Heart and passion

Jarathia | Slums

The alleys churn with panic—voices rise, children cry.

Nine, Sunthia, and Hanla move through the streets as the crowd’s eyes follow them.

They stop before Sunthia’s home. Faisc is waiting out front with Zera, both strangely calm.

Sunthia mutters. “Hanla, come inside. Nine—stay there.”

Zera bows to Hanla. “Thanks for saving me.”

“My pleasure.” Hanla answers.

Zera steps up to Nine and murmurs. “Thanks for everything, hero.”

Hanla and Sunthia head inside. Faisc rushes to Nine.

“So, tell me—are you gonna save us?” Faisc asks.

“I’ll do my best—with Hanla,” Nine says.

“And will you marry my sister after?”

Nine laughs. “I don’t know, Faisc. I’ll leave afterward. I have a dream…”

“But if you come back, I want you to become my big brother.”

“Love can happen fast or grow slowly.” Nine explains, gentle. “You have to respect others’ feelings. And always train. So that you can become a better you than yesterday.”

“Yes, brother.”

Nine chuckles again, a hand to his chest. “Also—never let hatred win. Try to understand the other side whenever you can.”

For a heartbeat he sees Chisa; small crystals glitter in the air. He calms his breaths, steadying them.

“Brother, your ability is really beautiful,” Faisc says, “I saw the meteors and your crystals! Everyone did. You and Hanla—thanks to you, the whole island knows. I didn’t even know monsters like that existed—and you always protected us…”

More kids gather.

“It was super heroic,” Faisc adds, “and now we’ve all got hope.”

Nine talks with them, smiling. A little boy mimics Hanla’s punch—the others laugh.

Jarathia | Slums | Sunthia’s House

“Want to help me dress?” Sunthia asks.

“Sure.” Hanla says.

They head to Sunthia’s room—a pink bed, blue walls, a big picture of Nine and Sunthia on a wreath.

“That’s cute.” Hanla says.

Sunthia blushes. “Faisc made it and hung it there. It’s embarrassing…”

“So, what are you planning to wear?”

“I can’t look in the mirror. Could you… tell me what suits me?” Her hands shake.

“Don’t force yourself—” Hanla starts.

“No,” Sunthia cuts her off. “I need to. I don’t know if you’ll survive. I don’t know… when you’ll leave, and Nine too. So it has to be today. Even if I hate it—I love the time with him more.”

Hanla opens the dresser, scans what’s inside and quickly makes a choice—a black skirt with red stripes and a blood-red top below a black blouse. On a shelf, she notices a red rose.

“Oh, that’s nice too.” Hanla says, adding it to the clothes.

“That was quick.” Sunthia breathes.

“It doesn’t have to be a dress. He’ll like something simple but stylish. This is perfect, trust me.”

Sunthia nods and changes. As the top lifts, Hanla sees the stitched, burned wound across her belly. When the pants come off, the red bruises along her legs.

“I know a doctor in Regona— he is experienced in mana networks, maybe he can find a solution.” Hanla offers.

“I will die, Hanla—don’t give me false hope.”

“Please. It’s not really false. He studied my mana network. Maybe—”

“If everything here is taken care of, I’ll go. Ok? I promise… I’m sure you hoped for a different answer, but Hanla, I haven’t given up yet—”

“The town Courtesy.” Hanla says. “Tell him you’re Cezaria’s friend.”

Sunthia finishes dressing. "I promise.”

She glances out the window—to Nine with the kids—then back.

“Please look at me.” Sunthia whispers.

Hanla nods. She sees the scarred forearms, the bruised hands.

“It hurts.” Sunthia says. “But I still keep going. Help me with the blouse?”

Hanla guides her left arm through the sleeve—Sunthia closes her eyes, biting her lip—then the right, carefully fastening each button for her.

On the table, crystal earrings catch the light. Hanla lifts them. “These?”

Sunthia nods. Hanla fastens one, then the other. The facets shimmer against the black blouse and blood-red top.

She places the rose behind her ear.

“Thank you.” Sunthia breathes.

I get him. And Chisa, too—her rage, her killing. She was scared. So many humans here are. An illness that was avoidable… A system that grinds up the weak and dodges every retaliation. And now, everything rests on two strangers. Ridiculous choices that the innocent pay the price for. Rokku, did you feel this too…

She touches Sunthia’s earlobe, steadying the crystal earring.

“Sunthia—no matter what. Fight. Keep your chin up. You have a beautiful smile.”

Sunthia nods. “You’re amazing, Hanla. Your kindness—I see it in your eyes. You let us into your world. You don’t shut your eyes. They’re always open.”

“I used to shut them.” Hanla admits. “Often. I uncovered misery and expected someone else to do something about it. I realized too late that everyone has their own life. Caring means sacrificing. I had a good friend who… did that a lot.”

“I think you made your friend proud.” Sunthia says. “Fighting for more than yourself—it’s honorable.”

They head back outside.

At the threshold, Nine stares. “Wow.”

Sunthia curls a strand of her hair. “Mhhm. Thanks—Hanla chose it.”

Faisc pipes up one more time. “Brother Nine, don’t ever make my sister sad!”

Hanla laughs.

Faisc and the other kids wave as the three leave again. “Bye bye! Have fun being heroes, heroes!”

The street thins as they walk, though whispers follow them.

“Mersa is back—he has a plan!” Someone cheers.

“Sure—destroying leadership and getting all the control himself.” Another scoffs in answer.

“Don’t listen to them.” Sunthia says. “Mersa is the best for the job.”

She grins.

“He’s strong, reliable, and he knows the real reasons for everything! He doesn’t ever hate peoplr—he only hates greed. That’s what makes him such a good leader!”

“I don’t know him much,” Hanla says, “but on first impression? He’s good. He outsmarted the prison, survived and has shown compassion. That’s rare.”

“What do you think, Nine?” Sunthia asks.

Nine glances between them. “I don’t know yet. I want to get the full picture. I liked Chisa—and I don’t hate all nobles. But maybe they had their reasons. Still… if I had to choose between having bandits back, plus the ‘peace’ the nobles bought with greed, or Mersa—then Mersa’s the better choice by far. I’m just worried.”

Hanla sighs. “Right, because you only knew him as a kid. That’s fair.”

“Tyreese and Sunthia told you everything, I see.” Nine says. “Yes—and he was afraid of me then. But to be honest, I needed to learn how to control my emotions back then. So I was rather cold.”

Sunthia snorts. “Hehe. Then we agree—even after you two leave, this island will have a capable leader.”

She plants her feet, stealing Hanla’s hero pose. “We will fight so Mersa stays in command! He’ll keep his promise—so don’t worry, you two! After this, we’ll be strong! I—I—”

Nine cuts in gently, with a smile. “Come on. Show us what you have planned.”

Sunthia nods.

They walk to the far side of the volcano—to a broken facility in the middle of a field of flowers.

“It looks like a slaughterhouse.” Hanla muses.

“Slaughterhouse?” Nine quirks a brow. “You’ve got quite the fantasy.”

“Trust me!” Sunthia says, and leads them inside.

An empty hall greets them. Then a metal door.

Sunthia places her palm on the steel. Her iris kindles red. “Just a little mana… come on—”

The lock thunks. The door creaks open.

“Wuh—exhausting.” She grins. “Welcome to my hideout: The Lagoona Bend.”

Stairs lead underground. Light spills upward from the bottom. When they take their first step off the stairs, grass brushes their boots.

“No way…” Nine breathes out.

A clear pond, with fish flickering under its surface like living paint. It’s ringed in wild colors—red, green and blue natural crystals honeycomb their way along the grotto’s walls. A white, round-bodied guitar rests on a small stone bench.

Hanla goes soft at the edges. “Wow… how?”

“I wanted a place that felt like before,” Sunthia explains, “like the old Jarathia—colorful, without mist, beautifully natural. This is the true Jarathia, Hanla. Flowers, stones, animals… breathtaking variety of all kinds. We’re rich in beauty. We have a culture.”

Nine brushes the guitar’s neck. “A Girasia? Can you play?”

“Mhm.” Sunthia settles onto the bench, breathing in the damp, green hush and visibly relaxing as she does so.

Hanla kneels by the pond, fingers skimming the cool surface—fish skitter away, then a curious few re-approach to check out her fingertips.

The day’s weight loosens. For the first time today, everything feels bright, each breath easy.

“May I sing?” Sunthia asks.

Hanla gives a thumbs up. “Please.”

“I’d be glad to listen to you.” Nine says, standing between flowers, his hands tucked in his pockets.

Sunthia closes her eyes. The first chord rings out like fresh water over stone.

She sings—clear, quiet at first, then more confident:

If the world ends in a nightmare,
We’ll be standing tall and proud
Facing down the roaring ocean,
We won’t run and we won’t bow

On our island in the fire,
Where the magma warms our lives
The stones beneath us crumble,
But our spirit never dies

We’ve got flaws like any nation,
But our soul is pure and strong
In our food and every creature,
In our stories, in our song

Come and rise up here beside us,
Let your roots take hold and grow
We’re the flaming land Jarathia,
It’s the best place you can go

She sings the chorus with more power.

Water and fire, fire and ice
Peace in the storm, joy for no price
Villagers strangers, docks and the trees
All stand together in harmony

One heart, one voice, one memory
Jarathians love eternally
The forests, cliffs and blackwood trees
Are where our souls can know true peace

Then Sunthia smiles, a little shy. “That’s all I remember, but sometimes it makes me feel better to sing it.”

“I like it.” Nine says.

“You have an angelic voice.” Hanla adds.

“Thanks. I always wanted to be a singer. Well, a bard, really.”

“A bard?” Hanla tilts her head.

“They use magic for support, by… singing. But now—”

“Then just be a singer,” Hanla says, “music doesn’t need magic.”

Sunthia laughs. “Maybe—”

“Not maybe,” Nine counters, “do it, Sunthia, if it makes you happy.”

Hanla gets up, to steps over beside her. “May I? I’ll show you—music can be amazing, no magic necessary. All it needs is heart and passion.”