Chapter 38: The Massacre
The carriage rattled gently along the rocky path as the sun above cast its warm, soothing light over the landscape. But inside the carriage, the atmosphere was anything but calm.
Vesha sat in the back, tending to Jorvan, waiting for him to wake, hoping to draw even a fragment of information from the boy.
After the rank 4 Spark that had devastated her kingdom and then the Dawn Raven, this latest incident settled over her like a dark cloud. Her homeland was facing threat after threat, crumbling a little more each day—and it felt like there was nothing she could do.
Or was there?
Her eyes drifted forward to Adyr. He sat tall at the front, reins in hand, gaze fixed ahead, steady as if the world behind him didn't exist.
The worn, mismatched pajamas clinging to him were dusty and impractical, but they couldn't hide the natural grace in his posture. There was no tension in the way he held himself—only balance, stillness, and a calm authority that felt earned rather than performed.
His short, jet-black hair stirred faintly in the wind, lending a subtle elegance to a presence that asked for nothing, yet felt strangely central to everything around him.
Are all practitioners like him? Vesha wondered.
She had grown up hearing their stories, even though she'd only seen them a few times from afar, always finding comfort in simply knowing they existed. But spending time beside someone like him, observing how he moved, how he thought, and how he stayed composed in every moment, was something else entirely.
And now, with him so close, she couldn't help but feel that all her worries were nothing more than small details.
Maybe defeating a rank 4 Spark was beyond him right now, but it didn't feel like something he would fail at forever.