The roar that shook the cave's ceiling gave way to a deadly rasp.
"A few more years…" said the giant, each word like a last will echoing off the cave walls. "If I'd had a few more years… I could have ascended…"
The giant's rasp faded further. Its roots tore free of the soil, and its trunk slowly lay down on its side in that poisoned mire. Just before it drew its last breath, it turned its dull, dark gaze to the Shadow one last time.
Its voice was now no different from a whisper:
"This task you're bound to with everything you have… what is it, that you still fight, that you trample even the honor you so prized underfoot… Ahh!"
With this last word, the twenty-meter colossus went utterly still. The last scraps of light rising from the tree melted away in the air.
Now its soul was in 'Paradise in the Heavens.'
Everything went cold.
The last few surviving trees that hadn't joined the battle between the giant and the Shadow made moaning sounds.
They were weeping.
The Shadow wrenched its sword from the giant's trunk in a single motion.
The five deep fissures in its armor spewed more smoke with every step.
The Shadow swayed. The fifth wound, that deep gash running from its right side to its belly, was melting the metallic structure of its armor, threatening to set loose the darkness within.
The Shadow's dull, metallic mouth was still shut. It looked at the small trees' cries with neither pity nor anger.
It was only a shadow that did what it had to do. But the giant's last question went on echoing in every corner of the cave, in the depths of the stones.
"This task you're bound to with everything you have, what is it?"
The Shadow advanced with unsteady steps toward the very center of the cave. Everywhere it set its foot, the black blood draining from its armor passed by, burning the roots of the weeping saplings.
It didn't stop, it pressed on.
Until it saw, across the way, up above, a star-shaped rock.
The Shadow spread the last few drops left of the Erk it had accumulated over years onto its wounded leg and leapt.
When the Shadow forced the emptiness in its leg and sprang into the air, the black blood draining from its shattered armor mingled with the last specks of dust hanging in the cave's darkness.
Those last few drops of Erk seeping from its core gave its wounded leg strength for one moment of will; this had given it the final momentum to reach the star-shaped rock.
When its fingers locked onto the surface of that cold and ancient stone, the cave seemed to hold its breath.
When the Shadow closed over the ancient rock, its body turned into an amorphous darkness.
The darkness seeping from the cracks in its armor widened like the stomach of a monster and slowly swallowed the star-shaped stone.
The instant the black marks on the stone touched the Shadow's darkness with their silvery gleam, they flared one last time in fury.
Fine lines appeared on its surface.
A writing.
But not as if carved.
As if the stone itself were so.
To root out the demons,
rule over the stars…
When the Shadow had completely swallowed the rock, the silvery letters seeped for a moment into the five deep cracks on its armor.
The wounds didn't close, but those letters went on glowing within the pitch-black darkness like scars sealed in.
The cave was now completely dark, but in that darkness there was a glowing shadow.
As the dark steppes of the Ruined Lands were lit by two bright stars and countless moons, one young man was still awake.
The deep cracks between the stones on the ceiling, under the pale, silvery glow of the moonlight, resembled enormous, savage hands. Yavuz tried not to look at them, but his eyes kept drifting there.
In the room he heard only two sounds. Tekin's deep, steady breathing, and Hazar's breath that now and then caught, then opened again. Both were asleep. Both as if they'd settled into this world, at ease.
Yavuz couldn't sleep.
He lay on his back, his palm raised to the air. His fingers were empty but still searching for something; the hilt of his sword, the reassuring coldness of the rusty metal. He clenched his hand, opened it, clenched it again. Each time the same emptiness filled his palm.
When he closed his eyes the cave came back.
Granny Miren's cough. That dark, hot blood filling her palm. The metal wall Sedef raised with her last strength, then the girl's white face, melting away in Esen's lap. The eyeless face of that eight-meter tree looking at him. And the explosion—that whiteness blinding the dark of the night, everything turning to ash.
While all that was happening, what had Yavuz done?
He'd trembled. Swung his rusty sword once or twice, then left it inside that enormous trunk. He'd fled. Others had carried him on their backs; a little girl had become a wall for him, an old woman had bled her lungs to protect him.
"Useless…" he murmured, afraid his voice might wake Tekin or Hazar.
Once the word left his mouth, it grew heavier still.
For a whole week, almost every day, Yalaz and Garrun had said, "You have good potential, Yavuz." Back then those words had warmed him inside; for the first time he'd thought he might be good at something.
Now those praises were just hollow echoes in his ears. Potential. A word he couldn't carry, didn't know where to put.
The others were moving forward. Hazar, after wrestling with the sword for a week, had suddenly found the spear and landed his first real strike; Yavuz had noticed he'd slept easy for the first time that night.
Tunay carried both Erk and Yelvi at once, sparks coming off his palm. Sevda, even the first day she took a sword in hand, looked as if she'd been holding one for years.
Yavuz, though, was still in the same place. The Erk in his belly ran out in a few attacks, and the ache in his arms just wouldn't turn into anything friendly.
A part of him knew this was an unfair expectation. Only a week ago he'd been an ordinary high school student; his biggest worry had been exams, his biggest fear embarrassment.
That world was a dream now; this pain, this cold and darkness, were reality itself.
No one could expect him to stand firm against those monsters. That was the truth, it was reasonable.
But reason didn't fill the emptiness in his chest.
In the dark he slowly clenched his fingers into a fist. His nails dug into his palm.
He was afraid of being afraid now. Of freezing up again next time, of someone bleeding in his place, of being that kid people looked at and thought "let's protect this one too."
He didn't want to be a hero. He didn't want stars or anything like that. He just—wanted to be able to do something next time. Just that much.
It was a small decision, maybe. A cowardly, uncertain, still-trembling decision. But it was his, and it was the first thing in a long time that had felt like his own.
He closed his eyes. This time the cave didn't come back. Still, sleep didn't come either; all that remained was the cracks on the ceiling and that stubborn, undying little spark inside him.
When the sun began to rise over the barren steppes of the Ruined Lands, Yavuz was already awake. He got out of bed quietly. Tekin slept with one arm thrown over his face, murmuring; Hazar had thrown off half his blanket and curled up like a baby.
He looked at the two of them for a moment. He didn't wake them. This was something he didn't want to tell anyone.
When he stepped out the door, the morning chill struck his face like a sharp slap. Instinctively he hunched his shoulders, but this time he didn't shiver much.
In fact the cold did him good; it reminded him that he was breathing, that he was really here, on his feet.
The village hadn't woken yet. The smithy was cold, no sound came from the inn, only a chimney or two was smoking.
After last night's incident, the heavy silence that had settled over the village still hadn't lifted. As Yavuz walked along the muddy road, he could hear his own footsteps.
When he reached the training ground, Yalaz was already there.
When he reached the training ground, Yalaz was already there. The old man was cleaning his sword under the first light of morning. He heard Yavuz approaching but didn't raise his head.
"You're up early, child," said Yalaz, his voice as dry and firm as the steppe wind. "Did the nightmares keep you up?"
"No, master," said Yavuz. "I just woke up."
Yalaz set the cloth down and turned. He studied Yavuz's face for a while. When he saw that the timid, frightened look in his eyes had given way to a calm resolve, he raised one eyebrow slightly. He looked about to say something, then gave it up.
Instead he looked at Yavuz's empty hands.
"You have no sword," he said. "What do you intend to do without a sword?"
Yavuz looked for a moment at his empty palm. His fingers closed involuntarily again, gripping the hiltless air.
"I left my sword in that tree," he said. His voice didn't tremble this time. "I couldn't get it back. I was afraid, I ran." He stopped, swallowed.
"But I don't want to just wait anymore. Someone protecting me, me standing in a corner… I'm sick of it. I want to be of some use. Teach me how to get stronger, master."
Yalaz slowly slid the sword in his hand into its sheath. "A warrior without a sword is nothing here but a corpse-in-waiting," he reminded him again.
"Then teach me to make my arms into swords," said Yavuz, taking a step forward.
"Since I have nothing in my hands, teach me how to hold the energy in my arms, in my fists, master. Even if my hands fall apart, I won't stop."
As he spoke, his voice rose slightly on the last sentence, but he didn't look away from Yalaz.
Yalaz studied him a long while. That timid high schooler from a week ago, who wouldn't let go of his friends' hands, hadn't entirely gone. He was still there, still afraid—that wasn't hard to read in his eyes.
But something had been added beside the fear, something that hadn't been there before.
"So you've decided to try," Yalaz said at last.
He stood up and threw the sword he'd cleaned toward Yavuz.
Yalaz saw it. Something faint stirred on his face—not quite a smile, more a recognition.
"Good," he said. "But remember: today I won't teach you a technique."
He shouldered his spear and walked toward the middle of the ground. "There's no training today, Yavuz. Today you have just one job."
He turned and looked at Yavuz.
"You'll survive."