“What are we doing, huh?”

  The voice echoed through Yig’s mind. He couldn’t see anything—just stumbled through darkness. As the voice pressed in, he searched his surroundings, until finally, he turned and saw the image of Icarus floating.

  Yig dropped to his knees, panting, rubbing his face to ease the pain in his head.

  “Icarus…?” he rasped, barely enough strength to speak. “Why now?”

  “Why now?” the voice boomed from all around. “That’s all you have to say to me?”

  Yig’s breathing grew heavier. He curled into himself, trying to block out the voice, screaming at his sword in desperation.

  “Shut up!!!” Yig shouted. “Quit talking in riddles and tell me why you’re here!”

  “I gave you the benefit of the doubt. You wore a happy face, marched into this journey pretending everything was fine, ready to take on the world. But what has that done?”

  “I’m trying!”

  “Trying? You can’t lie to me. I see inside your mind. I see everything you’re too afraid to face. Deep down, you believe you abandoned Mona—and you did.”

  “Quiet!!!”

  “I am the one thought you cannot silence! You took me—me, a weapon meant for her—and then neglected me? Am I just some memento to you? Is that it? You think keeping me around means you carry some part of her strength? Just how deeply rooted is your selfishness?”

  “Get out of my head!”

  “If you’re so determined to reject the truth, then I’ll be your voice of reason. Mona is dead. And you’ve been trying to forget her.”

  Yig felt hollow. Slowly, he peeled his hands from his face—and saw Mona lying beside him in the void. Her eyes were vacant. Her face, faded.

  “She’s still with you. Recognize it—and hold her memory close. You must take the place she once held in your life. You supported each other, didn’t you? Do you really think that means nothing now?”

  Yig’s throat burned. Tears streamed down his face. “But she’s gone. I’m not strong enough to take her place.”

  “Your job is not to replace her. Your job is to take the dream you forged together and carry it forward—alone, for both of you. You know this. You’ve always known it. But you pushed it down, tried to forget. This is a responsibility you cannot run from.”

  Yig rose shakily to his knees, his face twisted in anguish. “She was the one I followed. How am I supposed to surpass her now?”

  “See? You still want the comfort of her guidance. You think surpassing her strength would dishonor her memory. But I—her chosen weapon—will tell you this: the greatest insult to her name would be leaving her dream unfinished. Your fear shouldn’t be surpassing her. Your fear should be not becoming a hundred times stronger than she was.”

  “When she was alive,” Yig murmured, his head heavy, “I couldn’t disappoint her—only us.”

  “I know your fears,” Icarus bellowed, “and I reject them—as should you! Stop wallowing and accept it. You now carry the weight of two souls. Either collapse beneath it—or rise and carry them both. Don’t just wander this world pretending to do something. Charge toward the dream you promised her!”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Yig’s eyes snapped open.

  His arm jerked forward—then immediately recoiled as pain surged through him like fire. He couldn’t see much, but he could feel the chill of night air against his skin as he crawled across the floor. The bedsheets were tangled and twisted beneath him. He pulled himself upright and flung back the curtains. The light of the night sky spilled in.

  He’d felt certain this was a dream. But now, as he looked out over the village under a quiet night sky, he knew the truth:

  He was awake.

  And only then did he realize—he was still crying.

  Spartan stirred, tried to get his attention with a couple of light hops, but kept her distance.

  Yig stumbled around the room, thoughts clawing at his mind. Still clutching his wounded arm, he straightened his back, forcing himself to stand tall. With gritted teeth and a storm of memories pressing in, he seized them—his pain, his guilt—and let them fuel his resolve.

  He threw his head back and screamed, unleashing his aura in a surge of raw emotion until it burst into full activation.

  Sil sat outside the house, reflecting.

  Well, it wasn’t really her house—it belonged to the Chief. She’d stayed there ever since the Stearna of Sharirun had taken her in. The place used to feel livelier, especially when the Chief’s son, Shown, still lived there. Without him, everything felt different.

  Even Pervoick.

  In her lap sat the Slipper Nut. She slowly ground away at its outer shell with a hand-turned drill. Inside were flavors rich and juicy. It would be such a waste if Yig didn’t get to taste his reward—so she’d make sure it was ready when he woke.

  As she worked, her mind wandered back through the past, piecing together her own behavior.

  If only those around her would let her help.

  If only she could prove herself worthy of their trust.

  Memories surged through her mind—images of battlefields, helplessness, and the inability to stop the bloodshed. She longed for someone to help her, yet she couldn't help anyone—not even herself. And even then, only barely. No amount of practice or aura training could give someone the confidence to leap into the jaws of a beast. Strength might help you defeat an enemy, but it wouldn’t give you the courage to face it.

  That was the conclusion she found herself leaning toward.

  But how could she prove herself if everyone kept turning her away?

  She looked up at the sudden sound of a man’s cry—an unusual occurrence in Sharirun, she was certain. With a flick of her wrist, she conjured a strip of heavenly parchment, sent it flying, and tied it to the column of a house. Using it to pull herself forward, she slid through the village streets, propelled by the momentum. She spotted Pervoick standing outside the guest house.

  “What’d he do?” she asked hurriedly as she skidded to a stop, kicking up dirt and gravel.

  He huffed, arms crossed, posture rigid. “Wish I knew. But I could feel his aura activate a moment ago—even from here.”

  “So it is Yig?”

  “Syle’s in there trying to calm him down. I guess that encounter was too much for him. Shame.”

  “No, that’s not it.”

  Pervoick’s brow furrowed. “You seem awfully sure of yourself.”

  She shrugged. “Don’t quote me, but after what I saw today, I’m not expecting night terrors from him. I’d say it’s frustration.”

  “Perhaps,” Pervoick muttered.

  Minutes passed, and eventually Syle walked out of the building.

  “Is the guy okay?” Pervoick asked.

  “No,” Syle replied. “But he’s better.”

  Sil stepped forward. “What happened?”

  A small crowd had now gathered, everyone trying to understand the commotion. It was rare for Sharirun to be disturbed—when it happened, it usually meant a fight.

  Still, the crowd didn’t seem particularly concerned.

  Disturb the peace in Sharirun, and the people wouldn’t be on your side.

  “He woke up in a state,” Syle explained. “Started screaming about his friend. Then he went straight into training—scared his lamb half to death. I finally convinced him to lie back down.”

  “He mentioned her,” Sil said, glancing toward the house. “The friend. He said he lost her in a raid on Chestnut.”

  “A raid on Chestnut?!” Pervoick shouted, then quickly remembered the hour and clapped a hand over his mouth.

  “Wait—there’s more,” Syle said, stepping in. “His wounds... they’ve improved.”

  “His arm’s better?”

  “Well, yes… but also his control over activation. He was moving freely when I saw him—even while pushing his aura to its limit.”

  Sil was stunned. She couldn’t think of any explanation for such rapid improvement.

  Who was this man who had wandered into Sharirun?

  What was he?