Chapter 9: Faraway

Xerxes' eyes opened, his head still confused from what had happened. He then let out a groan of pain and subconsciously tilted his body to the left.

He regurgitated, first letting out a hoarse cough, which was followed by a violent puddle of thick black bile that erupted from his mouth.

His body was in excruciating pain, and he held his head. "What happened? Aya, where are you?"

Xerxes looked left and right, trying to see where she was. "Where are you, Aya!?" he called, blood dripping from his mouth.

There was no one there, absolutely nothing. The only thing he was presented with was a collage of trees that tangled and meshed together.

Xerxes couldn't tell if it was his body or just the atmospheric pressure itself, but there was a heavy force weighing down on him.

Not only was the worldly sensation different, but there was also something he couldn't believe. "My arm..."

Xerxes raised his hand and saw that from the point of severance down to his fingertips, his arm was intact. "How? How could this happen?"

Xerxes began to frantically pat his body and face. His flesh wasn't melted. He felt his skin—smooth but rinsed with dirt.

My body, he thought. For the most part, his body was intact, and if he had his limbs, then he could move. He instantly tried to get up, but his entire body was shot through with excruciating pain.

He wailed, his face dropping to the muddy floor. His hair became dyed brown from the dirt as he stopped in his tracks, resting his body in the soil. Rain poured on him, making the cold that much more blistering.

He dragged his hand through the dirt and gritted his teeth. "Move, damn it. MOVE, XERXES!" he shouted, berating his debilitated state.

He crawled, digging his fingers into the ground, pulling himself through the mud. He began hearing a stream of water, the word water repeating in his head. He needed something to satiate him, so he used his power to get to the water.

The crashing of water against rocks became louder and louder until eventually, his eyes caught the lake. He cupped his hands and slurped some of the water and splashed cold water on his face.

His eyes met his reflection in the water. His normal teal eyes were different. One eye—his left—had changed colour. It was scarred with a magenta and violet light that swarmed within his iris. A draconic-like slit was within his pupil, and purple runic markings scored beneath his eye.

What had happened to him was as ambiguous as the place he was in. With no direction and no plan, he was at a loss. He rubbed his eyes, making sure what he was seeing was real, and once he reopened them, he saw his normal almond-shaped teal eyes, with no runic marking.

A loud screech then broke his confusion, ripping through the forest and making Xerxes look back.

He looked as far as he could, and what he saw were trees ruffling as if they were being swayed. Xerxes couldn't tell if this was a sign to stay to see if someone knew where he was or if he had to run. His answer came fast as the chilling feeling of death swarmed his body, a precognitive instinct ingrained into him.

Peering through the trees—yet to notice Xerxes—were two beasts. Mana beasts, to be exact, similar in appearance and power to the one that had killed him. His sadness soon turned into panic. He knew he was powerless, despite not wanting to admit it. He wasn't in a state to take out one, let alone two.

I need to hide, he thought. He needed to go where the monsters couldn't see or sense him. He looked around in desperation, not knowing where to go—if going left would kill him or if going right would save him. He was too unsure, and that fear made him stall.

"Go up the lake. They can't hurt you there."

A voice spoke, but Xerxes couldn't tell if it was out loud or just in his head. He had no choice but to use this as his lifeline. He didn't want to find out what the beasts would do if they cornered him.

Xerxes gathered the strength he had accumulated over the past few minutes. He slammed his legs to stop them from shaking and took a deep breath. He struggled to get up on his feet, but pressing through the pain, he did. He was up. He looked over his shoulder, trying to keep some form of rationality in whatever place he was in.

"I cannot help you for long. You must run, Xerxes."

My name... how does it know my name? Xerxes asked himself. But if they did know his name, then they could help. Couldn't they? Xerxes decided to bet all his odds on it. The beasts weren't too far, and he could run if he tried. But run to where, exactly?

He didn't have a plan, but if someone here had an idea about him, about his situation, he wanted to go. He didn't want to be scared anymore. He wanted to be with someone—anyone. Xerxes decided he wasn't going to end here. He wanted to live. Whatever must have happened to bring him back from death must mean something. People don't just almost get killed only to return, do they?

Xerxes set his sights upstream, waiting for the monsters to look away. The moment they did, he ran through open land, following the river upstream. With each step, it felt as if a ball of fire magic was injecting into every fibre of his muscles, but he didn't care. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see them all.

Despite barely being able to run, Xerxes couldn't have everything he wanted. To avoid alerting the monsters, he needed to be quiet. But that wasn't something he had leverage on, as Xerxes felt their chilling, unwavering presence.

They locked eyes on their prey, craving his blood to finish him off, and like mindless dogs let off their leashes, they began running recklessly towards Xerxes, barging through trees as if they weren't there. They were faster than Xerxes, catching up quickly. If he didn't have anything to utilise, he would die.

"You goddamn voice in my head, help me!" His plea malformed into a desperate rage. The incline of water was coming to an end, and the beasts were less than twenty metres away. "HELP ME! DON'T LET ME DIE, YOU IDIOT! NOT LIKE THIS!"

Xerxes was moments away from the horizon, the beasts charging magic—far more dangerous than any he had ever felt. Then, he heard a voice say a single word. "Jump"

It was either jumping or being engulfed by fire. Xerxes didn't opt for the latter and so he leapt.

Xerxes screamed as he plummeted nearly a hundred meters, crashing into the water below. The impact sent waves rippling in all directions.

Gasping, he forced himself to swim upward, using the last remnants of his strength. Disoriented beneath the water, he couldn't tell which way was up, but then he heard that voice again—damning yet strangely familiar.

"Swim to that ledge on your right and go in."

Was he safe? He didn't know. But that fall had just saved his life, so he heeded the voice's command, pushing himself forward with everything he had left. His arms ached, his body screamed in protest, but he managed to reach the rocky ledge. With a final, desperate pull, he lifted himself over the edge, collapsing onto the stone and coughing up water.

In front of him lay a cave, shrouded in darkness, yet oddly comforting. It was warm—alive, even. Xerxes forced himself to his feet, scanning his surroundings. A small, glowing object flickered in the distance, its orange hue reminiscent of a dim sun. Beside it, apple trees and blueberry bushes thrived.

Xerxes scoffed, chuckling bitterly at the absurdity of it all. Actual food.

Cautiously, he walked toward the bushes, resisting the urge to use magic as he needed to recover. He reached the end of the cave, grabbed a handful of berries, and shoved them into his mouth. Then he picked an apple, biting into it hungrily only to regurgitate in disgust.

The taste was putrid.

He spat it out, hurling the apple at the cave wall, cursing at his situation. "Why can't I have even a second of happiness?"

Exhausted, he slid down against the cave wall, letting the warmth of the mysterious light wash over him. As he turned his head, something caught his eye, a peculiar egg nestled in twigs as it was the glowing source of warmth, he had been seeking. Its shell was covered in hexagonal patterns, inscribed with glowing runes. Faintly, the outline of a creature was visible within.

Xerxes stared at it before slowly pressing it against his chest. The heat wasn't searing but soothing, wrapping around him like an embrace. He clutched it tighter, lowering his chin onto the shell.

"Even if you are some kind of monster… I just hope you don't kill me."

His eyelids grew heavy, but he refused to loosen his grip on the egg.

He spoke to it, perhaps to feel less alone, less insane. "You know, egg, just twenty-four hours ago, if that's even how much time has passed, I thought my life was going to be amazing. I hate being alone like this. It's like a winter I can't shake, you know? Maybe that's why I'm losing it and talking to a warm egg." His voice wavered. "I just… I just want to go home. I want to see Aya. I miss them so much it hurts."

Tears welled in his eyes, sliding down his face and landing on the egg. As they touched the surface, they sizzled softly.

For a while, he simply sat there, trying to process everything. But then something changed.

Every nerve in his body flared. It was as if lightning had shot through his brain. His breath caught in his throat, and his exhaustion evaporated in an instant. 

A sound, that was paired with the most powerful thing he had ever felt in his life.

A thud at the cave's entrance.

Then another.

Xerxes tightened his hold on the egg and scrambled into the shadows, doing his best to hide its glow. He controlled his breathing, forcing himself to stay silent.

The thudding footsteps slowed, turning into something more measured. Closer.

Xerxes barely dared to breathe as he saw shadowed figures approaching. One of them tilted their head before turning—then stopped.

Then they looked directly at him.

Their eyes gleamed an unnatural azure.

Xerxes' body tensed. Blood bubbled in his throat as he raised his trembling right hand, conjuring a small ball of fire. His entire body was battered and bruised, his vision blurred with exhaustion, but still, he stood his ground.

Tears stained his face, a mixture of fear and defiance as he backed further into the corner. He would fight if he had to.

But he never could have expected what he saw next.

"Grandfather Aemon, is that an outsider?"

The voice belonged to a girl—young, doll-like in appearance, with pale skin and dark blue hair barely reaching her shoulders. She wore a leather tunic and high shorts, a bandage wrapped around her thigh. Despite looking close to his age, her presence was overwhelming—like she was something far beyond him.

But it wasn't her that terrified him.

It was the man beside her. Aemon.

He stepped forward, his white silk robes embroidered with gold lining. The mana radiating from him was immense. His left eye was a dull blue, but his right eye burned a deep azure, covered in glowing white inscriptions that Xerxes couldn't decipher. His hair was tied back, but a few loose strands framed his face.

Xerxes clenched his teeth, keeping his fire raised. "Stay back. You're monsters too, aren't you? If you were human, you'd be dead. So, you must be monsters. Where am I? What is—?"

Aemon took another step closer.

Xerxes cut himself off, raising his magic just slightly—a warning that he would attack if necessary.

Aemon gazed down at him with unsettling calm, as if this situation was entirely ordinary. Then, in a voice as smooth as still water, he asked:

"How much do you know about where you are, child? What caused you to venture this deep?

Meanwhile, in Layne…

Vanessa sat in silence, her hands clasped together, her forehead resting against them.

Master Tully worked quietly across from her, shaping a gravestone with his earthen magic. His monocle gleamed as he concentrated, carving every letter with meticulous precision.

The name on the stone: Xerxes Draedon.

For a long time, neither of them spoke.

Then Tully broke the silence. "I want you to know, Nessa… this isn't your fault." His voice was gentle, steady. "I know you. You take everything, every mistake, every success—onto your shoulders, but how could you have known? If I hadn't been late with my routine checks, I would have noticed the missing quest. I would have known they were gone sooner."

Vanessa's voice cracked. "Then what do I do, Master Tully? If I can't blame myself, I'll just start pointing fingers at everyone else." Her breathing was uneven, anger bubbling beneath the surface. "For fuck's sake, Tully, do you think I want to be mad at Aya for taking that mission? Do you think I want to be furious at you for not noticing sooner? Should I hate you for not coming faster to tell us once you confirmed they had run off?"

Her hands clenched into fists. "I can't—because I should have been there. I should have stopped them. And Dorian—he's shattered, too."

Master Tully put the gravestone down and turned to face her. His expression was pained.

"When we were running, Dorian knew it was bad," she said softly. "He might seem like the most reckless of the three, but in battle? He knows when things go wrong."

Vanessa's breath hitched as she continued.

"I had to tell him, while we ran, while we wasted precious time—that it would be okay. That Xerxes would be fine. I had to lie to keep him moving. And then—"Vanessa swallowed. "Then he was the one who found Xerxes' arm."

Vanessa's entire body tensed.

"His—"

The words died in her throat. A broken sob tore from her lips.

Guilt crushed her, suffocating her. She should have stayed. She shouldn't have left for her own mission with Dorian. She should have been faster, smarter, stronger. If only she had known sooner that Xerxes and Aya had taken a mission to the Fallen Kingdom. But she had been too busy.

With a sudden scream of frustration, she lashed out.

She slammed her hands into the table, sending books and tools flying. Tully barely managed to step back in time as she destroyed everything in reach, his workshop, his records and the gravestone.

Her son's gravestone.