Chapter 109: Echoes Before the Event
The heavy doors of the training chamber slid open with a low metallic groan, releasing a wave of warmth and the scent of sweat and scorched stone. Kai stepped out first, his shoulders still rising and falling in controlled rhythm as he fought to steady his breath. Thin strands of his dark hair clung damp against his forehead. Beside him padded Snow, his beast companion, who had finally begun to master the art of holding his adult form.
Snow looked majestic now— with fur shimmering like freshly fallen frost. But even in this proud form, his steps were not yet steady. His breath came fast and ragged, plumes of white vapor bursting from his jaws into the cool corridor air. His muscles trembled under the strain of holding that transformation.
A moment later, another figure emerged—Moon. He looked no better than Kai. His chest heaved, his hair was plastered to his temples, and his shirt clung to his body as though it had been dipped in water. Behind him toddled Kuro, tiny paws tapping against the polished floor. The small beast looked utterly exhausted, panting with its tongue lolling out, like even its soul had been wrung dry by the brutal training session.
Kai slowed his pace, glancing over his shoulder at his brother. "Moon," he called, his voice rough, "any word from James? The event's only four days away."
Moon ran a hand across his face, wiping away streaks of sweat. "No," he admitted, his voice low. "Nothing at all. Maybe Ruby or Minji received some update, but me? Nothing."
Kai muttered, half to himself, "Strange… he's never been gone this long."
Moon shot him a tired smile. "Well, maybe he's just too busy surviving."
Neither pressed further. The silence between them was not awkward—it was the silence of brothers too worn out to speak, their bond deep enough to understand without words. At length, Moon turned toward the bathing quarters, and Kuro trailed behind him, tail dragging like a flag of defeat. Kai followed suit, Snow at his side, both seeking relief in the promise of cold water against their burning muscles.
By midday, calm reigned over their quarters. The once-lively corridors had gone still. In their respective rooms, Moon and Kai lay sprawled across their beds, eyes shut, bodies surrendered to well-earned sleep. Even their beasts, safe in their inner spaces, slumbered deeply, curled like shadows within shadows.
The quiet was almost sacred.
And then—
A hum. Faint at first, like a vibration tickling the edges of the air. It grew steadily, becoming a low, insistent buzz that shivered through the walls. From the teleporter room came a crimson glow, each rune along the gate flaring to life one after the other, cascading in a spiral of light. The hum climbed to a sharp whine, the air charged with static.
Then, in a sudden flash, the portal cracked open—and James stepped out.
For once, there was no weight in his expression, no grim silence clinging to his features. A smile tugged at his lips, real and unguarded. His eyes scanned the chamber, and with a voice loud and eager he called out:
"Brother Moon! Brother Kai! I'm back!"
The name echoed against stone walls, reverberating down empty corridors.
No reply.
James tilted his head. "What the—why's no one answering?"
He wandered the halls, checking each room. The first door creaked open: Moon, dead asleep, his arm thrown across his face. James chuckled under his breath and whispered, "You'd sleep through an earthquake." He closed the door gently. Another door—Kai, flat on his back, the slow rise and fall of his chest showing he hadn't stirred once.
James smirked. "Unbelievable. Both of you, dead to the world. And here I was, ready for a grand reunion."
"Figures," he murmured louder as he turned away. "Push yourselves till you drop, then sleep like the dead."
He didn't wake them. Instead, he made for the kitchens, his mood oddly light. The familiar smell of roasted spices and simmering broth soon hit him, making his mouth water before he'd even seen a single dish.
"Chef-uncle!" James called, grinning as he leaned against the doorframe. "Do me a favor, yeah? Make something worth living for. Something that doesn't taste like prison slop."
The old chef looked up, eyes widening. "Young master James! You've returned!"
James tilted his head with a small grin. "Didn't you hear me calling out a moment ago, Chef?" he said, the words light but respectful.
"Ah—my apologies, young master. I was too focused in the kitchen," the chef replied, bowing slightly.
"Yeah, yeah," James said with a laugh, waving a hand. "No speeches, just food. Surprise me."
The chef chuckled and set to work. Knives clattered against cutting boards. Oil hissed and spat in the pan. Aromas of garlic, cumin, and roasted meat filled the air, rich and intoxicating.
James left to wash himself, steam rising around him as he stood under a pounding shower. The heat soaked into his tired bones, easing away the aches that weeks of rough training had carved into his body. By the time he stepped out, clean and refreshed, the scent of food drew him back like a hunter to prey.
The dining hall table was already laden with plates: steaming rice glistening with butter, spiced lamb skewers still sizzling, bowls of soup fragrant with herbs, and flatbreads stacked high.
James' stomach growled audibly. He dropped into a chair without ceremony and began devouring the spread like a man possessed. Sauces streaked his lips, fingers stained with seasoning as he shoveled bite after bite.
"Back in the Shifting Expanse," he muttered between mouthfuls, "I had to eat food without oil… without salt. Every day the same bland paste. My tongue nearly forgot what flavor was." He scooped another serving onto his plate, grinning. "But this—this is paradise. Absolute paradise."
The chef raised an eyebrow. "Eat slowly, or you'll choke."
James only waved him off, mouth full. "If I die now, at least I die happy."
He ate until the plates were bare, until not a grain of rice or a drop of broth remained. At last, he sat back, sighing in bliss, a hand pressed to his full stomach. "Gods above… I've missed this."
He stumbled away, collapsing onto his bed in the next moment. The world faded quickly, the weight of food and exhaustion dragging him into the depths of sleep.
But peace did not last.
"James. James!" A voice, faint but urgent, called him back. A hand shook his shoulder.
"James, man, you came back and didn't even tell us? We were worried."
His eyelids fluttered open reluctantly, the world swimming into focus. Moon's silhouette stood above him, arms crossed, impatience clear in his posture.
James groaned, rolling to one side. "What are you even saying? Didn't I just come back? You two were dead asleep. Don't start scolding me now…"
Moon shot him a look. "Still, a little knock on the door wouldn't kill you, would it?"
Without warning, James grabbed the pillow beneath his head and flung it straight at Moon.
The cushion thudded softly against Moon's chest. James, with a huff, rolled back over, pulling the blanket high over his head. His voice was muffled now: "Let me sleep."
Moon caught the pillow easily, a smirk tugging at his lips. For a moment, he considered leaving. But then he flicked his wrist and hurled the pillow back at James. It landed squarely on his back.
"Fine, sleep then," Moon muttered, shaking his head as he left the room. "Tomorrow, you're explaining everything."
James didn't answer. He was already drifting again, though this time a faint smile lingered on his lips.
The corridors fell silent once more, but the house no longer felt quite so empty.
To be continued…