He blinked, bewildered, and when his eyes cleared, he saw long, silvery strands of hair just inches from his face. The scent of lavender and fresh herbs tickled his senses.
'Princess Aeliana?'
But as he slowly shifted, trying to sit up, the warmth beneath his head shifted too, and the figure above him moved. Taren's heart skipped a beat as he looked up, expecting to see Aeliana's pale, delicate face.
Instead, he was staring into the face of a man, not a woman. The stranger had long brown hair, a few shades lighter than Osric's, and a rough, weathered face, marked by time and experience. His eyes were calm but intense, a deep shade of amber that seemed to pierce through Taren. He was a bit older than Osric, his features sharp but somehow softer than the knights had been. Dark, practical clothes had seem simple but sturdy, with a faint, almost invisible air of authority around him as though he had seen far more than anyone could guess.
The man straightened slightly as Taren's eyes snapped open fully, his expression calm but unreadable.
Taren's heart started racing, and a cold sweat broke out on his skin as confusion and fear flooded his mind. How? Where am I? His chest constricted. He pushed himself up, wincing at the pain.
"Who...who are you?" Taren's voice was rough, hoarse from the battle and the shock. His eyes darted around, searching for any sign of the princess, but she was nowhere in sight. Only the man with the brown hair stood before him, calm and unbothered, as if the situation were nothing out of the ordinary.
The man's lips curled slightly into a small, knowing smile, though his eyes were full of something more. He stood up fully, and offered Taren a hand; Taren did not take it. He stared at the man's outstretched hand, his mind spinning from everything that had been said.
"My name is Agraj Vepal," the man said smoothly with his deep but very soothing voice. "I'm the man who saved you and your friend yesterday."
Taren's mind tried to make sense of it, but his confusion only deepened. 'Agraj?' He didn't recognize him at all. The man didn't look like a royal knight, nor did he carry the intimidating aura of the soldiers who had attacked them. But there was something in his eyes—a quiet power, something that set him apart.
Taren felt a knot in his stomach. It was as if everything was too much: the weight of it all, the battle, the knights, the princess-all of it. He shook his head, trying to push the fog of exhaustion aside.
"Why… why would you save us?" Taren asked, his voice steady despite the whirl of emotions inside. "We're nothing. We're just slaves."
Agraj's face didn't change, but there was a flicker of something—maybe pity, maybe understanding—in his eyes. "Not just slaves, Taren,"
he said, his voice low but strong. "You are far more than that. Both of you are far more than you realize. But you're not ready to understand yet. Not until you've seen the truth."
Taren's eyes narrowed, but before he could speak Agraj turned away and gestured toward the distant trees where a fire burned softly in the distance.
"Rest for now," Agraj said. "We have a long journey ahead."
Taren's chest constricted as he turned to look where Osric lay, still and silent. Panic threatened to overwhelm him for a moment, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. "Osric.?" His voice cracked, but steady breathing made him rush in relief. His friend was alive, but that didn't stop Taren from feeling the weight of the moment.
He reached to push himself up with one hand, but the smart pang of pain in his arm sent him stumbling. His legs buckled under him and he gave a sharp gasp as he bit down on the groan that rose into his throat as his wound seemed to flare up.
And with every step toward Osric, it was a struggle, but he didn't make it three steps before a soft cool hand lay lightly on his shoulder.
"Hold still," Agraj's voice was calm.
Taren had barely a moment to glance up before Agraj raised his other hand, and the air around them seemed to shift. It was subtle—almost imperceptible—but the familiar weight of exhaustion seemed to lift for a moment.
With a deep, steady breath, Agraj muttered a low incantation.
"Regrana Malathis." The words rolled off his tongue smoothly, but there was power in them.
A soft, faint blue glow spread from Agraj's palm across Taren's arm like a cool breeze on a summer night. The burning pain of his wound began to subside as the pressure grew gentle and soothing. The throbbing ache in his arm subsided into a dull, bearable soreness.
Taren flexed his hand, feeling the relief spread across his body. "What…?" he began, but Agraj didn't meet his eyes, his focus still on the spell.
"Regrana Malathis," Agraj repeated softly, his eyes narrowing in concentration. "It's not a full cure. I'm running low on mana after the fight. But it should hold for now."
Taren clenched his fist, testing the movement in his arm. The pain was still there, but it wasn't as overwhelming. The wound wasn't fully healed, but it felt… stable.
"Why did you help us?" Taren asked quietly, still trying to make sense of it all. "You've used up your energy. We're just… slaves. Why bother?"
Agraj looked at him, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile at the corner. "You think I saved you out of kindness?" He raised an eyebrow. "No....I saved you because you I was ordered to look for Princess Aeliana. The world isn't kind. And you're about to see just how unforgiving it can be."
'Ordered?' Taren was confused. 'But who?'
Taren's throat shut, and for a moment he couldn't speak. Not the words; the weight behind them was cold.
Agraj's voice softened but the sharpness in it told him otherwise. "Rest. I have done all that I can. There's more coming, though, and you won't survive unless you are strong enough to face it."
Taren swallowed hard, nodding stiffly, still trying to make sense of the man's words. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, a small, stubborn flicker of hope burned in his chest. Whatever was coming, he'd need every ounce of strength to face it.
---
The carriage rolled steadily toward the Hazan Nation. Taren rode beside it, his mind swirling with fragments of the previous night. Osric, riding to the left, remained alert. Agraj flew overhead, his wings casting shadows.
As the city of Hazan came into view, the massive gate loomed ahead, guarded by knights. Agraj descended and addressed the group, his tone firm. "This is Hazan. Breathe deeply and take in its spirit, but be warned—strength and respect are rewarded here, while weakness is punished."
The knights at the gate straightened, pushing open the massive doors. They motioned for the group to dismount. "A royal carriage from the Shinkai Academy awaits."
Taren and Osric exchanged a look before following Agraj to the carriage. Hazan's capital was full of towering buildings, fine silks, and confident people who carried themselves with authority. It was unlike anything they had known, and the city's vibrancy contrasted sharply with their past struggles.
The royal carriage gleamed under the sunlight, its wheels polished and intricate carvings along its sides. It was a sight far beyond the drab carts they were accustomed to. Taren and Osric stared in awe at the extravagance.
---
Taren had spent all the day exploring the city, crossing empty streets where the silence settled at night. With people asleep, he knew that he wanted to continue since he felt an urge inside to know more. He turned towards a quieter part of the city, where the buildings rose into the air, like tall sentinels watching the secrets locked within themselves.
Hours passed, and the city seemed to grow stiller with every step. Taren stumbled upon an area that felt strange, hollow, as if the air itself was thinner here. Something about it felt off, but he couldn't shake the feeling of mystery. He followed the pull of his curiosity, and after poking around, he found a hidden tunnel entrance, half-buried and forgotten.
He stepped inside, the walls cold and damp, and began walking. The tunnel stretched on and on, its narrow path winding deeper into the ground. The further he went, the more it felt like he was the first person to set foot here in ages. No sign of life, no footprints, just the sound of his own footsteps echoing off the walls. It was as if the tunnel had been waiting for him.
An hour passed, and right when he thought he could not walk anymore, he saw light ahead. A door, even older and rusted, existed at the end of the tunnel. Taren pushed against it, and it creaked open, showing him a large, empty hall. The room was expansive, nearly empty, but something about it felt old. As he stepped inside, the air changed.
Suddenly, the hall around him began to change. The floor cracked and groaned beneath him, and before he knew it, the space was no longer a hall but an old, forgotten garage. Dust hung thick in the air, and in the center of the room stood a massive figure. A beast, unlike any Taren had seen before. Its fur was thick and matted, its size as large as a house. The wolf-like creature was still, almost frozen in time, eyes closed as though it had been resting for centuries.
Taren froze, not knowing what to do. The beast did not move, did not growl or attack. It seemed as if it too had been waiting for something-or someone. Taren could feel the weight of time in the air, the silence stretching across the room, as if the creature had been here for hundreds of years, unnoticed and forgotten. He couldn't understand how such a place, with such a beast, had remained hidden for so long.He blinked, bewildered, and when his eyes cleared, he saw long, silvery strands of hair just inches from his face. The scent of lavender and fresh herbs tickled his senses.
'Princess Aeliana?'
But as he slowly shifted, trying to sit up, the warmth beneath his head shifted too, and the figure above him moved. Taren's heart skipped a beat as he looked up, expecting to see Aeliana's pale, delicate face.
Instead, he was staring into the face of a man, not a woman. The stranger had long brown hair, a few shades lighter than Osric's, and a rough, weathered face, marked by time and experience. His eyes were calm but intense, a deep shade of amber that seemed to pierce through Taren. He was a bit older than Osric, his features sharp but somehow softer than the knights had been. Dark, practical clothes had seem simple but sturdy, with a faint, almost invisible air of authority around him as though he had seen far more than anyone could guess.
The man straightened slightly as Taren's eyes snapped open fully, his expression calm but unreadable.
Taren's heart started racing, and a cold sweat broke out on his skin as confusion and fear flooded his mind. How? Where am I? His chest constricted. He pushed himself up, wincing at the pain.
"Who...who are you?" Taren's voice was rough, hoarse from the battle and the shock. His eyes darted around, searching for any sign of the princess, but she was nowhere in sight. Only the man with the brown hair stood before him, calm and unbothered, as if the situation were nothing out of the ordinary.
The man's lips curled slightly into a small, knowing smile, though his eyes were full of something more. He stood up fully, and offered Taren a hand; Taren did not take it. He stared at the man's outstretched hand, his mind spinning from everything that had been said.
"My name is Agraj Vepal," the man said smoothly with his deep but very soothing voice. "I'm the man who saved you and your friend yesterday."
Taren's mind tried to make sense of it, but his confusion only deepened. 'Agraj?' He didn't recognize him at all. The man didn't look like a royal knight, nor did he carry the intimidating aura of the soldiers who had attacked them. But there was something in his eyes—a quiet power, something that set him apart.
Taren felt a knot in his stomach. It was as if everything was too much: the weight of it all, the battle, the knights, the princess-all of it. He shook his head, trying to push the fog of exhaustion aside.
"Why… why would you save us?" Taren asked, his voice steady despite the whirl of emotions inside. "We're nothing. We're just slaves."
Agraj's face didn't change, but there was a flicker of something—maybe pity, maybe understanding—in his eyes. "Not just slaves, Taren,"
he said, his voice low but strong. "You are far more than that. Both of you are far more than you realize. But you're not ready to understand yet. Not until you've seen the truth."
Taren's eyes narrowed, but before he could speak Agraj turned away and gestured toward the distant trees where a fire burned softly in the distance.
"Rest for now," Agraj said. "We have a long journey ahead."
Taren's chest constricted as he turned to look where Osric lay, still and silent. Panic threatened to overwhelm him for a moment, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. "Osric.?" His voice cracked, but steady breathing made him rush in relief. His friend was alive, but that didn't stop Taren from feeling the weight of the moment.
He reached to push himself up with one hand, but the smart pang of pain in his arm sent him stumbling. His legs buckled under him and he gave a sharp gasp as he bit down on the groan that rose into his throat as his wound seemed to flare up.
And with every step toward Osric, it was a struggle, but he didn't make it three steps before a soft cool hand lay lightly on his shoulder.
"Hold still," Agraj's voice was calm.
Taren had barely a moment to glance up before Agraj raised his other hand, and the air around them seemed to shift. It was subtle—almost imperceptible—but the familiar weight of exhaustion seemed to lift for a moment.
With a deep, steady breath, Agraj muttered a low incantation.
"Regrana Malathis." The words rolled off his tongue smoothly, but there was power in them.
A soft, faint blue glow spread from Agraj's palm across Taren's arm like a cool breeze on a summer night. The burning pain of his wound began to subside as the pressure grew gentle and soothing. The throbbing ache in his arm subsided into a dull, bearable soreness.
Taren flexed his hand, feeling the relief spread across his body. "What…?" he began, but Agraj didn't meet his eyes, his focus still on the spell.
"Regrana Malathis," Agraj repeated softly, his eyes narrowing in concentration. "It's not a full cure. I'm running low on mana after the fight. But it should hold for now."
Taren clenched his fist, testing the movement in his arm. The pain was still there, but it wasn't as overwhelming. The wound wasn't fully healed, but it felt… stable.
"Why did you help us?" Taren asked quietly, still trying to make sense of it all. "You've used up your energy. We're just… slaves. Why bother?"
Agraj looked at him, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile at the corner. "You think I saved you out of kindness?" He raised an eyebrow. "No....I saved you because you I was ordered to look for Princess Aeliana. The world isn't kind. And you're about to see just how unforgiving it can be."
'Ordered?' Taren was confused. 'But who?'
Taren's throat shut, and for a moment he couldn't speak. Not the words; the weight behind them was cold.
Agraj's voice softened but the sharpness in it told him otherwise. "Rest. I have done all that I can. There's more coming, though, and you won't survive unless you are strong enough to face it."
Taren swallowed hard, nodding stiffly, still trying to make sense of the man's words. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, a small, stubborn flicker of hope burned in his chest. Whatever was coming, he'd need every ounce of strength to face it.
---
The carriage rolled steadily toward the Hazan Nation. Taren rode beside it, his mind swirling with fragments of the previous night. Osric, riding to the left, remained alert. Agraj flew overhead, his wings casting shadows.
As the city of Hazan came into view, the massive gate loomed ahead, guarded by knights. Agraj descended and addressed the group, his tone firm. "This is Hazan. Breathe deeply and take in its spirit, but be warned—strength and respect are rewarded here, while weakness is punished."
The knights at the gate straightened, pushing open the massive doors. They motioned for the group to dismount. "A royal carriage from the Shinkai Academy awaits."
Taren and Osric exchanged a look before following Agraj to the carriage. Hazan's capital was full of towering buildings, fine silks, and confident people who carried themselves with authority. It was unlike anything they had known, and the city's vibrancy contrasted sharply with their past struggles.
The royal carriage gleamed under the sunlight, its wheels polished and intricate carvings along its sides. It was a sight far beyond the drab carts they were accustomed to. Taren and Osric stared in awe at the extravagance.
---
Taren had spent all the day exploring the city, crossing empty streets where the silence settled at night. With people asleep, he knew that he wanted to continue since he felt an urge inside to know more. He turned towards a quieter part of the city, where the buildings rose into the air, like tall sentinels watching the secrets locked within themselves.
Hours passed, and the city seemed to grow stiller with every step. Taren stumbled upon an area that felt strange, hollow, as if the air itself was thinner here. Something about it felt off, but he couldn't shake the feeling of mystery. He followed the pull of his curiosity, and after poking around, he found a hidden tunnel entrance, half-buried and forgotten.
He stepped inside, the walls cold and damp, and began walking. The tunnel stretched on and on, its narrow path winding deeper into the ground. The further he went, the more it felt like he was the first person to set foot here in ages. No sign of life, no footprints, just the sound of his own footsteps echoing off the walls. It was as if the tunnel had been waiting for him.
An hour passed, and right when he thought he could not walk anymore, he saw light ahead. A door, even older and rusted, existed at the end of the tunnel. Taren pushed against it, and it creaked open, showing him a large, empty hall. The room was expansive, nearly empty, but something about it felt old. As he stepped inside, the air changed.
Suddenly, the hall around him began to change. The floor cracked and groaned beneath him, and before he knew it, the space was no longer a hall but an old, forgotten garage. Dust hung thick in the air, and in the center of the room stood a massive figure. A beast, unlike any Taren had seen before. Its fur was thick and matted, its size as large as a house. The wolf-like creature was still, almost frozen in time, eyes closed as though it had been resting for centuries.
Taren froze, not knowing what to do. The beast did not move, did not growl or attack. It seemed as if it too had been waiting for something-or someone. Taren could feel the weight of time in the air, the silence stretching across the room, as if the creature had been here for hundreds of years, unnoticed and forgotten. He couldn't understand how such a place, with such a beast, had remained hidden for so long.He blinked, bewildered, and when his eyes cleared, he saw long, silvery strands of hair just inches from his face. The scent of lavender and fresh herbs tickled his senses.
'Princess Aeliana?'
But as he slowly shifted, trying to sit up, the warmth beneath his head shifted too, and the figure above him moved. Taren's heart skipped a beat as he looked up, expecting to see Aeliana's pale, delicate face.
Instead, he was staring into the face of a man, not a woman. The stranger had long brown hair, a few shades lighter than Osric's, and a rough, weathered face, marked by time and experience. His eyes were calm but intense, a deep shade of amber that seemed to pierce through Taren. He was a bit older than Osric, his features sharp but somehow softer than the knights had been. Dark, practical clothes had seem simple but sturdy, with a faint, almost invisible air of authority around him as though he had seen far more than anyone could guess.
The man straightened slightly as Taren's eyes snapped open fully, his expression calm but unreadable.
Taren's heart started racing, and a cold sweat broke out on his skin as confusion and fear flooded his mind. How? Where am I? His chest constricted. He pushed himself up, wincing at the pain.
"Who...who are you?" Taren's voice was rough, hoarse from the battle and the shock. His eyes darted around, searching for any sign of the princess, but she was nowhere in sight. Only the man with the brown hair stood before him, calm and unbothered, as if the situation were nothing out of the ordinary.
The man's lips curled slightly into a small, knowing smile, though his eyes were full of something more. He stood up fully, and offered Taren a hand; Taren did not take it. He stared at the man's outstretched hand, his mind spinning from everything that had been said.
"My name is Agraj Vepal," the man said smoothly with his deep but very soothing voice. "I'm the man who saved you and your friend yesterday."
Taren's mind tried to make sense of it, but his confusion only deepened. 'Agraj?' He didn't recognize him at all. The man didn't look like a royal knight, nor did he carry the intimidating aura of the soldiers who had attacked them. But there was something in his eyes—a quiet power, something that set him apart.
Taren felt a knot in his stomach. It was as if everything was too much: the weight of it all, the battle, the knights, the princess-all of it. He shook his head, trying to push the fog of exhaustion aside.
"Why… why would you save us?" Taren asked, his voice steady despite the whirl of emotions inside. "We're nothing. We're just slaves."
Agraj's face didn't change, but there was a flicker of something—maybe pity, maybe understanding—in his eyes. "Not just slaves, Taren,"
he said, his voice low but strong. "You are far more than that. Both of you are far more than you realize. But you're not ready to understand yet. Not until you've seen the truth."
Taren's eyes narrowed, but before he could speak Agraj turned away and gestured toward the distant trees where a fire burned softly in the distance.
"Rest for now," Agraj said. "We have a long journey ahead."
Taren's chest constricted as he turned to look where Osric lay, still and silent. Panic threatened to overwhelm him for a moment, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. "Osric.?" His voice cracked, but steady breathing made him rush in relief. His friend was alive, but that didn't stop Taren from feeling the weight of the moment.
He reached to push himself up with one hand, but the smart pang of pain in his arm sent him stumbling. His legs buckled under him and he gave a sharp gasp as he bit down on the groan that rose into his throat as his wound seemed to flare up.
And with every step toward Osric, it was a struggle, but he didn't make it three steps before a soft cool hand lay lightly on his shoulder.
"Hold still," Agraj's voice was calm.
Taren had barely a moment to glance up before Agraj raised his other hand, and the air around them seemed to shift. It was subtle—almost imperceptible—but the familiar weight of exhaustion seemed to lift for a moment.
With a deep, steady breath, Agraj muttered a low incantation.
"Regrana Malathis." The words rolled off his tongue smoothly, but there was power in them.
A soft, faint blue glow spread from Agraj's palm across Taren's arm like a cool breeze on a summer night. The burning pain of his wound began to subside as the pressure grew gentle and soothing. The throbbing ache in his arm subsided into a dull, bearable soreness.
Taren flexed his hand, feeling the relief spread across his body. "What…?" he began, but Agraj didn't meet his eyes, his focus still on the spell.
"Regrana Malathis," Agraj repeated softly, his eyes narrowing in concentration. "It's not a full cure. I'm running low on mana after the fight. But it should hold for now."
Taren clenched his fist, testing the movement in his arm. The pain was still there, but it wasn't as overwhelming. The wound wasn't fully healed, but it felt… stable.
"Why did you help us?" Taren asked quietly, still trying to make sense of it all. "You've used up your energy. We're just… slaves. Why bother?"
Agraj looked at him, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile at the corner. "You think I saved you out of kindness?" He raised an eyebrow. "No....I saved you because you I was ordered to look for Princess Aeliana. The world isn't kind. And you're about to see just how unforgiving it can be."
'Ordered?' Taren was confused. 'But who?'
Taren's throat shut, and for a moment he couldn't speak. Not the words; the weight behind them was cold.
Agraj's voice softened but the sharpness in it told him otherwise. "Rest. I have done all that I can. There's more coming, though, and you won't survive unless you are strong enough to face it."
Taren swallowed hard, nodding stiffly, still trying to make sense of the man's words. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, a small, stubborn flicker of hope burned in his chest. Whatever was coming, he'd need every ounce of strength to face it.
---
The carriage rolled steadily toward the Hazan Nation. Taren rode beside it, his mind swirling with fragments of the previous night. Osric, riding to the left, remained alert. Agraj flew overhead, his wings casting shadows.
As the city of Hazan came into view, the massive gate loomed ahead, guarded by knights. Agraj descended and addressed the group, his tone firm. "This is Hazan. Breathe deeply and take in its spirit, but be warned—strength and respect are rewarded here, while weakness is punished."
The knights at the gate straightened, pushing open the massive doors. They motioned for the group to dismount. "A royal carriage from the Shinkai Academy awaits."
Taren and Osric exchanged a look before following Agraj to the carriage. Hazan's capital was full of towering buildings, fine silks, and confident people who carried themselves with authority. It was unlike anything they had known, and the city's vibrancy contrasted sharply with their past struggles.
The royal carriage gleamed under the sunlight, its wheels polished and intricate carvings along its sides. It was a sight far beyond the drab carts they were accustomed to. Taren and Osric stared in awe at the extravagance.
---
Taren had spent all the day exploring the city, crossing empty streets where the silence settled at night. With people asleep, he knew that he wanted to continue since he felt an urge inside to know more. He turned towards a quieter part of the city, where the buildings rose into the air, like tall sentinels watching the secrets locked within themselves.
Hours passed, and the city seemed to grow stiller with every step. Taren stumbled upon an area that felt strange, hollow, as if the air itself was thinner here. Something about it felt off, but he couldn't shake the feeling of mystery. He followed the pull of his curiosity, and after poking around, he found a hidden tunnel entrance, half-buried and forgotten.
He stepped inside, the walls cold and damp, and began walking. The tunnel stretched on and on, its narrow path winding deeper into the ground. The further he went, the more it felt like he was the first person to set foot here in ages. No sign of life, no footprints, just the sound of his own footsteps echoing off the walls. It was as if the tunnel had been waiting for him.
An hour passed, and right when he thought he could not walk anymore, he saw light ahead. A door, even older and rusted, existed at the end of the tunnel. Taren pushed against it, and it creaked open, showing him a large, empty hall. The room was expansive, nearly empty, but something about it felt old. As he stepped inside, the air changed.
Suddenly, the hall around him began to change. The floor cracked and groaned beneath him, and before he knew it, the space was no longer a hall but an old, forgotten garage. Dust hung thick in the air, and in the center of the room stood a massive figure. A beast, unlike any Taren had seen before. Its fur was thick and matted, its size as large as a house. The wolf-like creature was still, almost frozen in time, eyes closed as though it had been resting for centuries.
Taren froze, not knowing what to do. The beast did not move, did not growl or attack. It seemed as if it too had been waiting for something-or someone. Taren could feel the weight of time in the air, the silence stretching across the room, as if the creature had been here for hundreds of years, unnoticed and forgotten. He couldn't understand how such a place, with such a beast, had remained hidden for so long.He blinked, bewildered, and when his eyes cleared, he saw long, silvery strands of hair just inches from his face. The scent of lavender and fresh herbs tickled his senses.
'Princess Aeliana?'
But as he slowly shifted, trying to sit up, the warmth beneath his head shifted too, and the figure above him moved. Taren's heart skipped a beat as he looked up, expecting to see Aeliana's pale, delicate face.
Instead, he was staring into the face of a man, not a woman. The stranger had long brown hair, a few shades lighter than Osric's, and a rough, weathered face, marked by time and experience. His eyes were calm but intense, a deep shade of amber that seemed to pierce through Taren. He was a bit older than Osric, his features sharp but somehow softer than the knights had been. Dark, practical clothes had seem simple but sturdy, with a faint, almost invisible air of authority around him as though he had seen far more than anyone could guess.
The man straightened slightly as Taren's eyes snapped open fully, his expression calm but unreadable.
Taren's heart started racing, and a cold sweat broke out on his skin as confusion and fear flooded his mind. How? Where am I? His chest constricted. He pushed himself up, wincing at the pain.
"Who...who are you?" Taren's voice was rough, hoarse from the battle and the shock. His eyes darted around, searching for any sign of the princess, but she was nowhere in sight. Only the man with the brown hair stood before him, calm and unbothered, as if the situation were nothing out of the ordinary.
The man's lips curled slightly into a small, knowing smile, though his eyes were full of something more. He stood up fully, and offered Taren a hand; Taren did not take it. He stared at the man's outstretched hand, his mind spinning from everything that had been said.
"My name is Agraj Vepal," the man said smoothly with his deep but very soothing voice. "I'm the man who saved you and your friend yesterday."
Taren's mind tried to make sense of it, but his confusion only deepened. 'Agraj?' He didn't recognize him at all. The man didn't look like a royal knight, nor did he carry the intimidating aura of the soldiers who had attacked them. But there was something in his eyes—a quiet power, something that set him apart.
Taren felt a knot in his stomach. It was as if everything was too much: the weight of it all, the battle, the knights, the princess-all of it. He shook his head, trying to push the fog of exhaustion aside.
"Why… why would you save us?" Taren asked, his voice steady despite the whirl of emotions inside. "We're nothing. We're just slaves."
Agraj's face didn't change, but there was a flicker of something—maybe pity, maybe understanding—in his eyes. "Not just slaves, Taren,"
he said, his voice low but strong. "You are far more than that. Both of you are far more than you realize. But you're not ready to understand yet. Not until you've seen the truth."
Taren's eyes narrowed, but before he could speak Agraj turned away and gestured toward the distant trees where a fire burned softly in the distance.
"Rest for now," Agraj said. "We have a long journey ahead."
Taren's chest constricted as he turned to look where Osric lay, still and silent. Panic threatened to overwhelm him for a moment, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. "Osric.?" His voice cracked, but steady breathing made him rush in relief. His friend was alive, but that didn't stop Taren from feeling the weight of the moment.
He reached to push himself up with one hand, but the smart pang of pain in his arm sent him stumbling. His legs buckled under him and he gave a sharp gasp as he bit down on the groan that rose into his throat as his wound seemed to flare up.
And with every step toward Osric, it was a struggle, but he didn't make it three steps before a soft cool hand lay lightly on his shoulder.
"Hold still," Agraj's voice was calm.
Taren had barely a moment to glance up before Agraj raised his other hand, and the air around them seemed to shift. It was subtle—almost imperceptible—but the familiar weight of exhaustion seemed to lift for a moment.
With a deep, steady breath, Agraj muttered a low incantation.
"Regrana Malathis." The words rolled off his tongue smoothly, but there was power in them.
A soft, faint blue glow spread from Agraj's palm across Taren's arm like a cool breeze on a summer night. The burning pain of his wound began to subside as the pressure grew gentle and soothing. The throbbing ache in his arm subsided into a dull, bearable soreness.
Taren flexed his hand, feeling the relief spread across his body. "What…?" he began, but Agraj didn't meet his eyes, his focus still on the spell.
"Regrana Malathis," Agraj repeated softly, his eyes narrowing in concentration. "It's not a full cure. I'm running low on mana after the fight. But it should hold for now."
Taren clenched his fist, testing the movement in his arm. The pain was still there, but it wasn't as overwhelming. The wound wasn't fully healed, but it felt… stable.
"Why did you help us?" Taren asked quietly, still trying to make sense of it all. "You've used up your energy. We're just… slaves. Why bother?"
Agraj looked at him, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile at the corner. "You think I saved you out of kindness?" He raised an eyebrow. "No....I saved you because you I was ordered to look for Princess Aeliana. The world isn't kind. And you're about to see just how unforgiving it can be."
'Ordered?' Taren was confused. 'But who?'
Taren's throat shut, and for a moment he couldn't speak. Not the words; the weight behind them was cold.
Agraj's voice softened but the sharpness in it told him otherwise. "Rest. I have done all that I can. There's more coming, though, and you won't survive unless you are strong enough to face it."
Taren swallowed hard, nodding stiffly, still trying to make sense of the man's words. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, a small, stubborn flicker of hope burned in his chest. Whatever was coming, he'd need every ounce of strength to face it.
---
The carriage rolled steadily toward the Hazan Nation. Taren rode beside it, his mind swirling with fragments of the previous night. Osric, riding to the left, remained alert. Agraj flew overhead, his wings casting shadows.
As the city of Hazan came into view, the massive gate loomed ahead, guarded by knights. Agraj descended and addressed the group, his tone firm. "This is Hazan. Breathe deeply and take in its spirit, but be warned—strength and respect are rewarded here, while weakness is punished."
The knights at the gate straightened, pushing open the massive doors. They motioned for the group to dismount. "A royal carriage from the Shinkai Academy awaits."
Taren and Osric exchanged a look before following Agraj to the carriage. Hazan's capital was full of towering buildings, fine silks, and confident people who carried themselves with authority. It was unlike anything they had known, and the city's vibrancy contrasted sharply with their past struggles.
The royal carriage gleamed under the sunlight, its wheels polished and intricate carvings along its sides. It was a sight far beyond the drab carts they were accustomed to. Taren and Osric stared in awe at the extravagance.
---
Taren had spent all the day exploring the city, crossing empty streets where the silence settled at night. With people asleep, he knew that he wanted to continue since he felt an urge inside to know more. He turned towards a quieter part of the city, where the buildings rose into the air, like tall sentinels watching the secrets locked within themselves.
Hours passed, and the city seemed to grow stiller with every step. Taren stumbled upon an area that felt strange, hollow, as if the air itself was thinner here. Something about it felt off, but he couldn't shake the feeling of mystery. He followed the pull of his curiosity, and after poking around, he found a hidden tunnel entrance, half-buried and forgotten.
He stepped inside, the walls cold and damp, and began walking. The tunnel stretched on and on, its narrow path winding deeper into the ground. The further he went, the more it felt like he was the first person to set foot here in ages. No sign of life, no footprints, just the sound of his own footsteps echoing off the walls. It was as if the tunnel had been waiting for him.
An hour passed, and right when he thought he could not walk anymore, he saw light ahead. A door, even older and rusted, existed at the end of the tunnel. Taren pushed against it, and it creaked open, showing him a large, empty hall. The room was expansive, nearly empty, but something about it felt old. As he stepped inside, the air changed.
Suddenly, the hall around him began to change. The floor cracked and groaned beneath him, and before he knew it, the space was no longer a hall but an old, forgotten garage. Dust hung thick in the air, and in the center of the room stood a massive figure. A beast, unlike any Taren had seen before. Its fur was thick and matted, its size as large as a house. The wolf-like creature was still, almost frozen in time, eyes closed as though it had been resting for centuries.
Taren froze, not knowing what to do. The beast did not move, did not growl or attack. It seemed as if it too had been waiting for something-or someone. Taren could feel the weight of time in the air, the silence stretching across the room, as if the creature had been here for hundreds of years, unnoticed and forgotten. He couldn't understand how such a place, with such a beast, had remained hidden for so long.He blinked, bewildered, and when his eyes cleared, he saw long, silvery strands of hair just inches from his face. The scent of lavender and fresh herbs tickled his senses.
'Princess Aeliana?'
But as he slowly shifted, trying to sit up, the warmth beneath his head shifted too, and the figure above him moved. Taren's heart skipped a beat as he looked up, expecting to see Aeliana's pale, delicate face.
Instead, he was staring into the face of a man, not a woman. The stranger had long brown hair, a few shades lighter than Osric's, and a rough, weathered face, marked by time and experience. His eyes were calm but intense, a deep shade of amber that seemed to pierce through Taren. He was a bit older than Osric, his features sharp but somehow softer than the knights had been. Dark, practical clothes had seem simple but sturdy, with a faint, almost invisible air of authority around him as though he had seen far more than anyone could guess.
The man straightened slightly as Taren's eyes snapped open fully, his expression calm but unreadable.
Taren's heart started racing, and a cold sweat broke out on his skin as confusion and fear flooded his mind. How? Where am I? His chest constricted. He pushed himself up, wincing at the pain.
"Who...who are you?" Taren's voice was rough, hoarse from the battle and the shock. His eyes darted around, searching for any sign of the princess, but she was nowhere in sight. Only the man with the brown hair stood before him, calm and unbothered, as if the situation were nothing out of the ordinary.
The man's lips curled slightly into a small, knowing smile, though his eyes were full of something more. He stood up fully, and offered Taren a hand; Taren did not take it. He stared at the man's outstretched hand, his mind spinning from everything that had been said.
"My name is Agraj Vepal," the man said smoothly with his deep but very soothing voice. "I'm the man who saved you and your friend yesterday."
Taren's mind tried to make sense of it, but his confusion only deepened. 'Agraj?' He didn't recognize him at all. The man didn't look like a royal knight, nor did he carry the intimidating aura of the soldiers who had attacked them. But there was something in his eyes—a quiet power, something that set him apart.
Taren felt a knot in his stomach. It was as if everything was too much: the weight of it all, the battle, the knights, the princess-all of it. He shook his head, trying to push the fog of exhaustion aside.
"Why… why would you save us?" Taren asked, his voice steady despite the whirl of emotions inside. "We're nothing. We're just slaves."
Agraj's face didn't change, but there was a flicker of something—maybe pity, maybe understanding—in his eyes. "Not just slaves, Taren,"
he said, his voice low but strong. "You are far more than that. Both of you are far more than you realize. But you're not ready to understand yet. Not until you've seen the truth."
Taren's eyes narrowed, but before he could speak Agraj turned away and gestured toward the distant trees where a fire burned softly in the distance.
"Rest for now," Agraj said. "We have a long journey ahead."
Taren's chest constricted as he turned to look where Osric lay, still and silent. Panic threatened to overwhelm him for a moment, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. "Osric.?" His voice cracked, but steady breathing made him rush in relief. His friend was alive, but that didn't stop Taren from feeling the weight of the moment.
He reached to push himself up with one hand, but the smart pang of pain in his arm sent him stumbling. His legs buckled under him and he gave a sharp gasp as he bit down on the groan that rose into his throat as his wound seemed to flare up.
And with every step toward Osric, it was a struggle, but he didn't make it three steps before a soft cool hand lay lightly on his shoulder.
"Hold still," Agraj's voice was calm.
Taren had barely a moment to glance up before Agraj raised his other hand, and the air around them seemed to shift. It was subtle—almost imperceptible—but the familiar weight of exhaustion seemed to lift for a moment.
With a deep, steady breath, Agraj muttered a low incantation.
"Regrana Malathis." The words rolled off his tongue smoothly, but there was power in them.
A soft, faint blue glow spread from Agraj's palm across Taren's arm like a cool breeze on a summer night. The burning pain of his wound began to subside as the pressure grew gentle and soothing. The throbbing ache in his arm subsided into a dull, bearable soreness.
Taren flexed his hand, feeling the relief spread across his body. "What…?" he began, but Agraj didn't meet his eyes, his focus still on the spell.
"Regrana Malathis," Agraj repeated softly, his eyes narrowing in concentration. "It's not a full cure. I'm running low on mana after the fight. But it should hold for now."
Taren clenched his fist, testing the movement in his arm. The pain was still there, but it wasn't as overwhelming. The wound wasn't fully healed, but it felt… stable.
"Why did you help us?" Taren asked quietly, still trying to make sense of it all. "You've used up your energy. We're just… slaves. Why bother?"
Agraj looked at him, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile at the corner. "You think I saved you out of kindness?" He raised an eyebrow. "No....I saved you because you I was ordered to look for Princess Aeliana. The world isn't kind. And you're about to see just how unforgiving it can be."
'Ordered?' Taren was confused. 'But who?'
Taren's throat shut, and for a moment he couldn't speak. Not the words; the weight behind them was cold.
Agraj's voice softened but the sharpness in it told him otherwise. "Rest. I have done all that I can. There's more coming, though, and you won't survive unless you are strong enough to face it."
Taren swallowed hard, nodding stiffly, still trying to make sense of the man's words. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, a small, stubborn flicker of hope burned in his chest. Whatever was coming, he'd need every ounce of strength to face it.
---
The carriage rolled steadily toward the Hazan Nation. Taren rode beside it, his mind swirling with fragments of the previous night. Osric, riding to the left, remained alert. Agraj flew overhead, his wings casting shadows.
As the city of Hazan came into view, the massive gate loomed ahead, guarded by knights. Agraj descended and addressed the group, his tone firm. "This is Hazan. Breathe deeply and take in its spirit, but be warned—strength and respect are rewarded here, while weakness is punished."
The knights at the gate straightened, pushing open the massive doors. They motioned for the group to dismount. "A royal carriage from the Shinkai Academy awaits."
Taren and Osric exchanged a look before following Agraj to the carriage. Hazan's capital was full of towering buildings, fine silks, and confident people who carried themselves with authority. It was unlike anything they had known, and the city's vibrancy contrasted sharply with their past struggles.
The royal carriage gleamed under the sunlight, its wheels polished and intricate carvings along its sides. It was a sight far beyond the drab carts they were accustomed to. Taren and Osric stared in awe at the extravagance.
---
Taren had spent all the day exploring the city, crossing empty streets where the silence settled at night. With people asleep, he knew that he wanted to continue since he felt an urge inside to know more. He turned towards a quieter part of the city, where the buildings rose into the air, like tall sentinels watching the secrets locked within themselves.
Hours passed, and the city seemed to grow stiller with every step. Taren stumbled upon an area that felt strange, hollow, as if the air itself was thinner here. Something about it felt off, but he couldn't shake the feeling of mystery. He followed the pull of his curiosity, and after poking around, he found a hidden tunnel entrance, half-buried and forgotten.
He stepped inside, the walls cold and damp, and began walking. The tunnel stretched on and on, its narrow path winding deeper into the ground. The further he went, the more it felt like he was the first person to set foot here in ages. No sign of life, no footprints, just the sound of his own footsteps echoing off the walls. It was as if the tunnel had been waiting for him.
An hour passed, and right when he thought he could not walk anymore, he saw light ahead. A door, even older and rusted, existed at the end of the tunnel. Taren pushed against it, and it creaked open, showing him a large, empty hall. The room was expansive, nearly empty, but something about it felt old. As he stepped inside, the air changed.
Suddenly, the hall around him began to change. The floor cracked and groaned beneath him, and before he knew it, the space was no longer a hall but an old, forgotten garage. Dust hung thick in the air, and in the center of the room stood a massive figure. A beast, unlike any Taren had seen before. Its fur was thick and matted, its size as large as a house. The wolf-like creature was still, almost frozen in time, eyes closed as though it had been resting for centuries.
Taren froze, not knowing what to do. The beast did not move, did not growl or attack. It seemed as if it too had been waiting for something-or someone. Taren could feel the weight of time in the air, the silence stretching across the room, as if the creature had been here for hundreds of years, unnoticed and forgotten. He couldn't understand how such a place, with such a beast, had remained hidden for so long.He blinked, bewildered, and when his eyes cleared, he saw long, silvery strands of hair just inches from his face. The scent of lavender and fresh herbs tickled his senses.
'Princess Aeliana?'
But as he slowly shifted, trying to sit up, the warmth beneath his head shifted too, and the figure above him moved. Taren's heart skipped a beat as he looked up, expecting to see Aeliana's pale, delicate face.
Instead, he was staring into the face of a man, not a woman. The stranger had long brown hair, a few shades lighter than Osric's, and a rough, weathered face, marked by time and experience. His eyes were calm but intense, a deep shade of amber that seemed to pierce through Taren. He was a bit older than Osric, his features sharp but somehow softer than the knights had been. Dark, practical clothes had seem simple but sturdy, with a faint, almost invisible air of authority around him as though he had seen far more than anyone could guess.
The man straightened slightly as Taren's eyes snapped open fully, his expression calm but unreadable.
Taren's heart started racing, and a cold sweat broke out on his skin as confusion and fear flooded his mind. How? Where am I? His chest constricted. He pushed himself up, wincing at the pain.
"Who...who are you?" Taren's voice was rough, hoarse from the battle and the shock. His eyes darted around, searching for any sign of the princess, but she was nowhere in sight. Only the man with the brown hair stood before him, calm and unbothered, as if the situation were nothing out of the ordinary.
The man's lips curled slightly into a small, knowing smile, though his eyes were full of something more. He stood up fully, and offered Taren a hand; Taren did not take it. He stared at the man's outstretched hand, his mind spinning from everything that had been said.
"My name is Agraj Vepal," the man said smoothly with his deep but very soothing voice. "I'm the man who saved you and your friend yesterday."
Taren's mind tried to make sense of it, but his confusion only deepened. 'Agraj?' He didn't recognize him at all. The man didn't look like a royal knight, nor did he carry the intimidating aura of the soldiers who had attacked them. But there was something in his eyes—a quiet power, something that set him apart.
Taren felt a knot in his stomach. It was as if everything was too much: the weight of it all, the battle, the knights, the princess-all of it. He shook his head, trying to push the fog of exhaustion aside.
"Why… why would you save us?" Taren asked, his voice steady despite the whirl of emotions inside. "We're nothing. We're just slaves."
Agraj's face didn't change, but there was a flicker of something—maybe pity, maybe understanding—in his eyes. "Not just slaves, Taren,"
he said, his voice low but strong. "You are far more than that. Both of you are far more than you realize. But you're not ready to understand yet. Not until you've seen the truth."
Taren's eyes narrowed, but before he could speak Agraj turned away and gestured toward the distant trees where a fire burned softly in the distance.
"Rest for now," Agraj said. "We have a long journey ahead."
Taren's chest constricted as he turned to look where Osric lay, still and silent. Panic threatened to overwhelm him for a moment, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. "Osric.?" His voice cracked, but steady breathing made him rush in relief. His friend was alive, but that didn't stop Taren from feeling the weight of the moment.
He reached to push himself up with one hand, but the smart pang of pain in his arm sent him stumbling. His legs buckled under him and he gave a sharp gasp as he bit down on the groan that rose into his throat as his wound seemed to flare up.
And with every step toward Osric, it was a struggle, but he didn't make it three steps before a soft cool hand lay lightly on his shoulder.
"Hold still," Agraj's voice was calm.
Taren had barely a moment to glance up before Agraj raised his other hand, and the air around them seemed to shift. It was subtle—almost imperceptible—but the familiar weight of exhaustion seemed to lift for a moment.
With a deep, steady breath, Agraj muttered a low incantation.
"Regrana Malathis." The words rolled off his tongue smoothly, but there was power in them.
A soft, faint blue glow spread from Agraj's palm across Taren's arm like a cool breeze on a summer night. The burning pain of his wound began to subside as the pressure grew gentle and soothing. The throbbing ache in his arm subsided into a dull, bearable soreness.
Taren flexed his hand, feeling the relief spread across his body. "What…?" he began, but Agraj didn't meet his eyes, his focus still on the spell.
"Regrana Malathis," Agraj repeated softly, his eyes narrowing in concentration. "It's not a full cure. I'm running low on mana after the fight. But it should hold for now."
Taren clenched his fist, testing the movement in his arm. The pain was still there, but it wasn't as overwhelming. The wound wasn't fully healed, but it felt… stable.
"Why did you help us?" Taren asked quietly, still trying to make sense of it all. "You've used up your energy. We're just… slaves. Why bother?"
Agraj looked at him, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile at the corner. "You think I saved you out of kindness?" He raised an eyebrow. "No....I saved you because you I was ordered to look for Princess Aeliana. The world isn't kind. And you're about to see just how unforgiving it can be."
'Ordered?' Taren was confused. 'But who?'
Taren's throat shut, and for a moment he couldn't speak. Not the words; the weight behind them was cold.
Agraj's voice softened but the sharpness in it told him otherwise. "Rest. I have done all that I can. There's more coming, though, and you won't survive unless you are strong enough to face it."
Taren swallowed hard, nodding stiffly, still trying to make sense of the man's words. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, a small, stubborn flicker of hope burned in his chest. Whatever was coming, he'd need every ounce of strength to face it.
---
The carriage rolled steadily toward the Hazan Nation. Taren rode beside it, his mind swirling with fragments of the previous night. Osric, riding to the left, remained alert. Agraj flew overhead, his wings casting shadows.
As the city of Hazan came into view, the massive gate loomed ahead, guarded by knights. Agraj descended and addressed the group, his tone firm. "This is Hazan. Breathe deeply and take in its spirit, but be warned—strength and respect are rewarded here, while weakness is punished."
The knights at the gate straightened, pushing open the massive doors. They motioned for the group to dismount. "A royal carriage from the Shinkai Academy awaits."
Taren and Osric exchanged a look before following Agraj to the carriage. Hazan's capital was full of towering buildings, fine silks, and confident people who carried themselves with authority. It was unlike anything they had known, and the city's vibrancy contrasted sharply with their past struggles.
The royal carriage gleamed under the sunlight, its wheels polished and intricate carvings along its sides. It was a sight far beyond the drab carts they were accustomed to. Taren and Osric stared in awe at the extravagance.
---
Taren had spent all the day exploring the city, crossing empty streets where the silence settled at night. With people asleep, he knew that he wanted to continue since he felt an urge inside to know more. He turned towards a quieter part of the city, where the buildings rose into the air, like tall sentinels watching the secrets locked within themselves.
Hours passed, and the city seemed to grow stiller with every step. Taren stumbled upon an area that felt strange, hollow, as if the air itself was thinner here. Something about it felt off, but he couldn't shake the feeling of mystery. He followed the pull of his curiosity, and after poking around, he found a hidden tunnel entrance, half-buried and forgotten.
He stepped inside, the walls cold and damp, and began walking. The tunnel stretched on and on, its narrow path winding deeper into the ground. The further he went, the more it felt like he was the first person to set foot here in ages. No sign of life, no footprints, just the sound of his own footsteps echoing off the walls. It was as if the tunnel had been waiting for him.
An hour passed, and right when he thought he could not walk anymore, he saw light ahead. A door, even older and rusted, existed at the end of the tunnel. Taren pushed against it, and it creaked open, showing him a large, empty hall. The room was expansive, nearly empty, but something about it felt old. As he stepped inside, the air changed.
Suddenly, the hall around him began to change. The floor cracked and groaned beneath him, and before he knew it, the space was no longer a hall but an old, forgotten garage. Dust hung thick in the air, and in the center of the room stood a massive figure. A beast, unlike any Taren had seen before. Its fur was thick and matted, its size as large as a house. The wolf-like creature was still, almost frozen in time, eyes closed as though it had been resting for centuries.
Taren froze, not knowing what to do. The beast did not move, did not growl or attack. It seemed as if it too had been waiting for something-or someone. Taren could feel the weight of time in the air, the silence stretching across the room, as if the creature had been here for hundreds of years, unnoticed and forgotten. He couldn't understand how such a place, with such a beast, had remained hidden for so long.