"They'll be here by morning. We've still got a few hours," Kirian said, his voice steady as he strode toward the largest house.
Ren fell in behind him, loose steps that trailed like a shadow.
Nox wanted to carry Soren, but Soren waved him off with a strained smile. "Don't worry. I can walk. A little better now." He limped slightly behind Ren and Kirian.
Nox stole one last look at the distant columns of torchlight as the enemy army crept closer, he clenched his jaw until his teeth rattled, and then he fell back a step, keeping a watchful eye on Soren, ready to jump in should he falter.
When he fell shoulder to shoulder with Ren, curiosity burst out of him. "Those rings on your fingers… are they binding rings?"
Kirian glanced back, amused.
Ren held his hand up so the lamplight caught the metal. "Not bindings," he said simply. "Seals. They lock away sections of my strength—my abilities, and my Iora."
The words landed like a weight, and Nox had to stop and breathe them in, then ran to close the gap. "Wait… so each ring locks a section of your power?" he asked, eyes wide.
"Correct!" Ren flashed a thumbs up.
Soren's steps were slow as the hill worked at his injured leg, the strain visible across his face, but still he pushed forward.
Nox was wrestling with a different weight, Nox's mind raced with implications. If each ring diminished Ren's capabilities, that meant he had seventeen more levels of power to tap into. The memory of the fight between Vox and Ren sharpened in his mind. This realization illuminated what Ren had meant about their testing each other.
In that battle, Ren had been seventeen times stronger.
Up ahead Ren kept at playful harassment on Kirian, tugging at the swords strapped low on Kirian's back, "Hey, hey, hey—" kirian jabbed.
"You stupid bastard, will you leave me alone already?" Kirian snapped, voice sharp enough to cut.
Whaaa? Are you angry?" Ren feigned innocence. "If anything, you should be mad at these kids, not me." He pointed back at Nox and Soren, both stopping in their tracks.
Kirian spun around, grabbing Ren by the scruff of his collar. "Maybe if you hadn't wasted a whole day by that damn fig tree, I could've arrived earlier and saved them," he growled, his grip tightening.
Nox and Soren exchanged glances but remained silent. Not because they could not defend themselves from Kirian's words, but because they were as broken about the tragedy as he was.
Nox caught a glimpse of concern flickering in Ren's red eyes as he looked up at Kirian's stern face. Who was Kirian, anyway, that Ren's carefree demeanor faltered?
"Neither of us knew that village was suddenly going to be attacked, we both know you couldn't have made it in time. Besides, Master Raizen's letter clearly stated to wait for the boy"
the letter? Nox thought, Master Raizen? does that mean they're both his students too?
Kirian exhaled, and let go of Ren's collar, "I'm sorry, I'm just so angry, I'm taking it out on you," he said, his green eyes flashing, as he turned on.
Nox's curiosity bit at him until he couldn't hold it in. "Hey, what's with the four swords on your back?" he blurted, breathless with interest. Soren mirrored his wide-eyed look as they trailed behind.
Kirian didn't break stride. "It's because I have five pairs of hands." His tone was flat, offering no room for a follow-up question.
Nox and Soren exchanged bewildered glances.
Ren burst out laughing. "Would you quit scaring the kids with your bad-man voice?" He dropped his tone into a ridiculous growl, making Kirian almost crack a smile.
They reached the large house, warm light spilling from the porch. Kirian knocked. "Open up. It's me."
A peephole slid aside, then the heavy door creaked open.
An old man ushered them in. Nox and Soren froze, their eyes sweeping over nearly a hundred children sprawled across the floor, sleeping peacefully, with only a few adults watching over them.
"Their parents are out there," Kirian explained, his voice heavy. "Armed with whatever they could find, surrounding the village, waiting for the barbarians. I told them it wasn't necessary, but they wouldn't listen." He sank into a chair at a table set for four, like they'd been expected.
Two middle aged women brought food, big bowls of porridge, plates of roasted meat. Their smiles were thin, stretched with worry.
"Old man, you don't need to trouble yourself feeding us," Kirian sighed, rubbing his temples.
But Nox bristled inwardly. We can't defend a village on empty stomachs, he thought, though he held his tongue.
Ren had no such restraint, tearing into the food like a starving wolf. Nox quickly joined him, hunger winning over caution.
Soren and Kirian exchanged a tired look, then ate too.
In the corner, the old man sat watching the children, tears cutting lines through the grime on his face. "I've led this village for thirty years," he said softly, voice thin. "In all that time we've heard stories, of villages burned, people vanishing, but never did I think it would come to us. And yet, it seems the time for our village's demise is here."
He turned to Kirian and his companions. "You've given us a chance we wouldn't have had. At least we won't be taken by surprise, we won't be slaughtered in our sleep. We can still fight… defend our children, as futile as it may be." His voice trembled with resignation.
He sank back in his chair. "You've done enough. If you leave now, there's a chance you might live." The plea was clear in his tone.
Kirian sighed and focused on eating.
But Nox on the other hand.
Nox shoved back his chair, the legs scraping against the wood. His palms slammed onto the table, rattling bowls and spoons. A few children stirred awake at the noise.
"Hey, old man," Nox said, voice ringing through the hall. "Sounds like you've already given up and buried this village in your heart. So let's make a deal."
The elder raised his head, a tired eyebrow arching. "A deal?"
"If—no, when—we defend this village, I want you to kill a whole bull for us to eat," Nox declared, recalling the four bulls he'd seen near the house.
The old man chuckled, rough and weary.
"Those bulls plow our fields and haul our wagons. But if this village survives tomorrow, then yes. I'll give you one for a feast."
"Don't go back on your word Old man," Nox shot back, clenching a fist with a determined look in his face.
Across the table, Soren frowned. "What are you even going to do with a whole bull? That's far too much meat."
Nox whipped his head toward him, eyes sharp. "I don't want to hear it from you."
Soren stared, confused, but said no more.
Ren, unable to hold back, burst into hysterical laughter, his cackles stirring more children awake. Even Kirian's face softened, a ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth before he finally gave in and laughed too.
The elder watched them quietly, and for the first time that night, a flicker of hope touched his weary eyes.the hope of survival, despite his disbelief in the quartet's ability to stand against an army.
Nox leaned back into his chair, turning toward Ren and Kirian. "Alright then. What's the plan?"
Ren's grin vanished, his voice dropping low. "The plan? We kill them all."
Kirian's reply came like iron. "Not a single one of those bastards lives past tomorrow."
Soren and Nox felt the chill below the words, and realization cut through them, this pair might actually make good on the threat, that they could, and would, slaughter an army if need be.
Nox's stomach twisted. He wanted to believe it was justice, they deserved it, but the thought of passing judgment so easily made his chest tighten. Still, he shoved it down, bracing himself for what tomorrow would bring.
Ren and Kirian spoke of slaughter, of tomorrow's bloodbath, their words cutting the night. But tomorrow had already come for another village, and its story had ended in ash.
Back at Lara's village, a man moved through the ruins, tears streaming down his face as he took in the devastation.
He was tall, plainly dressed in grey and blue, the simple garb of a farmer. Reddish brown hair framed a sharp face, his eyes hollow and stripped of all light. His gaze locked on the mound at the village's center.
A little further ahead, he saw a charred figure crouched low, one hand gripping a sword buried in the earth, the other clutching something close.
As he drew nearer, his heart sank. The figure was cradling the lifeless body of a girl.
"Lara…" His voice broke as he fell to his knees.
Memories rushed back, to two days earlier when he left the village, to deliver wheat meal to a neighboring village, her small hand waving goodbye, her smile shining as if nothing could ever harm her.
He crawled closer, trembling, and reached out. But the charred figure collapsed into ash at his touch, leaving only the sword standing. It was as though the corpse had been waiting for him. Now, with Lara limp in his arms, his soul felt as if it was being torn apart.
He studied her face one last time, committing every detail to memory, then gently laid her down. His shaking hands wrapped around the hilt of the sword, pulling it free from the ground.
Without his daughter, without his village, all that bound him to this world was gone. Life had no meaning left.
Solar lifted the blade, pressed it against his chest, and drove it through his heart.
He collapsed, breath fading, the wind whispering through shattered walls as his final companion before silence fell.
He died with no soul.