Chapter 11: Childhood friends

The sky was choked with smoke.

Somewhere in the chaos, a young boy's voice called out, desperate.

"Dad! Mom!"

Flames devoured the village. Screams tangled with the crackle of burning wood.

Through the haze, a figure stood with his back turned. A mask concealed his face, jagged cracks glowing an eerie green. From behind his armor sprouted a segmented scorpion's tail, its stinger glittering.

Abaddon.

He turned slightly, just enough for one cold, inhuman eye to glance over his shoulder.

A strong arm yanked the boy back. A grown man, breathing hard, his clothes scorched.

“Lyon! We have to get you out of here!”

"I can't! I need to find my parents!" the boy cried, struggling in his grip.

The man's voice broke as he ran. “I'm sorry… I couldn't save them.”

The world blurred. Moments later, Lyon was cramped into a carriage filled with fleeing villagers. The wheels thundered over the dirt road.

From another carriage besides, a young girl with straight black hair and vivid purple eyes leaned out, tears streaming down her face.

“Lyon!” she screamed, reaching for him.

He stretched his hand toward hers, but the gap widened. Helpless, he watched her disappear from sight.

Days passed. The carriage finally reached the Luminette Kingdom. Lyon stepped down, hollow-eyed, drifting to the side of a quiet house. He sat there in silence, his will to move gone.

Then—

A small hand reached out to him.

A red-haired girl with a messy bun and a wide, warm smile.

“Come live with me,” she said. "My name's Kinana. I heard your village was attacked by a demigod."

Her voice was gentle, but before Lyon could answer—

The shadow of Abaddon loomed behind her, a suffocating menace rolling off him in waves. His scorpion tail arched high. The world split as his blade sliced forward—

Lyon jolted awake with a scream.

Just a nightmare.

He was in a soft bed, the sun spilling through the window of one of Crestoria's guest rooms. His breath came in ragged gasps, his shirt damp with sweat.

The door slammed open.

“Lyon!”

Neema rushed in, her usual sharp eyes now softened with worry. Kinana and Louille followed close behind.

"I'm fine," Lyon said quickly, forcing a smile despite the sweat clinging to his skin. “Just a nightmare.”

Louille let out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing. "Good. You did well yesterday, covering me like that. You really pulled through, partner."

Kinana smirked, "Finally! Lyon was actually useful!"

Lyon scratched the back of his head, element of how to respond. Then his gaze shifted to Neema, her lips trembling, her cheeks dusted with pink. She avoided his eyes, staring at the floor.

A soft knock came from the half-open door.

Jorelle stood there, her eyes as always closed. "Sorry to interrupt," she said calmly, "but the king has called for you, Lyon."

The throne room loomed high above them, sunlight cutting through tall stained-glass windows and casting colored shadows across the marble floor.

Lyon, Kinana, and Louille knelt in the center, heads bowed. Ahead, two thrones stood side by side. Upon them sat King Doherty and Queen Ariston. Jorelle stood silently beside the queen, her eyes closed as always, while Neema took her place at the king's right hand.

The king rose from his seat, the heavy folds of his robe sweeping across the steps. He approached slowly, drawing his sword with deliberate care. One by one, the cold steel tapped each of their shoulders.

“You have done well,” King Doherty said, his deep voice carrying through the chamber. "You stood for Crestoria. From this day forward, I name you heroes."

Lyon blinked in surprise. “Wait—so… I'm not a prisoner anymore?” he asked bluntly, his voice lacking the expected formalities.

Louille looked over his shoulder and muttered, “Show some respect.”

From her place by the queen, Jorelle let out the faintest of giggles.

The king cleared his throat, his tone shifting to a more solemn weight. “I have a request for the heroes,” he began. "Travel to the kingdoms of Reuben and Welch. Seek their aid."

A shadow of hesitation passed over his face. "I know they worship the gods of the underworld... but the matter before us is grave. This concerns the demigods."

Louille raised his head slightly. "Understood. We'll go."

The king turned toward Jorelle. "Jorelle, my daughter. You will accompany them."

Jorelle gave a small, silent bow.

Then, without even looking, his voice turned cold. "Neema. Stay here."

Neema took a step forward. “That's not fair—”

“Neema!” the king's voice cuts sharply through the air. "You will remain. Jorelle is the next heir to the throne, her presence will show respect when seeking aid. You are simply an ordinary princess. There is no need for you to be involved."

Neema's lips trembled as she fought back tears. She turned suddenly and left the room, the echo of her footsteps fading into the distance.

The queen's brow furrowed slightly, a trace of worry flickering in her eyes. Jorelle remained still, her expression unreadable. Louille closed his eyes and let the moment pass without comment.

Kinana whispered softly, “Neema…”

Lyon's hands clenched against the floor. He started to rise, but Louille's sharp glare from ahead froze him in place. Reluctantly, Lyon stayed kneeling.

Moments later, Lyon stepped out from the palace gates, the cool air of the city brushing against his still-tense shoulders. The heavy doors shut behind him with a low thud.

The streets of Crestoria were alive with the sound of hammers striking wood and voices calling instructions. Townsfolk rushed to rebuild, patching broken walls, sweeping away rubble, hauling supplies across the cobblestone roads. The scent of dust and scorched timber still lingers from yesterday's chaos.

Lyon weaved through the crowd, eyes scanning between the laboring townsfolk. A few nodded politely at him, but most were too busy to notice. Then, near a half-collapsed fountain, he saw her.

Neema stand alone in front of the fontaine, her usually neat white hair slightly wind-tossed. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, head lowered, watching the ripples in the shallow water. She didn't notice him at first, too focused on hiding the redness in her eyes.

Lyon stopped a few paces away.

“You're… hard to miss, you know.” he said quietly.

Neema didn’t look at Lyon, "What do you want?" Her voice was soft but strained, like she'd swallowed half the words she wanted to say.

Lyon hesitated, then stand beside her, leaving just enough space between them so she wouldn't feel cornered.

“I just… didn't like how that ended back there,” he murmured. "You fought for this kingdom the same as the rest of us. Doesn't seem right that you're being treated like you don't matter."

Neema's lips trembled, but she kept her eyes on the water. "It's not about me mattering. It's about... how little I can actually do. I'm just—"

“You're not 'just' anything,” Lyon cut in, his tone firm. "You've done more for me and for Louille and Kinana than you think. If you weren't there yesterday, half of us would be dead. Including me."

She took a glance and blinked quickly, then looking away again, as if embarrassed to be seen on the verge of tears.

Lyon let the silence stretch for a moment, then get closer slightly toward her.

"You know," he said, voice dropping into a conspiratorial tone, "when Louille called me his 'partner,' I thought it was because he finally saw my skills in battle. But now I think it's just because I'm the only one who can survive Kinana's cooking."

Neema choked out a small laugh, covering her mouth. “That's… terrible.”

"But it worked," Lyon said with a faint grin. "You're smiling now. So, mission accomplished."

Neema's faint smile lingered, although her cheeks were still tinged pink. Lyon relaxed slightly, satisfied he'd pulled her out of the gloom, at least for now.

"Ah-ha! So, you were talking behind my back!"

Lyon flinched at the sudden voice. Kinana stomped over from the street, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed in exaggerated suspicion.

“We weren't—” Lyon started.

“Oh, don't 'we weren't' me,” Kinana huffed, marching right up. “I heard my name and the words ‘cooking’, that's my business.”

Before either of them could react, she shoved her head right between theirs, leaning down so all three foreheads were almost touching.

Lyon tried to lean away, but Kinana wrapped both arms around their shoulders and yanked them in. Neema let out a startled squeak as they were squashed together.

"You know what?" Kinana declared, grinning like a fox. "We're strong together. And you're not allowed to forget that, even when you're sulking by the fountain."

Lyon sighed, but there was no hiding the small smile tugging at his lips. Neema rolled her eyes but didn't push her away, her earlier sadness dulled by the ridiculous warmth of the moment.

“Um…excuse me…?”

The three of them turned. Standing a few steps away was a girl wrapped in a travel-worn cloak, the hood shadowing most of her face. The hem was dusty, the fabric thin enough that the curve of her figure, especially her chest was faintly outlined beneath. Strands of long black hair slipped free from beneath the hood.

She glanced around at the bustling street before asking, almost hesitantly, "What… happened here? I just arrived. Is this… Crestoria?"

Her gaze drifted toward Lyon, and the moment her eyes caught the snow-white hair and blue irises, her breath hitched. “…Lyon?” she murmured, almost as if she didn't trust her own voice.

Lyon blinked, tilting his head. “Who are you?”

The girl reached up and pushed her hood back. A pretty face framed by silky black hair, with deep purple eyes glittering with tears, was revealed.

“Lyon… is it really you?” She whispered, her voice breaking.

Something in Lyon's chest tightened. A fragment of his dream, the burning village, the girl crying her name flashed vividly in his mind. He breathed the name without thinking.

“…Tiana?”

At the sound, she stepped forward and threw her arms around him. Her head pressed against his chest, her tears soaking faintly through his shirt, and the soft weight of her chest rested lightly against his stomach.

Kinana's mouth dropped open. "Wha—?! Since when do you have a girlfriend?!"

Neema, still wide-eyed, glances between Lyon and the girl, her lips parting but no words coming out. Lyon, caught in Tiana's trembling embrace, could only stare ahead, the past and present colliding too quickly for him to breathe.

Tiana didn't let go. Her voice trembled as she spoke against Lyon's chest.

“I've… been through so much since our village burned down…” She swallowed hard, her shoulders shaking. "After that day, I was... adopted by a village chief. At first, I thought I was saved..." Her voice cracked. “But he—he used my body…”

Kinana's eyes flicked downward at the very obvious, very persistent way. Tiana's chest was still pressing and bouncing slightly against Lyon. “Body…” she muttered, squinting suspiciously.

Neema's brows knit tighter, her voice carrying a chill. "You can take a step back from him while telling that story."

“Neema—” Lyon stepped in quickly, one hand up as if to settle the sudden tension. “Calm down, she's just… she's been through a lot.”

Tiana's friends softened over the next few moments, until she finally stepped back, wiping her eyes with the edge of her cloak. “I… I'm sorry.” Her gaze shifted between Kinana and Neema, her tone quiet. "You two must be Lyon's friends."

Lyon nodded, managing a small smile despite the awkward air. "Yeah. This is Kinana, and this is Neema. And this..." He placed a hand lightly on Tiana's shoulder. "...is Tiana. My childhood friend."

Kinana crossed her arms, giving Tiana a once-over before muttering something under her breath. Neema just nodded curtly, although her eyes lingered on Lyon a little longer than necessary.

Tiana sniffled once, then raised her head to look at Lyon. “Lyon, what are you even doing here?”

Lyon rubbed the back of his neck. "It's… a long story. But in short, yeah, we just fought a demigod here yesterday."

Tiana's eyes widened. “A demigod?! Is it him?!”

He shook his head, “It’s not him. And now we're heading to the Reuben and Welch kingdoms."

Tiana’s lips parted slightly, “That’s dangerous…”

“It’ll be fine, we’re not going to fight anyone. Just ask for help?” Lyon said with a faint smile.

“Help?” Tiana tilted her head.

"Yeah. The Prince of Welch, Evan Aleraf, and the Princess of Reuben, Cerys Crona—something." Lyon explained.

For a moment, she was silent, thinking. Then, her expression shifted into something more determined. “Then… I'll join you.”

Lyon blinked. “Huh?”

"Don't worry." She placed a hand on her chest. “Not long ago, I even managed to kill one of the underworld worshipers.”

“Underworld worshiper?” he repeated.

She only smiled faintly, offering no name. She remembered when she cut Nagi’s head. She stepped closer and slipped her arm through Lyon’s. "So... lead the way, Lyon."

Kinana's brow shot up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! since when does our Lyon get arm candy volunteering to tag along?”

Lyon groaned. “Kinana…”

Neema just crossed her arms and looked directly at Lyon, though there was the faintest twitch in her brow.

Kinana folded her arms, narrowing her eyes at Tiana's grip on Lyon's arm. "Childhood friends, huh? Well, I'm also Lyon's childhood friend. In fact!" She jabbed a thumb toward herself. “When he evacuated to Luminette's, I'm the one who gave him a roof over his head.”

Tiana's lips curved into a small, competitive smile. "That's nice. But I've known him since before he could even lift a wooden sword. We shared the same well water, the same fields... the same dreams."

Kinana scoffed. "I gave him a bed to sleep on instead of dirt!"

“Beds can be found anywhere.” Tiana countered smoothly.

Lyon looked between the two of them, his mouth opened then closed again. His eyes darted helplessly to Neema, but she only raised a brow as if silently saying, “You're on your own.”