Doren's days became a blur of relentless training, a furious attempt to make up for a decade of secrecy. With his sisters by his side, the quiet hill became a classroom of elemental teaching. The process was exhausting and frustrating, but he was no longer alone.
With Daria, he learned to channel his inner rock into something more than just a defensive armor. She taught him how to draw on the earth's raw strength, to feel the weight and density of the ground. He could now launch a powerful earth fist, a punch that could shatter a boulder, and he could form a temporary earth wall, a shield that could deflect a blow. He was no longer just a stone; he was a sculptor of the earth itself.
With Jemsie, he learned to harness the healing power of light. He could now focus his energy into a soft, gentle glow, a light that could mend a splinter or soothe a bruised limb. He was not yet a master healer, but he had learned a small, offensive move. He could now launch a single, concentrated beam of light, a powerful but draining move that could temporarily blind an opponent or stun a foe.
With Leasie, he learned to embrace the quiet power of darkness. She taught him how to absorb the negativity around him, the fear and the anger that had been a constant presence in the cottage for a decade. He learned to use his darkness as a shield, a quiet, powerful presence that could protect him from the emotional turmoil of his family. He could also now launch a single, concentrated ball of darkness, a powerful but draining move that could temporarily disorient an opponent or disarm a foe.
As Doren and his sisters walked through the front door of the cottage, a familiar and comforting sight greeted them. Jerter was on her knees, carefully mending a tear in the hearth rug. The fire in the hearth crackled merrily, a warm, inviting glow filling the room. Her presence was a testament to Jemsie's light magic and her own inner strength. The sickness that had consumed her was gone, replaced by a quiet, fierce determination. She was back to being the silent guardian of their home.
She looked up as they entered, a gentle smile on her lips. "I've started making stew," she said, her voice still a little weak but filled with a familiar warmth. "I thought you all might be hungry." Her gaze swept over her children, a mother's love in her eyes. But when her eyes landed on Doren, they lingered.
She saw the change in him. The boy who had been a ghost in his own family was gone. In his place was a young man, his shoulders broader, his gaze more direct. The exhaustion was still there, but it was now the exhaustion of a warrior, not a hermit. The scent of earth and dust clung to his clothes.
She saw the quiet power in his hands, the power she had known was dormant in him for so long. She saw the new bond between him and his sisters, a bond that was stronger than before.
Jerter rose to her feet, her movements slow but sure. She walked over to Doren, her gentle smile never wavering. She reached out and, with a touch so soft it almost wasn't there, tucked a stray strand of his gray hair behind his ear.
"You look just like your father," she said, her voice filled with love and a quiet, profound pride. She wasn't talking about his features or his build; she was talking about the change in his eyes, the new sense of purpose in his posture, the quiet strength that now radiated from him. She had seen that same look in Sophron's eyes. It was the look of a man who had finally embraced his destiny.
The scent of Jerter's stew filled the cottage, a comforting aroma that brought a sense of normalcy to the fractured family. They ate in a comfortable silence for a while, the simple act of sharing a meal a profound experience after all they had been through and what they were about to go through.
"I still can't believe it," Daria finally murmured, setting her spoon down. She shook her head, a mixture of awe and resentment in her eyes. "He just... left. He had this incredible power, and he just went."
"He had to," Doren said quietly, the words feeling right and true. "He had a summons, a duty. He had to go to the war. But he didn't leave without a word. He left me his journals. He told me that if I could master my powers, I could find him."
Jemsie's eyes, filled with a gentle, hopeful light, met Doren's. "I hope so," she whispered. "I hope he's okay. And Nergal... he's out there somewhere too. He's probably soaring over the mountains, doing something reckless. And Damurah… I hope he's okay."
A heavy silence descended upon them, thick with the weight of two absent brothers and a sick mother. The familiar ache of their fractured family was back.
Doren felt a surge of resolve, a fierce determination that was a part of him now. He had to find them all. He had to bring his family back together. He looked at each of them, at the warmth in their eyes, the love in their hearts, and he knew what he had to do.
"I'm leaving," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "I'm leaving soon." The words, a cold shock to the warm, comforting bubble of the family dinner, hung in the air.
Daria's spoon clattered to the floor, her face a mask of anger and betrayal. "You're leaving?" she yelled, her voice a low, heartbroken whisper. "After all of this? You want to run away like they did?"
Jemsie, a flicker of anger in her eyes, put a hand on Daria's arm. "Doren, you can't be serious," she said, her voice filled with a familiar, but now more forceful, disbelief. "You've been training for weeks. You're not a master. You can't just go out there. It's dangerous."
Doren met their gazes, his voice filled with a quiet, fierce resolve. "I have to. How can I stay here and learn the rest of my powers? I can't master three elements when they're dormant inside me. The only one I have a hope of learning right now is fire, and you just saw how dangerous that is for Damurah. I need to be where my father was, where I can find the answers in his footsteps. And anyways, if anyone knew of Father's Powerhart, he would be in danger. He told me it's a king maker. That power would be a beacon to very powerful enemies."
The words hung in the air, a final, cold weight. Daria felt a flash of white-hot rage, a familiar fury that had been a part of her since childhood. Her hands, resting on the table, felt like they were about to catch fire. A wave of heat radiated from her palms, a searing heat that was a part of her own being. The heat, however, did not ignite.
She looked at Doren, a storm of emotions in her eyes. "And you think you'll be okay?" she spat, her voice a low, furious whisper. "You think you'll be okay out there on your own?"
Doren met Daria's glare with a fire that matched her own. "I have to," he said, his voice dropping to a fierce, insistent whisper. "We all know it. Mom needs him. This... this isn't a life for her. And I need to master my powers.." He gestured around the room, at the worn furniture and the hearth where his mother had been mending a tear. "This life, this sadness, it's what's been killing her for ten years. It's the sickness Jemsie couldn't heal."
"And what about us?" Daria's voice was a low snarl. "What about us who stayed? Who held the family together when our father left? You think you can just go, just leave us to pick up the pieces again?"
"I'm not them!" Doren's voice rose, a mix of anger and frustration. "I'm not leaving without a plan. I'm not leaving without a way to come back. And I'm not leaving without a way to bring him back with me." He held up the Focal Stone, its smooth, gray surface catching the flickering light of the hearth. "This is our way, Daria. It's our only way."
Jemsie, who had been silent, finally spoke, her voice a calm, gentle counterpoint to the storm. "Doren's right, Daria," she said, her hands resting on the table. "He's not like Nergal or Damurah. He's not running away. He's going toward something." She looked at Doren, a mix of concern and hope in her eyes. "But you're not strong enough to do this alone. You need us."
"And that's why I'm telling you," Doren said, his voice filled with a quiet, fierce conviction. "I need you to help me get strong enough to do this. I need you to help me get ready." He looked at Daria, then at Jemsie, his eyes pleading for their understanding. "I have to go. It's the only way to save Mom. It's the only way to save our family."
The room fell into a heavy silence, filled with the weight of Doren's words. He wasn't giving them a choice; he was telling them what he had to do. The decision was no longer his alone.
Daria slammed her hands on the table again, this time leaving singe marks in the hardwood. "DON'T BE STUPID DOREN!" she roared, her voice a raw, heartbroken scream. "YOU'LL DIE! YOU'LL DIE JUST LIKE FATHER!"
"That's enough," Jerter's voice, though quiet, cut through the angry outburst like a shard of ice. She rose from her chair, her movements slow but filled with a new, powerful resolve. The sickness had left her, but in its place was a fierce, protective fire. She walked over to the table and placed a hand on Daria's shoulder, a silent command for her to stop.
She looked at Doren, then at the smoking singe marks on the table, a stark reminder of the volatile power that ran in their family.
"Your father was a man of great power, but he was also a man of great foresight," she said, her voice calm but firm. "He didn't give you that stone without a reason. And he didn't tell you about that power to watch you die." She then looked at all of her children, her eyes filled with a love that was both a shield and a sword. "Your father is out there. I know it. And if Doren is the only one who can find him, then he has to go." Her gaze then shifted to the girls. "But he's not going alone. Your brothers... they will return to a home. We will be here, and we will wait for them. The cottage is our lighthouse, and we are its keepers. We will be here when Sophron returns, when Nergal returns, and when Damurah returns."
Doren felt a wave of understanding wash over him. His mother's words were a quiet, profound truth. His journey was a part of their plan, but so was their staying. It was a two-pronged approach to bringing their family back together. He had to go, but they had to stay.
Doren dedicated the next few weeks to a furious, relentless training regimen. He had a new purpose, a new fire in his heart. The cottage was no longer a cage; it was a forge where he would be tempered into a weapon.
His days were a blur of elemental chaos on the quiet hill. With Daria, he learned to control his earth fists, his punches now powerful enough to splinter a boulder with a single blow. With Jemsie, he honed his light beam to a sharp, precise point, a focused attack that could blind and stun. With Leasie, he practiced his darkness ball, a quiet, chilling attack that could disarm a foe and leave them disoriented. He was no longer just a boy with a secret; he was a warrior in training, a shield for his family.
In the midst of his training, he carved a new stone. It was a smooth, gray rock, similar to the Focal Stone, but this one was different. This stone was for them. He carved it with a deep, personal affection, imbuing it with a part of his own life force. This was his promise, his way of telling them he would return. This was his Life Force Stone. If his light should ever fade from the stone, they would know he had passed. It was a cold comfort, but it was a comfort nonetheless.
He trained tirelessly, pushing his body and his mind to their limits. He had a deadline now, a purpose that was greater than just a desire to get stronger.
The day of departure finally arrived. Doren rose before the sun, the cottage still and quiet around him. He packed a small satchel with a couple changes of clothes, enough food for a few days, and a full canteen. The bag felt light, but his heart felt heavy with the weight of the journey ahead.
He walked into the kitchen, where his sisters and mother were already waiting. Jerter had made a special breakfast, and the rich smell of warm bread and fresh fruit filled the air. They ate in a comfortable silence, the last meal they would share as a complete family for a long time.
As they ate, Daria, who had been quiet for the past two weeks, looked at him. Her anger hadn't faded, but it had changed. It had a new edge, a new purpose. During his training, her fury at his decision had been so intense that she had accidentally manifested a tiny, controlled spark of her dormant fire affinity.
She looked at him now, her eyes filled with a mix of fury and love. "Don't die," she said, her voice a low, rough whisper.
Doren nodded, his own voice thick with emotion. "I won't."
Jemsie, her eyes filled with tears, simply hugged him tightly. "Come back to us," she whispered.
He looked at them, at the women who had been his family, his shield, and his greatest strength for a decade. "I will," he said, and with a final glance at the hearth, the symbol of their home, he walked out the door.