back in a loose ponytail, looked up at Caelan with a warm smile. "Thank you. It's an old song, but it felt like the right time to sing it."
Caelan nodded, sitting beside him. "I think the city needed to hear that. It's been... rough lately."
The musician strummed the lyre absentmindedly. "The sky may still be dark, but light has returned. People need hope, even when it feels out of reach."
Caelan stared at the horizon, where the sun was setting behind the black clouds. "Hope... that's what keeps me going. I just want to make sure it stays alive."
"You've done more than that," the musician replied, his eyes twinkling with admiration. "You brought it back."
For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, both watching the dimming sky. The black clouds still loomed, but the light was fighting its way through. Caelan could feel it—the battle wasn't over, but they were far from losing.
The musician looked over at Caelan and, with a mischievous grin, said, "You know, I think the song should have a verse about a hero who shines brighter than any sword or poet. One who brings the light, no matter how dark the night."
Caelan chuckled. "You're too kind."
"I'm serious," the musician replied, plucking a cheerful tune on his lyre. "Maybe one day, I'll write it."
Caelan stood, feeling more at ease. "Well, if you do, make sure it's a good one."
The musician laughed. "You can count on it."
With a nod of thanks, Caelan turned to leave, but as he descended the steps back to the city streets, he felt a new fire in his heart. The world wasn't saved yet, but step by step, note by note, light was winning.
And he would make sure it stayed that way.
---
The Path Westward
The next morning, the group gathered at the city gates of Solaria, their spirits high after the brief respite. The golden light of the early dawn cast long shadows, but even in the brightness, there was an air of solemnity. They had a new mission now—heading west to confront the remaining two Demon Kings: the 8th and 9th, whose identities were still shrouded in mystery.
Caelan stood near the gate, staring at the newly acquired map of the world. The thick parchment, with intricate designs and markings, was more than just a piece of paper. It was a symbol of clarity, a reminder that their journey, while perilous, now had more direction. No more wandering blindly in the darkness. This time, they had a path, and the world was slowly beginning to reveal itself to them.
Behind him, Rul stretched his massive wings, his dragon-like features catching the early rays of the sun. Elden stood beside Aira, exchanging quiet words, a faint smile playing on his lips. Zaimond and Richard were further back, discussing the route they would take, making sure every detail was accounted for.
Caelan took a deep breath, feeling a renewed sense of responsibility settle on his shoulders. "Alright, everyone. Looks like we've got our heading. Westward it is."
Richard approached Caelan, his usual stoic expression softened by the warmth of the morning light. "The western lands... it's said that even the sun has a harder time reaching those territories. Darkness rules there. You ready for that?"
Caelan smiled, though his gaze remained focused on the map. "It's not the darkness that scares me, Richard. It's what's waiting inside it. But..." he turned to meet his companion's eyes, "I know we can handle it."
Richard nodded, satisfied with the answer, but a small grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "Good. Because it's going to take more than just light to get through this one. We'll need strategy, teamwork. No more rushing in headfirst."
Zaimond, overhearing the conversation, chuckled. "Yeah, Caelan, maybe think before you throw yourself at the next Demon King, huh?"
Caelan rolled his eyes playfully. "I'll try. No promises."
Elden, walking over with Aira, clapped Caelan on the shoulder. "Don't worry, you've got us to back you up. And besides, after that fight with Varus K 10, I think we've all gotten a little smarter."
Aira chimed in, her tone light but sincere. "Just make sure you come back in one piece this time, Caelan. We don't want to be scraping you off the battlefield again."
Caelan chuckled, but there was a seriousness in his voice. "I'll do my best."
Rul, who had been quiet, suddenly stepped forward, his towering frame casting a shadow over the group. "This time, we fly," he said, a grin stretching across his face. "No more walking for miles on end."
Everyone turned to look at him, momentarily stunned. Caelan was the first to break the silence. "Wait... we could've flown this whole time?!"
Rul scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Well, yeah... but, uh, I thought the exercise would do us all some good?"
Elden groaned, and Zaimond facepalmed. "You're telling me we've been dragging ourselves across the continent for days, and you had wings this whole time?"
Rul laughed, his deep voice rumbling. "What? Walking builds character."
Richard sighed, though a smile tugged at his lips. "Alright, no more wasting time. Let's get to the skies."
Caelan shook his head, laughing. "Better late than never, I guess."
With that, the group gathered their supplies, and one by one, they climbed onto Rul's broad back. His wings spread wide, casting a massive shadow over the city as he prepared for takeoff. The people of Solaria, who had gathered to see them off, cheered as Rul beat his wings and the group lifted into the air.
As they ascended, Caelan looked down at the city that had been their sanctuary for the last few days. It looked smaller from up here, but no less significant. They had restored light to this part of the world, and now, it was time to bring that light to the west.
---
Hours passed as they soared through the sky, the wind whipping past them. The landscape below shifted from the golden plains of Solaria to the darker, more foreboding terrain of the western lands. Forests thick with gnarled trees, mountains shrouded in mist, and rivers that flowed like dark veins through the land.
Richard, who had been studying the map intently, called out to Caelan. "We should be nearing the border of the western territories soon. From here on out, things are going to get more dangerous. The demon kings here... they're not like Varus. They're older. Stronger."
Elden, sitting nearby, leaned in. "We need to know more about them. Who they are. What they want."
Zaimond, who had been quiet for most of the flight, finally spoke up. "There's a legend about the Demon Kings of the West. They say the 8th King is the embodiment of destruction, while the 9th is the master of illusions. Together, they can twist reality itself."
Caelan frowned. "Sounds like we're in for a challenge."
"We'll be ready," Elden said firmly. "We've faced worse."
As they continued flying, Caelan's mind wandered back to Seraphis' words. "True strength isn't about being the most powerful. It's about knowing when to fight and when to protect. And sometimes... it's about trusting others to stand beside you."
Caelan glanced at his friends, each of them preparing in their own way for the battles ahead. They had come so far, and while they were all stronger now, they had only survived because they stood together. This journey wasn't just his—it was theirs.
The skies grew darker as they neared the western lands, the sun fading behind a thick blanket of clouds. But even in the gloom, Caelan felt the light inside him burn brighter.
"We'll bring the light to the west," Caelan said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. "No matter how dark it gets."
---
Red Sun
---
The shift was immediate. As Caelan and his crew stepped into the Western territories, the air thickened, dry and oppressive. It was as if the land itself rebelled against them. Only moments ago, they had been walking in a cool, breezy environment, but now it felt like the sun was bearing down on them with a vengeance. And, of course, it wasn't just any sun—it was the ominous Red Sun that hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the landscape.
"Seriously? From freezing our butts off to walking through a freaking oven," Caelan muttered, tugging at the collar of his mushafir garb, a light and flowing outfit designed for travel in harsh climates. "Whoever's in charge of weather out here needs to chill."
Zaimond, walking just behind him, chuckled, his own mushafir robes billowing in the hot wind. "Chill? In this heat? You've lost it, man."
Caelan smirked and adjusted his headwrap, pulling it down to shield his eyes from the harsh glare of the Red Sun. "Yeah, well, next time you're roasting alive, don't complain when I don't share my water."
Behind them, Elden was keeping silent, though his eyes were narrowed in concern. His heavy armor had been swapped out for lighter gear, but the heat was still taking its toll. Every step seemed heavier, and sweat trickled down his face as he surveyed the vast, barren landscape.
"This heat isn't normal," Elden finally spoke, wiping his brow. "Feels like something's amplifying it. Like the whole land's under a spell."
Caelan raised an eyebrow. "You mean other than the giant red ball of doom in the sky?"
"Don't be an idiot," Zaimond said, cutting in. "Elden's got a point. This place reeks of magic. Old magic. I can sense it. It's almost as if the land is cursed."
Rul, who had been silently walking beside them, let out a snort of laughter. Unlike the others, he had no need for light travel clothes. Being a naga hybrid, his body naturally regulated temperature, making him immune to the heat that was punishing his companions. He glanced over at them with his usual half-amused, half-annoyed look.
"Must be nice to be a dragon, huh?" Caelan shot at him, wiping more sweat from his forehead.
"Yup. You guys should really try it sometime," Rul replied nonchalantly, his large wings casting a shadow over the group as he stretched. "You know I could fly you there, right? Would save us all this walking."
Caelan froze in place, turning his head to give Rul an exaggerated look of disbelief. "Wait… what? You're telling me… we've been hiking across this desert, dying from heat stroke, and you could've flown us the whole time?"
Elden stopped as well, his eyes widening in realization. "Rul… why didn't you mention this earlier?"
Rul blinked, genuinely confused. "I dunno. I figured you guys wanted the exercise."
Zaimond started laughing hysterically, practically doubling over. "Bro, we've been walking for hours! And you didn't think to mention that we had a dragon Uber this entire time?"
Caelan facepalmed, groaning loudly. "Oh my god… Rul, man, I swear… you're impossible."
Rul shrugged, his large wings spreading out even more as he gave the group an unapologetic grin. "Hey, better late than never. You want the lift or not?"
---
A few minutes later, the group was airborne, riding high above the burning lands of the West. The wind was still warm, but it was a far cry from the scorching heat they'd faced on the ground. Caelan was sitting comfortably on Rul's back, taking in the scenery below. The barren desert stretched endlessly, dotted with ancient, crumbling ruins and sparse vegetation. It was a stark contrast to the lush lands of Solaria they had left behind.
"You know," Caelan started, glancing at the others. "I still can't believe we walked that whole time. Like… we could've been doing this all along."
Elden, who had been deep in thought, gave a nod but stayed silent. His mind was elsewhere, focused on the task ahead. They were headed into unknown territory—towards the lands ruled by two of the most mysterious Demon Kings: the 8th and 9th.
"What do you think we'll find there?" Elden finally asked, breaking the momentary silence.
"No idea," Zaimond replied, his tone shifting to something more serious. "But if the rumors are true, the Demon Kings in the West have powers that rival even the strongest of us. We have no clue who they are, what they can do, or how they rule their lands."
Rul's voice rumbled beneath them. "We'll find out soon enough. The Western lands aren't just any ordinary place. This is where the Red Sun gets its power. Whatever we face out there… it's going to be different from anything we've fought before."
Caelan grinned, leaning forward. "Bring it on. If I can take down an ice demon and restore an entire kingdom, I'm not scared of a little sunburn."
Zaimond smirked. "You're gonna need more than that cocky attitude to survive, man."
---
A New Objective
Soon, the outlines of a large city appeared in the distance. Its massive walls were shimmering under the oppressive glow of the Red Sun, and towering spires loomed over the barren landscape. The group's destination was clear: Sol Obsidia, the capital of the West and the seat of the 8th and 9th Demon Kings.
"This place looks… different," Elden commented, his voice tinged with suspicion.
"No kidding," Caelan muttered, eyes narrowing as they flew closer. The city was alive with movement, but there was something off about it. The energy felt twisted, dark.
Zaimond peered down at the streets below. "It's not just the Red Sun… Something's controlling the city. It's like the whole place is under a spell."
Rul landed just outside the massive gates, and the group dismounted. "Stay alert," he warned. "We don't know what we're walking into."
As they entered the city, the oppressive heat seemed to close in again, the air thick with tension. The people of Sol Obsidia went about their business, but their movements were robotic, as if driven by some unseen force.
"I don't like this…" Caelan whispered, glancing around warily.
They pressed forward, heading toward the central tower where the Demon Kings were rumored to reside. But every step felt heavier, every breath harder to take. The closer they got, the more they realized this place was different from anything they had encountered before.
---
To Be Continued…
---
This chapter sets the stage for an intense new arc, as Caelan and his team prepare to face the mysterious Demon Kings of the West. What awaits them in the heat of Sol Obsidia? Only time will tell. Stay tuned!