Since Isha's small flame kept burning in a broken camp far from safety…
and Lyra's team was marching back through the mist-coded jungle with plans of their own…
we should rise again.
Up through the cold night currents,
over cracked plains and torch-lit roads,
past distant caravans creeping like fireflies across dark terrain…
Until we reach a crooked outpost halfway between nowhere and nothing.
A slanted watchtower.
A battered sign.
A cluster of houses pretending to be a base.
This is the headquarters of a small private guild cell—
The Gray Lanterns.
And inside it, a boy leans on a spear and grins like trouble.
Jun Tenar.
---
Jun had seen a lot of strange rooms in his short life, but the Gray Lantern main hall was special. It looked like three merchants, two drunks, and one retired blacksmith had all tried to build a base at the same time and accidentally created a fort.
Crates everywhere.
Lanterns hung from mismatched hooks.
A map nailed directly into the wooden wall with a dagger.
Jun loved it instantly.
"You Tenar?" a deep voice grunted.
Jun turned to see a broad man with a permanently unimpressed expression. His hair was shaved on the sides but not the top, giving him the appearance of someone who'd lost a bet.
"That depends," Jun said cheerfully. "Am I in trouble or getting paid?"
"Both," the man replied. "Name's Harkan. I'm in charge. Sort of."
"Sort of?"
Harkan shrugged. "Everyone listens to me, but no one respects me. Perfect balance."
Jun smirked. He liked this place already.
Harkan gestured toward a nearby shelf. "Put your pack there. Your bed is the pallet under the left support beam. It's uneven, but so are you."
Jun considered taking offense but decided he liked uneven things.
He dropped his pack and slid his spear free from the leather strap.
Harkan grunted approvingly. "You a spear kid?"
"Yeah," Jun said. "I like long sticks that solve arguments."
"Good," Harkan said. "We need someone with humor. Everyone else here is miserable."
Jun looked around.
He saw a woman polishing a knife with the seriousness of a monk praying.
Another man trying to fix a lantern despite clearly having no idea how lanterns worked.
And someone asleep on top of a barrel.
"Feels homely," Jun muttered.
Harkan slapped a rolled-up parchment into Jun's chest. "Your first job. We ride out with the caravan at sunrise."
Jun blinked. "Already?"
"You think we hired you to sit and dream?"
Jun shrugged. "Well, dreaming is my second-best skill."
"What's the first?"
Jun grinned. "Chaotic survival."
Harkan snorted. "You'll fit right in."
---
The Caravan
Morning came cold and sharp.
Jun rode on the side seat of a transport cart, spear across his lap, cloak wrapped to his ears. Ahead, the canyon stretched—high cliffs, shifting wind, and too many blind corners.
The Gray Lanterns moved in formation:
Mara, the quiet scout
Seline, the knife expert with the personality of a dry cactus
Torv, the driver who probably had wheels instead of bones
Jun, the new kid with a spear and problems
Harkan, leading the convoy like a man daring the road to kill him
Torv clicked his tongue. "Tight path today. If something jumps us, scream early."
Jun nodded. "Noted. I'll scream in advanced warning."
Seline glared at him. "If you scream, it better be from dying."
"That's harsh," Jun said. "Can't I scream because I saw a spider?"
"No."
Jun nodded solemnly. "I respect your values."
Mara snorted. That was high praise from her.
---
The Ambush
The ambush began exactly where Harkan said it would.
Because criminals were predictable.
They struck from above—bandits sliding down ropes, masks pulled over faces, blades glinting in dawn light. Some carried Mirra-infused cords that vibrated with unstable energy.
Jun immediately thought:
Oh good, illegal toys. This will be fun.
The first bandit lunged at Jun's face. Jun ducked, spun, and jabbed with the butt of his spear, knocking the man flat.
"Hi! Sorry!" Jun said cheerfully.
He moved again—fast, instinctive, unpredictable. His spear traced tight arcs, not elegant, but effective.
And then—
He felt it.
That tiny shift.
That tug inside the air.
His Mirra. Manipulation.
Not dramatic.
Not flashy.
A subtle pull at a man's ankle.
A nudge slowing the swing of a blade.
A twist that unbalanced a lunging attacker by just enough.
The battlefield became a puzzle, and Jun loved puzzles.
A large bandit charged at Torv's cart, intending to smash the wheels.
Jun planted his spear and flicked his fingers.
The bandit's foot caught an invisible snag—his center of gravity yanked half a step off.
He stumbled sideways, crashed into his own comrades, and Mara took him out cleanly.
Harkan looked back once, eyebrows raised.
Jun grinned like an idiot.
---
Spear and Strings
Fighting in the canyon became messy.
Seline weaved through attackers like a razor.
Mara provided cover with precise arrows.
Harkan bulldozed forward like he was carved from stone.
Torv cursed continuously.
Jun was everywhere at once.
His spear danced.
His Mirra tugged threads.
The bandits fell.
One tried to throw a Mirra-cord at Jun, but Jun manipulated the angle of the man's wrist by an invisible fraction.
The cord missed Jun entirely and wrapped the bandit's own leg.
"Oops," Jun said. "Fingers are tricky."
The man screamed as Seline kicked him off the ridge.
"Don't use your tricks on me," she snapped.
Jun held up his hands. "I promise nothing."
After ten minutes, the bandits retreated, dragging their wounded, shouting curses.
Harkan let out a long, satisfied breath.
"Not bad, Tenar," he said.
Jun spun his spear once. "Not bad for someone who failed an exam for 'being too unpredictable.'"
Harkan smirked. "Guess unpredictability has uses nowadays."
---
The Aftermath
The caravan halted for repairs. Torv inspected the wheels while muttering a continuous stream of complaints.
Seline cleaned her knives. Mara scouted ahead. Harkan drew a rough map in the dirt.
Jun collapsed onto a crate and stared up at the sky.
He felt good.
Not proud.
Not heroic.
Just… useful.
He liked being useful.
Harkan walked over and dropped a canteen into Jun's lap. "Drink."
Jun drank.
"You've got skill," Harkan said. "But you need training. Controlled training. Mirra manipulation can make or break you."
Jun shrugged. "I like learning by nearly dying."
"That stops today. You survive tonight, we start tomorrow morning."
Jun groaned loudly. "Morning?"
"Yes."
"Before breakfast?"
"Yes."
"Can we negotiate this?"
"No."
Jun sighed dramatically. "Fine. But I will complain every step."
Harkan gave him a look that Jun translated as good.
The Gray Lanterns didn't praise openly.
They didn't celebrate.
They didn't care about glory.
They only cared about whether someone could hold their own.
Jun had held his own today.
Tomorrow he would be trained.
And maybe—just maybe—become someone the world actually needed.
---
Jun lay back on the caravan roof as dusk settled.
He tapped his spear against the wood.
He wondered briefly what Rynn or Isha or Kael were doing now.
Then he closed his eyes.
He had work tomorrow.
And work meant survival.
Survival meant progress.
Jun smiled.
"Not bad for a failed examinee," he whispered to himself.
The canyon wind answered with silence.
---
End of Chapter 55
---