Chronicles of Elysia: Redemption: Elysia

By Yuri Jean-Baptiste

In the aftermath of their crushing defeat, Omari and the Virtues seek refuge in the mystical forest realm of Agraven. But danger lurks amidst the reclusive Faeyries... 

 

Five years have passed, and the relentless war waged by the malevolent King Jaheem ravages the Hallowed Plains. The once united Virtues are now scattered, and Omari, the prophesied Champion, is but a shadow of his former self. 

 

As they grapple with their uncertain future, the Virtues are tested to their very limits, from the port cities of the Frosted Tides to the front lines of the Fallen Borderlands. With the specter of war looming and an insidious evil infiltrating the forest, the company faces a daunting task—one that threatens their very souls. 

 

Can the Virtues rally in time to quell the horrors that threaten the grove? Or will Omari's fall from grace be the final blow that shatters Elysia's hopes?

In this gripping sequel, Yuri Jean-Baptiste delves deeper into a world teetering on the brink, where redemption is a journey fraught with peril.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Yuri Jean-Baptiste
• Release date: Dec 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223435235

Yuri Jean-Baptiste

While Yuri Jean-Baptiste may have spent his adolescence growing up in beautiful Fort Lauderdale, FL, he mainly lived in the magical fantasy and sci-fi landscapes his imagination created. A voracious reader and movie-lover, Yuri spent much of his childhood years world-building and concocting adventures before being forced to grow up. Lucky for him, he met his true love, Jennifer, who dared him to imagine again and pursue his dreams of becoming an author. Married in 2015, Yuri now lives in Durham, NC, with his wonderful wife and two dogs, although he devotes much of his time within his now fully-developed worlds. When he is not writing his novels, Yuri can be found channeling his inner nerd, playing Dungeon’s and Dragons and Magic: the Gathering with his friends.

Book preview

Chronicles of Elysia: Redemption

Yuri Jean-Baptiste

While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

Copyright © 2023 by Yuri Jean-Baptiste

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Cover designed by MiblArt.

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This book is dedicated to God, above all else, my amazing wife, and two incredible daughters. To the growing brotherhood of Unparalleled and All4One, thanks for enforcing my purpose.

Contents

Elysia World Map

The Perfections of Comtuna

Prologue

Part One: Nelgra's Return

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Part Two: Rise of the Beastbane

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Part Three: Mysteries in the Mist

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Interlude: The Ties That Bind Us

Chapter One

Interlude: A Broken Man

Chapter One

Part Four: What Lies Beneath

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Part Five: Champion Reborn

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Epilogue

Afterword

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The Perfections of Comtuna

The Perfection of Comtuna was originally written by the great and well revered Haranaen prophet Moisés Comtuna, or Moisés the First, during the first century. One of the original prophets, Moisés oversaw the design and teachings of the first temple within the Scorched Frontier. The elder Haranae received the commands of the book from Elyon Himself while dreaming. The original manuscript was a far cry from the massive text the Perfections have grown into, but the heart of the message remains the same: how to live a life that reflects the heart of Elyon. 

Following the death of Moisés, the Perfections developed from a declaration of laws into a prominent text with the addition of passages from many prominent prophets, including Tomas the Bold and Ezra the Enlightened. Along with the original ten commands, the Perfections grew to include historical accounts, parables, songs, and rituals, all designed to glorify Elyon and encourage a lifestyle of righteousness. These distinct styles were separated into eight sections and are reviewed every century to preserve the accuracy and reaffirm the meanings behind the text. If any additional material is to be included, one of the chief prophets or high priests must declare it before undergoing a strenuous process of review. As of 501, no new material has been added, though whether this is because of Elyon’s silence, or the dwindling of our true prophets remains to be seen.

As it stands, the current text is separated into the following framework:

I. The Perfections

II. The Origins of the Holy Three and the Creation of the World

III. The Fields of Euphoria, Underworld, and the Realm of the Dead

IV. Nature of Soulcraft and the Corruption of the Soul

V. The History of the Freedpeople (as told by the prophets) and the Judgement of Elyon

VI. Parables of Instruction

VII. Worship

VIII. Rituals and Practices of the Righteous

Though The Perfection of Comtuna was created by Moisés the First for the benefit of his people, these teachings are essential reading for all Freedpeople, regardless of their species. Unfortunately, this has fallen out of practice over time, and following the rise of the Traitor King, much of the world has fallen into depravity. The Haranaes, however, still hold true to this text and continue to center their society around it. Their culture revolves around the Perfections, and the promise of the last prophecy: that one day, The Last Prophet, will arise and herald the coming of a new age. He will accompany the Scion of Elyon and help pave the path for the reclamation of the world. He will be the guardian of the Champion and restore Elysia to its intended glory.

In summary, the Perfection of Comtuna is more than just a sacred book, held in the highest regard by the Haranaes and devoted Freedpeople across the land. It is a way of life, a text that should be applied in every aspect of our lives. The book details the history of our world, how we are to live and conduct ourselves, and provides ways for us to worship through song and dedicated practices. It is vital to understand the words of this book if we are to truly understand the nature of our Great Creator.

— Teremun Aswad, Khantan scholar, 678, Introduction to the Perfections

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The Perfections (as transcribed by Moisés the First)

I. I will not remain complacent when action is necessary; evil triumphs when the righteous refuse to act

II. I will honor my family, leading them in the ways of Elyon, and strengthen my community in their relationship with our Holy Father

III. I will keep holy the temple and places of worship, reserving days and times to give honor to the Divine Trinity

IV. I will not commit the murder of any living being that bears a soul, as we are all reflections and children of Elyon

V. I will keep sacred the marriage union, refusing to submit to the temptations of the flesh; the bond forged will be for eternity and marked upon us as a symbol of our love

VI. I will not take what does not belong to me, nor allow my earthly desires to compromise my honor

VII. I will keep my tongue pure, refraining from false testimony and slander

VIII. I will demonstrate forgiveness to those who have wronged me and seek it from those whom I have wronged

IX. I will be courageous in my faith and strive to demonstrate integrity in all that I do 

X. I will revere the Holy Three with all my heart and soul, placing no other false idols before them; I will honor them with my lips, speaking no ill or false word in their name

These are the Perfections, as commanded by Elyon. They are to be a guidepost for our people, so that we may not be led astray by the forces of Chaos. They were given to me by Elyon Himself and are meant to be passed down from generation to generation. May we always remember the wisdom of these commands. To Him belongs the glory and honor forever. 

Praise Elyon.

— Moisés the First, from the opening page of The Perfection of Comtuna

Prologue

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Omari rose from the sheets, drenched in sweat. His ragged breaths came out in weak pants as he gasped for air. His heart pounded in his chest until the ranger thought it might soon give out. The haunting images of the nightmare continued to sear through his memory and forced the traumatized warrior to relive the horrors that had plagued him for years. As a child, there had always been a comforting voice, a reassuring warmth to draw back the chill of the night. But now, no supernatural strength rose within him, nothing to settle Omari’s heart with the promise of a better tomorrow.

Now, only silence remained and the cool breeze passing through the open window beside his bed.

Eloa was gone, and Omari only had the darkness to comfort him.

Omari swung his skinny legs over the side of the bed and placed his calloused feet on the wooden floorboards. He forced his frail body from the cot and walked over to the nearby desk to grab his wool robe from the chair. The ranger slipped into the warm garment before walking over to the open window and gazing out at the city beyond. His breath still came out in short, excited wheezes, but the serene view beyond the frame helped stave off his anxiety. Omari looked up at the moons above, allowing their pale, golden light to wash down upon him. His eyes fell to the opulent city surrounding his treetop cabin, and he soaked in the beauty of Asakonai.

Gazing over the magnificent city, Omari marveled at the wonders of the Faeyries and considered himself fortunate to be among the few to set foot within their capital. Omari stood within a cabin constructed among the mighty redwood trees of Agraven, his residence among the outer edge of the vast metropolis. The Faeyries built platforms around the tops of the trees, and each housed a variety of different homes, shops, and structures that helped form the lifeblood of the ever-expanding city. The enormous trees had a firm foundation and though they towered tens of feet above the ground, they never buckled beneath the passing winds or falling rains. Wooden bridges spanned the impressive city and connected each platform. 

The ageless redwoods formed a circle around the heart of the city, crystalline structures that rose from the forest bed down below. The dazzling citadels, buildings, and spires were constructed from an organic material cultivated only in this surreal land and gave off an otherworldly glow. Though it looked like the structures below were made of glass, Omari found them to be quite sturdy, perhaps even more so than the stone fortresses so common in the Hallowed Plains. The crystalline metropolis housed some of the highest members of Faeyran society, including the various heads of military and diplomats who composed the High Council.

Located just beside the gorgeous city resided the World Tree, the famed redwood that almost eclipsed the city itself in size. Omari had long heard tales of its legendary girth and height, but these all paled when compared to the actual sight. Like the crystal structures below, the World Tree gave off a unique glow that brightened the night in a spectacle of brilliant color.  

Omari took in a deep breath, allowing the crisp evening air to fill his lungs. Weather in this country was often pleasant, not like the constant flux of the Hallowed Plains. Here, one might find a small slice of paradise. It was no wonder why the Faeyries secluded themselves in their homeland. In Agraven, one could ignore the grisly dealings of the world and allow peace to settle in their restless heart. 

But paradise never found Omari. On the contrary, this seemed like an eternal torment equal to the Underworld. Everywhere he looked, there was beauty and peace. Yet the fear and shame raging within his soul was immeasurable and unrelenting. Not even in the splendor of Agraven could the broken ranger find rest.

Despite the bleakness of his soul, Omari harbored no negativity toward the wondrous land before him. He would not complain about the hospitality with which they had welcomed the Virtues to Agraven, especially given the circumstances. They were a rebel group on the run from the forces of Chaos, destitute and reeling following their failed attempt to defeat the Downfall known as Ulaka. They had nearly lost the Armor of God during the confrontation and nursed severe wounds of their own. 

I nearly cost us the Armor, Omari corrected. The ranger was under no illusion as to how they had gotten themselves in this predicament. As the leader of the Virtues and the prophesied Champion of the Freedpeople, Omari had blindly guided his companions through the foolhardy mission and allowed his emotions to get the better of him. Omari thought he was in control, but Ulaka had been playing the man like a marionette the entire time. By the time Omari realized the extent of his mistake, the Downfall had broken his body and captured his friends. 

For months they were tortured, beaten, and starved by the Tainted denizens of the prison, who did their master’s bidding with great relish. Omari endured unspeakable torment under Ulaka himself, and the experience had shattered the once proud ranger. His physical, mental, and emotional strength had all been reduced to ashes, leaving him unable to walk or function on his own. 

But the Downfall had managed to inflict the greatest damage on Omari’s spiritual strongholds. After giving in to the influence of Ulaka, Omari had forsaken the One Who gave him strength and power. Elyon was displeased with the ranger and had removed Eloa’s protection over the Human. Omari no longer sensed the Spirit’s presence. There was only silence, the void of his empty soul.

Omari placed his weary head in his weathered hands as he leaned on the window frame. He imagined what the Faeyries had thought of him when they first entered Agraven. Here was the heralded Human destined to usher in an age of salvation upon the land. Not only was he pitiful to look upon, Omari had arrived with his tail between his legs after igniting the next great war. It was only by the grace of Elyon and Queen Ndasi’s insistence that the Faeyries relented and allowed for the safe passage of the Virtues.

For centuries, the Faeyries had cut the magnificent land of Agraven off from the residents of Elysia following the Great Betrayal. After the Traitor King murdered King Jabali and assumed the throne, the Faeyries had foreseen the devastation that would come next. They retreated to their forested land, rejecting the ancient pact between the First Four, and rebuked the fickle Humans who had fallen under the influence of Chaos. Without the aid of the Faeyries, the Hallowed Plains wouldn’t survive the tide of the enemy. It was only a matter of time before the land fell beneath the might of Vehdite. 

Unmoved, Agraven proved to be an almost impenetrable fortress for the Faeyries. Buffered along the south by the Human realm of the Hallowed Plains and to the east by the Fallen Borderlands, the densely packed forest of the Faeyries was also bolstered by the frigid waters of the Frosted Tides to keep the Fallen at bay. The Emerald Guard were among the fiercest military forces in the land, and they enforced the borders, slaying any who attempted to pass without express permission from their ruling council. Without their approval, none stepped foot in these lands.

But even the secluded land of Agraven was not impervious to the growing rumors from the south. Talks had spread regarding the rebel group known as the Virtues. When the Downfall Tamaa fell by their hands, the victory held even the proud Faeyries speechless. As the years went on, the group’s success stoked the flames of rebellion across the Hallowed Plains, and the Faeyries started to suspect there was more to these rebels than just mere luck. So, it came as no surprise when the Faeyries discovered that the fabled Champion of old led the motley crew and carried the legendary Armor of God. 

For several years, things appeared to be going well for the resistance, and the Faeyries wondered whether the time was right for old alliances to be reforged. Thus, when messengers from the Rose Queen rode to their border to beg asylum for the Virtues, the Council saw this as a clear sign from Elyon that the moment had arrived. It had been ages since a Champion walked among them, and they were interested in seeing the truth with their own eyes. Omari suspected they were also keen on having the holy Armor within their grasp to leverage such power in their favor.

Omari didn’t need to imagine the Faeyries’ surprise when the Virtues arrived at the southern border of Agraven. They had snuck in under the watchful eyes of the Rose Guard, all eight companions huddled beneath the sheets of a homely wagon. There was no fanfare for the returned Champion when he reached Asakonai, no cheering crowds of hopeful citizens. Only confused looks and whispers of concern at the pitiful state of the rebel group. Omari lay on his back, unable to prop himself up without experiencing significant pain shooting down his back and legs. The group looked famished, and they were bruised and swollen from the myriad of beatings they had suffered at the hands of the guards. Chidea’s arm was bandaged after the severe burns she had suffered, and they all appeared disheveled and unkempt. It was a far cry from the picturesque vision the Faeyries had conjured of the rebels over the years.  

Despite this setback, they welcomed the Virtues into the Faeyran society, escorting them into the capital city where their expert healers had treated the companions. They separated Omari and Chidea from the group because of the severity of their injuries, and the ranger remembered little from that period. It took several months before the group seemed nourished and rested enough to stand before the High Council.

Even then, Omari remained a shell of his former self. He left it to Céleste to recount their adventures to the esteemed Council and answer any questions the elders held regarding what had befallen the group. The East had expressed an official declaration of war, and any information the Faeyries might gleam from the Hallowed Plains was vital.

After much debate, the Virtues were allowed to remain in Agraven for as long as they desired. The enemy was unaware of their location, and the Faeyries were confident in the forest’s defense. Though they weren’t pleased about harboring fugitives, the Faeyries acknowledged they were in the Virtues’ debt following the defeat of Tamaa. The Downfall’s demise had been a great boon to the realm, and their exploits helped free many of Agraven’s residents, especially those along the southern border.

Despite the welcome news, their newfound position frustrated Omari and his companions. The land may have been breathtaking, but remaining in the forest was not a viable option. They desired to return to the Plains and offer aid to the war effort. This was their doing after all, and the Rose Queen would need their help.

After establishing residence in the surrounding treetops, the companions worked hard to restore themselves back to peak physical condition. Their hosts granted them plenty of provisions, and there was a nearby browncoat station that would permit them to spar with the local law enforcement. The twins seemed especially keen on rejoining their old allies, and before long, they were training once more among the Faeyries. Yet, as time went on, the group noticed a concerning transformation within their leader.

Omari would watch them spar and train while he recuperated, all the while remaining silent in the shadows. The healers did everything in their power to mend his damaged spine and shoulders, but even with their best efforts, every move brought forth agony. Walking took significant effort, and Omari couldn’t hold a wooden training stick without his arms trembling. 

Yet it wasn’t just Omari’s physical deficits that raised concern. It was his attitude. Omari simply didn’t care. He didn’t want to train with the others or discuss the latest events in the war. Omari just wanted to be left alone, to rot in isolation within the prison of his mind. 

The prison he and Ulaka had built together.

The separation had been gradual, but over time, Omari spent less time with the Virtues, secluding himself in the darkness of his cabin for days at a time. Each time he emerged, Omari appeared more haggard and forlorn. He was often distracted, lost in his own thoughts, and soft-spoken. Not even the repeated chidings of Chidea or the gentle pleas of Céleste moved the ranger. 

So, the Virtues had moved on. 

It wasn’t that they didn’t care about their leader. On the contrary, they hoped their actions would spur the ranger’s spirit and force him to break free from this rut. They might have been exiled from the Hallowed Plains, but the Virtues now had access to a land previously blocked from their exploration. And based on the sparse writings of Jean, last of the Twelve, they believed a piece of the Armor remained hidden in Agraven. If they couldn’t be present on the battlefield, this would be the best way for the companions to aid in the war. By reclaiming the Armor and clearing the forest of Forsaken Ones, they kept the Armor from falling into the wrong hands and halted the progress of their enemies. 

The Virtues traveled often as a result. It became routine for members of the rebel groups to stay in the capital for a few days before departing for months at a time. They returned with little success, but it kept them busy. It kept them focused. It gave them purpose.

Omari, on the other hand, seemed content to remain a passenger. He became a ghost from the past, watching from afar as he wondered how it had all come to this. The ranger aged with alarming rapidity, while the others seemed to move on with their lives. Jamal and Amani typically traveled together, though they made for quite an odd pairing. Jamal looked more solemn as of late, if that were even possible, while Amani acted as if he were in paradise. The mercenary loved the land of Agraven and had grown enraptured by the beautiful females and sumptuous food. The longer they stayed in the forest, the more Omari noticed the slight gut his friend was developing. 

Rafael did not enjoy the towering forest or the chill mountain air that blew in from the north, preferring the open valleys of the sweltering deserts found in the south. He appreciated the craftsmanship and ornate structures that the Faeyries had constructed, particularly their halls of worship. They often found the beasthunter within these splendid halls, studying the Perfections and meditating among the Faeyran priests. Despite their differences, the Faeyries enjoyed engaging the knowledgeable Haranae in deep theological debates, especially in the strictness of the codes and the role of the prophesied Champion. 

The twins had assimilated back into their homeland without a hitch, many of the Guards traveling from across the forest to greet them amidst their travels. It struck Omari that they never visited family nor spoke of them, despite the return to their native land. Rina and Rae, however, seemed content with the company of soldiers and were held in high regard among them. The stretches of time between Omari’s sightings of the twins grew more pronounced as time wore on. They stayed for longer periods, assisting the neighboring spires along the border in their defense of the forest. Between the growing presence of Forsaken Ones along the coast and Fallen spotted traversing the Borderlands, Rina and Rae maintained a steady presence among the Emerald Guard.

Sadly, the biggest changes came from the two members Omari held dearest to his heart. In the ranger’s prolonged absence, Céleste took on the mantle of team leader, a role which came to her naturally, though she was reluctant to do so in his presence. No one nominated her for the role, but they assumed her position given Céleste’s track record. Confident, selfless, and humble, Céleste bore all the makings of a fine leader. She led by example, unwilling to lead the others if she herself wasn’t on the front lines. 

Despite her apparent penchant for the role, the burden of responsibility weighed on Céleste. The fighter was torn between her growing concern for the deteriorating state of Omari and the needs of the group. She also took on mentoring their young apprentice, a job made more difficult by the drastic changes seen in Chidea as well.

The four years had transformed the young apprentice, and at sixteen, her increasing ability with the blade now matched Chidea’s physical growth. She seemed to take on the characteristics of both her mentors, developing into one of the most versatile members of their group. As she continued to grow into her maturing frame, Chidea now mirrored the impressive strength and skill set of Céleste, a fact that made it difficult to challenge their youngest member in training. Whether with hand or sword, Chidea had become a fearsome warrior in her own right and was a valued member of any party venturing out against Forsaken Ones. 

Besides this, Chidea’s connection to the Spirit was uncanny, rivaling both Rafael and Omari. She had enjoyed studying under the Haranae’s guidance since Omari’s isolation, and the ranger would observe from a distance as she went through the sunrise supplication with the beasthunter in the early morning hours. Her routine was flawless. 

During their time in Agraven, the Armor continued to reside with Omari, yet rumors had emerged that Chidea would call upon Eloa without the aid of the relics. The thought saddened the ranger, but it did not surprise him. He wished a more peaceful path for the young woman, but Omari had witnessed her potential, even as a child. The past few years in this strange land seemed to only enhance the unusual aura surrounding his apprentice.

Is she even mine to teach anymore? Omari wondered. Or have I forfeited that privilege as well?    

Omari sighed as he thought of the unprecedented growth he had observed from his former pupil over the last several years. Chidea had studied carefully under the Virtues, training among them like a true warrior. Chidea was adept with both sword and arrow and had fought alongside the Virtues against some of the fiercest Forsaken Ones Chaos sent their way. She was brave, determined, and loyal, all attributes Omari no longer called his own.

Omari shuddered at this revelation. It wasn’t just that Chidea had surpassed him in those areas. It was the look of pity he saw in her eyes whenever they interacted that stung the most. The sorrow he beheld was too much for Omari to bear. The ranger overlooked it when it came from others. But not from her. 

When Chidea drew near to the Armor, Omari sensed it respond in her presence. He had to admit, this both confused and frightened him. Omari wasn’t concerned about his claim as Champion. The ranger knew his lineage and was confident in Elyon’s path for him. But would those promises still hold true after everything Omari had done? Had Elyon forsaken him like Ulaka claimed, rejecting his right to bear the Armor? One way or another, His will would be done. He did not need Omari and could just as easily choose another.

Omari gripped the wooden frame of the window and gritted his teeth in frustration. He knew he needed to break free of these dark thoughts, to leave this room and reunite with the others. They were relying on him, after all. But how? How could he hope to lead these warriors when he struggled to endure a brisk walk around the treetop village?

Omari looked into the night sky. All five moons hung upon the black canvas: Kochban, Maelah, Hielik, Aran, and Jundiel. He whispered their names aloud, wondering if Elyon was around to listen to him.

Are you up there, my God? Omari whispered, his voice quivering. Do you still listen to men like me? I don’t know how many times I have to apologize, but I’m willing to do it. I’m sorry for failing you. I’m sorry for letting down my teammates. Because of me, we nearly lost the Armor. I almost got us all killed because of my pride and anger. Please forgive me, Elyon. I beg of you. I’m tired of fighting these demons alone. How can I hope to lead my people when I can’t even get out of my head? Will you not free me from my shackles? Will you not bestow your mercy upon me? I promise, I will not fail you again…

Silence.

Omari choked out a sob and slammed his fist into the window frame. He hung his head in dejection before turning from the beautiful scenery. The ranger walked over to his bed and crawled beneath the covers, trembling with a mixture of fear and frustration. He did not look forward to the rest of the evening. He knew what to expect once he closed his eyes. There would be no peace or any semblance of rest. 

Only nightmares.

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Omari awoke to a gentle knocking on his door. The grizzled ranger fluttered his eyes toward the open window and saw that both Ero and Prex were already up. Omari had slept well into the morning, and afternoon was almost upon them. Despite the hours of rest, Omari remained depleted, like he had not gotten a wink of sleep. He struggled to rise from the bed and swung his legs over the edge. He wondered who waited on him at this hour? Most of the residents left him alone, and from what he recalled, most of the Virtues were away at the moment.

Probably Hamorn again, Omari thought with a scowl. That silly cleric will not leave me alone. I don’t understand why he continues to insist on training in my current state.

Hamorn was the preeminent cleric within the capital and had been assigned to Omari and Chidea, given the severity of their injuries. With the young woman, the Faeyra had done wonders, restoring her arm to full functionality. She still bore the ugly scars from Ulaka’s flames, but there was no lasting effect on her use of the extremity. Omari, on the other hand, continued to puzzle the cleric.  

Hamorn had done all he could, extending the full use of his medical knowledge to heal Omari. His efforts had proved fruitless. The searing pain continued to linger throughout the ranger, crippling him to where daily activities were a struggle. The Faeyra refused to give up, however, and would often visit the ranger with new ideas and words of advice. 

Omari had warned Hamorn long ago to give up his attempts to heal the ranger’s body, but the cleric would not listen to Omari’s protests. An eternal optimist, Hamorn refused to accept that Omari was beyond hope. His cheery outlook drove the ranger mad.

Omari rubbed his weary face as another round of knocking came forth.

What do you want? he growled at the door.

A good morning would suffice, an unexpected voice answered. Though it’s nearly noon, so you’ve got options.

Omari sighed, and his heart plummeted into his stomach. He wasn’t ready to deal with her so early in the morning. The ranger got to his feet and plodded to the door. He took his time unlocking the barrier before cracking open the door, revealing the young woman outside. Chidea’s somber face met his, and Omari’s eyes fell to the floor.

To what do I owe the pleasure?

Can I come in?

I don’t know if you want to come in here, Chidea, Omari began. I just got up. The place is a mess. I haven’t even washed my face yet.

My question remains.

Omari rolled his eyes and swung the door all the way open. The child was relentless.

No, not a child, Omari corrected himself as she strode through the doorway. Not anymore.

Chidea walked to the center of the room and surveyed her surroundings. Her nose wrinkled at the rancid stench of mothballs and stale sweat. She didn’t bother to hide the familiar expression of disappointment as she studied the surrounding pigsty.

I’ll see if I can get some servants to tidy up the place. Your room needs a good cleaning.

I don’t need anyone to—

It wasn’t a question, Chidea cut in. The place is a mess. After all the hospitality the Faeyries have extended to us, the least we can do is keep this place presentable. I’ll see that it gets done as soon as some free hands are available.

Is that all? Omari said with a grumble. Are you just here to lecture me and express your disapproval of how I live?

No, not just that, Chidea replied softly. She turned to look at her mentor, and Omari struggled to meet her gaze. Once again, he noted the strength and unquestioned power behind them, the flecks of gold that seemed to radiate in the room's darkness.

Had they always been there?

I also came to let you know I’m traveling to the eastern border. I’m supposed to meet with Jamal and Amani before they cross into the Fallen Borderlands. There were a few supplies they requested prior to the campaign, and we just received them from the High Council. Hopefully, it will serve them well over the coming months, though who knows how long the skirmish will last. Last we heard, there was a sizable horde of Orcs making their way through the land.

You’re traveling by yourself? Omari inquired. Seems a little dangerous for a solo mission. You might just be delivering a package, but the further east you go, the more likely you are to run into the enemy’s forces.

I’m aware, Chidea stated. I wasn’t planning to go by myself. I’d like to get there in a safe and timely fashion, as the others are relying on me. I’m hoping you might be available to assist. 

Omari’s heart skipped a beat as the familiar anxieties tightened around his heart. You know I can’t, Chidea, Omari murmured. Why don’t you ask the others?

The others? Chidea repeated with a frown. "There are no others, Omari. All the others have left to pursue their own quests. Céleste and Rafael are traveling along the coast investigating the recent attacks that have befallen the port cities. Rina is with the Emerald Guard down at the Horokanai Spire after a band of Orcs entered the edge of the forest. Jamal and Amani are in the east preparing to join Rae’s troops as they look to push back Vehdite’s forces along the Borderlands. 

There is no one left, Omari. You would know that if you answered the door when we knocked. Or at least had the decency to come out of this room to see us.

Omari’s head fell, and he tried to control the wave of emotions clawing through his chest. Chidea, I don’t have time to listen to this right now. You don’t understand—

Believe it or not, Omari, Chidea interrupted, "time seems to be the only thing you do have these days. You’ve isolated your friends, abandoned your mission, and seem content with wallowing in the dark in a constant state of self-pity. It was understandable the first few months, but we’ve passed the point of reason."

This time, Omari met Chidea’s gaze, and his expression hardened. What is that supposed to mean?

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Chidea looked away from her mentor as she steeled herself to continue speaking. "I can’t keep doing this anymore, Omari. We can’t keep doing this anymore. We keep hoping that you’ll return to us someday, the leader we’ve grown to love and respect. The one who cared enough to lead us through the fire, even if it came at the cost of his own soul. The one who took a chance on a frightened orphan and brought her under his wing. I can’t see that man anymore. I’m not sure where he is. Do you?"

The words stung Omari in a way he hadn’t experienced in a long time.