The Ride to the mines

The morning air was crisp and cool as Luka adjusted the helmet on his head, his small hands fumbling slightly with the strap.

He wasn't used to wearing one.

Across from him, Demid tightened the straps on his own helmet before swinging a leg over the bike. The old machine rumbled to life beneath him, the hum of its engine filling the still morning air.

Luka watched as the rising sun painted the horizon in gold and pink, stretching across the vast ocean beyond their little town.

Today was different.

Today, he was going to see where Papa worked.

As Luka climbed onto the back of the bike, Demid glanced over his shoulder, making sure he was seated properly.

"Hold on tight, kid."

Luka wrapped his arms around his father's waist as the bike lurched forward, rolling over the cobblestone streets before picking up speed.

The village faded behind them, replaced by the open road that cut through the dense forests of northern Svyatoslav.

The dirt path twisted between towering trees, their branches forming a canopy overhead, filtering the golden morning light.

The wind brushed against Luka's face, carrying the sounds of chirping birds and distant ocean waves.

It was peaceful.

Luka liked it.

Demid's voice broke the quiet. "You know, last time I had to rush down this road, it wasn't on a bike."

Luka blinked, pressing his cheek against his father's back. "Why?"

"Because that was the day you were born."

Luka's grip around his waist tightened slightly.

"I was at the mines when your mother went into labor. No bike. No car. Just my own two feet."

Luka imagined it,his father, racing down this very road, kicking up dust, pushing through branches, not stopping until he reached town.

"You ran the whole way?"

"Like my life depended on it."

Luka thought about that.

He thought about how tired Papa must've been.

How much he must have wanted to be there.

And for some reason… it made him feel warm inside, like he mattered.

They rode in comfortable silence for a while, the hum of the bike filling the space between them.

Then Luka spoke.

"Papa."

"Mm?"

"Why doesn't Mama use her jōki much?"

Demid exhaled, shaking his head with a chuckle. "I was wondering when you'd ask that."

Luka waited, watching the road ahead.

"Your mother is strong, Luka. Very strong. But she doesn't like using her ability unless she has to."

Luka frowned slightly. "Why?"

Demid adjusted his grip on the handlebars. "Because of you."

Luka blinked. "Me?"

"Her ability works best on you. Your body reacts faster. With others, it takes more energy. That's why she doesn't use it on me or Sasha."

Luka's fingers tightened around his father's coat.

That wasn't the full story.

Yesterday, he had healed on his own.

Without Mama's jōki.

Which meant… it had never been her power in the first place.

But he didn't say anything.

Because if he did, they would ask questions.

And if they asked questions… they would find out about the bullying.

So instead, he asked—

"Papa, do you have jōki?"

Demid let out a short laugh. "Me? Nah, never had it."

Luka frowned.

"But… you're strong. You work at the mines. You lift heavy things."

Demid grinned. "That's called muscle, kid. You don't need jōki to be strong."

Luka tilted his head.

He had seen jōki users move faster than possible, lift things effortlessly, even control fire or lightning.

But Papa had never seemed weak and it didn't make sense to him.

"Papa."

"Yeah?"

"I keep hearing about jōki in class. But I don't understand it."

Demid smirked. "Ah. So I explain things better than your teacher, huh?"

Luka nodded.

His father chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, listen up, kid."

He adjusted his grip on the handlebars before speaking.

"Jōki is a special energy inside humans. But not everyone can use it. It comes from emotions. The stronger your emotions, the stronger your jōki."

Luka blinked. "…Emotions?"

"Yep. That's why no two people have the same ability. Because no two people feel things the same way."

Luka thought for a moment. "So… some people have it, and some don't?"

Demid nodded. "Only about 40% of people can awaken it. The other 60%? They can see it, feel it, but they can't use it."

Luka frowned slightly. "But if jōki comes from emotions… then why doesn't everyone have it?"

Demid smiled. "Because it's not just about feeling things, son. It's about controlling them. Understanding them. Some people don't have strong enough emotions. Some people don't have the right mindset. And some people…"

He hesitated.

Luka waited.

Then, softly—

"…Some people are just different."

Luka thought for a long time.

Then, finally—

"Will I be able to use it?"

Demid's hands tightened slightly on the handlebars.

The bike rumbled beneath them, the road stretching endlessly ahead.

He didn't answer immediately.

Because he didn't know.

And that was the truth.

After a long silence, he sighed.

"I can't say for sure, son."

Luka lowered his gaze slightly.

Demid patted his hand.

"But listen to me. If you don't awaken jōki, that doesn't mean you can't be strong. You can still fight. You can still protect. There are other ways."

Luka exhaled slowly. "…Other ways?"

"Weapons. Strategy. Strength. Just like me."

Luka blinked up at him.

"Like you?"

Demid grinned. "Like me."

The bike rumbled beneath them as they continued up the dirt path, the dense forest slowly thinning as the rocky terrain of the mountains came into view.

Luka sat quietly, arms wrapped around his father's waist, still thinking about their last conversation.

Something about it felt unfinished.

So, after a long pause, he spoke.

"Papa."

"Hm?"

Luka hesitated, then asked, "Why do people protect others?"

Demid raised an eyebrow but didn't turn. "What do you mean?"

Luka shifted slightly. "You said before that I can still protect people, even without jōki. But why? Why do people need to be protected? What's the benefit?"

His tone was calm, logical,not mocking, not doubtful.

But it was the kind of question only Luka would ask.

Demid exhaled, shaking his head with a small chuckle. "You're something else, kid."

Luka blinked. "That's not an answer."

"I know, I know."

Demid adjusted his grip on the handlebars, thinking for a moment.

"Alright. Tell me this,who do you think is the strongest person you know?"

Luka didn't even have to think.

"Mama."

Demid laughed. "Fair answer. She's terrifying when she wants to be."

Luka nodded. "She can use jōki. And she's smart. She doesn't need protection."

Demid hummed in agreement. "Yeah. But tell me this,if she was in danger, wouldn't you want to protect her anyway?"

Luka frowned slightly. "That's different."

"How?"

Luka was quiet for a long time.

Then, finally—"…Because she's my mother."

Demid smiled. "Exactly."

Luka blinked. "…I don't understand."

Demid let out a slow breath, his voice steady.

"Protection isn't about what you get in return, Luka. It's not about strength or weakness, about deserving or needing it."

The bike rumbled as they rode higher into the mountain path.

"You protect someone… because you care."

Luka sat with those words, turning them over in his mind.

Because you care.

He didn't understand it completely.

Not yet.

But something about it stuck.

And even years later, he would remember.

****

The forest thinned as the massive mining complex came into view.

Luka stared.

Nestled at the base of the mountain, four large buildings stood side by side, each made of reinforced metal and stone.

But it wasn't just the size of the buildings that caught his attention.

It was what surrounded them.

Luka's dark eyes flicked over the banners hanging near the entrance,two pixel-like crosses overlapping in the shape of a star. Below it, the name was boldly displayed:

Sol Mining.

The air buzzed faintly with energy, and as they passed through the main gate, Luka saw them.

The machines.

They were different from the ones in town,sleek, metallic, moving with mechanical precision.

Tall loading robots lifted crates into trucks, their long, clawed arms moving with silent efficiency.

Smaller drones hovered overhead, scanning the shipment logs with soft blue lights.

Luka's gaze flickered to the few workers moving between the machines, their voices low, their expressions serious.

Even though it was Saturday, there were still people here.

Because today was important.

The Noor was being transported.