Some mornings, the world felt so still. The city was quiet - reconstruction efforts paused in these early hours, giving way to a tranquillity that felt almost foreign after days of chaos. Mokai sat by the narrow window of his quarters, watching the pale morning light cast long shadows across the city. His fingers traced the edge of his tea cup, still warm despite the cool air flowing through the partially opened window.
The events replayed in his mind like fragments of a fever dream: the impending collision with Firme, Master Lira's desperate gambit with the Inverter and gatebreaker bomb, the revelations of his adventures in the alien world, and finally, his return to a wounded Pantax. How close they had come to an annihilation?
The damage, while concerning, was contained - many buildings had collapsed from the ground tremors, injuring those who couldn't evacuate in time. He had walked past smouldering remnants of fires that had broken out during the chaos, crossed over temporary pathways where bridges had given way, and seen citizens collecting water from emergency reserves as engineers worked to repair the leaking tanks.
It was the people who moved him: the injured being tended in makeshift hospitals, children helping to clear debris, elders sharing their supplies with neighbours who had lost homes. Despite everything they had endured, their resilience shone through the dust and devastation.
The work of rebuilding had begun immediately, tireless and relentless. Mytharok was first to respond, sending healers and engineers. Master Lira's influence, no doubt. Then came aid from others, slowly, cautiously, as if approaching the scene of a miracle. Or perhaps a nightmare. What many had dismissed as temple folklore - cosmic collision - was now a documented fact. In the great halls of the charted universe, lords and scholars alike struggled to reconcile ancient warnings with this new reality. Stunned disbelief giving way to solemn acceptance.
Mokai sipped his cooling tea, contemplating how quickly foundations could shift - both physical and philosophical. He wondered how the power dynamics between worlds would realign now that the old Temple's stories were vindicated. Perhaps in this newfound vulnerability, there might be opportunity - for greater cooperation, for deeper understanding between worlds. Or perhaps for new conflicts.
And yet, ever since he returned, something had felt... off. He couldn't quite identify it - like a word perched on the tip of his tongue, or a shadow glimpsed from the corner of his eye.
Lord Ryosei's behaviour troubled him. The lord had always been reserved, but now he seemed positively remote, his customary formality hardened into something even colder, more rigid. The few times they had spoken since Mokai's return, he'd sensed an unfamiliar tension in Ryosei's bearing, as if the man were constantly on guard.
It was this very unease that drove Mokai to pursue the detailed account of Lord Ryosei's actions during his absence. Also he followed his new knowledge about the gates functioning and the 16 dimensional space to learn about the unsealing of the mountain gates, as the main ones had been destroyed. What had initially begun as a scholarly exercise had revealed something troubling.
Because of its remote location and mostly sealed status the mountain gates were not manned. There was an aetheric resonance quartz embedded near it for passive oversight. It detected and stored data of energy fluctuations in the gate's field. And this monitoring device recorded something strange.
Just as the gates were unsealed, there appeared to be a connection. But no official records of that connection existed. Only this highly technical detail in the stored data. Someone had meticulously erased any other traces of it. It was not a common knowledge that the quartz stored such information as the details of the connection. The person might not have bothered about it because the unsealing itself was a spike in energy fields, so just another one made no difference. It might have passed as some obscure disturbance, but the quartz was surprisingly precise.
Fortunately, Fengyu was still in Mytharok and combed through the Seer's Department archives for him. His response arrived, accompanied by archival records spanning centuries. That sector of 16 dimensional space was quite an active place but no meaning was given to the cosmic activities and no known world existed there. Additionally, the strange connection coincided with yet another surge of activity.
Had someone - or something - accessed Pantax through the mountain gates during that momentary vulnerability? Had something slipped through during the chaos? Something invisible but present, like a subtle poison in the well from which they all drank?
Realising the disturbing direction of his thoughts, Mokai shrugged.
Perhaps it was merely exhaustion clouding his judgment, the natural suspicion that often lingers in the aftermath of traumatic events. It was too easy to fall into paranoia.
The Temple had sent word. Master Lira would return today as she had been appointed as his formal mentor. He was to meet her at the mountain gate.
She would definitely have something more to say about the events, she actually took part in. That, at least, was solid.
The mountain gates were a hard half-day's ride form the city - far enough that no one came here by accident, close enough that its existence was never quite forgotten. The cave mouth yawned open at the end of a narrow gouge in the Azure Peaks.
It was a massive, weathered arch carved directly into the cave wall. The stone appeared grown rather than built, with veins of glowing crystal or rust-coloured ore tracing through it.
Soon Mokai stood before the gates, his gaze steady surveying all the details. As he waited, he could not help but think what was that that this simple arch kept hidden.
And then, without flare or delay, she arrived.
A tall, good-looking woman, robed in layered greys and deep sea-blues, her expression carved from quiet severity. Her eyes flicked over Mokai - measuring, but not unkind. She took him with scrutiny of a stern… mother…
"Mokai," she said.
Just that. No title. No formality. Her voice, still carrying authority, was wrapped in a unexpected warmth that caught Mokai off guard.
The silence settled between them like dust in the old chamber - undisturbed, undemanding.
Master Lira's eyes met his, and in that moment, something passed between them - a current of understanding that required no words. She had been there, after all, during those harrowing days when Pantax teetered on the edge of oblivion, struggling to maintain its tenuous connection to the known universe.
Mokai lowered his gaze briefly, his shoulders relaxing as the realization washed over him - she knew his fear. She understood the quiet terror that had lived within him. The dread of losing his home, his origins, his very identity.
When their eyes met again, hers held a depth that spoke volumes. She saw his relief, yes - the profound gratitude that Pantax had been saved - but there was recognition of something more. The subtle changes in his bearing, the new shadows and lights behind his eyes, the way his energy had shifted. She perceived without judgment how his experiences had transformed him, leaving him standing at a threshold between who he had been and who he was becoming.
The corner of her mouth curved almost imperceptibly - not quite a smile, but an affirmation. And for the first time in days, Mokai felt like he could breathe.
She was here now, not to return him to what he had been, but to guide him through what he was becoming. Between them stretched a bridge of silent understanding - mentor and student.
The change was liberating for Mokai. They spent their way back to the city discussing every detail of the events in Pantax and in Firme. He found himself speaking freely, words tumbling out after days of guarded silence, of doubts kept close to his chest.
But he did not understand why? Why had he trusted her so easily? Was it because she saved his home?
The question nagged at him as they crossed the final stretch of road leading to the city gates. She had noticed his sudden silence, the furrow between his brows deepening.
"Something troubles you," she said. Not a question, but an observation.
Mokai hesitated, then met her gaze. "I've shared my suspicions with you so easily that it surprises me. My trust in you surprises me. I can't make sense of it."
"Perhaps it's not about making sense. Trust isn't always rational."
"Then what is it?"
"Recognition," she said simply. "Some souls know each other, even in their first meeting."
He looked sharply at her as if seeing her for the first time.
It wasn't just gratitude for saving Pantax, though that was part of it. It was the way she looked at him. For years, he had existed as a backdrop in others' stories. A reliable character, never quite the protagonist of his own life. But she looked at him not as a convenient piece in someone else's vision, but as a person of substance and complexity. He felt seen. Was it that what his soul was longing for?
"I'm not asking you to follow blindly," she continued when he didn't speak. "Question me. Test what I tell you against what you know to be true. That's not weakness - it's wisdom."
The city gate loomed before them now, its shadow falling across their path, and the moment was broken. A guard called out, demanding their names and business. The crowded noise of the city washed over them. She straightened slightly, her demeanour shifting into something more formal. And the reality rushed in.
She had shared her account of what happened while unsealing the mountain gate.
"I set out with Lord Ryosei as planned," she began, her voice low enough that only Mokai could hear. "We were making good time until we reached the peaks foot."
"There had been a landslide in one of the villages - homes crushed, people trapped beneath the rubble. I couldn't just pass by." She shook her head slightly. "Ryosei was impatient, insisted our mission took precedence, but I... I stayed. Helped dig out survivors while he continued ahead with the guard."
"By the time I caught up… I don't know if something was wrong or not. The entrance to the cave was unguarded. Inside- " She paused, choosing her words carefully. "The guards were scattered, unconscious but alive. And Ryosei..." Her brow furrowed. "He stood before the gate. His eyes were unfocused, movements sluggish. He barely responded."
"There was nothing to the gates itself. The seals were broken, that much was clear. But there was nothing more. No surge of energy. No activity."
"When Lord Ryosei came to himself, he just said, he had exhausted his energy and had tired himself."
Just it?
Mokai had seen the unsealing the mountain gates before. It took no more than sending a pre-prepared missile. Had the collision made it different? Why did it drain everybody present? Could it be the reason for Lord Ryosei's change of behaviour? Exhaustion?
Master Lira was given chambers in the eastern wing of the citadel - the old observatory, fortunately not damaged in the collision. Fitting, Mokai thought. The glass dome above the main room had been layered with shielding; from within, the stars looked etched into polished crystal. It was a place of clarity and reflection.
Lord Ryosei received her with a formality that bordered on reverence. Not just the proper etiquette, but small, deliberate gestures: a personal escort through the halls, a cup of tea brewed by his own hand. It was rare for him to show such visible effort. It made Mokai uneasy. Lord Ryosei was deeply either relieved to have her here, or he was trying to mask the opposite.
Mokai kept these thoughts to himself as he moved on to his quiet inquiries.
He began by reviewing the roster from the mission to the mountain gates - those assigned to safeguard the way and the procedure. The list was easy enough to obtain but what followed gave him a pause. None of the guards remained where they had been.
Twenty-five guards had accompanied Lord Ryosei into the mountains that day. Fifteen had been left behind to assist Master Lira in managing the landslide. That remaining ten who had followed Lord Ryosei into the cave itself - by all accounts, returned alive. Shaken, but uninjured. There were no official reports of conflict or loss. And yet, as Mokai traced each name, a strange pattern began to emerge.
Of the ten, three had been quietly reassigned to far-flung logistical units managing supplies in remote regions. Two had been placed in decorative or ceremonial posts - guards of empty halls. One was listed on extended leave for "family illness," though there was no mention of kin in the personnel files. Another had retired early, with no public statement. Two more had been moved to minor garrison duties outside the city wall. One had simply vanished from the records, listed as "on reassignment" with no destination attached. And none had been reassigned together.
None of it made sense in a dire situation the city was, when all the working hands counted.
When Mokai asked around, the answers were vague. "Routine rotations," the captain of records told him. In the barracks he was met with blank stares, polite shrugs, and in a few cases, nervous smiles.
Soon, a more disturbing picture emerged. None were alive.
Five were listed as having died in accidents - a collapsed grain tower, a sudden fire in a remote barracks, a fatal fall, an explosion, struck by falling debris. All isolated, all chalked up to misfortune - random casualties of a city in recovery.
Two had been executed for misconduct. The trials had been brief. Their sentences carried out swiftly. The official records bore no appeals.
One had reportedly succumbed to illness - a fast-moving fever. No autopsy requested.
Another had gone missing en route to a reassignment. The file listed him as "presumed dead." No search had been authorized.
And one - the only woman in the group - was found drowned in a canal, with the report ruling it an accident despite her decade service in the water squadron - an elite unit trained to fight underwater.
This was deliberate.
And he was certain now - something had gone terribly wrong in that cave.
"You are certain?" asked Master Lira after he confined in her. Her tone betrayed no disbelief - only the burden of confirmation.
Mokai nodded.
"All ten. Reassigned, scattered, and now… dead. Not one survived."
Lira closed her eyes. When she spoke again, it was softer.
"I saw them. Lying there in the dust, still breathing. Bruised, shaken… but alive. I should have asked more questions."
"You had no reason to suspect-"
"There was every reason," she interrupted gently. "But Lord Ryosei gave me no answer. He stood there like a man who had merely exhausted his strength."
She turned at last, eyes narrowing as they searched Mokai's face.
"He lied to me. Or he left out the truth. Which is the same thing."
Mokai didn't answer. He didn't need to.
"You need to speak to him," she said. "There's something broken in him. I saw it that day. You are his son. You have the right and the obligation to ask."
His brow furrowed.
"You think he'll tell me?"
"I think he's waiting to see whether you'll ask. But I do not know whether it is good or bad."
Mokai had always found something deceptive in the calm of his father's study. The pale light filtering through the windows, the scent of tea steeped into the wood, the meticulous arrangement of scrolls and books - everything in this room whispered of order, of a world held in place by deliberate choices. It was almost enough to forget the cost of these choices.
Lord Ryosei sat at the low desk, hands resting loosely on his lap. He did not look up when Mokai entered, only gestured for him to sit.
Mokai bowed stiffly before taking the offered seat.
"I'm here," he said, "to ask what happened in the cave while the mountain gates were unsealed."
That was all he needed to say.
"I wondered how long it would take," Lord Ryosei said, voice calm, almost gentle.
"And you're not surprised."
"I knew you'd start asking questions."
"I looked for the guards, who accompanied you. For some witnesses. They're dead. All of them. The ten guards who entered the cave with you. One by one - reassigned, silenced, buried."
Ryosei's posture didn't shift.
"I know."
The simple admission struck harder than any denial.
"Why? What has happened there?" Mokai's breath hitched. "You won't tell me."
Ryosei nodded, once. "I chose not to."
"Why? I am your son."
"Yes, you are. And I am going to protect you. You are not ready for that. Nobody is. I am doing what I have to do for Pantax and for you."
"Father.. tell me so I can help you. Tell me, what we are facing. Tell me, so I can choose too. Don't make me follow blindly. Don't make me do things I don't understand."
For a heartbeat, Lord Ryosei looked as if he might speak. Something flickered in his gaze - a hesitation, a shadow of old tenderness. But it passed in an instant, replaced by deliberate coldness.
"Why are you questioning me? You've spent a handful of days with the Temple, and now you think yourself a seer? A strategist? Do you think that makes you ready to weigh the cost of decisions? You overestimate yourself."
Mokai didn't flinch, but his chest tightened.
"You knew I'd find out, and now you're shutting me out?"
"That is better for you. And for everyone," he said, not looking at Mokai. "You will know in time. For now, stay out of it. I know what I am doing."
The conversation was over. Not with a storm, but with the quiet, controlled force Lord Ryosei always used when he wanted to leave no room for argument.
"Yes, father."
Mokai bowed automatically and shallowly before stepping out into the corridor.
He returned to his usual rounds. He played his part without faltering - always present, always reliable, always in the background. The perfect son, perfect support. No one questioned him, and he questioned no one. That was the way things worked in Pantax.
It felt hollow now. A polished role, performed behind glass. Those few days in Mytharok, standing among the unknown with people who had dared to question, had stirred something in him. Hope for a change.
But back here, none of it mattered.