The afternoon sun cast golden hues over the clearing as Elara and Stubby stood with their packed bags, the wind tugging gently at their clothes. Elara's hands trembled slightly as she adjusted the strap of her bag. Stubby, usually carefree, stood unusually still beside her, his arms crossed.
The boss stepped forward, his expression unreadable. "Once you reach Dreadholm Dominion—"
Elara frowned, cutting him off. "Dreadholm Dominion? Isn't that the place the Reaper destroyed?"
Stubby shifted uneasily. "Yeah, but it ain't what it used to be."
Elara's face twisted in disbelief. "You mean the Reaper who wiped out an entire army alone? The one who took down an entire city in a single night? The one who—"
"—defeated the Great Fang in single combat," the boss finished, his voice quiet. "Yeah. That one."
Elara shook her head. "And you want us to go there?"
Stubby placed a hand on her shoulder. "Look, I get it. The stories sound insane. A man who fights like a beast, who stands against entire warbands alone and wins. But the place isn't as bad as you think."
Elara didn't seem convinced. "How do you even know that?"
The boss exhaled, rubbing his temples. "I have… sources. Trust me."
Elara stared at him, hesitant, but before she could say anything else, footsteps approached. They turned to see Raphael walking toward them. But something was wrong.
He wasn't carrying a bag.
His face was blank, but his hands were clenched into tight fists.
Elara took a step forward, her heart sinking. "Raphael… why aren't you ready?"
Raphael didn't answer immediately. His lips parted, then pressed shut again. Finally, he looked up, guilt flickering in his face. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I can't follow you."
The silence was deafening.
Elara's hands gripped her dress as her chest tightened. "Why?" she whispered.
Raphael struggled to find the right words. "I… I don't belong there."
"That's not true!" she protested, her voice rising. "You deserve a fresh start. You deserve peace!"
Raphael shook his head. "I can't run, Elara. Not from this."
Tears welled in her eyes. "You almost died, Raphael. I thought I lost you." Her voice cracked, raw with emotion. "And now you want to stay in this hell?"
"I have to," he said simply.
Elara turned to the boss, desperate. "Say something! Tell him he needs to go!"
The boss sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "If the kid's made up his mind, there's no changing it."
Elara turned back to Raphael, grabbing his arm. "Please," she pleaded. "Don't do this."
He hesitated, then reached up and gently touched her hand. "I'll be okay," he promised, forcing a smile.
Elara's breath hitched, and for a moment, she looked like she wanted to argue more, to fight harder. But then her shoulders sagged. "You stubborn idiot," she muttered before pulling him into a tight hug.
Raphael stiffened, then slowly melted into her embrace.
Elara buried her face in his shoulder. "At least… promise me you'll be safe."
"I promise," he whispered.
She held him a moment longer before pulling back, sniffling. With a shaking hand, she adjusted the blindfold covering his eyes. "Keep this clean, okay? It won't be good if it gets dirty."
Raphael chuckled, his voice thick. "Okay, Elara."
Stubby cleared his throat, breaking the heavy silence. "Alright, time to go," he said, forcing a lightness to his tone. He turned to the boss. "Anything you want me to do?"
The boss stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Take care of her," he murmured. Then, slipping something into Stubby's hand, he added, "And give her this."
Stubby glanced down at the small, folded letter. He nodded, tucking it away. "Got it."
Elara wiped her tears, taking a deep breath. "Alright. I'm ready."
She turned to Raphael one last time. He gave her a small smile, and she tried to return it, but her heart ached too much.
As she and Stubby walked away, the boss and Raphael watched them until they disappeared into the trees.
The boss sighed. "You sure about staying, kid?"
Raphael exhaled slowly. "Yeah."
Later that night
The dimly lit room was thick with tension as Zephyr leaned back in the chair, golden eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. The boss knelt before him, his face unreadable, but his hands clenched into tight fists.
"You made the right choice by letting your daughter go," Zephyr mused, his tone smooth, almost pleased.
"Yes," the boss replied, his voice even. "She will listen to me."
Zephyr's smile widened slightly. "I expected no less." Then, in an instant, the amusement in his expression flickered out. He leaned forward, his golden eyes sharpening. "You know what happens if you fail me, don't you?"
The boss didn't flinch. "I know."
Zephyr studied him for a long moment, then sighed dramatically, stretching his arms. "From here on out, you and your men will work under me. Only listen to me."
The boss remained still. "What kind of job will we be doing?"
Zephyr smirked, rising from his chair with slow, deliberate movements. "Does it matter?" He turned, glancing over his shoulder. "As long as you're getting paid, you shouldn't think too much about it."
A shadow flickered across the boss's face, but before he could speak, the door slammed open.
Raphael stormed in.
His blindfolded face betrayed no fear, his presence crackling with defiance. His stance was unwavering, as if he had already decided that no force in the world could make him kneel.
Zephyr barely turned his head.
Then, without lifting a finger, the air around Raphael grew impossibly heavy. A suffocating force crashed down on him like a mountain.
Raphael's knees buckled. The floor beneath him groaned and cracked. The air itself vibrated with invisible power, crushing, relentless.
Yet, even as his body trembled, he refused to fall completely.
Zephyr arched an eyebrow. "Persistent little thing, aren't you?" The pressure intensified. Raphael gasped, blood trickling from his lips, but he still didn't surrender.
The boss shot forward. "Stop this! He's one of my men—"
"Then teach your men their place," Zephyr cut in coldly.
The room was silent except for the sound of Raphael's heavy breathing. Zephyr watched him struggle, curiosity flickering in his gaze. "You must have a reason to defy me like this. Tell me, boy—" He stepped closer, the pressure doubling. "What makes you think you can resist someone like me?"
Raphael's fingers dug into the cracked floor. "Because… I don't care who you are." His voice was strained but steady. "I'm not afraid of you."
For a moment, Zephyr stared at him. Then, his smirk returned. "Interesting."
He lifted his hand, about to crush the last ounce of resistance out of the boy—
Then the world around him twisted.
Darkness seeped into his vision.
And then it spoke.
"Touch him again, and I will unmake you."
The voice did not echo. It did not whisper. It simply existed everywhere at once.
Zephyr's breath caught in his throat. The room felt as if it had been swallowed by an abyss.
"You do not have the authority to decide his fate."
A chill unlike anything Zephyr had ever known coiled around his very bones. This was not the voice of a mortal, nor of a mage, nor of any being bound by the laws of this world.
This was something greater.
"Your power is meaningless to me."
Zephyr's heartbeat thundered in his ears.
"If you defy me, you will not die."
The words slithered through his mind like a blade scraping against glass.
"You will cease."
Blood poured from Zephyr's mouth as he gasped, staggering backward. The moment shattered. The suffocating pressure on Raphael vanished.
Raphael collapsed, unconscious.
The boss rushed to his side, lifting him. His eyes darted to Zephyr, who stood frozen, his fingers trembling.
Zephyr wiped the blood from his lips, breathing heavily. Then, slowly, a wide grin stretched across his face. He chuckled. Then laughed. A low, twisted sound.
"Oh," he exhaled, looking at Raphael with something between awe and calculation. "I see now."
His golden eyes gleamed with something dangerous.
"This boy… is protected by something beyond death itself."
He took a step back, letting the weight of his own realization settle. Then, as if nothing had happened, he turned towards the door.
"By tomorrow," he said, his voice back to its usual smooth arrogance, "your men and you will be leaving to start your real work."
With that, Zephyr vanished into the night, his laughter lingering like a ghost in the air.
The boss looked down at Raphael, still cradled in his arms, his expression unreadable.
"You got yourself lucky, kid," he muttered.
Or maybe it wasn't luck at all.