Pillar of Sun Clan

“What were you going to ask me?” Ishaan interrupts gently, his voice tinged with undeniable curiosity.

“Oh, right.” Kaltain hesitates for a moment and then exhales. “What’s your divine companion?”

A jolt of shock coursed through Ishaan's body. It’s not odd to show others their divine companion, but he held back, a thought crossing his mind.

“I’ll show you on new years.” Ishaan's enigmatic smile causes Kaltain to stare at him in uncertainty.

‘Why?’ “Oh, okay.” Kaltain holds back her disappointment. Despite her initial thought of how things would turn out, the reality swept her off her feet. She needs time to adjust to the whole ordeal. 

Noticing Akira approaching, Kaltain politely smiles. “Ima head out. It was nice talking to you and meeting you, Akira.”

Akira returns her small smile with one of his own, nudging Rune waist as the man utters something with a vexing grin.

Kaltain's tender politeness surprised Ishaan momentarily.

She was exceedingly confusing.

In the beginning, Ishaan got the impression she was like Akira, someone with an apathetic heart and passionate soul. Akira truly gave no fuck about mankind, but would be a defender because of his passion for fighting.

Kaltain lacked the coldness in her soul he expected to be there.

Bitterly, Ishaan couldn’t help but feel as if his assessment is flawed.

As Kaltain's walks away absentmindedly, Ishaan follows her. He tentatively pauses before quickly tapping her shoulder. For that one second, his entire body froze and burned with the desire to isolate himself.

The feel of his calloused poke raises Kaltain guard to defend. She spun around swiftly, muscles straining in preparation for an attack.

Upon noticing Ishaan, her tension plummets. “Yeah?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Ishaan's apologetic expression turns sheepish. “May I have your phone for a moment?”

His question awakens unnecessary disquiet in Kaltain's eyes, but she nonetheless reaches for the front pocket of her backpack.

Ishaan beckons Akira over. Without any words exchanged, he hands the phone over, knowing Akira will understand his intentions.

****

The wind blows aggressively around an enormous square platform, carrying with it a scent of salt and fresh cucumber, while the sound of splashing sea water surrounds two figures, their auras clashing in a keen flood.

On the left of the platform was a glowing throne, where a scrawny man with bronze skin, short dark brown hair, intense ocean blue eyes, dressed in a neat black tuxedo, sat upon it, while on the right is another throne, which seems to be crafted from celestial flames, the glimmering scarlet fire blazing beautifully.

The young woman that sat upon the fire throne is draped in a red robe, the hood covering her appearance.

The man’s glistening aura flares, prickling sharply and brilliantly at the other’s skin, while the young woman's aura pulls gravitation at him, forcing him to clasp his hand tightly around the throne arms.

“How long must this bullshit go on, Lady Flames?” the man asks, his tone authoritative and haughty.

“Patient, my precious pillar.”

“They’ve all moved on. Forgotten their sins!” He slams a hand down on the armrest, creating a vibrate reverberation throughout the platform.

“Watch yourself,” the young woman chastises. She raises a hand in a casual getsure and the man’s aura dissipates, leaving her aura the sole dominant force.

The pressure of gravity slams down on the man and he sucks in a sharp exhale, trying to breathe normally, but feels air obscuring him, as if sealed away.

Sweat immediately pours down his exposed skin as he clutches his chest.

“I understand your impatience, my precious pillar. I am experiencing a similar struggle. But don’t ever forget, I allow you to feel strong before someone like me. I also allow you to act as you do. You killed that boy because I forged that path into existence.”

Rising to her feet, the blazing throne fades. “I’m your benefactor, old friend, and superior in every way. Do not mistake me for a mere one of those.”

A sinister gaze digs into his flesh, as if peeling away the pride, honor, and legacy from his soul, stranding him as a born mortal.

The man couldn’t breathe, think, or sense anything as a pitch nothingness shrouds his whole entity.

Within the void of existence, the Pillar of Sun Clan, feels deep rooted terror anchor his chest. It tugs, tugs, and tugs, devouring his spirit, mind, and soul until he finally regains a clear perception.

A singular voice laced with a lovely angelic quality was all he could grasp.

“Bow,” she orders. “And all will be forgiven.”

****

An ethereal sensation whirl through Ishaan, stirring his animation threads with a swell of solar energy. His vision flashes with mythical runes.

As he exits the tether portal, which are gateways to different points in the world—only those from the holy clans can use it—his polished shoes touch solid ground.

Hot air breezes, the scorching heat unperturbed Ishaan. 

Two guards clad in crimson armor bow shallowly as Ishaan strides down a sprawling compound, avoiding his exposed eyes like a plague. 

The fourway route fills his sight, with red trees dominating the sides.

Iniko’s home estate; Undying Inferno, was situated on a large stretch of vibrant property. It’s a grand and imposing building shaped like a beak, its walls draped in purple, with double front doors made of rich magical stone, flanked on either side by phoenix’s statues.

Blazing red fire surrounds the statues like their own auras and manicured white lawns with flourish gardens decorate the area, along with circular buildings.

Ishaan marches down the straight route, which shimmers like glossy multicolors, every step exuding a sense of control. The front driveway of gravel leading up to the main doors resounds with thuds.

Instead of taking the main doors, Ishaan turns and proceeds up a marble staircase spiraling the outside of the seventy-foot-tall structure.

Entering inside through the terrace, Ishaan does not relax until he sets foot in his room, the tension in his body loosens as he exhales. 

The odor of vanilla drifts into his nostrils like a welcoming hug.

Removing his shoes and then smoothing out his gloves, Ishaan slides them off with graceful care.

For a moment, he stares down with an empty look.

On the back of his left hand was a golden sun surrounded by a halo of clouds, while on his right was a black rose. Both marks emit tremendous power.

‘Love. End. Stars. Reverence. To the sky and beyond. Whole. Lost. Let go means I burn.’

Ishaan's mind spun reservedly with poem phrases as he began his routine, which he follows after returning home—undress and shower, rest his body for the day, dinner with his father, and then back to usual business with the league and training.

It’s a simple schedule, yet ever since last year, he feels as if it's a tangled dream.

Ishaan never really recognized how heavy individual troubles were until he had to carry those around him.

All he passionately wants is to be great. 

A legend. 

Ishaan was on the path of eminence, and in his personal opinion, doing well in the journey.

He is the youngest in history to have a completed sun divine mark and is co-leader of Voyager Seekers, one of the most famous leagues.

However, it wasn’t enough. It never is. He has no distinctive legacy or greatness that will be considered history forever.

How do you stop greed when your very desire lacks light?