Where are you?

Zarkhaïm was standing over a map in the strategic room when he was disturbed by rapid steps. Someone stood in the doorway.

"Scouts returned from the ruins of the Eastern temples, he is not there," said the man panting after he just ran.

"Then send more men, try the mountains of the South," Zarkhaïm answered angrily before barking, "What are you waiting for?! Leave already!"

The king was on edge, he had sent men everywhere he thought Miroïr would have sought shelter and he found nothing. He slammed his fist over the table and fissured it all along. It was almost like he had left the world without any trace. 

"Miroïr, where are you?"

While Zarkhaïm was eaten by worriedness searching for Miroïr everywhere, Jäwell was obsessed with his defeat. He didn't accept that he lost a fight so easily. His ego was damaged and he closed himself in a training room. 

Jäwell trained without break night and day with the rage of revenge. Nobody dared to be near him as his anger was too intense. He had been humiliated deeply and he couldn't accept it. In the distance, Leïlana watched him lose himself in hatred, leaving everything that made him so beautiful. Since she joined the order of the mages, she always has been looking for Jäwell in the shadows, admiring him in silence. She couldn't bear to see him falling and her heart was ripped apart. She kept her distance from him, it was almost like Jäwell could not recognize his allies and enemies anymore.

Zarkhaïm barged into the training room, his anger didn't lessen with time and Jäwell also had a grudge against his old friend for his obsession to search for Miroïr in the whole world without caring about anything else, without teaching him how to deal with this new life. The king yelled at Jäwell as soon as he saw him. All the servants ran away quickly.

"Get out of here now! I need you to take the throne the time I search in the North if he is there," he said before adding mostly for himself, "be useful at once."

Jäwell frowned at hearing him.

"It has been months, he doesn't want to be found. Accept it."

"I am not asking for your opinion, I am giving you an order," Zarkhaïm never spoke to Jäwell this way and the prince refused to let it go.

"That's enough!" Yelled Jäwell, "Say it!"

Zarkhaïm didn't hesitate and the words went out of his mouth, "It is your fault! You should have retreated as he told you to do! He left us because of you!"

Jäwell raised his sword in front of him, "You are blaming me for being a warrior! We have always been this way!"

"You fought a god!" Zarkhaïm screamed angrily while unsheathing his sword in answer to the threat. 

"I had the right to fight, it was my right to die honorably!"

"You died like a peasant!" Zarkhaïm was hurting him more and more. 

The two men were now fighting in the training room with rage. As Jäwell's sword was blocked by Zarkhaïm's, he pushed him with his shoulder and punched him directly with his bare hands. They eventually ended up on the floor. There were broken noses and ribs, insults and growlings. They acted like ferocious beasts, but Zarkhaïm was stronger. He finally pinned Jäwell to the floor and shot his face with his forehead. Jäwell was bleeding but that was not the reason for his pain. He had tears in his eyes like a child being scolded.

"My brother hates me," he cried out. Jäwell was hurt and that was the first time Zarkhaïm saw him in such an emotional state. 

The king let him go and sat next to him. He took a deep breath.

"We will find him. Everything will be ok. We just have to find him."

Jäwell stood up, wiping his tears quickly, "Yeah, and after we find him, you will finally leave with him and leave me alone behind."

Zarkhaïm sighed, letting Jäwell leave the room. They had been so close for so long, it was hurting him to see that after sharing the same blood and being bonded like never before they could not understand each other anymore. 

Over the months, the situation of the kingdom became worse and worse. Every man sent by Zarkhaïm returned without finding any clue of where Miroïr was and nothing else mattered to him anymore, he needed to know what happened to him. 

Zarkhaïm could no longer stand the miss. He had so many things to tell him, he needed his forgiveness, and he needed to explain to him what happened. He needed to see him, purely and simply. Zarkhaïm tightened his fist, he needed to touch him, to scent him, he was starving to love him once more.

This was a dark period of history, the leaders were not able to make decisions, focusing selfishly on their own struggles, and the Generals had full powers. They used the situation to make personal profits and abuse the civilians. Nobody was saying anything and nobody dared to report it to the King or the Prince. People were on their own.

The word was spreading that they were monsters from the night, after the revelation of the black over the battlefield, Jäwell and Zarkhaïm were known to be demons. In the houses, people started to hang protection talismans. Priests appeared in the city, preaching a religion of light against the dark creatures. As they had more adepts every day Zarkhaïm or Jäwell did nothing and this faith of light gained power rapidly. Slowly, the preachers had an impact on the society they never had before, and the mages were considered demon's servants, leading the folks against them and pushing them to fight the evilness in them.