CHAPTER TWENTY

As the crackling fire consumed the logs, its eclectic sound joining that of the night’s breeze, gently swaying in its caress, a moment of silence followed Tatsuya’s request, in which, Zoel’s fingers idly tapped against the blades adorning her belt (a preventive measure or, most likely, purely decorative), in what he would describe as a nervous tick if the individual in question weren't averse to showing most emotions. The silence lingered long enough for him to wonder if she would heed it and almost had him reconsidering before she took a deep breath.

“I don't know how it happened,” she said, the words slipping between her teeth. They were weighted and heavy as though bearing them was a physical burden upon her throat, and her reluctance was made evident for all that she answered his question.

Rei, sitting beside her, reached out with his hand and rested it gently upon her shoulder, offering a silent reassurance.

“All I know is that I slept with a prayer on my lips on a river bank and woke up with Ava beside me, everything muted.”

“That sounds…” Almost fantastical? Imaginative? A straight-up lie? “Surreal,” Tatsuya finished lamely.

Zoel continued unperturbed. “We realised, sometime later, that what should have been one became two. A singular mind shattered into two distinct fragments, each taking upon its own personality, ideas, and dreams. However, the speciality had come with its consequence: only one was able to be called an elemental."

"How do you live with it?" Her words painted vivid pictures in his mind, his imagination carrying them away to that very scene, and he found himself shuddering at the thought of waking one day, unable to control air anymore.

That was honestly a fate worse than death to him because, in some ways, it was as if he was one with his element, and to be devoid of that closeness forever — to have someone else in my place — was a personal hell he never wanted to experience nor wish on anyone but Kuro.

“For all that I lost something precious, I gained something infinitely better. I was no longer lonely,” Zoel said, her words and posture lighting up with the tell-tale glow of happiness. Ava preened herself in response. “For as long as I remembered, I had no one. No family, friends, or guardians, and as the only vine elemental in present history, I had no master to call my own.”

Her shoulder slumped ever so slightly as she continued. “Loneliness is painful. Persistent, overwhelming yet numb; every day, a part of me died, and by the end, I was almost ready to go with the flow of the river until I lacked the strength to…survive.”

Her voice wavered at times, her emotions raw and exposed, and Tatsuya held his tongue, intently listening as he idly watched Ava comfort her…friend? Owner? Self? The implications of the words washing over him were too surreal, and he struggled to wrap his head around it—not to mention also deal with the lessened discomfort he felt at seeing someone usually so composed so vulnerable and raw.

He wondered if she, too, felt that way, especially since they were not close. Did she have a problem telling him all this, or did she care more about preventing the group from fracturing — due to his displeasure at Ava’s (admittedly) understandable actions — than putting up a front for him? Did it even matter in the end?

He couldn't tell, so rather than continuing wondering, he focused his attention back on her words.

“A cowardly consideration, perhaps," she said, shaking her head in thought, "but I was young and had known only myself, no one else. It was a desperate plea, my last; I had felt and had put everything in it. I still don't fully understand why, but the spirits had answered my prayer, and that's enough for me.”

For a magical feat to be performed, two things were crucial: will (or intent) and energy. It was just a guess, but it was possible Zoel’s speciality (whatever it was meant to be) had effectively functioned as a source for the latter because, if he remembered correctly, no one exactly knew what the energy sorcerers used was—but then again, she was no sorcerer, and it was also possible that Ava was, for some odd reason, her speciality. After all, specialities were, by their nature, a unique manifestation of one’s character and lacked logical explanation.

Who was he to term something fantastical when they lived in a world where the elements could be bent at will?

All in all, his curiosity was satisfied on this matter, but there was another question he needed an answer to before he returned to his bedroll. He fidgeted momentarily with his hands, searching for the right words to convey his intent before deciding on being blunt. He didn't think sugarcoating his words would be necessary.

“Is there anything else I need to know?”

A ripple of surprise and concern spread through the group. Whispers and glances exchanged between the members, bar Tatsuya, revealed a mix of emotions—one shocked, others reflecting guilt or uncertainty—before turning to Jao, who cautiously encouraged him to continue.

“I don't really care about your secrets, but it would be best to tell me anything that would affect my goal." He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "You have shown a habit of keeping relevant details from me, and I would rather it not come back to bite me in the ass again.”

Just as Leia made to open her mouth—to shut him down, most likely, as her shock had given way to anger—Farah, quiet observer all this while, said, “He's right. He does need to know.” Her voice was barely a whisper as if she was also aware of the sudden sense of something lingering above the group’s shoulders, which, given that there was apparently something important she felt he needed to know, and she was a long-time member—so she had to be in the know—was probably true.

A beat of silence passed, then, with a steady voice, Jao said, “Yes. I understand the position you are coming from, but I cannot stress enough the importance of our journey to the capital. The lords would be in attendance there in the coming month, including Kuro, but I urge you not to take any action against him and potentially jeopardise our plan.”

Shock swept through him, leaving a tingle of unease down his spine as he struggled to process the request. Why? Why would Jao ask such of him? He had to know. Why would he be asked not to take advantage of the opportunity—an opportunity he didn’t even know existed until now, for that matter—to kill the bastard?

“Please tell me why," Tatsuya replied, his wavering voice coming out quiet and choked, tinged with frustration and disbelief. "Why should I not kill Kuro after all he did?”

His mind replayed the death of his father at Kuro’s hands, the subsequent abandonment of his mother, and his hands trembled where he gripped the edge of his clothes, betraying his inner turmoil—a visceral reminder of the darkness that had consumed him—and his mind raced as he contemplated the leader’s motives. Did Jao know something he didn't? Was there a reason why the bastard’s life should be spared in the capital?

Doubt crept into his thoughts, weaving through the darkness of his uncertainty and budding anger, and he launched to his feet. Everyone else hurriedly followed, adopting various poses of caution, but he cared not at that moment as his frustration had finally simmered to the surface.

“I asked you a spirit-damned question, Jao!” His voice cracked with anger, his face reddening.

The leader, visibly startled by the sudden intensity of Tatsuya’s outburst, tried to maintain his composure. With a tone firm but composed, he said, “I understand you’re upset, but yelling won't solve anything. Let's take a step back and—"

Tatsuya’s anger flared, and he lunged forward, grabbing hold of the man’s shirt, their faces mere inches away from each other’s.

The group fell into stunned silence, and for a brief moment, no one knew how to react and could only watch in shock; then, the moment passed, and they made to separate Tatsuya from the leader, but the latter held out a hand to stop them from trying, his gaze still fixed upon the air elemental. The man’s calm expression had not faltered once.

“Despite what rumours say,” Jao said, “we are not actually trying to kill the king or any of the lords; in actuality, we try to avoid fights with any of them because we really don’t want their prolonged attention on us.” Jao’s features were illuminated by the flickering campfire and moonlight, and Tatsuya could see (as his anger began to wane) the man grow grave with each uttered word, carrying with them a weight that demanded attention. “Instead, what we are trying to do is far more dangerous.”

“What is the Wind Blades’ goal?” 

“Do you know what a Legend is?” Jao didn't wait for a reply before he continued, his lips pulled back with a snarl so full of derision, its metaphysical weight was evident in the lines etched upon his face.

Caught off-guard by its intensity, Tatsuya released his grip and dropped his hands to his side.

“A Legend is an affront to nature’s law; a crystalized manifestation of mankind’s perverse wish for absolute control brought to bear by the will of countless sorcerers and… sacrifices of unwilling victims.”

Tatsuya blinked. He blinked again, then broke his stare and turned away, face drained of colour. “Oh…”

“Yes.” Rei stepped forward, a hand coming up to rest on Jao’s shoulder. “We all joined the Wind Blades for different reasons, and though it's certain our different personalities would clash, we are all united by one goal: stopping the creation of a Legend.”

As the others came to stand side by side—each a diverse face representing a unique set of experiences and perspectives— nodding in agreement as they all looked at him, Tatsuya didn't know whether to laugh or cry; the latter because his rash reaction had exacerbated his injuries, and with his adrenaline waning, the pain finally registered in his brain, and he could feel slick wetness seeping through the bandages.

However, with a shake of his head, he buried his face in his palms and settled for the former. Loud and reverberating, echoing and bouncing and travelling all across the depths of the surroundings to the trees beyond his line of sight, his mirth was nearly deafening in its entirety. Full of pain. Of hate. Of sadness. Until he could go no longer, and he passed out.