The air seemed to hold its breath, thick with the weight of what had just transpired. The soft glow left in Al’aric’s wake lingered for only a heartbeat before dissolving into the shadows, leaving the cavern dim and unnervingly still. A quiet hum, almost imperceptible, vibrated through the ground, as though the world itself was mourning his disappearance. Each of them stood frozen, eyes fixed on the space where he had vanished.
“Al’aric said that At’tar will cease the moment,” Ith’iel, the Frostpeak Cavern leader, finally broke the silence.
“Did At’tar know about the exchange?” S’jarre asked, his sharp gaze fixed on Kenzie.
“No,” Kenzie replied, shaking his head. “At’tar and his armies retreated when Al’aric rescued me.”
“It’s the border,” Enn’ary interjected, his voice steady but tinged with urgency. “I can’t explain it, but I’m certain the light Al’aric released has changed something. Either the border will weaken... or it’s already gone.”
“At’tar’s army is outnumbered, right?” Leeland interjected, his tone hopeful. “I mean, there are six Mal’ak communities.”
“No,” Zar’iel, the Emberfall Cavern leader, replied firmly. “Not all Mal’aks are Luminals.”
“Luminals are what the warriors are called,” S’jarre clarified, glancing at the humans.
“Apologies,” Zar’iel continued, addressing the humans with a somber expression. “Luminals are a minority in each community, but At’tar’s entire army is mostly made up of Luminals.”
“Do you have an estimated number of all the Luminals?” Leeland inquired.
“More or less two hundred and fifty in Emberfall,” Zar’iel said.
“Exactly one hundred and eighty in Frostpeak,” Ith’iel added with precision.
“One hundred and fifty in Oasis,” D’raen said confidently.
“The same—one hundred and fifty—in Skyward,” S’jarre chimed in.
“We have one hundred and twenty,” Enn’ary offered.
“We only have a hundred or less in Whisperwood Cavern,” Sylarn said.
“That’s about nine hundred in total,” Leeland concluded, his tone thoughtful.
“We’re outnumbered,” Zar’iel said grimly.
“I can confirm that,” Kenzie added, his expression tense. “I saw At’tar’s army when Al’aric rescued me, and I’m certain there are more than a thousand.”
“We’re going to help,” Jazz interjected firmly, his gaze moving from one human to the next. Each of them nodded in silent agreement as his eyes met theirs.
“If At’tar’s army moves now,” Syl’arn, the leader of Whisperwood Cavern, said with concern, “they’ll reach Oasis Cavern before the Luminal reinforcements arrive.”
“Emberfall and Frostpeak are far,” Enn’ary said, addressing the humans.
“Then we’ll have to withstand the siege for three days,” S’jarre replied firmly. “Al’aric promised he’d return in three days.”
“We need to plan for each of the three scenarios,” Zar’iel said. “One: the border is still intact. Two: the border weakens. And three— the worst case—the border has already vanished.”
“I will confirm with the Luminals about the border right away,” D’raen said. “Then we should plan immediately.”
* * *
At’tar’s heavy footsteps echoed against the obsidian floor of his lair—a fortress carved into jagged cliffs, shrouded in shadow, and crowned with spires that seemed to pierce the heavens. The air inside was cold, lifeless, and thick with the stench of failure. His hands curled into fists, the dark-gray skin of his knuckles taut with barely-contained fury.
The confrontation with Al’aric had been a humiliation. For all his strength, for all the might of his army, he had been tossed aside like a broken instrument. His armies—his elite—had fared no better, scattered like leaves in the wind.
The thought burned in his chest, igniting a fury that he channeled into a swift kick to a nearby brazier. The iron bowl clattered to the floor, its embers scattering like dying stars. “Al’aric,” he hissed under his breath, his voice a low growl that resonated through the dark halls.
But then, just as he reached the threshold of the fortress entrance, something shifted. A sensation rippled through him, sharp and invasive, like a jarring discord in a melody he knew too well. His entire form tensed.
He turned abruptly, his cape billowing behind him as his piercing green eyes locked onto the horizon. The border. From the depths of his lair, he could feel it—the pulsing rhythm of the Negative Harmony. Yet now, it felt... wrong.
Emerging from the shadow of his fortress, he strode to the edge of the cliff. Far in the distance, the border shimmered faintly, its once-steady glow now flickering erratically, like a dying flame fighting against an unseen wind. At’tar’s lips curved upward, his teeth glinting faintly in the dim light as a slow, wicked smile spread across his face.
At’tar remained on the cliff’s edge, his sharp gaze fixed on the flickering border. The wicked smile lingered on his face, faint but potent, as if he were savoring the first note of a long-awaited symphony.
A measured sound of footsteps approached from behind, echoing softly against the jagged stone. It was Ka’reth, his trusted commander.
Ka’reth knelt a few paces behind, his head bowed respectfully. “My Lord,” he said, his deep voice resonant and steady. “What is it that you see?”
At’tar didn’t turn immediately, his focus still locked on the border as if the entire world depended on it. “Do you feel it, Ka’reth?” he asked, his tone a blend of curiosity and dark delight.
Ka’reth hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowing as he straightened, glancing toward the distant horizon. “There is... a disturbance,” he admitted. “The border is unstable, as though it strains against itself.”
At’tar finally turned to face him, his emerald eyes glowing faintly in the dim light, sharp with understanding. “Not a disturbance,” he corrected, his voice cutting like a blade. “An opportunity.”
Ka’reth’s expression hardened as he absorbed the meaning in his master’s words. “The border,” he said gravely.
At’tar nodded, his smile sharpening like the edge of a blade. “The flickering—it can only mean one thing. Al’aric’s light is gone. My plan worked. Al’aric’s love for humans was his weakness. He must have exchanged his light to purge the darkness from Kenzie. And soon, the border will fall. When it does, our path will be clear. The time for hesitation is over. Rally the armies, Ka’reth. Let them prepare to march. I will not squander this gift.”
Ka’reth saluted, his obsidian gauntlet clanging against his chest. “As you command, my Lord.”
As the commander turned and strode away to carry out his orders, At’tar turned his gaze back to the flickering border. The erratic rhythm of the barrier seemed almost like a heartbeat—one that faltered and grew weaker by the second.
“When the border falls,” At’tar murmured to himself, his voice filled with chilling certainty, “there will be no sanctuary left for them.”
* * *
The room, carved into the sandstone heart of the cavern, was illuminated by faintly glowing crystal formations embedded in the walls. At the center of the chamber, a large circular stone table stood as the focal point, surrounded by the Mal’ak leaders, their high-ranking Luminals, and the humans.
Maps and battle diagrams were strewn across the table, along with markers denoting troop positions and potential attack routes. The leaders spoke in low, measured tones, debating strategies and contingency plans for the impending assault. The humans, though clearly outsiders, were treated as equals in the discussion, their determination evident in their furrowed brows and attentive gazes.
Just as Zar’iel leaned forward to suggest a defensive formation, the heavy stone door at the far end of the hall creaked open. A Mal’ak strode in quickly. His presence commanded immediate attention, and the murmurs in the room died down as all eyes turned toward him.
He began, bowing deeply. “Ka’resh tol’mar ilathor.”
Enn’ary translated to the humans in the room. “I bring news of the border.”
A wave of silence swept through the room, anticipation hanging in the air.
“Ilathor par’resh,” the Mal'ak announced, his voice carrying a note of relief.
Enn’ary continued translating. “The barrier remains intact.”
There was an audible exhale from several of those gathered, the tension easing slightly.
But then, the Mal’ak’s expression darkened, and his tone shifted, more somber now. “Tarn’esh... del’naar. Ilathor ka’sharr tor’nash. Kor’tha ras’keth... ilor’az larn’ra.”
Enn’ary translated slowly, his voice grave. “However, it is not as it was. The border flickers... erratically. It is as if it struggles to hold its form, like a frayed thread ready to snap.”
A murmur of concern rippled through the room.
“It is just as I suspected,” Enn’ary said.
“How much time do you think we have before it fails?” D’raen asked.
“It’s impossible to say,” Enn’ary replied. “Hours? Perhaps days. But one thing is certain—it will fail, and soon.”
“The Luminals of Whisperwood and Waterfall are already here,” Zar’iel said. He then turned to S’jarre. “What of the Luminals from Skyward Cavern?”
“They should arrive by tomorrow,” S’jarre replied.
“I hope they make it before the border collapses and At’tar reaches us,” Zar’iel said gravely. “We desperately need the Archer Luminals from Skyward Cavern.”
“What of Frostpeak?” Syl’arn asked.
“Three days at best,” Ith’iel answered. “Two, if they push themselves to the limit.”
“Probably the same for Emberfall Cavern,” Zar’iel added.
“I’m certain At’tar is already aware of the weakening border,” Enn’ary said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if his army is already stationed near it, just waiting for it to collapse.”
“Assuming the worst,” S’jarre continued, his voice firm, “that the border collapses now. At’tar would likely reach us in half a day. Then, we’ll need to hold Oasis Cavern for more than two days, as Al’aric promised to return in three.”
A heavy silence settled over the room.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Gabe interjected. “But what if Al’aric doesn’t show up?”
“If Al’aric promised, he will,” S’jarre replied without hesitation.
“For now, we fortify Oasis Cavern. We continue planning, but we also need to rest and prepare.” Zar’iel said. “Humans, you can rest for now, but stay alert.”
They all exchanged brief glances, nodding in agreement. The urgency of the situation remained, but there was a brief moment of respite—a chance to gather their strength before the next storm.
* * *
A few hours had passed since the meeting, and the once bright skies of Eternal Resonance were now fading as the twin suns hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the Oasis Cavern. Jazz wandered aimlessly through the vast, dimly lit chambers. He had passed through the main hall, the winding corridors, and the quiet, secluded alcoves, yet there was still no sign of Enn’ary. After several more turns through the labyrinthine tunnels, Jazz found himself standing at the edge of a large, central chamber. Finally, in a far corner of the cavern, he spotted Enn’ary—his imposing figure illuminated by the soft, flickering light of the nearby crystal formations. Enn’ary stood in quiet conversation with another Mal’ak.
Enn’ary’s keen senses caught the movement out of the corner of his eye just as Jazz stepped closer. The Mal’ak leader’s sharp gaze shifted toward him, his expression unreadable for a moment. He spoke briefly to the Mal’ak he had been conversing with, his tone low but firm, a quiet dismissal that carried the weight of authority. The other Mal’ak nodded respectfully, stepping back with a slight bow before turning to leave, disappearing into the shadows of the cavern.
Enn’ary then turned fully toward Jazz, his posture straightening as he met the human’s gaze. The subtle shift in his demeanor spoke volumes—a quiet acknowledgment of Jazz's approach. “What brings you here, Jazz?” Enn’ary’s voice was steady, but there was a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes, as if he already suspected the reason for the young man’s arrival.
“Back there, during our first encounter, you called me ‘Enn’avy,’” Jazz said. “May I ask who he is?”
Enn’ary’s expression softened, a flicker of sorrow crossing his features. His eyes became distant, clouded with a grief that seemed to stretch across the years. “Enn’avy... is my lost son,” he said, his voice quiet but steady.
Jazz blinked in surprise, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Lost... you mean?” he asked hesitantly, unsure if he understood the weight behind Enn’ary’s words.
Enn’ary’s gaze hardened, his eyes filled with the weight of painful memories. “He died, the same day as my wife,” he replied gravely, the silence between them heavy with the depth of his loss.
Jazz took a step back, his heart aching at the gravity of the situation. “I'm so sorry,” he said, his voice a whisper.
Enn’ary gave a slight nod, as if accepting the sympathy, but his expression didn’t waver. “Remember Enn’aly?” he asked, his voice softening. “She is Enn’avy’s twin sister... the one who inspected your face.”
Jazz hesitated for a moment, then spoke, his voice tinged with curiosity. “Sorry, but if I may ask... I remember you told me that I look exactly like him?”
Enn’ary nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Even your voice sounded like him. As I said before, the only difference is that you are human.”
Enn’ary paused, his expression lingering, as if he was on the verge of saying something important. But before he could speak, the sharp sound of bells echoed through the cavern, breaking the quiet moment.
Enn’ary’s expression shifted instantly. His face hardened, and the seriousness in his eyes deepened. “The border has collapsed.”
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