Kota collapsed near the base of a dead tree, bark scraping his shoulder as he went down.
A few yards away, hidden completely within the thick foliage, Jaeger stood like a silent statue. Whiteflame flickered faint in his eyes.
His vision blurred as a sudden, dizzying wave of nausea tore through his skull. The internal pressure threatened to rip him apart from the inside out.
Breathe. Just breathe.
Jaeger watched Kota struggle, his hands steady at his sides as his eyes tracked Kota's agony.
Jaeger wanted to step forward and help, but his legs remained firmly locked in place.
He knew he could do nothing to ease this burden, and he refused to interfere with another warrior's internal battle.
Amidst the roaring static in Kota's mind, a low, giggling echo cut through the pain.
Happy birthday, boy, the voice sang inside his consciousness, her tone dripping with a sweet, mocking innocence.
Kota gritted his teeth so hard they throbbed, completely ignoring her.
He pressed his palms flat against his chest, trying to hold his own breaking body together as the annual outburst finally took hold.
Oh, don't be like that, look at how much you're hurting without me, she cooed, her presence shifting like warm, deceptive waves.
You really think a boy like you can carry all this delicious agony entirely on your own?
"Shut up," Kota choked out aloud, blood dripping from his lower lip where he had bitten through the skin. "Get out of my head."
Can you feel that? The Voice purred, her tone shifting sharp. The whiteflame is near, boy. Watching you squirm.
He sees you suffering and does nothing, she said, her voice dropping low as anger bled through her mocking tone.
I'm the only one who truly understands your pain and you bleed so easily when you try to push me away.
Kota yelled, the sound muffled by the thick canopy of dead trees.
Chaotic purple energy tried to rip out from his chest, threatening to tear him apart from within.
From his vantage point in the brush, Jaeger observed the volatile energy with a hard, unreadable stare.
He remained completely motionless, acting as a lone sentinel in the dark while the boy fought for his life.
Fight it all you want, boy, we both know you and I look good together, and after all, we are stuck together.
The internal war raged for what felt like hours until the purple energy slowly receded, leaving Kota trembling, soaked in cold sweat, and completely spent in the dirt.
"Can you stop antagonizing me and go away," Kota whispered to the darkness, his voice raw and trembling.
For now, the Voice hummed softly, her presence retreating back into the deepest corners of his mind.
But remember this feeling, boy.
Kota slowly dragged himself up, using the rough bark of the dead tree to stabilize his shaking legs.
He wiped the blood from his chin, his breathing shallow as he looked back toward the faint, orange glow of the distant campfire.
"I won't let you break me," Kota muttered to himself, his fingers digging into his palms.
You're already broken, boy, the Voice whispered one last time before going completely silent.
You just haven't realized it yet.
Jaeger watched Kota begin his slow, unsteady walk back toward the campsite.
Only when Kota was a safe distance away did Jaeger finally turn and melt back into the deeper shadows of the woods.
The next four days of travel became a blur of absolute exhaustion as the crew pushed through the final stretch of the dead lands.
Nobody spoke of Kota's outburst, but the tension in the group was thick enough to cut with Thorne's hunting knife.
On the morning of the eighth day, the oppressive gray dust finally gave way to massive, imposing white stone walls that stretched high into the sky.
The Kingdom of Solstia.
"We made it," Mira breathed, staring up at the gleaming, golden gates of the massive fortress city. "It looks beautiful."
"Don't get your hopes up just yet," Thorne muttered, loosening the blade in his sheath.
As they approached the main drawbridge, a loud, mechanical horn blasted from the top of the ramparts, shaking the dust beneath their boots.
A dozen royal guards clad in heavy, mirror polished silver armor stepped out from the shadows of the gate, their long halberds lowered directly at Kota's chest.
"Halt, wasteland rats," the lead guard barked, his eyes locking instantly onto the faded, ragged clothes of the group. "State your business before we execute you where you stand."
Kota didn't flinch.
The archers lined up along the high stone ledge above, pulling back their bows and aiming directly at them below.
"Wait, don't fire," a deep, commanding voice suddenly echoed from the top of the ramparts, cutting through the tense silence. "We don't operate like that."
A tall, elderly man wrapped in regal robes walked out upon the ledge, looking down at the crew with sharp, evaluating eyes.
The guards instantly stiffened, bowing their heads as the King of Solstia stared directly at the exhausted young man at the front of the line.
"Boy, state your business here," the king demanded, his voice carrying effortlessly across the open drawbridge.
Leiya quickly stepped forward, adjusting her grip on her map case.
"Your Majesty, we have traveled through the dead lands to seek..."
"Be quiet," the king cut her off instantly, pointing a stern finger down toward the center of the group. "I am speaking to the boy."
Leiya froze, her mouth snapping shut as she slowly stepped back.
Kota turned to her, his expression entirely flat. "Hand me the letter and the map."
Leiya hesitated for a brief second before pulling the worn, folded documents from her pack and sliding them into Kota's hand.
Kota held the papers up toward the ledge, his grip firm despite the lingering ache in his bones.
"You sent my mother a letter several years ago," Kota said clearly.
The king frowned, his eyes narrowing as he leaned over the stone railing. "And who exactly was your mother?"
"Leona Speedhardt," Kota said.
The king went still, the color draining from his weathered face as the name echoed off the high white walls.
"Lower your bows," the king commanded, his voice suddenly thick with an emotion the guards had never heard before.
Up on the ramparts, an archer named Bijan slowly let the tension out of his bowstring, his eyes widening in pure shock as he stared down at Kota.
"Why? Who is he, and who is Leona?"
Beside him, another archer named Jarek kept his bow tightly drawn, the string strained to its absolute limit as he glared down at the crew.
"Sire, they came from the wasteland."
"Lower your bow, Jarek," the king snapped, his gaze locked strictly on Kota.
The king leaned further over the ledge, his hands gripping the white stone until his knuckles turned pale. "Speak your name."
"My name is Kota Leone Speedhardt," Kota replied, his voice steady. "Eighth child to Kalamity and Leona Speedhardt."
"How do I know you're not lying?" the king challenged, though his voice trembled slightly.
"Anyone can claim a dead name to gain entry to my city."
"The letter states your name," Kota responded, holding the faded paper higher.
"It says the King of Solstia. Leona's uncle, her parents died years ago, and that you wanted her to come home and be queen of her nation."
Kota took a slow step forward, his eyes locking with the old ruler. "But she never came."
The king went rigid, the specific details of his own private past striking him like a physical blow.
He stared at the young man's face, tracing the faint, unmistakable lines of his family lineage beneath the dirt and exhaustion.
"Open the gates," the king ordered quietly.
Jarek kept his arrow pointed straight at Kota's head, his jaw clenched in tight defiance.
"But why, my Lord? Who are these people to deserve entrance into Solstia?"
"Do not question my motives, boy," the king roared, turning a furious glare toward the stubborn archer. "Do what I said, now!"
Bijan quickly reached over and grabbed Jarek's arm, forcing his bow down before the king's wrath escalated any further.
Down below, the silver armored guards at the gate exchanged uneasy glances, but they immediately moved out of the way, dragging their heavy halberds backward to clear the path.
With a massive, grinding roar of iron and stone, the golden gates of Solstia began to slowly swing inward.
As the heavy gates parted, a rush of warm, vibrant air swept over the trembling crew, carrying the scent of rich ozone, blooming flowers, and pure, unfiltered magical energy.
The kingdom before them was incredibly lively, bursting with a blinding, kaleidoscopic brilliance that contrasted sharply against the dead gray wastes behind them.
Everywhere Kota looked, citizens were casually floating through the bright air or flying gracefully between massive, towering spires of white and gold.
Vibrant streams of raw elemental energy swirled through the bustling streets like liquid ribbons, powered by some large radiant glowing rocks.