THE PRICE OF SEEKING HELP
Night fell over the village in a blanket of silvery shadows, where bonfires stood like small beacons of warmth against the growing cold. The air smelled of smoke, damp wood, and the herbs Taliena had gathered to keep the bandages fresh on Zyrion's body. The tension was palpable: every word seemed louder than usual, every glance carried a weight that was difficult to conceal.
Kyrahna sat near the fire, knees drawn up and arms wrapped around them. Her gaze, lost in the flames, flickered repeatedly toward Zyrion's motionless silhouette. Beside her, Caelithra maintained the same silence, but her face betrayed a mixture of suppressed rage and a fear she tried to conceal. Finally, she broke the silence.
"He's going to wake up, Kyrahna. He has to. It's not the first time we've seen him come back from something impossible."
Kyrahna slowly turned her head, her eyes gleaming in the firelight. "I know… but this time it feels different. Something about him has changed, as if that wound isn't just physical. As if he's trapped somewhere we can't reach."
The words were suspended for a moment. Taliena, who at that moment was adjusting a damp cloth on Zyrion's forehead, barely raised her voice.
"I don't know him as well as you do... but I've seen men on the brink of death before. And he... he doesn't seem to give up. Even though he's asleep, even though he doesn't open his eyes, his body is fighting. It's as if his very spirit is clinging to something I don't understand."
Kyrahna gave a faint, bitter smile. "That's Zyrion. He never lets anything go, even if it hurts."
Caelithra, her fists clenched on her knees, added softly, "Perhaps that is her greatest gift... and also her curse."
Standing a little further away, Karion observed everything with his usual cool calm. His crossed arms and firm posture seemed to indicate disinterest, but his eyes betrayed his true concern. He said nothing, not wanting the others to notice, but he didn't take his eyes off Zyrion.
The rest of the group, gathered in a wider circle around the fire, spoke to each other in whispers. Cilera watched with curiosity and a touch of unease. "It's strange... you speak of him as if he's been by your side for centuries. But to me, he's like staring at an impenetrable wall. Who is Zyrion, really?"
Valric rested his chin on his hand, lost in thought. "That's what I wonder too. He's not just a warrior, not just a wielder… there's something more about him. His presence… it's different. As if he carries a secret within him that none of us should know."
Ryvak frowned, his tone harsher. "Secrets or not, he's still a man of flesh and blood, and right now he's on the brink. There's no point in guessing who he is. What matters is whether he'll open his eyes tomorrow."
Maerisse, who was sitting very close to Ysmera, nodded slowly. "But you can't deny that his aura is different. Even wounded, he seems... to contain something immense. I felt it when they brought him in. It's as if the village itself tenses around him."
Ysmera, her voice calm but penetrating, interjected. "I felt it too. Her energy... it's not just hers. It's intertwined with something much larger. Perhaps that's why two wielders remain by her side."
Nivhira, with her natural curiosity, asked, "And why Quindarion and Velkran specifically? There are other bearers, but they don't leave his side for a moment. What do they know that we don't?"
Their eyes turned to the two bearers. Quindarion, seated beside Zyrion's bed, kept his gaze fixed on him, as if each breath anchored him to the present. Finally, he answered, his voice deep and measured.
"Zyrion carries more than anyone here can imagine. I can't speak of everything I know, not yet. But I can tell you this: there are fragments that resonate more strongly with each other. Mine… the one about teleportation… and his… are linked by a bond that even I don't fully understand."
Velkran, with a less solemn but equally firm air, added: "I stay here because I need to. It's not just loyalty, it's... instinct. My fragment pulls me towards it, as if something in Zyrion is calling to it. I've never felt this way about anyone else."
The words silenced the circle, processing their meaning. Kyrahna lowered her gaze, as if confirming what she had always suspected. Caelithra took a deep breath, almost a whisper.
"So... we're not alone in this. Zyrion is a bridge. And if it falls, we all might fall."
Taliena, while changing another bandage, murmured without taking her eyes off her task. "Then we won't let him fall. Not while I'm still breathing."
The fire crackled loudly, throwing sparks into the air, as if the night itself heard and approved those words. The tension didn't disappear, but it transformed into a silent bond between them all: an invisible pact to resist until Zyrion could open his eyes.
The air in the village had grown thick, as if each breath were harder than the last. The trees surrounding the huts seemed silent, and not even the crickets dared to break the stillness. The central fire illuminated everyone's faces with a warm glow, but even so, the cold seeped through the cracks in the wood and stones. It was a different kind of cold, unnatural, as if it came from something much deeper.
Zyrion lay on the makeshift bed, his breathing slow but steady. With each exhalation, an invisible tension seemed to release just a little, but it returned immediately, like a taut rope that refused to break.
Miranth, the bearer of illusion, had been silent the entire time, watching from the shadows of one of the huts. His eyes gleamed restlessly, as if he saw beyond what the others could perceive. Finally, he stepped forward, breaking the stillness with his soft, enigmatic voice.
"This won't be enough. Care, vigilance, silence... none of this will help if we don't get more help. I feel it in the very air, in the cracks of his spirit. Something is coming, and if Zyrion doesn't wake up soon, we'll be in a dangerous position."
Psyrion, sitting on a nearby rock, fidgeted with his fingers as if playing an invisible piano. His closed eyes gave the impression that he was listening to other people's thoughts. After a few seconds, he spoke in a calm but unsettling tone.
"I agree with him. We can't stand idly by. My fragment allows me to sense the storm brewing in other people's minds, and Zyrion's is no exception. He's trapped in an inner labyrinth he can't cross alone. We need another wielder. One who can balance what's tearing apart inside him."
Kyrahna raised her gaze, her fury barely contained. "And you intend to leave him like this, to go off in search of someone else while he struggles to breathe here? What kind of allies would you be if you abandoned him now?"
Miranth held her gaze without blinking. "No one spoke of abandonment. If we stay, we're useless. If we leave, we can bring the help that will save him. What do you prefer, Kyrahna? To have us here as spectators, or to return with someone who can make a difference?"
Caelithra leaned forward, interrupting. "Who do you intend to seek? Speak plainly, for if you leave this village with empty words, I will not follow you with confidence."
Psyrion opened his eyes, his pupils reflecting the fire with an unsettling gleam. "There is a wielder not everyone knows about, one who keeps his distance. His power... is delicate, but necessary at this moment. If we can convince him, perhaps we can balance what is now consuming Zyrion from within."
Taliena pressed her hands against the damp bandage on Zyrion's chest. "That sounds like an empty promise. While you two are away, he could..." Her lips trembled, and she didn't finish the sentence.
Kyrahna interrupted her with a whisper, looking at her with a mixture of tenderness and severity. "He's not going to die. Not while I'm watching over him. And not while we're all holding him up. If you decide to leave, do it quickly, but don't come back with empty hopes. Because if you do… I won't forgive you."
The silence that followed was long, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Valric, who until now had observed in silence, spoke in a more practical tone.
"If they're going to leave, they should do so before dawn. Night covers their steps, but day exposes everything. We don't know who else is watching this village from the shadows."
Ryvak grunted, stamping his boot on the ground. "I don't like the idea. Two fewer carriers here means less defense if someone shows up. But I also can't deny that they might be right."
Maerisse nodded slowly. "I feel the same as Ryvak. This village is on the edge of something strange, as if the spirits themselves are watching us. We need all the protection we can get."
Ysmera then spoke, her voice low and calm. "The real question is... who is this bearer they're looking for? If they dare to risk so much, it can't be just anyone."
Nivhira leaned forward, her voice sharp and inquisitive. "Exactly. Who is it? An ally or someone who might turn against us?"
Miranth and Psyrion exchanged a brief glance. They didn't speak immediately, as if weighing the weight of their words. Finally, Miranth replied, a hint of mystery in his voice.
"They'll know when we get back... if we get back with him."
The response elicited a murmur from those present. Kyrahna clenched her jaw, but didn't press the issue. She knew that forcing them to talk further would only delay the decision.
In the midst of it all, Quindarion broke his silence. He stood and spoke with serene firmness. "Let them go. Psyrion and Miranth do not lie. Sometimes the path to salvation lies not in holding on, but in seeking what is missing. I will remain here with Velkran. Together we will take care of Zyrion and of you."
Velkran, leaning on his spear, smirked. "Don't worry, no one will get past us so easily. And if they try... well, I'll show them what speed means when it becomes an insurmountable wall."
Kyrahna sighed, looking away. Caelithra closed her eyes for a few seconds, as if reluctantly accepting. Taliena continued watching over Zyrion, though her breathing trembled more than his. Karion remained silent, his dark eyes following every movement like a guardian hidden in the shadows.
Finally, Miranth and Psyrion stood up. The fire reflected off their silhouettes, and the entire village seemed to hold its breath.
"We will return," Miranth said in a firm tone.
"And we will bring him what he needs," Psyrion added with an unsettling calm.
And with those words, they walked away into the darkness of the forest, while the others were left behind, with a greater emptiness amidst their doubts and fear.
Kyrethron did not fall because it was weak. It fell because it knew too much.