The Seven Stones

After some sleep, with his body washed clean in the river and a bright sun rising in the east, Duran stretched his arms and admired the surroundings. He liked this new world so far.

“Oh, so it wasn’t the blood that made your hair look red,” Solphie said as Duran approached the group.

“Apparently not,” Duran replied.

He had seen his reflection in the river. White hair streaked and stained with red. He’d noticed something else too.

Solphie closed the distance in a few quick steps. She brought her face so close that Duran instinctively took a step back, his cheeks burning as he glanced nervously at the others.

“And your eyes! They match your hair! I didn’t notice them last night. Awesome!” Solphie’s gaze darted after the red and white irises as they flicked from side to side.

Duran felt her breath against his face. She leaned in even closer, and he tipped backward too far—falling flat on his butt. Solphie bent over him, clearly amused.

“I also have this,” Duran said, brushing his hair away from his forehead.

“Another one. Nice.”

She offered him a hand and pulled him back to his feet.

“Another one what?” Lathan asked, walking over. Her eyes lingered on his forehead. “Oh… I see. Another mark. The third eye. That must be important.”

Lathan was taller than Duran by a head, so she had to angle her gaze slightly downward. Solphie, on the other hand, was shorter, tilting her head back just enough to study him. Both were so close, examining and touching his face, that Duran forgot to breathe.

Heat rushed into his cheeks and ears until it was unbearable. With a jolt, he sprang back, furiously rubbing his face. They were way too pretty to be allowed that close.

“Don’t do that again,” Duran protested, pointing an accusing finger at them.

“And you have another one on your back,” Berig said. He was sitting on a log under a tree at the campsite.

“W-What?” Duran spun around, twisting left and right in a hopeless attempt to glimpse over his shoulders. “Where?”

Nano padded over to Lathan, his tails flicking. “They must be connected to the stones,” he said. “It can’t be a coincidence he has seven marks on his body.”

“No, it’s certainly not,” Lathan agreed.

“And what are they for?” Berig asked, joining them.

“I don’t know,” Lathan admitted. She folded her arms, sleeve covering the hand pressed thoughtfully to her chin. “I really don’t know,” she muttered.

The three of them stared at Duran in silence, deep in thought, while Solphie traced her fingers over every sigil she could find. Duran flinched and twitched with every touch, his desperate eyes begging someone to rescue him.

Finally, Solphie stopped and grinned. “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. Obviously, they’re the marks of a hero. Doesn’t he look like one to you?” She slung her arm around Duran’s neck, dragging him until their cheeks were pressed together.

“Yeah,” Berig said.

“Yes,” Lathan added.

“…I guess,” Nano mumbled.

Solphie let Duran go and met with the others. “One on each leg, one on each arm, one on the chest, another on the back, and one on the third eye. I double-checked.” She giggled.

Duran collapsed onto the ground, gasping for air. That was too much for him to handle. He wasn’t used to being this close to girls—except for his sister, of course. He’d only had one girlfriend in his entire life, and it had lasted only a week. His first and only kiss had been brief, awkward, and followed by buckets of sweat.

He sat up, catching his breath. “Why seven stones?” he asked.

“I’ll tell you on the way. Let’s get moving,” Lathan said.

They followed a dirt road cutting through the forest. As they walked, Lathan began her story.

“For most people, it’s nothing more than a legend. Too many years have passed, and now it’s told as a myth to frighten children into behaving. But Baal was real. He once ruled this world, spreading terror with his legions of demons. It wasn’t long, but long enough to wipe out half of Eden’s population.” Her gaze darkened. “And his corruption was devouring what little remained—until one man, whose name has long been forgotten, rallied a modest army and fought Baal for an entire month.”

“I can’t imagine a battle that long,” Berig said, frowning at the mace and shield in his hands. “Those people had wills of steel.”

One month, Duran thought. The battle of Verdun lasted ten—the longest in his old world. One month, ten months, years of war… it was all the same. Even a week must’ve been hell. How could they endure it? I just hope this doesn’t turn into an endless war...

“The hero managed to defeat Baal in the end. Nobody knows how. Some say he slew him with his sword. Others claim he had to use ancient and prohibited magic because nothing else could wound the King-Emperor. The only certainty is what came after—the stones. The hero died as soon as Baal fell. Then Baal’s body erupted in a colossal blast of energy, consuming the hero’s soul and leaving behind the seven stones of Eden, scattered across the world.”

“And how do we even know the stones exist?” Duran asked.

“Because they are real. Plenty of people have seen them,” Solphie replied. “I haven’t but—”

“I have,” Berig cut in.

“Me too,” Lathan said. “And we know the location of four. For two others, we at least know the region to search. The last one…” Her mouth twisted. “The last one is lost.”

“And there are also the evident effects of the stones,” Nano added. He leapt from Berig’s shoulder onto Duran’s. “That’s where you come in. The stones carry the essence of both Baal and the Hero. But Baal’s essence is stronger—and it’s been corrupting Eden little by little. The legend says that when demons begin to appear, it means the King-Emperor’s return is close. And imminent.”

“The ones who attacked us at the cabin,” Duran muttered, glancing at Nano’s profile.

The cat’s yellow eye gleamed against his smoky gray fur, bright even in the daylight.

Nano gave a small nod.

Time was running out. Duran was sure those demons hadn’t been the first—not if Lathan had already set precautions against them. Baal’s kin already started to roam Eden.

What none of them knew was what Duran’s body sigils were for. Or what role he truly played in all of this. Or how much time did they really have before Baal’s return.

If Duran was right—if he had to play the main character role—then he had a long, hard road ahead. He had talent, sure, anyone could see that. But nowhere near the strength required to face a King-Emperor demon.

He drew the sword from his belt and examined it. Rust scarred the dented blade. The handle was cracked. There was no way he could defeat Baal with this. He gave it a few test swings—heavy, uncomfortable. His movements felt clumsy.

“I’m going to need practice,” Duran admitted.

“You certainly do,” Lathan agreed. “Tomorrow you’ll train with Berig and Solphie. I know a perfect spot in the forest, but it’s a day’s walk from here.”

By dusk the following day, they left the road. After a short trek through the trees, they came upon a massive boulder half-buried in the earth.

“Here,” Lathan said. “Go forward through those jadeberry bushes. You’ll know when to stop. I’ll stay with Nano and set up camp.”

“I thought we were just practicing some moves,” Duran said, doubtful, eyeing the shadowed path between the bushes.

A thought struck him.

An ominous one.

How could he be sure he was on the right side? He trusted them without question. Believed every word they’d said. But… what if it was all a lie? What if they only wanted to keep him calm until they could hand him over to slavers? Or worse—until they could bind him in another ritual?

A sacrifice to Baal.

His chest tightened. His pulse hammered.

What if they were the—

“With Lathan, it's never that simple,” Solphie said. She looped her arm through his. “We’re going to take care of you, don’t worry. I’m not letting you go that easily.”

She leaned her head against Duran's shoulder as they walked.

Oh, her mauve hair smelled so sweet. She couldn’t possibly be evil. Her touch was gentle, her presence soothing. Duran’s heartbeat shifted into a very pleasant one.

He let himself go.

The clearing opened before them.

Then—a deep gnarl that reverberated through the bones.

They froze. Solphie and Berig crouched low. Duran followed them. Berig pressed a finger to his lips. Hush.

On the left side of the clearing, a pack of wolf-like beasts lounged in the grass.

There were five of them. Each the size of a minivan. Covered in shimmering blue fur, each with a single unicorn-like horn jutting from its forehead. The one at the center had the biggest one. Their fangs jutted down past their jaws like sabers.

“Lorddamit, Lathan,” Berig muttered with a chuckle.

“What a way to start practicing,” Solphie whispered.

“What are those? I don’t think I should be fighting that kind of beast now.”

Duran already had his sword in his hand. As with the demon, he didn’t notice. As with the demon, a part of him was still afraid. His hand squeezed the handle with fierce but trembling.

“Indigo wolves,” Berig replied, grinning. “Nasty furry beasts, but unbelievably valuable. And it’s rare to see only five. Their packs are usually much larger. I guess that’s why Lathan sent us.”

“You’ll be fine. Come on,” Solphie said.

Before Duran could say something, she sprang into the clearing.

Her speed stunned him—she was already at the front of the pack before he could even blink. Solphie twirled her staff up in the air, spun it in a blur, and nailed it to the ground.