Resolve

Dawn came under a leaden sky. The Capital still bustled, but for Asori, Blair, and Mikrom the world felt stuck, as if they were still inside that alley even while their feet carried them away.

Asori walked in silence. Hair unkempt, eyes fixed on the cobbles. Shadows sat under his eyes—not from too little sleep, but from none at all.

Blair kept half a step behind, their fingers interlaced because they still had to pretend to be a couple, unsure whether to speak or respect his silence. The Sweet Kiss hit her in waves of guilt and emptiness, like a bottomless well.

Mikrom, by contrast, seemed indifferent. He marched ahead, whistling a low tune, stone sword slung across his back. But the dry red on his boots told a story no one dared ask about.

They reached a modest inn on the Capital’s outskirts. The innkeeper didn’t pry: he saw their faces, saw the cloak hiding Blair, and knew these were travelers who wanted no names.

Inside the room, Asori collapsed onto the bed. The wooden ceiling felt heavy, too low. Every time he shut his eyes he saw Lira’s laugh, the apple rolling, the grandfather’s hands, the blood on the floor.

Blair watched from the doorway. She hesitated, then stepped in.

—Asori…

He didn’t answer. He covered his face with a hand.

Blair pressed her lips together. The bond was unbearable: she could feel him coming apart inside, and yet his silence cut sharper than any scream.

She sat on the edge of the bed. She didn’t speak at first—she just stayed. Slowly, the tremor in Asori’s shoulder confessed that he was crying without sound.

—I couldn’t save her —he said at last, voice a thread.

Blair shut her eyes, holding back her own tear.

—It’s not your fault.

—Yes, it is. —He lowered his hand, eyes red—not with power, but with grief—. I was there. I saw them. The grandfather… I knew something could happen. And still… I turned my back.

Blair swallowed. She couldn’t contradict him. The pain was too plain.

—Then… what will you do now? —she asked softly.

Asori looked at her for a second. There was anger, yes—but something new too: a fragile resolve, thin as glass.

—I want to speak with Eryndor —he said.

Blair raised her brows.
—The Sage of Air? Why?

Asori nodded.
—When we go back to the castle. I… I don’t want to keep running. I need to understand what all this means. The Orb, the Astral, this “awakening.” I need to learn to use it right. Because if I don’t… people will keep dying in front of me, and I can’t keep doing nothing. I couldn’t help my parents or… Lira. I was no different from those people who didn’t help me when I was little.

Blair studied him for a long moment. The honesty there wasn’t a man embracing war, but someone who had realized indifference kills too—and it has consequences.

She smiled just a little, tender, and whispered:
—You’re starting to sound less like the boy I saved that night in the mountains—and more like a real warrior.

Asori huffed, and for the first time in hours, let out a dry laugh still heavy with tears.

The rest of the day passed in quiet. Mikrom disappeared for much of it. He returned near dusk with a sack of provisions and clean clothes, though a metallic smell still clung to him. He didn’t say where he’d been, and no one asked.

They supped on hard bread, thin broth, and a hunk of cheese Mikrom wrung out by haggling. Asori barely ate, but Blair nagged him into at least a spoonful.

When night fell, Mikrom lay on the floor with arms folded behind his head.

—We leave for the castle tomorrow. Tifa will want our report on the tournament and everything we learned.

Blair nodded.

—Yes. We have to tell her the tournament is more than a show. It’s a trap to gather bearers—and we need to understant why they’re offering a bearer as a prize.

With eyes closed, Asori murmured.

—And we should tell her… I want to train. For real this time.

Mikrom glanced over without a smile. For once, he looked proud.

—About time, kid. Blair won’t always be there to babysit you—or tell you what to do in a fight.

The small hours brought a thick silence. Blair jerked awake—the Sweet Kiss had tied her into Asori’s dream. She saw what he saw: darkness and a sea of guilt, and deep within it, Lira walking toward a light until she vanished.

Asori tossed, sweating. Blair took his hand. The shaking ebbed.

—I’m here —she whispered in his ear, even though he couldn’t hear—. I won’t leave you. We’re a team. It’s going to be okay, Asori.

Blair wrapped him, resting his head on heer chest, stroking his hair lightly so as not to wake him.

—I’m proud of you —she said as her eyes closed and she drifted off.

She didn’t know—but in that instant, Asori did feel her, and a quiet washed over his dream. At last, both slept.

At dawn, they packed their things. Lira’s grandfather had slipped away in the night, the urn of ashes clutched to his chest. No one saw him go. No one stopped him.

Blair tucked the honey bread into her bag. She hadn’t given it to Asori; maybe, she thought, one day he could receive it as a symbol of a less painful memory.

Asori left the inn with a face tired but steady. For the first time since awakening as a bearer, he’d made a choice of his own.

Mikrom took the lead. Blair walked beside him, watchful. And the wind—almost imperceptible—seemed to whisper that the road ahead would not be gentle.

Somewhere in the forest, gray-blue eyes watched from the shadows, tracking their every step.