Sola pushed open the door to the dojo."Grandfather, I'm back… and I brought someone with me—"Before she could finish her sentence, the strange young man had already slipped past her and was kneeling beside Herold, even before she had fully stepped into the room.
She let out an annoyed snort. Gods, he was bold. She needed to be careful.
With wary eyes, she approached the two men—only to stop in her tracks.
Her grandfather was holding the stranger's long, slender hands.
A lump tightened in her throat.
Herold was not a sentimental man. At least, that's what she had always believed. But now he sat there, his eyes shining with a clarity she hadn't seen in weeks. A gentle smile played on his lips. It was as if he had found a long-lost son.
But… that couldn't be. No. She would know.
Barely noticeable, Sola shook her head in disbelief.
"Could we have a moment alone?" the stranger asked softly.Sola didn't answer. Her eyes stayed fixed on their clasped hands.
The boy sighed, but his face betrayed no emotion.
"Would you mind preparing some tea with the Kalia blossoms?" he said instead, a faint smile curling his lips.
"I…" Sola began to protest. There was no way she was going to leave this stranger alone with her grandfather.
But to her surprise, Herold nodded—eagerly, even—and his old, creaky voice confirmed the request."Yes, dear. That would be wonderful."
"…Alright."Her brow furrowed in suspicion, but she obeyed. It was the first time in weeks he had spoken with such clarity, with such strength.
Who was this boy?
Deep in thought, she went into the kitchen, gently dabbing the pale blossoms with a damp cloth before plucking them into an iron teapot. Dissolved in hot water, Kalia blossoms were said to unfold their strongest healing power.
With a single motion, she lit the gas flame and placed the kettle on top. Bubbles slowly began to rise through the now slightly cloudy water.
But Sola's thoughts stayed with the stranger. There was something oddly familiar about him.And yet—she couldn't place it.
"You should be with him now."
Sola flinched. She hadn't heard anyone enter the kitchen.
The boy's voice was soft, almost motherly. His eyes… slightly red. Had he been crying? Was he really so close to her grandfather?
He stepped aside so she could pass with the teapot in hand. She knelt next to Herold, back turned to him—only to hear a whisper at her ear.
"I'm sorry."
The words made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. A cold shiver crept down her spine.She turned, wanting to ask what he meant.
But the tall, pale-haired stranger was gone.
Only the open door remained, revealing an empty kitchen bathed in soft daylight.
Sola blinked, confused.
There was no back door in the kitchen.
── ✧ ──
Several hours after Herold had emptied the last drop of tea, Sola was once again kneeling at his side.
As she gently dabbed his forehead with a damp cloth, she noticed something that made her pause—his skin wasn't burning up anymore. The fever had broken.
A smile spread across her lips. Not one of those forced, polite smiles she had worn for others these past weeks, but something real. Something warm and true.
Unexpectedly, the old man reached for her hand. His eyes opened and found hers.She gently brushed her fingers through his snow-white hair.
His gaze was still as clear as it had been that afternoon, after the stranger's visit.That had to be a sign—he was getting better.
Relief flooded her chest, and excitement danced through her fingertips like static.
"My child," he said softly, smiling up at her.
Sola swallowed hard.Damn it.
Her throat tightened. Her feelings were all over the place again.It had been so long since he had called her that—my child—and even longer since his eyes had been free from the cloud of fever.
When had he last said that? She didn't know.
She sniffled quietly and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. The tears wouldn't help him. They'd only worry him.
But he had already seen them. And without a word, he gently patted her hand.
"I want to tell you a story," he said.
Then, with a surprising strength for his condition, he pulled her up into his arms, resting her head against his frail chest.
When had he last held her like this? Had he ever?
She had always known him as her stern teacher, her brave role model—but tender like this? That was rare.
Afraid the moment might burst like a soap bubble if she even breathed too deeply, she froze.
She didn't want to question it. She didn't want to speak.She just wanted to feel it.
The safety of his arms. The scent of his skin. The stillness. The warmth.The feeling of home.
As he began to speak, she listened to the deep, resonant timbre of his voice with one ear——and to the steady, rhythmic beating of his heart with the other.
"When I was your age—still underage, barely grown—I was wild. You wouldn't have recognized me."Herold chuckled faintly, but the sound was laced with something else… a tired melancholy."My mother… well, she wasn't the lonely type. She changed beds often, and to this day I couldn't tell you which of the many blurred faces from my childhood was my father.
Was it the travelling nomad who knocked on our door each spring? The bold water warrior we visited far in the north? Or the quiet cardinal who barely spoke a word?" He shrugged with his thin, knotted shoulders.
"A woman of the world, no doubt," he said with a touch of dry irony.
"I'm sorry," Sola whispered. She had never known that her grandfather had grown up without a father—something she, in truth, had often wished for herself. She would have gladly forgotten her own.
"No need to be," he replied, brushing her hand gently before continuing. "One day, my mother picked me up and said we'd finally become a real family. She told me to wait—just a little longer—and promised she'd be back soon." He let out a long sigh, and Sola's heart ached. She knew so little about his past and clung to every word.
"I don't know if she ever found the family she was looking for. I hope she did. Truly, I do. Even if I wasn't part of it." There was no bitterness in his voice. Just a deep, weary softness that made his words feel hollow and worn with time.
"I waited for her day after day. The food ran out. I grew thinner and weaker. Eventually, I had to admit that waiting might bring me closer to her only if she had already passed—and I would follow her into the afterlife by starving here."
He paused for a moment, then continued. "Back then, we lived not far from the Akashi Mountains, in the Furuda region." Sola recognised the name from her schoolbooks but had never been there herself—just one of many places in the world she had yet to see.
"Because of our lack of money, we often foraged for berries and edible herbs up in the hills. I thought I could do the same on my own, so the next morning, I climbed into the mountains. And I did find things—nuts, roots, fruit. But hunger and greed drove me further. Deeper into the peaks."
He shook his head slowly, as if reprimanding the foolish boy he had once been.
"What happened then?" Sola asked, hoping he would go on.
"The Akashi Mountains are treacherous, you know?" He looked at her, and Sola shook her head gently. No, she didn't know. Not truly.
"Especially for a boy like me—ten, maybe eleven years old. I can't remember anymore. But I do remember getting lost. I lost track of the paths, of the way home. And somehow… I spent years out there. Years. In the wild. Alone."
Sola shivered.
"One part of me told myself it was my own choice to stay in that desolation. Another part… said it was fear. I didn't know how to return. I was afraid of what would be waiting for me. I was no longer a child of civilisation, but a creature of the forest. A stray. A savage."
Herold took a slow breath. "One day, I woke in my little cave, high in the peaks, and found myself staring into what I thought was a human face. You can't imagine how frightened I was. I hadn't seen another soul—only animals and spirits—for what felt like forever. And then suddenly… those eyes."
He chuckled, low and soft.
"Have you ever seen a shapeshifter?"
Sola blinked. "No… I don't think so."
"Well," he said, "maybe you have. Some are so talented, they live among us, wearing the faces of men and women, never revealing what they are. Others remain in beast form, hunting the same prey for decades. You never know where they are—who they are."
"How did you know you'd met one?" Sola asked, breath held.
"The moment I looked into those eyes, I just knew," Herold replied, his voice dipping into memory. "I can't explain why, but something in me understood. Perhaps it was the complexity behind his gaze… or maybe the unnatural beauty—something that didn't belong in the loneliness of the wilderness. He, she—it—first appeared to me as a striking young man. Spoke casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world to be there, standing before a wild boy who hadn't spoken to another soul in years. And then, not long after, while I bathed in the river, he joined me again… as a playful woman."
A faint blush coloured Herold's face.
He had spoken with such admiration, such wonder, that Sola found herself wishing she could meet this being as well. To be able to shift one's shape at will… to live free from the rules of nature and man—that must be true freedom.
"Oh, he was mischievous, that one," Herold continued, chuckling. "One day he let me ride him—he had taken the form of a magnificent stallion, wild and swift. It was the first friendship I ever made… and perhaps the most important one I've ever had. Because it was he who one day stood before me and said, 'Herold. You are now seventeen. It's time you looked for a bride.' I only laughed and pointed to the doe roasting over our fire. 'What about her?' I said."
Sola giggled, but Herold was already swept up in his story.
"Disguised as a scolding mother, he gave a hearty laugh but answered, 'No, she's already promised to me.'"
That made Sola laugh louder—but Herold's voice dropped again, gentler now, touched by nostalgia.
"But then, with surprising seriousness, he said: 'I will lead you back to life. You still have your part to play in the story of this world.' Yes…" He smiled, though the smile was tinged with a distant sadness. "He always did have a way with words."
Herold's eyes gleamed.
"He changed again—and became the most majestic creature I have ever seen. A silver griffin, enormous, his wings stretching ten meters wide. He seized me—not gently, mind you—and took flight."
"Flight?" Sola breathed.
Herold nodded slowly, his eyes turned skyward as if reliving the moment. "I tell you, child… if you ever have the chance to fly, I hope it brings you the same joy it gave me. Pure joy. Unfiltered life. I shouted with delight, with laughter, with something I hadn't felt in years. We soared above the peaks of Akashi, the clouds curling around us like waves. He flew fast—so fast that within mere hours, I saw them: the grassy fields and glimmering brooks of the Kingdom of Light. Waterfalls spilled gently down polished stones, and every stream shimmered like glass."
"I had never been there before… and yet I recognised it at once. My mother had spoken of it so often. She said it was the most beautiful of the five lands. And she was right."
"Grandmother was from the Kingdom of Light," Sola murmured.
"Exactly," Herold murmured. "The griffin carried me without a single pause to a grand, magnificent estate. Never before had I seen a building so vast, so beautiful. Marble walls, angelic statues atop the towers, and a roof that shimmered in the sunlight with all the colours of the rainbow. The estate was surrounded by a narrow golden fence, and a great golden gate welcomed newcomers to its lands. We landed right before that gate."
Sola's heart skipped a beat. She knew that gate. She had seen it only once—in a drawing, worn and creased, that her grandfather always kept in the inner pocket of his jacket. He called it "a piece of home."
"And then? What happened next?" she asked, her voice full of curiosity.
"A man awaited us at the gate," Herold continued. "Much older than me. My friend—the shapeshifter, now again in human form—and I were received with warmth beyond words. It seemed I wasn't the only soul he had touched. The man's name was Geoffrey Amare..."
Sola inhaled sharply. That name—of course she knew it.
Herold gave a slow nod. "Yes. Your great-grandfather, dear Sola. And the estate where we landed... that was his Academy of Martial Arts. The very same. From the moment I set foot there, I knew—just as with the shapeshifter—that my life was about to change. My years in the wilderness faded into the past. At times, I'd look to the horizon and feel a fleeting ache when I saw the silhouette of the Akashi mountains… but I never wished to return. For in that academy, I found the home I'd never had."
He paused, eyes glistening in the candlelight.
"My shapeshifter friend left me that very day. He—or she—never returned. And I never had the chance to thank them for the life they gave me."
Sola swallowed. Her grandfather had never told her this part of his past. She had always assumed he had grown up within the protected walls of the Amare Academy, the same place she had spent her early childhood.
"Geoffrey welcomed me with open arms," Herold said, his voice softening. "He taught me everything—how to behave, how to dress, how to carry myself. But above all, he trained me in the martial arts. I became his best student in no time. And I loved it. I didn't just want to be good—I wanted to be the best, to make him proud. To become the son he never had."
He chuckled faintly. "He had only one daughter, Amalie. Ah… yes. Your grandmother."
He sighed dreamily.
"She was already fearless and radiant when she was young. I fell for her the moment I first laid eyes on her."
Sola squeezed his hand gently. "You don't have to speak of her if it still hurts too much."
"Every second without her hurts, my child," Herold said. "But speaking of her… that brings her face back to me. So listen closely."
He cleared his throat.
"Your grandmother… she had a way of enchanting people. That's the only word for it. When Geoffrey grew older, I slowly took over his responsibilities at the academy. I became a master, a senpai, to the many students who passed through our halls. I married Amalie, and before long, we had a son—your father."
Sola's throat tightened, her stomach twisting uneasily at the mention.
"Before Geoffrey passed away, he summoned me to his bedside. 'Herold,' he said, 'you've been like a son to me. And I know you make Amalie happier than anyone else could. So I ask one final favour of you. A burden, perhaps…'"
Herold's voice grew quieter.
"I would have done anything for him. After all, I owed him everything. And so, he told me that he wished for Amalie and me to inherit the family heirloom—what he called the Claw of Light. He said it was the most precious thing in his possession. Not for its value, but for what it represented. It had to remain in the family. Only the family could use it. It was sacred."
Herold's breath wavered.
"He made me swear that I would guard it… that I would protect it with my life. That oath… was the last thing he ever heard."
His voice trembled, weathered by time and loss. The candlelight danced in his eyes, flickering like memories brought too close to the surface. Sola wanted to tell him that it would be all right, that his pain would one day fade—but she couldn't. Because it would be a lie.
The dead do not return.
"Amalie and I honoured our oath. We never let the Claw out of our hands, and we always intended to pass it on to your father one day. But then... your father married a young woman, and not long after, you came into this world, my dear."
Herold squeezed Sola's hand a little tighter. She swallowed hard. Somewhere deep inside, she already knew what was coming. Fragments of memories she had tried to bury. Things she had no desire to relive—especially not in spoken words. Yet she said nothing. She stayed right where she was, curled up in his frail arms. Because as much as the memories terrified her, she feared even more that, if he stopped telling the story, he might also stop holding her. And she longed so deeply to be held. To feel safe. To feel loved. Something she hadn't felt since she was a little girl.
"I know you already know this part of the story," Herold said, his voice growing more solemn. "But it's important that you understand its weight. You must never forget how vital the Claw is, my child."
"I promise," Sola burst out, her voice catching in her throat. "I'll always remember!"
Herold gently brushed a strand of her pale hair behind her ear.
"You were born into light, but with that light... your mother fell into darkness. She was overcome by a deep depression. One she never truly recovered from. Those years were the darkest our family ever faced. And when you were four years old… your mother took her own life. Your father found her."
Sola's throat closed tight. She forced herself to breathe through her clenched lips. Of course she remembered. But hearing it like this—so clear, so close—tore something open inside her. Herold's words stirred up emotions she had locked away, buried under years of silence.
"Something broke in your father that day," Herold continued. "Something none of us—not even your grandmother—could repair."
"I—" Sola began, but Herold cut in gently.
"Not even you, my love. A demon took hold of him. One no one could tame. He became violent, drank too much, lost control. Worst of all, he blamed you for her death. And I know he hurt you. I am so sorry we couldn't protect you better."
Hot tears streamed down Sola's cheeks. Her father had haunted every shadow of her childhood. He was the darkness at the edge of her dreams. She wanted to cover her ears, to shut it out, but her body would not obey. She could only listen, frozen.
"One night," Herold said, his voice flat and heavy, "he came home drunk. He charged at me, demanded I give him the Claw of Light. Said it would be his anyway, once I was dead. I refused to even tell him where it was hidden. He raged. Said he needed money. Claimed he had the right to squander his inheritance on drink."
Herold's chest rose and fell in a tired rhythm. "It broke my heart to see the man I loved so much reduced to that. But my oath to Geoffrey… I would never break it. I couldn't give the Claw to a man who saw it only as currency. So I cast him out. Banished him from the Academy."
"How…?" Sola asked, though part of her dreaded the answer.
"Violently," Herold admitted. "I'm not proud of it. I raised my hand against my own son."
The air between them grew thick with tension. Even the candlelight seemed to falter.
"Your father threatened me. Said he'd take it by force. That it was his by right. I dismissed it as drunken fury. I wasn't afraid. He had always been weak. His martial skills were poor, no matter how much I trained him. If it came to a duel, I would have broken him."
"How could you think—"
"Yes," Herold interrupted. "You're right. How could I think that a man like him would settle anything through honour? That was my greatest mistake. I underestimated just how far he had fallen."
Sola pressed herself closer against him. Her tears soaked into his robe, one by one.
"That same night," Herold continued, "he set the fire. Burned the Academy to the ground. I stood before the gates, paralysed, watching the flames devour everything I'd built. He stood there too—eyes full of madness—watching it all with a twisted sense of satisfaction."
His voice began to tremble.
"It was Amalie who saved you. She pulled you from your cradle, wrapped you in wet cloth, and carried you through the fire. She… she was the one who retrieved the Claw from the cellar, even as the flames closed in around her. She placed it in my hands. I still remember how she held my wrist. How her eyes, full of love, met mine—"
His voice cracked, a single sob escaping.
"—while everything around us reeked of burnt flesh and scorched hair. That stench still follows me in my dreams. 'Take them,' she said. 'Take them and run as far as you can. He will never leave you in peace otherwise.'"
Herold shook in Sola's arms now. And the drops she felt falling onto her head—warm and steady—were not from her own tears.
Her grandfather was crying.
"I could barely lift the Claw of Light even an inch. How was I supposed to run with it? I was terrified, frozen with panic. But then Amalie stepped closer. She whispered, 'You are my whole family, and I love you.' She kissed me one final time… and died in my arms."
Herold swallowed hard, his voice trembling.
"As her last breath left her, I felt something pass into me. Her warmth. Her strength. It was as if her spirit had become a part of me. A surge of magic rushed through my limbs, and my body shuddered. Suddenly, I could lift the Claw with one hand. And in the other, I cradled a tiny, pale-haired bundle. You. I ran like I never had before. No plan. No path. Only instinct. I headed toward the mountains on the horizon—the same ones that had once saved me.
When my legs began to fail and my knees buckled beneath me, I looked down into your frightened golden eyes. Your tiny hands clung to me with all they had. I couldn't stop. I couldn't fall."
He repeated those last words in a whisper, like a quiet vow to the past. Then he exhaled, long and slow, as if releasing a decade of buried pain.
"I don't know when I lost consciousness. I can't even say for sure if I made it to the Akashi Mountains. All I remember is waking up—right here, where I'm lying now. You were beside me. And the Claw on the other side. Both of us nestled in silver feathers. Griffin feathers."
"The shapeshifter…" Sola murmured.
Herold nodded. "I don't know how. Or why. But I'm sure—it was that creature who saved us again."
He let out a brittle laugh, muted by the steady tears rolling down his cheeks.
"Pathetic, isn't it? Without the help of others, I would've died long ago. Alone. Lost. But instead… I was given more time. More than I deserved. And I got to spend it with you. You were the student my own son never became. You were the light that pushed back my darkness."
He brushed her nearly white hair with a trembling hand. Each gentle stroke held more love than a thousand words.
"Sola… I'm not telling you this to make you sad. I'm telling you this because you need to know. That the world—despite all its darkness—holds beauty. It holds beings capable of love stronger than any fear. Without your grandmother's love, we would've burned on the far side of that mountain. Without that one, true friendship… we wouldn't have survived. And believe me, one day you'll find someone too. A friend who will take your hand and walk with you toward your destiny. Geoffrey, your great-grandfather, once told me: The Claw was forged to protect love and friendship, above all else. That's why I'm giving it to you now. You must carry it. You must honour it."
His voice carried a gravity that made her ears ring. Sola had never heard such solemn urgency from him before. And in her chest, something stirred—a responsibility she hadn't asked for, but could no longer deny.
She shifted slightly in his arms, turning her head toward the far wall—where the Claw hung.
A sacred weapon.
A shining relic.
A legacy.
Its golden surface shimmered in the candlelight—beautiful and blood-bound. Her throat tightened.
This was it. Her fate.
A path forged from fire, sealed with sorrow, and lit by love.
A path she would now walk.
Sola had always known the weapon was a treasured family heirloom. But was it truly worth the cost of her grandmother's life? Of the destruction of their home? The thought felt absurd. Unfair. Had she been given the choice—surrender the Claw and feel Amalie's embrace once more—she knew what she would have chosen. But she said none of that. She didn't want to burden her grandfather's heart. She didn't want to taint the fragile warmth of this moment—the gentlest, purest moment she had felt in years.
So she stayed. Quiet in his arms. Her breath syncing with his. Her tears dampening his robes.
They lay there for a long while, wrapped in each other's sorrow. Each grieving alone—and yet, not alone.
When morning finally broke, and Sola opened her eyes—crusted with salt and sleep—Herold did not open his.
His eyes had closed for the last time.