From the shadows of the battle, Senil, the Sorcerer of Toxins, emerged once more. He walked slowly through the chaos, unbothered by the clashing steel of guards, the wails of Cursed Villagers, and the silent brutality of the Black Order Knights.

  "Interesting," he muttered, his voice dry as dust. "But pointless. All this effort... wasted."

  He raised a withered hand. The air twisted around him, sick and heavy. A dark violet aura surged from his palm.

  "The hour has come!"

  The ground split open. The desert sands turned black, the corruption spreading like oil. Even the golden dunes withered into grey ash.

  Lainas, locked in combat with a Black Knight, spun around as the earth groaned.

  "Fall back!" he screamed. "Everyone—get away from him!"

  Two of his guards charged the sorcerer, brave but foolish. The earth swallowed them whole before they could swing their swords.

  "Retreat!"

  But there was nowhere to go. More portals tore open. More Cursed Villagers stumbled out, blank-eyed and moaning. More Black Order soldiers stepped through the void.

  Lainas watched his formation collapse. His men fell, one by one, overwhelmed by the rot and the steel.

  "Is this... the end?" he whispered, his grip on his sword slipping.

  Three arrows soared into the sky, trailing tails of vibrant light.

  One Pink. One Sky-Blue. One Orange.

  They reached the apex of their arc and exploded into waves of pure magic, raining down on the Black Order ranks and shattering Senil’s concentration. The violet aura flickered and died.

  Senil looked up, his eyes narrowing.

  "Hmm? So... he was waiting for reinforcements?"

  On the horizon, dust clouds rose against the darkened sky. The thunder of heavy paws shook the ground. Riders approached—mounted on massive Valley Beasts.

  Senil cursed, spitting on the blackened sand. "Damn you..."

  Lainas saw the dust and a smile broke through the blood on his face.

  "Soldiers! Reinforcements have arrived! It's Mowj!"

  The men turned, hope sparking in their eyes.

  Then they saw who was leading the charge.

  Jamih, clad in black armor, his crimson-gemmed sword raised high. Behind him, a legion of ruthless killers.

  "Commander!" a soldier cried out in terror. "It’s the Assassins! They’ve come to finish us off!"

  Senil smirked. He seized the moment, his voice amplifying over the battlefield.

  "Look! The Assassins of the Valley! They have come to slaughter you all! Kill them before they kill you!"

  The Cursed Villagers screamed, their madness fueled by the lie. "The Assassins! Run! Kill!"

  Confusion spread like a plague. Lainas’s forces faltered, weapons wavering between the monsters and the newcomers.

  "They’re manipulating us!" Lainas roared.

  "I... I can't..." a mage stammered, falling to his knees. "I’m too weak..."

  Lainas looked around. His men were dying. The line was breaking.

  Then he saw him.

  A small figure riding beside the Assassin Commander. Mowj, waving frantically from the distance.

  Lainas smiled.

  He raised his voice, channeling every ounce of authority he had left.

  "If you trust your Commander—listen to me! That is Mowj! He has brought help! They are not here to kill us—they are here to save us!"

  The soldiers hesitated. "Mowj? The Assassins... helping us?"

  Lainas didn't wait. He charged a Black Order Knight, putting his back to the approaching assassins. His guards, seeing his resolve, followed suit.

  Then, Mowj’s voice rang out, clear and resonant:

  "Sky’s Clarity!"

  A warm green light exploded from the boy, washing over the battlefield. Wounds knitted together. Fatigue evaporated. Strength returned to weary limbs.

  Lainas looked at his hand—the deep cuts were fading into white scars.

  "It’s the same magic..." he breathed. "It is him."

  Senil looked around wildly. His forces were being pushed back. The Black Knights fought fiercely, but the tide had turned.

  Then Jamih leapt into the fray.

  "Full formation!" he roared, his voice like thunder.

  "HAA!" his assassins responded in unison.

  Jamih turned to Mowj, his eyes blazing. "Now, boy! Command them!"

  Mowj froze, the chaos overwhelming him.

  Lidra stepped up beside his beast, firing a crimson arrow into the sky to mark his position.

  "Mowj!" she shouted. "Jamih wants you to lead! Do not freeze now!"

  She fired three blue arrows into the mob of Cursed Villagers, pinning them to the ground without harming them.

  "Don't worry! We are with you! Jamih trusts you! Show your people who you are!"

  Jamih fought like a storm, throwing armored knights aside with terrifying strength.

  "What are you staring at?" he bellowed at Lainas’s stunned guards. "Don't you have a village to protect? Fight, you cowards!"

  The guards roared, shamed into action, and returned to the battle with renewed fury.

  The assassins struck with surgical precision under Qaws’s command, dismantling the Black Order’s lines.

  Jamih watched them, a grim smile on his face. "That girl... She trained them well." He looked at Qaws. "You don't want to lose them, do you?"

  Jamih’s sword flared, the crimson gems pulsing. He struck Senil with a wave of force, sending the sorcerer flying back.

  "Damn you!" Senil shrieked.

  Mowj took a deep breath. He raised his hands.

  "Night’s Calm!"

  The green comet above pulsed. A cold, soothing wind swept through the village. The Cursed Villagers, caught in the throes of madness, suddenly collapsed—unconscious, but alive. Freed from the rage.

  "Don't harm them!" Lainas shouted. "They are innocent!"

  "Do we look like monsters?" Jamih replied, kicking a Black Knight away. "This boy told us the truth. We do not kill the innocent."

  The assassins threw weighted nets over the sleeping villagers, securing them.

  "Mowj! Over here!"

  "Here too!"

  Mowj stood in the center of the village, his body glowing with the same green light as the comet.

  Senil watched in disbelief, blood dripping from his lip.

  "How? The Tree is gone! How do you still have this power?"

  "I won't let you ruin what I've built!" Mowj shouted back.

  "Kill him!" Senil screamed.

  Black Order agents charged the boy.

  Lidra leapt forward, firing radiant arrows. One sprouted thick vines to entangle a knight. Another formed a shimmering barrier. A third exploded in holy flame.

  "Men! Protect Mowj!" Jamih ordered.

  The assassins split into squads, forming a protective ring around the healer. Lainas’s guards watched in awe as the feared killers of the Valley became the boy's shield.

  Senil fired a toxic beam of green energy.

  Qaws intercepted it, blocking the spell with his enchanted dagger.

  "Poison Cloud!" Senil shouted, desperate.

  Green smoke began to spread.

  Lidra fired two arrows. The first was deflected by Senil’s barrier. The second sliced his wrist.

  "Agh! Damn you!"

  Jamih crushed two knights and advanced on the sorcerer. "Commander! He’s waiting for something!"

  Jamih’s sword pulsed ominously.

  Senil panicked. "They’ve discovered us! Retreat!"

  The Black Order vanished into portals. Senil slammed his hand onto the ground one last time, corrupting the earth beneath him, and then disappeared into the void.

  Jamih lowered his sword. He surveyed the destruction. The sleeping villagers. The ruins.

  Qaws approached, wiping his blade. "This is horrific... That old man... That woman with the child... All of them were under his control."

  "What do you mean?" Jamih asked.

  "You never let us do things like this before..." Qaws muttered, looking at the devastation.

  Lidra stepped forward, breathless. "I can't believe we arrived in time..."

  Jamih walked to Mowj. The boy was slumped on his beast, exhausted.

  "No need for speeches," Jamih said gruffly. "We made it."

  Mowj opened his eyes. "They’re still sick. I need to heal them."

  Jamih’s voice turned cold, correcting him. "Use plural, boy. need to heal them."

  Lidra and Qaws joined them.

  "He’s right, Mowj," Lidra said softly. "You’re not alone. We can't cast healing spells—but tell us how to help."

  "We knew you needed stable targets," Qaws added. "That’s why we threw the nets."

  Jamih pointed his sword toward Lainas, who was approaching.

  "Go to him."

  Mowj nodded.

  Jamih turned to his men. "Spread out. Search the village. If you find anything strange—report. Don't engage."

  "HAA!"

  Mowj looked at Jamih one last time. "I needed that... But I couldn't shout like you."

  Qaws chuckled. "He’s a bit funny, isn't he?"

  The village guards were tense—some wary, some angry, some ready to strike at the assassins in their midst.

  Jamih ignored them. He sat on a piece of rubble beside a ruined house and took a drink from his flask.

  Qaws joined him. "They don't trust us."

  "That's normal," Jamih grunted. "I left that to the boy."

  "Think he'll convince their Commander?"

  Jamih took another swig. "They have no choice. And the girl won't let him fail."

  "Lidra..." Qaws mused. "She’s smart. And she cares."

  Jamih turned to Qaws, his eyes sharp.

  "Check the walls. That old man... He’s planning something. He retreated too easily."

  Qaws stood up, drawing his dagger—its green gem glowing in the dim light.

  "On it."

  The Pact — Mowj and Lainas Unite

  Mowj approached Commander Lainas, his steps heavy but steady. Lidra walked quietly beside him, her presence a silent anchor.

  Mowj looked at the Commander’s wounds—deep gashes that still wept blood despite the battle ending.

  "You are injured," Mowj said softly. "Let me heal you."

  Lainas shook his head, wincing as he shifted his weight.

  "The villagers come first. I can manage—"

  "Just accept it," Lidra interrupted, her voice sharp but not unkind. She gestured to the surrounding guards. "Look at your men. They are terrified. They are ready to strike us down out of fear. If their Commander collapses, this alliance ends before it begins."

  Lainas closed his eyes, exhaling a long breath. He glanced at his soldiers, seeing the tremor in their hands.

  "Fine."

  Mowj raised his hands.

  "Sky’s Clarity."

  The green comet pulsed overhead, casting a radiant emerald glow across the battlefield. The light flowed from Mowj’s palms, knitting Lainas’s flesh back together in seconds. The soldiers watched in awe, their grip on their weapons loosening.

  Mowj opened his eyes as the light faded.

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  "It is done."

  He looked Lainas dead in the eye. The boy’s gaze was different now—older.

  "I need you to acknowledge my allies," Mowj said firmly. "Your guards... your soldiers... they need to know. Look into their eyes, Commander."

  Lainas nodded solemnly.

  "They are afraid. We lost Commander Suhail in the last battle. They have endured too much loss to trust easily."

  Mowj’s expression softened at the name. "Suhail... he..."

  He faltered. Lidra gently took his hand, squeezing it.

  Mowj looked at her, reading the silent support in her expression.

  He clenched his free fist.

  "I answered your call," Mowj declared, his voice carrying over the square. "In the name of my grandmother, Shandriz. Together, we will cleanse and protect our people. I swear it."

  He extended his hand.

  Lainas stared at it for a moment, then gripped it firmly.

  "She was right about you," Lainas murmured. "Even Suhail... he envied your potential. But in his final words, he praised you."

  Mowj nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Let’s begin."

  Lainas turned to his men, his voice booming with restored strength.

  "Soldiers! To save our people, we will do the impossible! Today, we do not fight alone. Today, we stand beside Mowj and his allies!"

  The village fell silent, listening.

  Qaws, Jamih, and the assassins stood like statues, their hands away from their weapons to show peace.

  "Prepare yourselves!" Lainas continued. "The enemy has returned. Our ancestors gave everything to protect this world. We are not here for revenge against old rivalries. We are here to answer the call. Mowj came to us—fulfilling Shandriz’s legacy. He brought those we once feared... to help us."

  Jamih nodded once at Mowj—a gesture of respect.

  Lidra patted Mowj’s back. "Well done."

  But Mowj didn't smile. He stood quietly, his eyes distant, lost in a thought no one else could hear.

  Lidra leaned in. "Mowj? Shall we finish securing the village?"

  Mowj nodded mechanically, then turned and walked away, heading toward a quiet, partially ruined house on the edge of the square.

  Lidra moved to follow him, but a heavy hand stopped her.

  "Let him be," Jamih said quietly. "We need to plan with Lainas."

  "But..." Lidra looked back at Mowj’s retreating figure. He looked so small against the ruin.

  Lainas watched him go, his expression filled with sorrow.

  "He knows."

  "Knows what?" Lidra asked, confused.

  "His aunt," Lainas said softly. "She raised him. She taught him the basics of healing magic before sending him to Shandriz to learn purification. She was his world."

  Lidra’s eyes widened. "She...?"

  "She refused evacuation," Lainas explained, his voice thick with regret. "Despite Shandriz’s orders. She stayed behind to treat the wounded soldiers during the first breach. She saved a dozen lives... until one of the Black Order struck her down."

  The silence stretched between them.

  "We lost many elders," Lainas added. "Veterans of the Third Magical War. Mowj’s aunt was among them."

  Lidra felt tears prick her eyes. "He keeps losing people... and still he stands."

  Jamih stepped in, his voice gruff but grounding.

  "That is what drives him. The dead push him forward. We will make sure he stays on the right path."

  He turned to Lainas, shifting the mood back to business.

  "My men are scouting the village perimeter. We have time, but not much. What do you suggest?"

  Lainas wiped his face. "We need to repair homes. Shelter the villagers. Treat the wounded. Mowj laid the foundation with his spell, but there are physical injuries magic cannot fix."

  "Let Mowj focus on the critical cases," Jamih said. "My men will gather herbs. They are skilled in treating poisons and physical wounds. Assassins know anatomy better than healers."

  "That’s... surprisingly reassuring," Lainas admitted.

  "Just make sure your men let them touch them," Jamih warned dryly. "Your guards look terrified of mine."

  Lainas laughed, a short, tired sound. "I’ll handle it."

  Lidra wiped her tears, her resolve returning. "I’ll help too. I know herb combinations from the forest that amplify healing magic."

  "That will help immensely," Lainas said.

  "What is our food source?" Jamih asked, scanning the barren fields.

  "We hunt Valley Beasts," Lainas replied. "But the Black Order’s attacks halted our hunting parties. We are starving, Jamih. We need every man for defense."

  "Understood," Jamih said. "I will send my men."

  He turned and shouted toward the rooftops.

  "QAWS!"

  Qaws leapt from the high wall, landing silently before them. The nearby guards flinched at the speed.

  "Gather four men," Jamih ordered. "Hunt. The village needs meat."

  Qaws unsheathed his dagger and reached up, undoing the clasp of his face covering. He pulled the cloth down, revealing a sharp, surprisingly youthful face with a roguish grin.

  "Understood, Commander."

  Lidra blinked. She pulled a small leather book from her satchel.

  "Qaws," she said, stepping forward. "Can you gather these herbs too while you are out? They are vital for the salves."

  Jamih scoffed. "My men are killers, girl, not farmers. Go brew your tea."

  Lidra laughed. "It doesn't matter. They have hands, don't they?"

  Lainas smiled, amused by the dynamic.

  Qaws bowed theatrically to Lidra.

  "Of course, Miss. I will find your weeds. And don't forget my tea when I return."

  Lidra felt a flush rise to her cheeks.

  "First time I have seen your face," she teased. "I didn't expect it to be... handsome."

  Qaws’s grin faltered. He coughed, covering his face with his hand as his ears turned red.

  "Retreat!" he muttered to himself, turning and vaulting over the wall before she could say more.

  Lidra laughed, the sound bright in the gloomy air. "I’m going to the infirmary."

  As she left, the mood settled back into grim reality.

  "We can’t rely on Valley Beasts forever," Lainas said, looking at the blackened earth where Senil had stood. "We need to restore the soil—or replace it."

  "Replacing it would drain our mages," Lainas sighed. "We are already stretched thin."

  "That is Mowj’s task," Jamih said confidently. "He will find a way."

  "Then I will begin coordinating repairs."

  Jamih looked around the dilapidated village—the scorched walls, the broken windows, the fear in the air.

  "So this is Lajira?" he mused. "We once planned to steal this place, you know."

  Lainas snorted. "Sorry you arrived at its worst. It isn't worth stealing right now."

  Jamih’s eyes scanned the area for Mowj, but the boy remained hidden in the house.

  "You can rely on my men," Jamih said finally. "They break things for a living, but they know how to build fortifications."

  He turned to walk away.

  "Thank you, Jamih," Lainas called out. "That will speed things up."

  Jamih didn't look back, but he raised a hand in acknowledgment.

  "Together."

  The Spark of Renewal — Mowj’s Resolve

  Mowj entered one of the empty houses on the edge of the village. The silence inside pressed against his ears like thick fog, heavy with the memory of the people who had fled.

  He knelt alone in the center of the dusty floor, surrounded by scattered scrolls and torn scraps of parchment. He was trying to craft a new purification spell—something potent enough to reverse the deep rot Senil had left in the soil.

  Behind him, Jamih stood silently in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He watched the boy, his dark eyes tracing the way Mowj’s hands shook as he whispered to himself.

  Mowj ran a hand through his messy hair, tugging at the strands.

  "Okay... okay... What do I do? The soil structure is gone... I need to bind it before I purify it. Stay calm, Mowj. You will be fine..."

  He was so consumed by the task, so wrapped in his own anxiety, that he didn't notice the Assassin Commander’s presence.

  Sweat beaded on his brow. He inscribed complex symbols into the dirt floor, groaned in frustration, wiped them away, and started again.

  Then, Jamih cleared his throat.

  "Ahem."

  Mowj jumped, scrambling back as he clutched a scroll to his chest.

  "Commander! I... I didn't see you! Do you need something?"

  Jamih stepped forward, his boots heavy on the wooden floorboards.

  "You need to breathe, boy. You are vibrating like a bowstring about to snap."

  He stopped a few feet away, his presence commanding but not threatening.

  "You can do this. I will stay here. Just focus."

  Mowj nodded jerkily, swallowing hard. He sat back down and closed his eyes, forcing his breathing to slow.

  He reached into his tunic and pulled out a gemstone. It was bright green, glowing softly in the dim room, pulsing with a warmth that seemed to mimic a heartbeat.

  "Alright, I’ll—"

  "That stone," Jamih interrupted, his voice dropping to a murmur. "Where did you get it? Is it an heirloom?"

  Mowj’s hands began to tremble again. He looked down at the gem, his face crumpling as the brave facade cracked.

  "It’s... It’s from my aunt."

  Jamih’s expression softened. He didn't speak; he just waited.

  Mowj lowered his head, tears dripping onto the glowing stone.

  "I know I’ve disappointed you, Commander. I didn't live up to expectations... I freeze in battle. I cry. I'm not like you or Lidra or you men."

  Jamih moved swiftly, kneeling beside the boy. The metal of his armor clinked softly.

  "Who told you men don't cry?" Jamih asked roughly. "We all break, boy. I never expected anything from you but what you are. And today? You have done more than enough."

  The dam broke. Mowj collapsed forward, burying his face in Jamih’s dark cloak, sobbing uncontrollably as he clutched the gemstone to his chest.

  Jamih didn't flinch. He placed a large, scarred hand on the boy's head.

  "Tears aren't weakness," Jamih said, his voice a low rumble. "They mean your soul is still alive in a world trying to kill it. It means you have purpose. It is alright to cry. It is alright..."

  They stayed like that for a long moment, the assassin guarding the healer’s grief.

  Slowly, Mowj’s breathing hitched and calmed. He wiped his face, embarrassed.

  Suddenly, Jamih stood up. His body went rigid. His hand flew to the hilt of his sword.

  Mowj looked up, sniffing. "What is it?"

  "Something is wrong."

  A faint, weak cry echoed from the back room of the house.

  A baby.

  Mowj bolted toward the sound without thinking.

  Jamih grabbed his shoulder, yanking him back.

  "Careful," Jamih hissed. "Could be a trap. The Black Order leaves bait."

  Jamih advanced first, his blade drawn. The crimson gems on the hilt glowed, casting a blood-red light down the hallway. Mowj followed close behind, his hand raised, ready to cast.

  They pushed open the door to the bedroom.

  They found her.

  A woman lay slumped against the far wall, lifeless. Her arms were locked in a rigid embrace around a bundle. Even in death, she was shielding it.

  Inside the bundle, an infant wailed—a sound of pure, raw life.

  Jamih lowered his weapon. "Look, boy..."

  Mowj froze. He saw the mother’s face, pale and still. Then he saw the baby.

  A dark, purple mark pulsed on the infant's neck.

  "She died protecting him," Jamih said coldly, analyzing the scene. "Look at his neck—he is cursed. The sickness took the mother, but she refused to let it take the child completely."

  Mowj’s eyes widened. "Monsters..."

  He didn't hesitate this time. He stepped forward, raising the green gemstone.

  "Night’s Calm."

  A soft, blue-green aura enveloped the crying child. The magic was gentle, like a lullaby. The angry purple mark on the baby's neck faded, then vanished. The crying stopped, replaced by soft, rhythmic breathing.

  Jamih watched, then placed a hand on Mowj’s shoulder.

  "Well done. If your aunt had been here during the invasion... she would have done exactly what this mother did for you. She protected you so you could survive."

  Mowj looked at the dead woman, then at the sleeping child.

  "She would be proud," Jamih added. "But remember this, Mowj: There won't always be someone to save you. You must learn to stand so you can save others."

  "Take the child to Lidra. He may still be weak from the residual magic."

  Mowj nodded, gently lifting the baby from the mother’s cold arms.

  "Commander... I want something."

  Jamih raised a brow. "What?"

  "I want to go to the source."

  Jamih walked toward the door, sheathing his sword. "Lainas said the corruption started in the Southern Villages. They were the agricultural centers. The specialists in earth magic."

  "I want to go there," Mowj said, his voice firm. "That is where I will find the cure for the soil."

  "Then you shall."

  "I want you to come with me."

  Jamih stopped and turned around. A smirk played on his lips.

  "You are sounding like a commander, boy."

  Mowj’s eyes widened in panic. "No! I didn't mean to order you—I just—"

  Jamih chuckled, tightening the straps of his armor.

  "It is fine. I will go. Someone has to keep you from getting killed."

  Mowj exhaled in relief. He followed Jamih out of the room.

  "Wait—the baby?"

  "Give him to the Tea Girl."

  Mowj blinked. "Tea Girl?"

  "Yes. The Tea Girl."

  "What does that even mean?"

  Jamih didn't answer. He stepped out into the night, the ghost of a smile on his face.

  Above them, the green comet pulsed—bright and unwavering in Silva’s dark sky, guiding their way south.

   ·

  The Southern Journey — Seeds of Redemption

  Jamih tightened the straps of his armor, checking his weapons one last time as he ascended the stairs to the village’s central hall. Commander Lainas stood by the window, surveying the reconstruction efforts below.

  "We are heading south," Jamih announced, his voice cutting through the quiet room. "The boy and I. To the source."

  Lainas turned quickly, surprise etching his tired features.

  "Do you need support? I can spare a squad of my men."

  "No," Jamih replied. "Let them rest. They are soldiers, not explorers. We are not going there to conquer—we are going to understand. To find a way to stop this curse before it swallows the rest of the valley."

  Lainas nodded solemnly, walking over to clasp Jamih’s arm.

  "You have looked after Mowj more than I could ever ask. I have no words to thank you. But I promise—when this is over, the Assassins will always be welcome in our lands."

  Jamih gave a curt nod, turning to leave.

  "Qaws will act in my place until I return. He knows my protocols. If you need anything—anything at all—ask him. He will help."

  "Safe travels, Commander."

  Jamih descended to the makeshift infirmary. The air smelled of medicinal herbs and clean linen. Lidra sat on a crate, gently rocking the rescued infant, while Mowj organized supplies nearby.

  Jamih glanced at the wounded soldiers. His assassins moved among them with quiet precision, applying salves and changing bandages with hands that were surprisingly gentle for killers.

  "Commander," Lidra said, looking up. Her eyes were sharp. "Mowj told me everything. So... I am the 'Tea Girl' now?"

  Jamih smirked, leaning against the doorframe.

  "Hah... The title suits you." He shifted his gaze to the room. "How are the wounded?"

  "They are improving," Lidra admitted, grudging respect in her tone. "Your men are skilled with herbs. Qaws brought exactly what I needed. Our stores are stable for now."

  Nearby, two assassins exchanged a brief, proud smile.

  "And food?" Jamih asked.

  "Qaws brought back three Valley Beasts. He has gone out again for more," Lidra said. "We have enough for three days. But the patients... their bodies weaken with every passing hour. We are fighting the symptoms, not the disease."

  Jamih pointed his sheathed sword toward Mowj.

  The boy stepped forward, his face set in a new, harder determination.

  "I will find a cure. And a way to restore the soil. We are heading south—where this all began."

  Lidra’s eyes widened. She stood up, careful not to wake the baby.

  "The Southern Villages? Are you mad? That is where the Old Sorcerer lurks. That is his territory."

  "I can handle him," Jamih stated flatly.

  "Even so! I won't let you go alone. I’m coming with you."

  Mowj raised his hand gently, stopping her.

  "Miss... I am asking you to stay."

  Lidra froze.

  "The wounded, the sick, this child—they need you here," Mowj said, his voice steady. "Please. We will return with the cure. And a way to make the land bloom again. I promise."

  He clenched his fist, looking at the floor, then back at her.

  "I promise."

  Lidra blinked, stunned. She looked at Jamih, then back at the boy she had been protecting.

  "You are giving me orders now?" she whispered, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Is that what you wanted, old man? Look at him—he is starting to command us."

  Jamih chuckled low in his throat.

  "Just take care of the village, Tea Girl. We will bring the rain."

  "Commander," Lidra said again, her voice soft. "Thank you."

  Jamih held her gaze for a second, then turned to the door. "Mowj—let's go."

  Mowj walked beside him. At the doorway, he turned back and smiled at Lidra.

  She winked, clutching the child closer. "Go save the world, hero."

  They rode out on two massive Valley Beasts, leaving the safety of Lajira behind.

  The desert winds howled, whipping golden sands around them in a blinding vortex. The further south they rode, the hotter the air became, carrying the scent of ash and decay.

  "Lainas said we would reach the southern edge quickly on these beasts," Jamih shouted over the wind.

  "We will make it," Mowj replied, squinting through his scarf.

  He pointed a gloved hand toward a cluster of silhouettes in the distance.

  "Look... That village. It’s burned."

  Jamih slowed his beast. "Yes. Those huts were torched deliberately."

  "Should we investigate?"

  "We should."

  They veered off the main path, approaching the blackened ruins. The silence was absolute.

  Mowj dismounted first, his boots crunching on soot.

  "By the Luminous Tree..." he whispered. "What happened here?"

  Jamih tied the beasts to a scorched post and drew his sword, scanning the perimeter.

  "Notice anything?"

  "Like what?"

  "Look closely. At the bodies."

  Mowj knelt beside the remains of a woman huddled in a doorway, her arms wrapped around a small form. He inspected the remains, his stomach turning, but he forced himself to look.

  "Wait..." Mowj frowned. "They weren't cursed. There is no purple discoloration on the bone. No signs of mutation. Neither of them."

  "Exactly," Jamih said grimly. "This village wasn't destroyed by the enemy. It was burned by one of your own commanders. A powerful purifier."

  Mowj stood up, horrified. "Suhail?"

  "Lainas told me he panicked," Jamih explained. "He feared the village would spread the curse to the north. So he purged it. But they were clean."

  "Even the storehouses..." Mowj looked at the ruined silos. "Burned. He destroyed the food."

  "He was afraid," Jamih said.

  "This is horrible," Mowj’s voice trembled with anger. "I don't agree with Suhail’s decision. We could have quarantined them... We could have checked!"

  Jamih leaned against a blackened wall, crossing his arms.

  "What would you have done in his place, boy? The villagers were begging for salvation. The curse was spreading like wildfire. You have hundreds of soldiers to protect. What do you do?"

  Mowj looked at the scorched soil. "I would help them."

  "They were under siege. Not yet infected, but the enemy was at the gates."

  "Then maybe..."

  "Maybe?" Jamih pressed.

  Mowj fell silent, struggling with the impossible choice.

  Jamih exhaled.

  "If I were you," the assassin said, "I would have gathered the farmers. I would have told them to grow something else. Not wheat. Not corn."

  He reached into his pouch and pulled out a shriveled, ugly fruit.

  "Desert Fruit," Jamih said. "It is toxic when fresh—deadly poison. But once it rots, the toxins break down and it becomes edible. Sweet, even. The Corrupted won't recognize it as food because it smells of death. But for the living? It is survival."

  "It’s a temporary solution," Jamih tossed the fruit to Mowj. "But it buys time. Suhail panicked because he only saw two options: Run or Burn. A leader must find the third option."

  Mowj caught the fruit, staring at it.

  "I would halt farming," Mowj murmured, his mind racing. "Evacuate the healthy. If they can still move, they can still help."

  "Also," Jamih added, "Valley Beasts can eat this fruit raw. They are warped by magic from the last war—immune to this strain of toxin."

  Mowj knelt, digging his fingers into the ash-covered soil.

  "Wait..."

  He pulled up a handful of dirt.

  "I found it! It’s not just the burning. There is a root system here... a type of corrupted plant. It is poisoning the ground from below. If we destroy the root..."

  He looked at the rotten fruit in his hand.

  "Jamih... throw me a seed. A fresh one."

  Jamih bit into another fruit, chewed the flesh, and spat the pit to Mowj.

  "Plant it. Cast your magic. If I am right, the Southern Villages weren't famous for their soil quality."

  "They weren't?"

  "No," Jamih said, watching the boy. "They were famous for their people. Healers. Masters of Growth Magic. They made crops bloom in the sand overnight. They fed entire regions with magic, not rain."

  Mowj stared at the seed in his palm.

  "I didn't know that. I only knew my aunt came from here. This was her birthplace—Falia."

  Jamih paused, digging a shallow hole with his boot.

  "That explains her skill," he said softly. "Her legacy."

  Mowj placed the seed in the earth and covered it.

  "Do you think it will work?"

  "You said you would find a cure," Jamih replied, stepping back.

  "Right... We are trying."

  Mowj closed his eyes. He placed his hands over the mound of earth.

  "Sky’s Growth."

  His hands glowed with vibrant green light.

  Above them, through the swirling sands and the dark sky, the green comet pulsed—answering the call.

  Jamih drew his sword and turned his back to the boy, facing the ruins.

  "Focus, Mowj," he whispered. "I’ll keep the ghosts away."

  https://on.soundcloud.com/TJt3JGxs9Pq9ctWowD

  happy to hear them !