The air at the palace gates was thick with unspoken farewells. Saturu stood with Kayon, the weight of his journey already settling on his shoulders. The elven sorcerer broke the silence, his voice as calm as ever, yet carrying an edge of grim certainty.
Saturu paused at the edge of a mist-laden glade, his body tense, senses alert. The journey to Skull Mountain had tested him in ways no battlefield ever could, but this… this was different. The air felt charged, almost alive, as though the world itself recognized the gravity of the moment.
A soft sound, carried by the wind, pulled him forward—a voice he thought he would never hear again.
"Saturu…"
He froze. His chest tightened, a familiar ache twisting through him. That voice warm, desperate, yet full of quiet strength pulled at the deepest corners of his memory.
"It's you," Saturu said with a low voice.
"Lysera?" His voice was rough, ragged from disuse, but it carried the weight of disbelief and hope.
A figure emerged from the fog, sunlight catching on strands of brown hair and eyes that mirrored his own. She looked unchanged, yet older, tempered by time, and yet… unmistakably her. Her lips trembled as she whispered his name again.
"Saturu…"
He stepped forward, hands trembling, eyes wide. Memories flooded back the laughter, the shared secrets, the warmth of her hand in his. The past and present collided violently, and he felt his chest tighten, not with pain, but with something far heavier: recognition, relief, and guilt.
Lysera stopped a few steps away, her gaze locked on him. "I… I never thought I'd see you again." Her voice cracked, the barrier of months and grief finally breaking.
"I thought I lost you," she said as she cried.
A sob escaped her.
Lysera's eyes softened. "Saturu… you survived. You're here. That's enough." She took a hesitant step forward, closing the final gap as she hugged him. Saturu, still shocked by this, decided to give in as he hugged her back.
Tears glimmered in her eyes, and for the first time in centuries, Saturu allowed himself to feel the fragile relief of reunion, the warmth of a bond thought forever broken. "I am glad you stood by my side," Saturu said. "Now all I want from you is to be safe."
Lysera nodded, determination shining through her fear. "And I'll stand by your side, no matter what."
"Take care," she whispered, her voice breaking, "and come back safely." She pulled him into a crushing embrace, her arms trembling with the force of her worry. In her touch, for the first time from his awakening, Saturu felt hope not the reckless hope of a boy, but the tempered, fierce hope of someone who had survived death and betrayal, now finding the family he thought lost forever.
Over her shoulder, Kayon watched them, his expression unreadable. When she finally released Saturu, the sorcerer cleared his throat awkwardly. "Can I also get a hug?"
Saturu fixed him with a deadpan stare, then made a subtle hand gesture the universal sign for "stop" or "talk to the hand." "I hope this suffices for the journey," he said flatly, gripping the hilt of his current sword.
Before Kayon could respond, Saturu focused his energy and teleported in a flash of light, leaving nothing but empty air where he'd stood.
Kayon sighed, staring at the vacant space. "I really hope he comes back early," he murmured to himself. "This is a calm before the storm."
A soft sob broke his reverie. Lysera had begun crying in earnest, her shoulders shaking with silent tears. Kayon moved to her side, his usual composure softening. He pulled her into a one-handed hug. As they embraced, a faint blush colored the sorcerer's cheeks the first crack in his eternal calm.
---
Saturu's teleportation deposited him not at the foot of Skull Mountain, but in a mist-shrouded valley that seemed to swallow sound and light. The air hung heavy and cold, and an unnatural silence pressed in on all sides. Before him, the mountain proper rose a jagged fang of black stone against a starless sky, its peak wreathed in a perpetual, lightning-laced storm. This was the outer boundary.
The path to the base was a gauntlet. The valley floor was a graveyard of ambition, littered with the bones of failed aspirants and the shattered remnants of their weapons. Echoes of their final moments whispered on the edge of his hearing desperate screams, the clash of steel, and the sickening crunch of breaking bone. Phantasmal warriors, the lingering spirits of the fallen, would occasionally coalesce from the mist to test his resolve with silent, deadly attacks. He dispatched them not with the overwhelming force of his Divine Authority, but with the precise, economical movements Kayon had beaten into him, conserving his strength for the true trial ahead.
After a day and night of this grim procession, he stood before the entrance to the mountain itself: a vast, dark opening in the cliff face that resembled a gaping maw. The air that poured from it was ancient and dry, carrying the scent of stone dust and ozone. Taking a final, steadying breath, Saturu stepped across the threshold into the darkness.
Inside, the darkness gave way to an impossible, cavernous space that defied the mountain's external dimensions. He stood in a vast hall, its architecture a blend of natural cavern and polished obsidian. The ceiling was lost in shadow, but the walls... the walls were lined with countless mirrors, each one framed in tarnished silver and bone.
He approached the nearest one. Instead of his own reflection, he saw a younger version of himself, barely a teenager, weeping over the body of his sister on a rain-swept battlefield five hundred years past. The image was a physical blow, the guilt and grief as fresh as the day it happened. He tore his eyes away, his jaw tight.
---
Meanwhile, at Kayon's palace, the air shimmered with divine energy as Kayon stood before a radiant, furious Goddess. This was no mere projection it was the sorcerer's true self, facing judgment in the higher planes.
"Great Sorcerer of Elves!" the Goddess's voice boomed, each word striking like thunder. "You have broken the taboo by saving that child! What do you hope to accomplish? Hmph."
Kayon met her gaze steadily, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "A goddess that fears a child?" he retorted, his voice dripping with contempt. "He even poses a threat to a so-called goddess. How far have you fallen for your pride?"
The Goddess's form blazed with incandescent fury. "Repent of your arrogance!" she commanded, and a spear of pure divine energy materialized in her hand, its point aimed directly at Kayon's heart.
But the sorcerer didn't flinch. His eyes glowed with ancient power as he began weaving a counter-spell, the air around him crackling with barely-contained energy. The confrontation had begun, and the consequences would ripple through every realm.