2025-12-17 09:36:52The small living room glowed with the soft orange tint of evening, the curtains half-drawn as Navir, Nimi, and Mehrak lounged together on the couch. Their laughter filled the room, rare, easy, the kind Argathe didn’t hear much anymore. Navir leaned forward, his scarred forearm catching the light as he shook with laughter. Nimi, wedged comfortably between the boys, nudged Mehrak with her elbow, grinning as she smacked his arm.
“Did you see his face? That expression was priceless!” Mehrak groaned. “Nimi, you’ve pointed out the last three expressions. Can we just watch the show?” The sitcom hit its punchline and all three dissolved into another wave of breathless laughter. And then, The TV froze. Nimi stopped mid-giggle. “Hey… what happened?” The screen flickered once, twice, then cut abruptly to black. A red banner appeared at the bottom: BREAKING NEWS. Mehrak jabbed the remote. “No, no, don’t do this now, ” The banner’s glow deepened like a pulsing heartbeat. “Turn it up,” Navir said quietly. The picture sharpened. A reporter appeared, standing stiffly before a row of government offices lit by dim streetlamps. Her eyes carried a tired unease that immediately tightened the air in the room. Nimi whispered, “Why does she look like that?” “Quiet,” Navir murmured, leaning in. The reporter cleared her throat, but her voice broke on the first syllable. “We interrupt regular programming to bring urgent news from the northern district.” Even the room seemed to still. “A young Argathe scholar was found dead earlier this evening…” Nimi’s breath caught. “Who?” “Liora Danesh,” the reporter continued, steadying her voice. “Twenty-two years old. A rising mind in national energy research. Her innovations had drawn international attention, ” She paused, swallowing hard. “Authorities confirm the cause of death was poisoning. The substance was delivered in a close-contact setting. Investigators suspect the perpetrator was someone familiar to the victim.” The silence in the living room deepened. Nimi’s fingers tightened on the couch. “Poisoned…? Someone close…” “Don’t start solving cases,” Mehrak muttered, nudging her. She nudged him back, eyes trembling. “This isn’t funny.” Navir’s gaze didn’t shift from the screen. “Liora Danesh did more for the country at twenty-two than most do in a lifetime…” The reporter pressed a hand to her earpiece and continued. “In other news tonight, rising unrest and worsening shortages have sparked another series of localized disruptions. Residents are advised, ” Mehrak groaned. “Can’t they ever bring good news?” Nimi hugged her knees. “First Liora… now this?” Before Navir could speak, the overhead bulb flickered. Once. Then again, harsh, sharp, throwing jagged shadows around the room. “Is it the power again?” Mehrak asked. The TV stuttered, the reporter’s voice glitching: “further updates, residents are advised…” A new red banner rolled across the screen: NEW EMERGENCY ALERT IN EFFECT… Navir barely had time to register the words when the kitchen door eased open. Arisha stepped in. Her gray scarf was slightly askew, as if she’d rushed, but her posture was stiff, controlled. The click of her shoes was enough to silence all three. “What are you three still doing up?” she snapped. Nimi jumped. Mehrak straightened. Navir sat rigid. “Final exams are tomorrow!” She continued, “Do you really think staring at screens all night is going to help?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She crossed the room, reached behind the TV, and flicked the main switch. The screen died instantly. “No more TV. Not tonight.” Navir opened his mouth. “We were just…” “You.” She pointed at him. “Study. Now.” Navir swallowed whatever defense he had. Nimi and Mehrak exchanged looks. “We… should probably go,” Nimi murmured. Arisha didn’t have to say anything. Her expression did the job. The two hurried out the door and slipped on their shoes. The house fell into heavy silence. Arisha stared at Navir a long moment, an unblinking command. He turned, heading down the hallway, each step slower than the last. The weight of the news clung to him: Liora Danesh. Poisoned. Someone close. At his bedroom door, he paused, exhaling. But before he could close it fully, a low, urgent voice caught his ear. Arisha. “No, listen to me,” she hissed into her phone. “I said don’t bring that into my house again.” Navir froze. Her footsteps paced, fast, tense. “I don’t care who you’re dealing with. Do not bring it here.” A beat. A sharper whisper: “Do you understand me? Not again.” The call ended with a hard click. Navir stood motionless in the dim hallway, his hand still on the doorknob. Again? The word echoed through him long after her footsteps disappeared.
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Chapter 44 - Daughter of Two Shores
The clinic smelled of boiled water and antiseptic.“Next,” Samaveh said, steady gloved hands already reaching.Ravina shifted aside to make room, her lighter copper skin touched with a faint rosy warmth where the lamplight found it. Long black-silver hair, wavier than most Argathes’, fell in loose curls down her back, framing a face shaped by sharper cheekbones and a narrower nose softened by full Argathe lips. Her eyes, red, but gentled to an amber hue, held a quiet, practiced focus as her slender hands moved with a healer’s precision.“Sit,” she said, voice calm but firm. “Slowly.”A lean shirtless man lowered himself, copper skin dulled by travel, red eyes ringed with exhaustion. His gaze caught on Ravina and lingered.“Hold still,” she said gently, her hands firm as his body trembled under them.“Must’ve been a difficult journey.”“You mean life-threatening,” he murmured, the words dragged out thin with exhaustion.Samaveh pressed cloth to a wound. “Hold this.”Ravina tied the
Chapter 43 - Othmir's Invasion (Flashback IV)
Dawn fractured under iron fire.Cannons thundered from the misted flats, their recoil shuddering through wet earth. Mud-packed ramparts split open, stones leaping as if startled awake. Horns sounded too late. Argathe sentries loosed arrows in tight arcs, copper hands steady, red eyes sharp beneath braided helms.“Hold the line,” a captain shouted.Gunfire answered. Clean. Relentless. Shafts fell short, hissing into muck.Smoke crawled along the ground, pressed low by wind. Pale figures advanced through it, boots finding rhythm where paths should not exist. Fair faces flashed between metal plates. Blonde hair caught firelight. Blue and green eyes stayed fixed ahead.“Reload,” an Othmir officer called calmly.The second blast tore the inner wall apart.Argathe soldiers surged to meet them, steel ringing, banners snapping above crowned sigils. The monarchy’s colors still flew. The king’s crest. The elders’ seals.“Protect the gate,” came another cry.But the gate sagged under the overwhe
Chapter 42 - Our Government Sold us Out
The chamber doors sealed with a muted thud.Footsteps echoed across polished stone, measured and unhurried, carrying from the threshold to the long conference table. Shoes clicked once, twice, then stopped. Chairs shifted softly. Fabric whispered as bodies settled.Copper skin caught the low chamber light with a muted sheen. Silver-black hair was cut short or pulled neatly back, streaked with early gray earned in offices rather than battlefields. Their red eyes were sharp and controlled, trained not to linger, not to reveal.Tailored suits replaced tradition: dark fabric, crisp lines, state pins fixed at the lapel like quiet threats.At the head of the table sat Minister Halvek.He was lean, middle-aged, his copper complexion drawn tight over sharp cheekbones. His red eyes rested half-lidded, unreadable. Long fingers, clean and steady, folded together beneath the etched crest at the table’s center.The last echo faded.Halvek inclined his head a fraction.“Begin.”“The southern zones
Chapter 41 - The Rise of Southern Creek's Militia
Low tide peeled the wetlands open.Water clung to stilts and roots in slick, rainbow-sheened pools. The air carried a sharp, oily tang that burned the back of the throat. Children stood coughing near the walkways, faces wrapped in cloth that did little to help.“Don’t step there,” an elder warned. “That patch leaks.”A woman waded into the shallows anyway, panic cracking her voice. “My son, ”She dragged the boy out seconds later. Black oil streaked his calves. Blisters rose where the slick touched skin, angry and fast.“It burns,” he cried.“Don’t touch it,” another woman shouted. “It was clean last season,” the mother said, shaking. “We drank from it.”“We filed reports,” an old fisherman muttered. “They filed us away.”A government notice flapped loose from a post, ink already bleeding from damp air.Tax due.Relocation pending.Aid under review.Upstream, a low mechanical hum rolled through the reeds, steady and approaching.Someone whispered, “They’re back.”No one argued.____
Chapter 40 - What Walks Without Knowing
Silence lingered after Navir’s whisper.“Someone erased themselves.”Ardavan shifted first, breaking it. “That’s not possible,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction. “Memories don’t just… delete.”“Well, nothing's impossible,” Tarefin replied quietly.“Technically speaking.” Samaveh added.Navir turned to him. “What makes you say that?”Tarefin raised his head slightly, eyes gleaming. “I told you, the wasteland doesn't kill. It erases your consciousness.” He said, indignance etched in his tone.Samaveh’s arms folded tighter. “A mental annihilation.”“A ruthless one.” Tarefin saidArdavan dragged a hand down his face. “Then how did we come back?”“You were anchored,” Tarefin said. “By what?” he asked.Tarefin's red eyes lifted. “By pain. Names. By someone who refused to let go.”Navir frowned. “But I don’t remember anyone pulling me.”“That’s the cost,” Tarefin said. “If someone crosses too far to retrieve another, the wasteland demands balance.”Samaveh went still. “You mean?”
Chapter 39 - Rules of the Wasteland
Morning leaked through fractured skylights, dust turning light dull inside the abandoned mall, shuttered since the curfews. Concrete swallowed sound. Windows faced alleys, not streets. Safe enough.Navir said softly. “So that's how you got there. The Wasteland.”Tarefin’s back leaned against the pillar, head low, composed, hair reaching his napes. Bare chest visible beneath his white shirt. “It doesn't host the dead.”Samaveh nodded. “You said it watched.”“Yes,” Tarefin replied. “Pressure, heat, wind. As if alignment mattered more than life.”Navir’s brow lifted. “That sounds… supernatural.”Tarefin tilted his head up, blinking, genuinely puzzled. “I don’t follow.” Samaveh smiled, turning to Tarefin, gently. “It’s a genre in recent movies.”Turning to Navir, she said. “Tarefin here is a little old school.” Navir exhaled briefly.“Why you?” He said turning to Tarefin.“I asked the wrong questions,” Tarefin said. “At school. At home. Everywhere.”“And now?” Ardavan asked.Tarefin rem
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