THE SILENCE BEFORE THE HURRICANE
The air in the cabin seemed thicker, as if the walls had heard what he didn't dare repeat. The wood creaked under the weight of the silence, and each spark from the fireplace cast long, distorted shadows that seemed to stare at him. Zyrion lay back, his bandages stuck to his skin with sweat and dried blood, breathing with difficulty, but what truly suffocated him wasn't the wound: it was the phrase he couldn't erase from his mind.
"I am the beginning of your end."
That sentence had become seared into him like a branding iron. It wasn't a mere threat, nor a phrase uttered randomly by an enemy seeking to break his will. It was deeper, more enigmatic. Something within Zyrion—that part of his being he didn't even understand—reacted every time he recalled those words. As if they weren't foreign, as if they had been written in some forgotten corner of his soul since time immemorial.
He placed a hand on his chest, right where the steel had pierced him. The physical pain kept him tethered to the present, but the invisible wound was far worse.
"What did he mean by that?" he thought, his gaze lost on the wooden ceiling. His eyes barely followed the slow movement of the smoke escaping toward the crack. "Is it destiny? Is it a curse? Or am I myself the key to something that shouldn't be opened?"
He shuddered. His body begged for rest, but his mind was awake, sleepless, trapped in an abyss of unanswered questions. The most unsettling thing was that feeling of familiarity: that phrase wasn't just an external message, it was as if it had awakened something that already lay dormant within him, something that recognized those words but refused to reveal itself.
"I am the beginning of your end."
The repetition tore at him silently. It meant too many things and nothing at the same time. The end could be death, yes, but it could also be something else: the collapse of his purpose, the destruction of everything around him, or even the awakening of something he had tried to bury. And the beginning… that dark beginning, perhaps it wasn't the end of his life, but the beginning of a truth greater than himself.
Zyrion squeezed his eyes shut. The room vanished, leaving only that white mask in his memory, floating in the gloom, a constant reminder that there was no escape. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he fought or resisted, the weight of those words would haunt him to the very end of his days.
"I am the beginning of your end..." he muttered between his teeth, barely audible, as if he needed to hear it in his own voice to convince himself that it was real.
But as she did so, she felt a chill run down her spine. It wasn't just a warning. It was a truth that had already begun to unfold.
For a moment, he wondered if he should share it with the others. If Kyrahna, Caelithra, or Karion should hear what he had experienced on that border between life and death. But the answer came immediately: no. No one could bear that burden. If he spoke, doubt would spread like poison, and perhaps destroy them all before the threat even revealed itself.
The fire crackled fiercely in the fireplace, as if the very air itself sought to disrupt the flow of his thoughts. Zyrion opened his eyes and stared at the flames. The dancing reflection painted his face with gold and shadow, and in that fleeting mingling of light, he understood that this sentence was not the end, but the beginning of something just emerging from the shadows.
I didn't know when or how, but something was awakening.
And in her silence, with lips sealed and her chest burning with pain, she swore that it didn't matter what those words meant. She would hold on, even if it meant shattering into a thousand pieces inside.
Because if that man was the beginning of his end, then he would find a way to be the end of his beginning.
Caelithra was the first to awaken. She opened her eyes slowly, as if unwilling to break the silence that enveloped the vast stone hall where they stood. The gloom was pierced by threads of light that filtered through high cracks in the ancient walls, illuminating particles of dust suspended in the air. Everything seemed still, as if the world itself had decided to hold its breath so as not to disturb Zyrion's rest.
The first thing that came to her mind was him.
"Zyrion..." she murmured to herself, barely a whisper, as if saying his name aloud might awaken him.
She gently turned her head and saw him. He was still asleep, lying in a corner bathed in a glow that seemed almost supernatural. His face, serene yet marked by battle wounds, conveyed a mixture of calm and fragility that stirred her heart. There was something about the way the white aura still enveloped him, however faint, that reminded her he was not like the others.
Caelithra sat up slowly, her movements barely audible against the cold floor. The air carried a damp scent of ancient stone, moss, and distant ashes, as if the place had witnessed centuries of wars and secrets.
She hugged herself for a moment. She had survived too many nights of uncertainty, but this one was different. The sight of Zyrion, motionless, made her feel that if he disappeared, everything else would lose its meaning.
Kyrahna was the next to awaken. She stretched her arms with a sigh and looked at Caelithra, immediately noticing the intensity with which she gazed at Zyrion. She walked toward her with soft steps, her loose hair reflecting the strands of light.
"Since you opened your eyes, all you think about is him, right?" he asked in a low voice, sitting down next to her.
Caelithra didn't take her eyes off Zyrion. "I can't help it. He carries too much. I saw him fall in front of that man with the white mask... And yet, he's still breathing. I don't know if it's a miracle or a curse."
Kyrahna looked at her silently for a few seconds, then smiled with a hint of tenderness. "It was always different. You knew it from the beginning. And I felt it too… though in a different way. But now it's more in your thoughts than in mine."
Caelithra pressed her lips together. "It's not just that I think it. It's that I feel it here." She placed a hand on her chest, pressing hard. "Like my life is tied to his."
At that moment, Karion sat up, brushing the dust off his clothes with a brusque gesture. He had always been the most practical of the group, but his eyes betrayed him; he was tired, worried.
"Are you talking about him again?" he blurted out in a harsh tone, although his voice carried a weariness more emotional than physical.
Caelithra glanced at him sideways. "Yes. Because he's the reason we're still here."
Karion snorted and ran a hand over the back of his neck. "I don't deny it. But obsessing over his rest won't heal him any faster. We need to think about what we'll do when he wakes up. The enemy isn't going to wait for him to heal."
Taliena woke up upon hearing those last words. She sat up slowly, her messy hair falling across her face. Her gaze was calm, but full of curiosity.
"The enemy doesn't wait, that's true," he said as he approached. "But the enemy also doesn't understand what it means to have a bond like this. Zyrion isn't alone because each of us carries him within us, in one way or another."
There was a heavy silence. Caelithra closed her eyes for a moment, then stood up, walking slowly toward where Zyrion slept. She bent over him, studying every feature of his face, every scar.
"What I would give for her to open her eyes now..." she whispered, almost breaking down.
Kyrahna also stood up and stood behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You can't live on what you wish would happen, Caelithra. You need strength for when he awakens, because believe me... that day will bring not peace, but storm."
Caelithra turned to her, her eyes glistening with tears she'd held back. "I know. But at least, if everything falls apart, I want him to know... that I was always here, watching over him, waiting for him."
Karion sighed and sat in a corner, watching them. "Then stand firm. Because if he is the fire, you will be the air that keeps that flame alive. If you fall, he will fall."
Taliena walked slowly around the group, caressing the stones as if she heard voices within them. "This place holds ancient memories. It's as if it knows who Zyrion is... and what his destiny is. I wouldn't be surprised if even these walls watch over him, just as you do, Caelithra."
The words resonated with everyone.
The silence fell again, heavy, dense, until Caelitra broke it once more, looking directly at Kyrahna.
"Do you miss him too, even though he's right here, just a few steps away?"
Kyrahna lowered her gaze and smiled wistfully. "Yes. Because missing someone doesn't always mean absence. Sometimes it means wishing someone would wake up, speak to you, look at you like before... And now he seems so far away, even though he's right there."
Caelithra remained silent, gently stroking Zyrion's sleeping hand. The faint warmth she felt was enough to keep her clinging to the idea that he was still with them.
And deep down, they all knew that this rest was merely the calm before a hurricane that would sweep them all away.
Something beneath Kyrethron was never meant to awaken.