Jamih blinked, the roar of the past fading into the whisper of the wind. The bloody sands of the Golden Trio’s betrayal vanished, replaced by the cool, darkening dunes of the present.

  He was walking beside Mowj, approaching the outskirts of a village near Valia

  "I have been drowning in my thoughts," Jamih muttered to himself, shaking his head to clear the phantom screams of his brother.

  Mowj slowed, gesturing toward a crumbled section of the village’s mud-brick wall.

  "This is one of the outer settlements. The wall has collapsed here. We can slip through."

  Jamih nodded, his instincts snapping back into focus.

  "Before you move—check your surroundings. I will cover your back."

  "Understood."

  The sand was unnervingly quiet beneath their boots. The sun dipped low, casting a soft, bruised amber glow across the horizon before surrendering to the twilight. The sky darkened, and the sounds of nocturnal beasts began to stir in the distance.

  "I’m moving forward," Mowj whispered. "The area is clear."

  Jamih scanned the outskirts. A strange stillness hung in the air—not the silence of peace, but the silence of a graveyard. Above them, the Green Comet shimmered across Silva’s night sky, an unblinking eye watching their progress.

  He followed Mowj, his hand resting lightly on his hilt.

  "Same soil as the last village," Mowj murmured, crouching to touch the grey, ash-like earth.

  "And that same foul stench..." Jamih noted grimly. "Rot and sulfur."

  "We came here seeking more than a seed, Jamih. We need to cleanse the land. We need to find the counter-agent."

  Mowj pointed toward a house at the edge of the settlement. Unlike the others, a faint, flickering light bled through the shuttered windows.

  "That building—someone is inside."

  Jamih picked up a stone and tossed it toward a patch of dry grass near the entrance.

  They waited. Nothing moved. No guard shouted.

  "No movement. Let's proceed quietly."

  They advanced, hugging the shadows.

  "Even here," Jamih whispered, noting the barren fields. "The crops have been harvested. But where is the food?"

  They reached the hut and slipped inside.

  The air hit them like a physical blow—thick with chemical fumes, decay, and the metallic tang of magic. The room was cluttered with glass vials bubbling with green liquids, crushed herbs, and strange, pulsing roots.

  "These are the crops?" Mowj asked, picking up a vial. "What are they doing with them?"

  "Experimenting," Jamih replied, his eyes scanning the room for traps. "Enhancing them. Making the corruption harder to break—more resilient against purification."

  Mowj’s face paled. "Then I need to work fast. If they are developing a counter-agent to my cure..."

  "Then your spell will be useless. Exactly."

  Jamih pointed to a stack of leather-bound books on a desk.

  "Gather those. You will need them."

  Mowj opened his satchel and began collecting the texts. He paused, reading a spine.

  "They are translated into our language... Strange. I thought the Black Order came from beyond Silva."

  "They did," Jamih said darkly. "But someone is working with them... That wretch—Senil

  A voice echoed from the shadows of the room, dry as old parchment.

  "Guests? Why didn't you knock?"

  Jamih spun, drawing his sword in a blur.

  Senil stepped forward from the darkness, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked tired, his robes stained with reagents, but his tone was calm and mocking.

  "I heard my name. I was curious what you wanted from me."

  He glanced at the books in Mowj’s hands.

  "I see you’ve taken an interest in my research. My life’s work. Would you like me to teach you a few tricks, boy?"

  Mowj’s voice trembled, not with fear, but with fury.

  "You... You are the one behind all this."

  Jamih stepped in front of Mowj, gripping the boy's shoulder tightly to keep him from charging.

  Mowj closed his eyes, fighting for control.

  "I only wanted to turn the serpent's venom into its cure," Senil mused, ignoring the anger. "Nothing more."

  "You poisoned the land!" Mowj shouted. "You destroyed families!"

  Senil’s expression shifted, the amusement fading into something colder.

  "Careful, careful..." Senil raised his hands slowly. "You are in my lab. One wrong move, one spark of that assassin’s fire, and we all go up in toxic smoke. Including your precious soil samples."

  Jamih didn't lower his sword, but he held his ground.

  Mowj stared at the old man.

  "I don't understand. You were a Knight of Linovard. A guardian. How did you become ?"

  "You wouldn't understand," Senil snapped, his voice cracking. "Not someone your age. Not someone who didn't live through the silence of the last war."

  Mowj lowered his hands slowly, stepping out from behind Jamih.

  "You’re right."

  Senil blinked, surprised by the admission.

  "I don't understand exactly what you endured," Mowj continued softly. "Watching your kingdom fall. Feeling helpless while the world turned its back. But I have felt that pain. I saw my grandmother and aunt vanish in a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. I couldn't save them."

  Senil’s eyes narrowed.

  "But someone found me," Mowj said, glancing at Jamih. "Told me it is never too late. That pain doesn't have to become poison."

  Jamih looked down. Mowj’s hands were trembling, but his voice was steady.

  "I felt what you felt. Because of . You killed my family’s legacy. But I didn't become what you became."

  Mowj took another step.

  "Now, the very people I once feared... The Assassins... They protect me. They help me. We are breaking the cycle you are trying to perpetuate."

  Senil lowered his hands completely. The malice seemed to drain out of him, leaving only an old, broken man.

  "I won't let the sacrifices of my village, or my family, be wasted," Mowj said. "They died fighting the enemy you now serve."

  Senil’s voice dropped to a whisper.

  "The Knights of my kingdom were slaughtered... while protecting me. I was the weak one. I was the one who survived."

  "We have all suffered," Mowj said. "But our enemy is the same. The Black Order caused this. How can you help them build more pain?"

  Outside, the wind howled. The Green Comet shimmered above, its light bleeding through the cracks in the roof.

  Senil looked at the boy, really looked at him, for the first time.

  "Who are you?"

  Mowj stepped forward, the green gemstone in his pocket pulsing faintly.

  "Just a healer. From a quiet village. Everything changed in an instant. I am no hero. No King."

  Senil stared at him for a long moment. Then, he turned away.

  He walked slowly to a workbench covered in apparatus.

  "You talk too much," Senil muttered.

  He reached for a vial of volatile blue liquid. Steam hissed as he uncorked it.

  Jamih raised his weapon, his muscles coiling. "Don't do it, old man."

  Senil held the vial over a bubbling cauldron. He looked back at them, his eyes unreadable.

  "Let us see if your convictions can survive the truth."

  Senil stood in the dim, flickering light of the alchemical chamber. His voice was calm, but beneath it lay the tremors of a quiet madness.

  "I fused your village’s healing spells with venom," he confessed, staring at his hands. "Then I wove in the Black Order’s incantations—binding them to the soil, the plants, and the souls of the people."

  He stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with a twisted pride.

  "Each time I extracted poison, my magic grew stronger. The effects intensified. We are building an evolved army, boy. These hollow villagers? Just the beginning."

  He gestured vaguely to the window.

  "Especially the Luminous Tree folk. Their bond with Silva’s magic makes them easy to break... and easier to control. The Tree is gone. Their courage shattered. Fear has made them ripe for conquest."

  Mowj clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.

  "So I can reverse it?"

  Senil nodded slowly. He tossed a vial of glowing blue liquid toward Mowj.

  Mowj caught it midair.

  Jamih stepped forward, his sword tip hovering inches from Senil’s throat. His voice was cold and steady.

  "One mistake... and you die with me."

  Senil smirked.

  "Relax, Assassin. It is incomplete. I am a Poison Mage. Every lethal brew deserves a cure. This boy understands that."

  He turned toward the back of the room, pointing to a heavy iron box on a pedestal.

  "You will find what you need in there. Inside beats a Corrupted Heart. It is fused with my toxins and Azalor's magic. It is the source of the decay."

  Jamih narrowed his eyes. "Are you guiding us... or leading us into a trap?"

  Senil shrugged. "I have nothing left to lose. Come with me... or take the vial and leave. The choice is yours."

  Jamih raised his sword higher. "Define your position. Now."

  Senil walked slowly past the blade, his hands clasped behind his back.

  "Let’s just say... this young man reminded me of who I used to be. He heals what I destroy."

  Jamih glanced at Mowj.

  Mowj nodded firmly. "Let’s follow him. If it’s a trap... we will deal with it."

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  They moved through the ruins of Valia, the silence pressing in on them.

  Senil spoke softly without looking back. "They know I betrayed them."

  Jamih drew his blade. "What does that mean?"

  "They are coming for my head," Senil said casually. "But it doesn't matter. We finish what I started."

  "We will protect you," Mowj said.

  Jamih raised a brow, incredulous. "You?"

  Senil chuckled, a dry, dusty sound. "What is your name, boy?"

  "Mowj."

  Senil smiled. "Waves... fitting. You remind me of my youth."

  They reached the outskirts of the city proper. Senil pointed toward the distant, dark line of the sea.

  "There—your name's meaning."

  Jamih scanned the horizon, his instincts screaming. "We are being watched."

  "I know," Senil replied. "They won't act yet. If they do, I will release every toxin I have ever brewed into the air. They value their lives too much to risk it."

  "That is not reassuring," Jamih muttered.

  "Don't worry. The boy can cleanse it."

  They entered the central plaza. Villagers stood motionless like statues, eyes vacant, bodies stiff. Not a blink. Not a breath.

  Mowj trembled at the sight. Jamih stepped closer, his shoulder brushing the boy's to steady him.

  Senil led them into a large stone building and threw open the iron box.

  Mowj gasped. "What... is that?"

  Inside pulsed a literal heart—blackened, veined with shadow, beating with a wet, heavy rhythm. A dark aura rippled outward, distorting the air around it.

  "You must find a way to purify it," Senil said. "Without destroying it."

  Jamih frowned. "Why?"

  "If the Heart dies... so do the villagers linked to it. It is a double-edged weapon. The Black Order plans to use it to force Kings to surrender. If they succeed... they will control the people without fighting a war."

  Jamih’s voice darkened. "Azalor’s

  Senil’s eyes widened. "You know him? He created this. I admired the concept... so I joined him."

  Footsteps echoed outside. Heavy. Numerous.

  Jamih spun around. "Visitors."

  Mowj raised his hand, green light gathering in his palm.

  Black Order agents surrounded the building, their weapons drawn.

  Jamih whispered to Mowj. "We are not here to win this fight. Victory means finding the cure. Dying here means failure. Escape is our triumph."

  "Understood."

  A figure stepped forward from the ranks. Reiz

  "You again, boy," Reiz sneered. "You cost us Silva’s Guardian. Now you want the villagers too?"

  Jamih’s eyes narrowed. "Reiz..."

  Senil smirked. "Hello, Reiz. Planning to kill me too? I have betrayed everyone. Poisoned enemies. Poisoned allies. A classic villain arc, wouldn't you say?"

  Reiz grinned, spinning a dagger. "Azalor thinks you are insane. But he insisted you live."

  He lunged at Jamih. "So, you are Jamih. You have changed. I remember your fight When we killed your friend it was funny. and now? Impressive reflexes."

  Mowj shouted. "Silva’s Comet!"

  A soft beam burst from his chest, forming a protective barrier around him and Senil.

  "Kill the boy!" Reiz roared.

  Senil slammed his staff to the ground. Green smoke erupted, engulfing the agents and dropping them one by one into a coughing fit.

  Mowj turned to the Heart, studying its rhythm, its aura. He placed his hands over it.

  "You are trying to stop it now?" Senil asked, impressed. "Bold. Worth trying."

  Reiz clashed with Jamih, unleashing violet energy and grey fire.

  Jamih gripped his sword. The crimson stones embedded in the hilt pulsed. An orange aura wrapped around his body like armor.

  "Sila!"

  He struck. Reiz blocked, staggered, then watched Jamih leap toward him. They exchanged blows—Jamih’s strikes precise, relentless.

  Reiz gritted his teeth.

  Reiz stepped back, whispering. "Lucifer’s Aura...

  His body ignited in grey flame. The air cracked. The ground trembled.

  Senil turned to Mowj, voice low.

  "Azalor embedded his spell in the Heart. It is a vessel—if things spiral out of control. He thought it would amplify the effect. He didn't know it is also the flaw."

  "If they betray me... I will destroy the Heart," Senil hissed. "Everyone under its control will die. It is a ticking bomb."

  Mowj’s voice trembled. "That is horrifying... But your mind always leaves room for redemption. You are not evil, Senil."

  Senil blinked. "You are a strange boy..."

  Meanwhile, Jamih fought like a storm. Reiz had grown faster, his strikes sharper. But Jamih met every blow with brute precision, forcing Reiz back toward the door.

  Suddenly, the massive gate burst open.

  Azalor

  His face was bruised, his robes torn and stained with blood. Wounds pulsed across his body, slowly healing through dark magic.

  Reiz turned, stunned. "Azalor? What happened to you?"

  Azalor raised a hand, dismissing the concern.

  "Let’s just say the child we tried to control... unleashed something unexpected. We had to fight him. He is sealed again—for now."

  Reiz blinked. "What?"

  Azalor stepped forward, eyes locked on the Heart.

  "So... you are trying to cleanse it? How quaint. Let me add some flair to your little rebellion."

  A black aura erupted around him. He raised his staff toward Mowj.

  "Farewell, Child of Healing."

  Senil slammed his staff to the ground again. Green fire and venom surged forward, creating a wall that forced Azalor and Reiz to retreat.

  "Jamih! Take the boy and run!"

  Senil vanished into the smoke.

  Azalor growled. "That old man... he escaped. Reiz, can you catch the boy?"

  "Gladly."

  Jamih didn't hesitate. He scooped up Mowj and the iron box and sprinted toward the rear exit, heading for the sea.

  They burst onto the shore. Black Order agents swarmed the sand. The villagers, once frozen, now turned their heads to watch silently.

  The Green Comet blazed overhead, fierce and radiant.

  Mowj clutched the box tightly. "I brought the Heart with me!"

  Jamih glanced down, a half-smile on his face. "You reckless child... well done."

  Azalor and Reiz appeared before them, blocking the path to the water.

  "Hand over the Heart," Azalor said smoothly. "And I will kill you with mercy."

  Reiz drew his blade. "Give it up."

  BOOM.

  Suddenly, ships emerged from the mist of the sea. Cannons fired—explosions rocked the shoreline, scattering the Black Order agents like ants.

  Azalor turned to Reiz. "They have arrived."

  "Of course," Reiz spat. "We sent them corrupted crops. They are angry."

  Azalor and Reiz retreated into the shadows.

  The ships reached land. From the lead vessel stepped a Captain clad in white robes adorned with jewels. He raised a strange, ornate weapon.

  "You wretches..." the Captain bellowed. "How dare you send poisoned crops to Leonithra

  Jamih held Mowj close, watching warily.

  "I am Captain Lothar

  He spotted Azalor and Reiz fading into the gloom.

  "You two... Suspicious. I’ll fire on you now."

  Two more ships dropped their ramps. Twenty-two sailors charged forward, weapons drawn.

  Azalor struck the ground with his staff—he and Reiz vanished completely.

  Lothar turned to Jamih.

  "We came to help. We have been watching the coast. When we saw you... We couldn't stand idle."

  Jamih’s voice was cold. "Your effort is noted."

  Lothar’s expression shifted as he looked at Jamih’s attire. "That cloak... You are an Assassin?"

  "And what of it?"

  "We despise thieves and pirates," Lothar growled. "They have caused us endless trouble."

  Mowj stepped down from Jamih’s arms.

  "It doesn't matter," the boy said firmly. "The world has changed. This man is under my command. We are trying to end this plague. If we succeed, your crops will be restored. Your people will be safe."

  Lothar narrowed his eyes. "What are you suggesting, boy?"

  "An alliance. To stand against the Black Order. Your men forced Azalor to retreat. That is no small feat."

  Lothar studied him. "You are young... You remind me of my younger self."

  He glanced at Jamih with suspicion, then nodded. "Fine. We will help. But how do you plan to fix this?"

  Without hesitation, Mowj opened the iron box.

  "This Heart is the source. The poisoned crops. The sick villagers. Everything."

  Lothar’s men gasped, stepping back.

  Lothar’s eyes gleamed. "Interesting..."

  Jamih stepped forward. "Do you want to help or not? Don't waste our time."

  Lothar’s tone darkened. "Careful, old man. My men know my temper. I don't tolerate disrespect."

  Mowj stepped between them, raising his hands.

  "Sir Lothar, this is Commander Jamih. I won't allow you to insult him. If we are forming an alliance, it must be built on respect. Otherwise, it is chaos."

  Lothar lowered his weapon, a grudging smile appearing.

  "You are right, boy. I admire your honor. We will join you. We will protect you on your journey."

  "We are heading to the village of Lajira," Mowj said.

  "Then let's move. Men! Forward!"

  Jamih walked beside Mowj as the column began to move.

  "Be careful, boy," Jamih whispered. "You made this choice. I respected it. Now you must bear its consequences."

  Mowj nodded.

  "Thank you, Uncle. I won't let you down. I must take risks—for my people, and for you. Just like King Caesar did for Silva. You told me his story... remember?"

  Jamih smiled faintly and patted Mowj’s head. "I remember."

  Lothar marched behind them, his sailors firing into the dunes to keep the Black Order at bay.

  "Generations have passed since we walked this land," Lothar mused aloud. "We lived at sea, far from noise and war. And now... We are pulled into battle."

  Jamih’s voice was sharp, cutting through the philosophy.

  "If you don't want to fight—leave. We don't need hesitant allies."

  Lothar’s eyes flared with anger, but he kept walking. The alliance was forged, but it was fragile as glass.

  The Fortress of the Black Order

  Azalor stood atop the ramparts of the dark fortress overlooking the Aurik border. The wind whipped his robes, but he stood immovable, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun was dying.

  "Dais hasn't returned?"

  A cloaked figure stepped forward from the shadows.

  "He is about to confront the merchant, Jabir, and the traitor Delyn."

  Azalor nodded slowly, a cruel smile touching his lips.

  "Then everything proceeds as planned in Aurik. Good... As for the child..."

  He turned toward the center of the platform. There, bound by chains of smoking shadow, lay a sleeping boy—the vampire child. His power rippled beneath his skin, wild and untamed.

  "We must break him," Azalor whispered. "Shatter him completely. He is far too strong to control whole."

  Azalor’s eyes narrowed, shifting his focus south.

  "Now, we focus on the Luminous Tree villages. This final blow will erase their hope... down to the last root."

  Reiz stepped forward, spinning a dagger.

  "How do we strike? A direct assault?"

  Azalor’s voice dropped, low and chilling.

  "No. We wait. Let them think they have won."

  The Valley of Wonders

  A fiery red streak cut across the night sky, vanishing as quickly as it appeared.

  Jamih watched it from the back of his beast, a knot of unease tightening in his chest.

  "Something is wrong..."

  He turned to Mowj, who was clutching the iron box against his chest.

  "We need to reach Lajira. Quickly."

  Mowj looked up, confused. "I thought we were heading to the village where we planted the tree? To check the sapling?"

  "Carrying this Heart makes us vulnerable," Jamih said sharply. "It is a beacon. We must move to a fortified position before we try to cleanse it."

  Lothar rode up beside them, his white robes pristine despite the dust.

  "Don't fall behind, old man," the Captain sneered. "I promised we’d protect you, but I won't wait for stragglers."

  Jamih’s grip on his reins tightened, but his voice remained quiet.

  "No doubt."

  The Gates of Lajira

  Chaos swirled at the village entrance. Villagers from the surrounding areas were arriving in droves, bearing baskets of Corrupted Crops, desperate for food or purification.

  Qaws, the assassins, and the village guards stood ready, forming a perimeter.

  Lainas frowned, watching the line. "They won't stop spreading these poisoned harvests... It’s flooding us."

  Qaws raised a hand. "Hold."

  The assassins cast weighted nets over the frantic crowd, dragging the baskets of poisoned fruit away before they could be consumed.

  Suddenly, a woman in the crowd lunged—not at the food, but at a guard. Her eyes were black.

  Qaws hurled a dagger. It struck the possessed woman in the shoulder, pinning her to the wooden post behind her without killing her. The blackness faded from her eyes as she passed out.

  He stepped forward, retrieving his blade.

  "Are you hurt?" he asked the guard.

  "No... thank you, sir."

  Lainas ran up, breathless. "Qaws! Your reflexes are terrifying."

  Qaws sheathed his blade. "It’s nothing. Just muscle memory."

  Lainas looked past him, his eyes widening.

  "I see them...!"

  "Who?"

  "Your Commander. And Mowj. They are approaching—with strangers."

  Qaws scaled the wall in seconds, squinting into the distance.

  "He’s right. They aren't alone." Qaws frowned. "My Commander doesn't form alliances this quickly... Unless it was Mowj’s doing."

  He descended and rushed to the infirmary tent, where Lidra was tending to the sick.

  "Miss!"

  Lidra looked up, wiping sweat from her brow. "Yes?"

  "I need you to see something. The new arrivals... their clothing. They look wealthy. Too wealthy for this desert."

  He helped her climb the watchtower.

  "Look."

  Lidra followed his finger. Her breath hitched.

  "That’s strange... Those crests. That implies Leonithra

  "Leonithra?" Qaws asked. "I thought that kingdom fell decades ago."

  "It did," Lidra whispered, clutching the railing. "The magical bomb dropped on Silva created a tidal wave that drowned their islands. Only scattered pirates and exiles remained."

  "So, what does it mean?"

  "It means they are desperate," Lidra said grimly. "If they survived the devastation, they are hard men. Pirates—or worse."

  "Should I prepare a counter-strategy?"

  "Absolutely," Lidra said, her eyes hard. "We won't let them near Mowj or the village supplies without insurance."

  Qaws lowered his hood, a smirk playing on his lips. "Agreed."

  Lidra leaned slightly against his shoulder, exhausted.

  "Call me Lidra, Qaws."

  Qaws froze. A flush crept up his neck, visible even in the dim light.

  "Alright... Lidra. Let's... uh... let's prepare."

  Jamih and Mowj rode through the gates.

  Mowj’s eyes lit up as he saw the repairs. "The village... it’s alive again! You rebuilt the walls! Thank you, everyone!"

  Qaws and Lainas smiled at the boy’s enthusiasm, but their eyes quickly shifted to the white-clad soldiers marching behind him.

  Lothar entered, looking around with unconcealed disdain.

  "By the seas..." Lothar muttered. "These are the villages we harvested from? Primitive mud huts... But perhaps that stubbornness is their strength."

  Lidra stepped forward, greeting Mowj with a warm hug, then turned to the Captain.

  "I am Lidra. An honor, Captain Lothar."

  Lothar removed his ornate hat and bowed theatrically. "The honor is ours, Miss."

  Lainas approached, his hand on his sword hilt.

  "I am Commander Lainas of the Resistance. Mowj told me of your efforts to protect us. I apologize for the corrupted crops sent your way."

  "No harm done," Lothar replied smoothly. "We are here to fix it."

  Jamih raised his voice, cutting through the pleasantries.

  "Men! Prepare yourselves! We could be attacked at any moment!"

  The atmosphere shifted instantly. Guards and assassins readied their weapons. Qaws began shouting orders, positioning archers on the roofs.

  Lainas approached Jamih quietly.

  "You found the source. I thank you from the depths of my heart."

  "We aren't finished," Jamih replied, his eyes locked on Lothar.

  Qaws and Lidra approached.

  "Commander," Qaws asked, his voice low. "Is there anything I need to know?"

  Jamih looked at them both, his expression cold.

  "There is something about Lothar and his men... I allowed them to join us out of respect for Mowj’s decision. But I do not trust them. Stay close to the boy. I will lead the defense with Lainas."

  He turned toward the gate. "Qaws, Lainas—defensive positions. Now."

  "Understood," Qaws said.

  Lainas watched Jamih walk away. "So there is a chance of betrayal?"

  "I trust my Commander's instincts," Qaws said, drawing his daggers. "And right now, his instincts say 'watch your back'."

  "Very well."

  Lothar raised his voice, rallying his sailors.

  "By the glory of Leonithra! Let's show the Black Order our strength! Protect the boy—until death!"

  Jamih scoffed as he passed. "Until death? Let's see if you have the stomach for it."

  "Rest easy, old man," Lothar shot back. "You’ll see them beg for mercy."

  The Ritual Begins

  In the center of the square, Mowj placed the iron box on a crate and opened it.

  The Corrupted Heart pulsed, sending a wave of nausea through the crowd. Gasps rippled through the villagers. Lainas recoiled. Lidra grimaced, shielding the baby she was holding.

  Mowj raised his voice, trembling but loud.

  "This is it! The source of the land's corruption! The sickness of our people! Let this be the first blow against the Black Order!"

  The men roared in response, raising their spears. "HAA!"

  Lidra handed the baby to a healer and stood beside Mowj. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

  "You did it. I believed in you."

  Qaws stepped up on his other side, smiling. "Look at you—shouting orders now! The Commander is rubbing off on you."

  Mowj smiled back, fear mixing with resolve. "Thank you both."

  He turned to the Heart. "I’m ready."

  "Then begin."

  Jamih watched from the gate, his sword drawn, scanning the horizon.

  Qaws whispered to Lidra. "Look at the Commander’s position... He’s holding the gate alone. He expects the first wave to be heavy."

  "You’re right," Lidra said, nocking an arrow. "We won't let anyone touch him. Not after all this."

  Mowj closed his eyes and placed his hands over the Heart.

  "Pure Earth: Resonance."

  A black aura surged from the Heart, fighting back. It lashed out like shadowy tendrils.

  But a green halo enveloped Mowj. He held the glowing emerald from his aunt in one hand and breathed deeply. The green light crept toward the Heart, battling the darkness.

  "It’s... too corrupted," Mowj gritted out, sweat pouring down his face. "I can't focus. The chaos is too loud."

  "Don't worry," Lidra said, her voice steady. "We will protect you. Just focus on the beat."

  "Yes!" Qaws added. "Tune out the world!"

  A complex green magic circle formed beneath Mowj’s feet, illuminating the square.

  Above, the Green Comet

  Suddenly, a horn blew.

  CRASH.

  The main gates didn't just open—they exploded inward.

  Black Order agents, accompanied by hulking armored beasts, charged forward into the smoke.

  Lothar drew his cutlass and roared.

  "WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!"

  Hope you have enjoyed!

  Thoughts? What’s gonna happen next?

  don’t forget to follow to continue the journey on Sliva side by side!!