Doren picked at a piece of the woody armor that Meko had missed, his gaze drifting from one companion to the next. He had revealed the deepest, most dangerous secret of his life to them. They had risked their lives, their freedom, and their home in Havenport for him. Yet, in all the chaos, he realized a sudden, unsettling truth: he barely knew anything about them.
They were a unit bound by crisis, but their pasts were still veiled.
He looked at Meko, who moved with the grounded confidence of someone who had seen more of the world than he let on. He looked at Katarina, whose eyes held a distant, knowing sadness. And he looked at Anya, whose desperation for a safe life had been violently interrupted by the Sunless.
Doren set the bone down. "I... I haven't asked much about any of you," he admitted, his voice quiet. "You almost know my whole life, but I don't know why you were in Havenport, or where you learned to fight like that." He looked directly at Meko. "You, Meko, you knew exactly how to handle that Turkshumu. You have the control I can only dream of. Where did you learn it?"
Meko took a large, satisfying bite of breast meat, chewing slowly before setting the chunk down on his knee. The firelight caught the grim contentment in his eyes.
"Born right there in Havenport, Doren. Me and Katarina both," he said, nodding toward the quiet Air Elemental. "But this control? Took a different kind of training… Years of training."
He paused, gathering his thoughts. "When I was thirteen, I lied my butt off and joined the King's Army. Said I was sixteen, had to walk everywhere hunched over for a year so the commanders wouldn't catch on. Served for eight years, mostly with the supply lines near the coast, but you pick things up. You learn to make your element obey, not because you love it, but because if it doesn't, someone dies."
A shadow crossed his face. "Got myself kicked out when I was twenty-one. Saw some things that didn't sit right, pulled a stunt that definitely didn't sit right with the brass. Drifted for a year after that, doing… whatever paid. I ended up wandering back in Havenport because that's what dirt does.. it settles where it started."
He took another bite of meat. "Was actually trying to become an assassin, believe it or not. Thought I had the discipline for it. Couldn't quite cut it, though. Too much conscience, maybe. But alas, here I am, scraping Turkshumu leaves off my dagger and guiding one of the most dangerous people on Miridia toward a cult that wants to light the world on fire. I'll take 'bodyguard' instead."
He managed a weary but genuine smile, and the group shared a quiet, tense laugh—a brief burst of camaraderie in the firelit dark.
"So that's my story," Meko finished, looking at Doren. "I traded a uniform for a hunting knife, and I traded a quiet life for a headache named Doren. Your turn, Katarina. Tell the kid why you always look ready to fly away."
Katarina rolled her eyes, a hint of genuine annoyance flickering in her gaze. She took a slow, deliberate sip of water from her canteen, gathering her thoughts with the same cool precision she used to command the wind.
"I hate talking about myself," she finally said, her voice smooth and low, like a gentle current of air. "It's all terribly dull compared to saving the world from a cult or whatever we're doing now."
She waved a dismissive hand. "Yes, I was born in Havenport, but to... wealthier parents. The kind that worry about optics and social standing. That's how I met Meko, actually, when I was about six and he was eleven. His mother and my father, apparently, decided that a brief, scandalous affair was a good idea. When his mother fell on hard times, my father, in a rare moment of actual conscience, or maybe just to clean up his own mess, took her in."
She sighed, a quick, barely audible gust of breath. "My dream was simpler than Meko's kill or be killed fantasies. I wanted to dance. To take the stages of every major city across Erenia and move until my legs simply gave out. I put years into it. I busted my butt, integrating the air into every routine. A little lift here, a perfect spin there. But in the end, it was always the same: 'Not marketable enough.' I couldn't get anyone to endorse me."
She looked out into the darkness, a distant sadness in her eyes. "You don't always get what you dream for, even when you use all the tools you have. When Meko finally drifted back into Havenport, I realized the stage lights were never going to shine for me. So I stopped trying. I dropped the dancing and just started hanging around Meko, helping him with his... less legal enterprises. It made more sense than polishing a reputation. As for my father? We haven't exchanged a word in years. Best to keep those wealthy headaches at a distance, wouldn't you agree?"
She gave a small, wry smile. "Now, Anya. What's your story, and why did you decide fighting a cult was a good career move?"
The personal stories had created a fragile but necessary bond. When it came time for Anya to speak, she cleared her throat, her hands nervously tracing the edge of her simple tunic.
"I... I'm not from here at all," she began, her voice gaining a slight, nervous edge. "I'm from Maileki, on Volkiki Island. It's a gorgeous place, but it's terrifying, too. All rock and fire, and everyone there is just... loud."
"I was going to be a teacher. That was my whole plan. I'm only twenty-four, and I studied for three years in Kingry, the capital. I came all the way out to Havenport just to set up a small schoolhouse. Everything was planned; I was on my way to finalize the land lease when..."
Her gaze sharpened. "I saw your friend, Varen, getting grabbed by that awful man, Waterloo. I didn't think, I just reacted. I tried to stop him. I threw myself at him, shouting, and I instinctively used my Fire to try and push him back, anything to create a distraction. He hit me, and then they got me, too."
Anya rubbed her hands together. The firelight caught the nervous glare in her eyes. "I didn't want to fight the Order, I wanted a quiet life! But now I'm here, and I'm terrified they'll come back for me because they know I saw their faces and know I tried to interfere. So now I have to fight. And I'm just so worried that my elemental prowess is not going to be good enough. I'm just... not a fighter." She looked at Doren. "I just want to survive this, help you find your father, and maybe, eventually, go back and teach."
"We will," Meko assured her, his voice firm and unwavering, cutting through Anya's fear. He gave her a steady look that offered a silent promise: they wouldn't leave her behind.
He immediately set about packing the rest of the Turkshumu meat. He stripped the remaining dense cuts from the bone, wrapping them tightly in large, oil-soaked leaves he pulled from his pack. "This is prime goods for the market in Limka," he said, handing the package to Anya. "Sell it fast, and don't take less than the market rate. You need the gold, and you need to get out of sight quickly."
As Meko focused on the logistics, Katarina spread out their meager bedding, using her Air element to fluff the hard forest moss. The companions settled, the fire now banked low for the night.
Doren, however, did not relax. He didn't focus on the impending danger of Limka or the logistics of the cover story. Instead, he returned to the puzzle that was now literally haunting him: The Order of the Sunless.
"The elementals," Doren murmured, staring into the faint embers. "They came at us with Fire, Dark, and that Lightning Elemental. That can't be random." He looked at Meko and Katarina. "My father's journals said the Powerhart controls six elements. But the cult that is hunting it... they used elements that are clearly tied to chaos and power. We need to figure out what those elements tell us about their structure, or their goal."
The low-banked fire provided just enough light for the four companions to see the grim lines etched onto one another's faces. The weight of the coming day in Limka settled heavily on the camp.
"We need to talk about what hit us," Doren insisted, staring into the dark. "That wasn't just chaos; it felt intentional. Like they were just waiting for the moment to strike."
Meko nodded, his gaze distant. "It was. And it's worse than just three volatile elements. Back when I was in the King's Army, there was a new kind of elemental theory circulating among the brass. Some highly classified stuff at the time. They called them sub-elements."
He leaned in, his voice dropping. "The six core elements are the foundation, but each has a rare, highly specialized variant—a sub-element. The military was trying to develop them into weapons, because they're devastating."
Meko tapped the ground. "Here's what they believed." He began drawing symbols for each of the six elements and then drew a line from them. At the end of each life, he drew more symbols. Earth is the ability to move the ground itself and anything from the ground, but its sub-element is Life. Fire is heat and destruction, but its sub-element is Plasma. Pure, uncontrolled white heat that melt away anything it touches. Air is the wind and pressure, but its sub-element is Lightning. Chaotic, instantaneous, and lethal. Water is flowing and peaceful, but its sub-element is Ice. Crushing, absolute cold that halts all movement. Light is illumination, but its sub-element is Healing. A great power on the battlefield. Dark is shadows and void, but its sub-element is Time. Something ancient and frightening."
"They used four elements." Meko clarified, as he looked at his comrades around the fire, his voice sharp. "Waterloo was Water. The fire and dark elementals hit us near the docks, and then the Lightning elemental showed up to finish the job. Water, Fire, Dark, and Lightning—three core elements, and one sub-element."
He shook his head slowly. "The fact that they are mixing core elements with a sub-element like Lightning, it tells you something, Doren. They are fielding a specialized army focused entirely on destruction and chaos. They aren't trying to find balance; they're trying to dominate the world with their elements."
Doren absorbed this chilling reality. His family was tied to the stabilizing sub-elements. Daria having the ability to grow plants out of the soil as quickly as she did showed her use of Life. Jemsie's ability to heal wounds was a sign she had Healing. While the Order was fielding the aggressive ones. The conflict was a war between stability and chaos itself.
Doren leaned back from the fire, the revelations about the Sunless Order and their focus on destructive elements swirling in his mind. The chaos of the past week had been a relentless, blinding blur.
Absently, his fingers dove into the deep pocket of his tunic. His hand closed around a familiar, smooth object: the Focal Stone. He realized, with a sudden, startling clarity, that he hadn't consciously thought about the stone since leaving the cottage.
He pulled it out, turning the simple, palm-sized rock over in his hand. It had become such a constant, grounding weight that its presence was automatic. Even without his focused concentration, the stone had been silently acting as an anchor, slightly dampening the turbulent energy of the Powerhart within his chest, preventing his chaos from fully erupting.
As he ran his thumb over the meticulously carved rune etchings on its surface, a sensation far colder than the forest night hit him. It wasn't the steady, reliable stability of the Earth element, it was an ominous, metallic cold, as if the stone were suddenly drawing its power from a place of deep, ancient malice.
A sharp, cold shudder crossed Doren's body, starting at his fingertips and running straight through his core. It was the feeling of being watched by something immense and unfriendly. The presence felt strangely active, as if the runes were not just symbols, but small, hungry eyes tracking his every move.
Startled by the sudden, intrusive feeling of dread, Doren quickly dropped the stone back into his pocket, shoving his hand deep to make sure it wouldn't fall out.
"What is it, Doren?" Meko asked immediately, noticing the sharp, involuntary reaction. "You just went cold."
Doren rubbed his arms, trying to shake the icy sensation. He looked at Meko, hesitating. He couldn't share everything, not even with these people who had saved him. "Just... thinking about the Dark elementalist," he lied, keeping the stone's ominous feeling a secret.