28TH

I'm here in the cold darkness flanked by the trees, halfway into the path to his hut. The need to talk to him keeps the persistence in my feet to keep taking steps, yet I don't know what's slowing me down. I feel some sort of weight around my legs holding me off from going further. On the way earlier, I was like a student chasing the next hour of classes, but then I'm as sluggish as a snail, my stomach burning as if I got drizzled with salt, and all I can do is press a palm on my belly, while the other is in my pocket holding the sketched paper.

I'm almost there. From here, I can see the flickering bonfire light casting over the trees, the sounds of woodchops, and the smell of soup in the cold air that I can now admit to having grown fond of, which suddenly indicates to me that he might not be leaving, after all. Maybe, he was just stacking up here so he wouldn't have to keep going back and forth to the dining facilities, and also cook food like he certainly used to. No, I guess I'm mistaken. There are the two bags beside the doorstep of his hut, which he seems to have obtained from anyone who makes them here.

There he is, back facing me as he effortlessly swings an axe onto a fat piece of the log before him, the sharp head instantly splitting it into two. As usual, the cold doesn't seem to even bother him as he only wears a pair of soft cotton pants and a shirt where I see the imprint of his forming sweat around the collar. Adjacent to him is the bonfire that is already boiling the soup-filled pot, and he throws the newly cut pieces of wood into the fire, while my Lion-Boar peacefully slumbers next to it. Perhaps the steam coming from the pot is blocking her olfactory of my scent to even realize I'm here.

"Thought you're supposed to be celebrating," He says, coldly, not even bothering to look at me as he now stirs the pot. No, I presume he already sensed me coming.

"Yeah," I say. "I just wanted to see you."

He doesn't say anything. And that has me clumping onto the robe keeping me warm. His robe.

"Guess the hunting got you two closer together, huh?" I ask, referring to my Lion-Boar companion just to subdue the tension growing around.

"Not really," he says.

"I doubt that. You fed her once. Pretty sure she recognizes that."

And he's silent. Now, I don't know what else to say. No. I should return the sketch. So, I reach a hand into the pocket I have it kept in. But then, he speaks again.

"Keep it."

I stay frozen in place, parsing whether I heard that right or not. "What do you mean 'keep it'? I should have returned it to you sooner and I know it was very disrespectful of me, especially putting you on a spot the other night." I hold the paper and unfold it open. "I haven't even repaid you for everything."

"You were supposed to see it anyway," He counters. "And I already told you that you don't have to repay me."

I scoff silently and then look down at the paper. "You're complicated, you know."

I see the sudden discomfort on his shoulders, not because of the cold, but by my words.

"Yeah, the other night you hinted to me that you've known all this time that I have it, yet you never bothered to take it back," I say back. "It's funny. But that just makes it clearer now why you went along with me. I'm no stranger that you coincidentally found washed down in the river, after all."

He remains silent and starts drinking from a coconut bowl. That response suddenly makes me want to take back the words of assumption.

"Unless I'm wrong," I say.

Still nothing. And now I don't know how long my patience can last at this point. But I don't want it to end like the other night again, especially since I might not see him again. The next thing is that he's heading into his hut.

"So you're just going to leave?"

"I don't have any other reasons to stay."

I remain calm and encourage my feet to follow his tracks. "Really? Back at the cave, it was otherwise. The same after you followed me to Otima and saved my life from another Ordinal. You had the option to turn your back, yet you never did. That's not what any stranger would normally do, not even a rogue. And I know for a fact that it's because of this sketch."

I haven't realized that I'm already at the top of my lungs right as he stops on the side of his bed, barely able to touch the half-full bag that he certainly got from around here.

"I could say the same to you," He counters. "You were eager to push me away, then now you don't." There he is again, only acknowledging a portion of my words. But I won't let him prevail this time.

I almost laugh at that. "I'm clear with my reasons, and you know it. But I don't think I can say the same to you."

His exaggerated movements prolong as he fiddles with that half-filled bag on the bed. But it's not of being in a rush. It's of furiousness. He doesn't say anything else. At this point, I no longer have anything in my pockets to get something from him. I guess it was just a waste of time coming here. He's right. There's no other reason for him to stay. And there's no other reason for me to even make him.

I sigh in defeat, then step onto the floor of his hut, place the sketch on his bed, and step back out. "It was nice meeting you," is all I say, then make my way back to my hut.

"Kelon." That instantly halts my feet from taking the second step. My ears perk, heeding what he just said, but he clarifies it soon. "That was his name." The immediate shift of his tone from stubborn and rude to something I've ever heard for the first time — so vulnerable, more vulnerable than a Wolf-Breed that got separated from his pack. "He was beautiful. He was all I could ever have asked for."

I suddenly find myself turning back to face the door. There he is, still in his standing posture, his side facing me. Yet it doesn't hide the same dread on his face he had the other night I confronted him, only that it's more different — way different, something I never expected to see, tears slowly dripping down his cheeks.

He then turns and slowly sits on the bed, giving me a clearer view of his guise. Although the ever-unfazed expression persists, lips pursed, jaw clenched, the tears are there as if he's fighting the emotion that is supposedly manifesting instead. Or perhaps, something he has bottled. I'm just speechless now, shame suddenly replacing the weightful fury in me.

"I still remember him like it was just yesterday," He continues. "Despite it had been a long, long time."

I find myself standing at the door again, all ears on his faltering voice.

"We were rogues. Wild and free. A permanent home was never a problem for us when we lived anywhere we could, joyfully. But that joy didn't last."

I let the silence dominate for a few seconds I muster up the courage to ask, "What happened…?" in almost a whisper.

"Kalvar," He answers. Is he from Kalvar? "They captured us, tore us apart from each other, subjected us to experimentations that forced out the feral natures within us for them to exploit in their territorial expansion." Does he mean before Kalvar? But that was centuries ago… He was a slave. Wolf-breed had longer life spans than humans, yes. But not as long as predating the Old Hellion War. I can't even imagine it. But the question of him being a different creature is no more. It's all clear now. This poor man…

"At one point, the opportunity to escape finally came. So I did." His hold around the sketched paper tightens. "I tried to save him. But his sanity was on the brink of beyond aid. And it was too late at that point. He wasn't able to handle every bit of torment he went through, and the guilt of being forced to hurt people…"

My lips are quivering. The persistent shame in my stomach forces my eyes to wet as I visualize his words.

"I didn't want to do it. But he pleaded. He pleaded to make the pain stop."

My stomach drops, and my mind already visualizing what he had to do.

"When I escaped, I was able to take only this. The only thing I have of him. I spent the rest of my days waiting for death to fetch me. Even tried doing him the favor. But this feral creature in me just keeps him off the doorbell. Every cut I do just gets erased as if it was never there. Every bullet I tried to swallow just gets spat back out. Not even poison or any magic can do the trick." His eyes finally rise to me. "I desperately wanted to be with him again, even though before he drew he last breath in my arms, he said, 'We'll meet again. Live for me.' As much as I wanted to believe those words, I knew it would never happen again. Until I found you."

My gaze drops to my feet, my hands firm on my sides. I can't form any thought to say.

"You had his scent that I'll never forget, despite you're not an ordinary person. But it hardly matters when we both are."

"Why didn't you tell me after all this time?"

He springs up from his seat and shoves the remaining clothes into that bag. "If I did, then you'd be looking at a centuries-old man who only recognizes the person he lost in a stranger he pulled from the river." After that, he scurries past me, also taking the other food-stuffed bag near the bonfire.

I'm frozen in place, silent, questioning where I could even place the judgment of my emotions if that's the reason why he held it all to himself. A part of me recognizes that he saw his person again, who wears a different persona at a different time, whom he longed, and yearned for. The other part of me also recognizes his words. But I want to stop him from getting further away, yet what do I say? What would be enough to even make him stay? I'm stuck in conflicted emotions, and all I can do is watch him disappear into the pathway. When I no longer see him, I suddenly break from the trance and bolt to get to him. Ahead is the path that now has people just getting back from the venue, some slurring that stains the cold air with the stinky smell of ale. I don't see him. Not even a sort of trail. But I don't lose hope just yet and guess as to which direction he might have gone. I make every step count with speed hoping to catch up to him soon. Not for long, I start to think I went the wrong way after all, so I turn my heels.

I managed to get to different places in the settlement, including those I hadn't been to. And nothing. I don't seem to even feel my lungs ever falter for a second, and I just keep on ramping until my legs finally come to a stop, on the snowy soil of the same field where I arrived from the temple. Nothing… I could feel the cold suddenly snatching my ability to think voluntarily, replacing the heat on my shoulders even with the robe on. His robe…

As much as I want to stay longer, my legs can't help but work on their own and take me back to my inn. My steps are slow and light, but I don't even recognize arriving so soon. I pull the door enervated, head straight to the bedroom, and deflate into the bed without even bothering to strip myself of unnecessary wearings. I hear a soft groan at the foot of my bed and I shift slowly to see my Lion-Boar sniffing at my boots. Was she following me all this time?

I dare not to even let the unwanted words sink into my head as I bury my face into the foam. But it's already screaming them out. He's gone… I never even got to repay him for all of his doing properly. Worse is, I never even got the chance to know his name, which is also my fault. All I have of him is this robe, and I know it will soon be permanently ripped off his scent, and it'll be just an inanimate object. But why? Why do I even feel this way? I can't even remember when this behavior suddenly existed. What do I even feel about him?

I spend the next hour being washed down repeatedly by my self-conscious brain. But I'm embracing it for an undefined reason. Soon enough, gladly, it eases down along with my eyes to skip the seemingly long night.

Anticipating my sleep to be a consecutive streak of yesterday, I only rather get a shorter one. But it's enough. And I have another training with Carvin today anyway. I'm here at the open cafeteria, munching an apple after finishing a chocolate rice porridge for the morning as I skim through my father's journal trying to comprehend his writings about his weapons' abilities. Lesser people roam around and sit to eat compared to the recent days, obviously because of last night's event that surely had a lot of them still craving for rest. Still, it doesn't contribute an extra peace of mind when my brain still screams about him. Where could he be now…? No. I can't let myself be distracted especially since I still have to anticipate Ordinal Twenty-One's prompt about when we will be departing for The Barrier.

I take another bite from my apple and feed it to my Lion-Boar, who accepts it with her toothy mouth, only lacking a bit of enthusiasm. It's either that she's exhausted from her periods of sleep, or it's because of him being gone as well.

I turn my eyes to my right as I notice Kyla coming in my direction. She wears nothing but some simple clothing that she seems to also have slept on under that cloak. The closer she gets, I begin to notice the wondering expression on her facade. "Morning." She sits opposite me.

I return the greeting and then ask, "Where's Grace?"

"Getting us food." And before she raises the lingering question from her throat, I slide the open journal toward her.

"Have you seen this language before?"

She intently examines the page, lightly pressing a finger on it. "No. I'm afraid not. Never. Why?"

"It's my father's," I answer "Mom gave it to me the other night. If I can translate these, then I can start learning how to use the Armaments, and start planning."

"Planning what?"

"Stopping another war from coming. Pretty sure Eleanor has told you about it while I was gone the other day."

"Yeah, she did," She whispers. "Have you asked your mother about it? Or Ordinal Twenty-One? Or the other council members?"

"My mother? No. The other council members? I doubt. Otherwise, they would've told me sooner, or at least already have made a transcript." I then flip to the next page and continue skimming.

That's when Grace arrives with a tray and settles next to her partner. Even with my eyes down at the book, I notice her carrying the same wondering look. Unlike Kyla, she's more upfront. It's part of her so-called social skills. "So… what happened last night?"

"Not exactly what you expected it to be," I say frankly, not even looking at either of them. I let them take a guess, and then Grace speaks again.

"Well, did you at least, try to—"

"Look, Grace," I interrupt calmly, now directly looking at her. "I appreciate you two doing that favor last night and all the patience and help that you gave me despite all the troubles I put you two in. I really do. But right now, I just want to focus on this. So that you two, and everyone else who got involved with me, can have theirs and your normal lives back as soon as possible. Okay?"

They're frozen, taken aback by my monotone. But I sense it immediately makes them take guess what happened last night. So Kyla only responds with, "Okay. If you need help, we're always here, Kye. Don't pressure yourself too much."

That's more than enough of an affirmation, so I flip the book close and calmly jump off my seat as I decide on an earlier departure to the training camp. "I'm going to train. Can you watch her for me?" I refer to my Lion-Boar.

"Sure," Grace answers this time with a genuine beam.

"I'll see you two later," I say last and head to find Carvin.

As expected, Carvin is busy with his trainees who look optimistic about becoming official soldiers, either at Otima or at one of the academies in the sectors of The Barrier. Seeing them rather again brings up the disappointing thought of how different my life has turned which also calculates the fact I'm never going to be like them again. Nor will I ever have a clear future of becoming a real soldier. It's a slap to the face, I'd say.

My sooner arrival immediately catches Carvin's attention and dismisses the session with the trainees. Perhaps he's more optimistic about training me instead.

"Sorry if I'm too early. Can't do anything else." Or can't think about anything else, rather.

He only kindly dismisses it, then curiously asks, "Where are your Armaments?"

"I thought we were going to figure out how to help me control my hellion abilities?"

"Well, Ordinal Twenty-One asked of me to also train you with your Immortal Armaments," He adds. "And, not to mention, now that you're taking your father's footsteps as the new Ordinal Eight."

Those words remain indigestible. I can't blame him, though. He wasn't there at the Council's lair the other night.

"I take his presumption that you already have comprehended the objects' capabilities given your father's journal," He adds, and that immediately reminds me of it.

I shake my head with unapparent disappointment. "Yeah, about that." And that gives him the hint. "I was hoping I could ask him or any of you about it."

"Well, unfortunately, he's away, went to the Barrier to acquire permissions for your tonight's expedition. Only that, of course, no one else will know that you'd be with him."

I did not expect it to be too soon. But, I'm not complaining.

"But even if he was here, he wouldn't be able to answer you since he's also not familiar with them either. Nor does the rest of us council members."

If any, this hinders progress in coming up sooner with a plan to stop another war from coming. Might even only tip us to the darker side of the prophecy. I pull the journal from my pocket and flip it open directly to the middle. "Well, how will we figure this language out, even?"

"It's theorized to be a language your father learned in his years of isolation after the Old Hellion War," He says as he neats the target dummies littered around. "At least, what one of Finn's theories speaks. Given the amount of time being presumed dead, it could be likely. The catch is, we haven't been able to trace its origins to this day."

"Well, what are the other theories?"

He turns to me. "It could also be a language he invented on his own. The elf always told us how creative of a man he always found your father to be. Either way, it leaves to one other theory that you might be able to understand those words on your own given the existence of your father's soul within you."

"Well, the reality now just disappoints all those theories."

"We beg to differ," He walks past me towards a chest to grab a pair of swords, then throws one at me. "Your potential has only been scratched on the surface, so who knows? It might come out of nowhere suddenly just as how you can suddenly make a sword glow."

That makes sense, but I still partly find it unbelievable.

Unprepared, my reaction helps me avoid his sudden lunge with his wings boosting his speed. I guess our training starts.