The Beginning of the Journey

The castle was quieter than ever that morning.
It wasn’t a peaceful silence, but one of restraint—like the old walls, long accustomed to intrigue and clamor, were holding their breath before an inevitable change.

In the council hall, Tifa stood tall before the main table. The candles had barely burned down, proof she hadn’t slept. The dawn light spilled through the windows, tinting the maps in shades of gold and red, as if Azoth’s own fire were reflected on them.

One by one, they entered.
Blair, walking with determination though her heart beat fast.
Asori followed, fumbling with his cloak, still not quite believing his new title as the princess’s personal knight—bestowed upon him for this very mission.
Mikan came in with her usual carefree air, hands behind her head. Mikrom bit into an apple, unhurried and unconcerned with the solemnity. And Aisha, small and quiet, stayed close to Asori, clutching the edge of his cloak as if that simple contact could protect her.

Tifa lifted her gaze.

—You’re here. We can begin.

Her tone alone erased any trace of distraction. Only when she pointed to the maps did the meeting truly start.

—Listen carefully —she said, her voice carrying the weight of one who has commanded battles and seen kingdoms fall—. Your journey across the Four Empires will begin in the outskirts of Donner.

Blair frowned.
—Donner? Wouldn’t it be wiser to go straight to Nifelheim?

—Jason is there —Tifa replied—. We haven’t had contact in weeks. My informants report a civil war that spiraled out of control—nobles against the people. Entering now would be disastrous for diplomatic relations. You’ll observe first… then act.

She traced a path across the map with her fingertip.
—After that, you’ll travel to Nifelheim. You must meet with the ambassador. If you secure an alliance, you’ll return to Donner to join the war council—then we strike directly at Zeknier.

Mikrom snorted.
—What about Caldus and Veltramar? Don’t tell me we have no allies there.

Tifa didn’t look up.
—I tried contacting their monarchs. They refuse to intervene, claiming they won’t waste resources on a distant kingdom.

—Now that you mention it, it’s true… Those two realms are far away. So we only have Donner and Nifelheim, huh?

Mikan muttered under her breath, half-grinning:
—Great. So if those two don’t help, we’ll just march alone against Zeknier… hooray.

Tifa ignored her.

—Remember this: the other empires are no more stable than ours. Some kings sell their thrones for power. Do not trust smiles—or promises.

Silence fell. Even Mikan lowered her gaze.

When the meeting ended, the group left without a word. Blair stopped halfway down the corridor and took Asori’s hand. They walked together through the sunlit hallway, the morning light reflecting off the marble.

—Asori… —she whispered—. What’s coming will be more dangerous than any mission we’ve faced.

He smiled, calm as ever.
—I’ve already survived Master Eryndor throwing me off a cliff. How bad could it be?

Blair looked at him tenderly.
—Don’t joke about it. Aunt Tifa told me in secret what’s happening across the realms. Everything’s… unraveling. And we’ll likely fail to secure any alliances. Love, this is bad. We don’t know how this will turn out—and we might have to face Zeknier and his army alone.

Asori lowered his head.
—I know. But we’ll do everything we can… I trust you completely.

Blair smiled, though her eyes shimmered.
—By the way, Eryndor told me you finished your training.

—Let’s just say he taught me enough not to die —he joked—. He made me fly, trained my wind control, taught me more offensive techniques… also said I have a strange habit of evolving every time I reach my limits. And he forbade me from using Hakiri unless it’s absolutely necessary. Only if you’re nearby to stabilize me with the Sweet Kiss.

—Then I’ll just have to make sure you don’t kill yourself out of recklessness, bush-head.

Asori chuckled.
—Fair deal.

Blair didn’t press further.
But as she watched him from the corner of her eye, something about Asori felt… different. Not bad—just changed. She could sense it: a new tension in his body, a stillness in his eyes, as if something inside him had hardened, polished by an invisible fire.

He said Eryndor had taught him to fly and control air better, but… that didn’t explain the exhaustion that clung to him each night. He came back to their room bruised, his arms covered in marks, neck tight, knuckles raw. Sometimes he fell asleep before even undressing completely.

And then there was the Hakiri. Blair hadn’t missed that detail: “only if you’re nearby to stabilize me with the Sweet Kiss,” he’d said.
Did that mean he had already used it during training? Activated it without her noticing? She hadn’t felt their energies intertwine in days. When he trained with his master, they used to kiss to channel the Sweet Kiss, to help him recover his strength when he returned at night. But for the last four days, they hadn’t kissed once—and still, Asori came back burning with that same inner light, exhausted but unbroken.

“Is he testing how far he can go without me?” she wondered, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She knew him too well. Asori was scatterbrained about almost everything—food, schedules, even his wounds—but when it came to power, he became stubbornly serious. She remembered how he’d insisted on measuring how many times he could transform per day, and how he endured weeks of brutal training just so he wouldn’t have to rely on anyone.

A soft smile curved her lips.
“Always pushing your limits, huh? Sometimes I forget that beneath all that clumsiness hides someone incredibly determined…”

Blair walked closer, her steps quiet. Asori was gazing out the window, lost in thought—probably thinking about his next training.
She stopped beside him, studying him for a few seconds, and thought tenderly:

“Then keep surprising me, like you always do. Because even if you never say it, I know you’re doing it for all of us… and most of all, for me.”

Blair leaned forward and brushed her lips against his—a brief, warm kiss, with no intention of invoking the Sweet Kiss, only a gesture of affection.
Asori blinked, surprised, but said nothing. He just smiled with that mix of shyness and calm that always disarmed her.

The evening before their departure, they dined together in the grand hall. The tension was quickly undone by Mikan’s sharp tongue.

—So if Aisha’s our official healer —she said, grinning—, does that mean you’ll keep handling Asori’s “special treatment,” Blair?

Blair nearly spat out her water.
—What are you saying, Mikan?!

Mikrom burst into laughter.
—Come on, everyone knows you two share a room.

—It’s because of the nightmares! —Blair protested, blushing scarlet.

Asori, unfazed, added dryly:
—Yeah, right. And I survive every night pretending to be a pillow. Honestly, I don’t know where she gets so much strength. I swear she almost dislocated my arm once in her sleep.

The hall erupted in laughter.

Even Tifa let slip a faint smile, hidden behind her cup.

The next morning, the castle awoke to the sound of hooves and clanking armor.

Blair mounted her white steed, her silver hair flowing with the breeze. Her bearing was regal—queenly—even if her heart trembled like a child’s.
Asori rode beside her, the air swirling gently around him as if obeying his will.

Mikan whistled casually, kunai hanging from her belt. Mikrom hummed a deep, melancholic hymn from his homeland. Aisha gripped the reins with both hands, eyes wide with awe. For the first time, she wasn’t running from her past—she was riding toward her future.

From the battlements, Tifa watched them go.

Her voice rang out, clear and powerful:

—Remember: what you do out there will decide Azoth’s future.

Blair lifted her gaze, and Asori nodded. The gates opened. The sunlight wrapped them in a warm, blinding glow.

And so—amid fire, wind, and hope—
their journey to the Four Empires began.
The journey that would forever change the fate of the world.