The sun had dipped beneath the jagged peaks of the realm's borderlands by the time the dust from their sparring settled. The worn training grounds lay cracked and quiet now, still steaming in some places from the force of their attacks. Hatku's breath was steady but heavy. Tashina stretched her limbs, eyes still watching Shyla, who brushed dirt off her loose shirt and flicked sweat from her brow like it was nothing.
"I don't know about you two," Shyla said, running a hand through her long, red-and-black hair, "but I'm starving. And it's getting late."
She turned to them with a playful grin. "Why don't you come over? My father's old place isn't far. Still has a working kitchen—and a lot of weapons that would make a god blush."
Hatku and Tashina exchanged a glance, unsure if it was caution or curiosity between them.
But curiosity won.
The walk through the dense orange-lit trees was quiet, the sky above them dimming into violet. When they finally arrived, Shyla pushed open the wide steel door to a mansion of stone and bone. The house itself seemed to hum with a dormant power. Vines climbed its edges, but the structure was untouched by time—preserved in reverence.
"This place…" Hatku whispered, stepping in.
"Yeah," Tashina added. "It feels… legendary."
Weapons hung on every wall: double-edged spears, blades that shimmered between colors, bows that buzzed with lightning even at rest. Runes were etched along the walls—some glowing faintly in Shyla's presence as she passed.
They wandered into a wide room that looked more like a royal vault than a dining hall. In the center, an enormous round table made of bone-white stone sat untouched.
"Sit," Shyla said, dusting off a bench. "I'll make something quick."
She vanished into the side corridor with a confident sway in her step.
Hatku stared after her for a beat too long.
Tashina nudged him. "You good?"
He snapped out of it. "Yeah. Just… this place."
He turned, and his eyes landed on a massive framed image hung high on the far wall. A painting. A man—tall, chiseled, eyes fierce like a storm—held the Blade of Fears in one hand and conjured a flame in the other. The fire in the painting seemed to flicker on its own.
Hatku tilted his head. "Could that be her father?"
Tashina looked up. "Who?"
He pointed. "The guy in the picture."
She studied it. "I… I'm not sure. Maybe. The way she talked about him… it could be."
A silence settled between them as the firelight from the corner torch crackled softly.
Then Tashina leaned closer and whispered, "So… what now? We have her. The one who's never lost. The one with powers even we don't understand."
Hatku didn't respond.
Tashina's voice lowered further. "Are you going to kill her? Or wait until the moment is right?"
Hatku's eyes darkened, but not with rage—conflict.
"I can't kill an innocent soul," he finally said. "She's not hurting anyone. And besides… we're not even sure if she really is the Ultimate Being."
Tashina didn't press. But the weight of her silence said more than words.
Then the aroma hit them—something warm, spiced, and rich.
Shyla returned, carrying a tray of dishes. Steam curled off the plates: roasted duskmeat, firefruit stew, and crispy root chips that glowed faintly under the torchlight.
"I hope you're hungry," she said with a grin, setting the food down.
Hatku's stomach growled instantly. "That smells… incredible."
The three of them feasted quietly at first, savoring every bite. The room softened with the comfort of warm food and flickering light.
After a while, Shyla set her fork down and wiped her mouth.
"I've been alone here for a while," she said. "Feels good to talk again. So… if it's okay with you two, I'd like to accompany you back home."
Hatku froze. Tashina looked away.
Shyla noticed the silence and raised a brow. "Did I say something wrong?"
Hatku finally answered, eyes lowered to his empty plate. "We… don't have a home here."
Tashina nodded, her voice soft. "This realm isn't ours. We… we don't belong."
Shyla's smile faded. The warmth of the fire still danced in her eyes, but something more tender grew behind it.
"Then maybe," she said gently, "you can stay here. At least until you figure out where to go next."
Hatku looked up at her—really looked.
And for the first time in a long time, something in his chest felt like it had finally stopped running.