Chapter 28: Cave of Thoughts.

The cave was silent, illuminated only by the timid light escaping from the entrance. The cold air of the cloudy day made the fire crackle from time to time. Harpya sat beside the campfire, dressed in simple civilian clothes, nothing like the knight he once was.

Isz rested on a makeshift bed of blankets. His clean waiting uniform contrasted with his motionless face. His eyes were half-closed, his chest rising in long, steady intervals. Two months had passed since the last time the Lightning Beast had said anything. Since then... absolute silence.

Cerberus, motionless at the cave entrance, observed the world outside with his three pairs of attentive eyes.

Harpya sighed, running a trembling hand over his face.

Harpya: — What do you think will happen in Volny, my friend?

Isz:...

Harpya tried to smile.

Harpya:— It's almost time. Hang in there, okay?

Despite the smile, his hands trembled. Not from the temperature, but from fear. Fear of never seeing Isz wake up again.

The supplies came from the small rural village an hour away. People only knew they were from the Academy. Harpya had said that Isz was "a boy who slept a lot." It was the sweetest lie he could think of.

When Harpya returned with fresh food, he placed some near Isz, as he did every day. But Isz never ate, never drank, never weakened. He just remained there,

frozen in time. Fallen, but whole.

Harpya sat down and, without realizing it, let his mind drift to the past.

He remembered the training camps.
Hyogo laughing loudly, saying he would give the flower seller a gift when the war was over.
Isz practicing absurd techniques beside him.
Volny's commanders impressed by the knights.
The Butcher telling his stories as if he were invincible to distract the soldiers.
Hindal training with Cerberus, drinking with the soldiers, flirting with any girl who winked at him.

And he remembered her.

Ida.
The princess of Volny.
The first dance.
The gentle, shy, and happy gaze.
The last smile before the war began.

It had been so long... Perhaps she was already married. A princess so beautiful wouldn't stay single for so long, at least, that's what Harpya told himself to disguise his longing.

A small smile escaped him.

He looked at Isz, took a deep breath, and said:

Harpya: — We're leaving here, friend. Just a little longer, I promise.

Taking the Phoenix quill, he opened a parchment. His hand trembled again, this time not with fear, but with hope.

He wrote to Ida.

And he hoped, with all the strength he still had, that she would answer.

In Volny Castle, the soft morning light streamed through the large blue glass windows, reflecting on Ida's golden hair as she slowly combed it. The princess spoke softly to her maid, who was arranging the table with some documents and maps.

"I want to start a project for the most distant villages," Ida said as she separated a lock of hair to braid it.

Ida: "They need access to Volny's technology... to our health services... there are children who have never seen a doctor, and that is unforgivable."

The maid smiled proudly.

Maid: "Your Highness always thinks of everyone."

Volny was at peace. A peace so complete that, after the war, the only deaths came from accidents or natural causes. The city prospered, alive, safe... but even within this tranquility, Ida carried in her heart a pain she never named. A silent absence.

As she finished braiding another lock of hair, something gleamed in the air.

A parchment appeared right before the window, as if spat out by the wind. Ida gasped softly, let the comb fall onto the dressing table, and took two steps back before carefully reaching out and picking up the paper.

The seal was familiar. Extraordinarily familiar.

When she opened it... her lips trembled.

The handwriting was his. The way he finished the "y"s, the quick way he wrote his name. The handwriting she'd known since adolescence. The handwriting of the one she'd waited... and feared she'd never see again.

Ida,
If you're reading this, then the phoenix feather still works.

I need to seek asylum in Volny. I'm alive. I'm not alone.

Please, if you can... don't mention that there are two surviving Knights.
Forgive the urgency. I have no one else to trust.

— Harpya.

Ida's vision blurred instantly. Her heart raced as if trying to recover lost years in a few seconds.

"Your Highness?" asked the maid, startled. "What happened? Why are you crying?"

Ida pressed the parchment against her chest, unable to stop the first tear from falling. She shook her head, trying to compose herself.

Ida: "It's... it's just a distant friend," she said, but her voice faltered mid-sentence.

The maid sensed there was more to it, but didn't press the issue.

Ida turned to the mirror slowly. Her fingers trembled as she delicately touched her own hair... and, without realizing it, made the same simple, delicate braid she wore to the ball where she met him. The same night they danced and she laughed until she was breathless. The same night she thought the whole world was too light for a war to come.

She closed her eyes, pressing her mouth into a trembling line.

Ida: — Harpya... you're alive...

She murmured, so softly it sounded like a thought spoken aloud.

Ida: — I prayed so much. So many nights...

Another tear rolled down her cheek. But now, a smile clung to it.

Ida held the parchment tightly.

And, for the first time in months, she felt something ignite in her chest.

Hope.

Ida took a deep breath and sat down at the table, still holding the parchment as if it were too fragile to let go.

She picked up a quill, gently slid the inkwell closer, and began to write, her hand trembling but her heart firm.

Harpya,

I... I have no words to express how happy I am to know you are alive. You can't imagine how much your name has been in my prayers.

Tell me: do you need someone to fetch you?
I can send trusted royal guards, or go personally to someone who can escort you safely.
Don't hesitate. If you need me, Volny is open.

— Ida.

Before she could even finish, a tear fell onto the signature, slightly blurring the "I". She smiled, discreetly wiped it away, and completed the sending spell. The letter vanished in a golden flash.

Ida stood up immediately.

Ida: — I need to speak with my father.

The maid hurried through the corridors lined with tapestries as Ida walked, her quick steps echoing on the pale stone. Upon reaching the throne room, the king greeted her with a calm but weary gaze, a look still bearing the scars of war.

"Ida?" he asked, leaning toward her.

King of Volny: "Has something happened?"

She took a deep breath.

Ida: "Father... Harpya is alive."

The king's eyes widened. For a moment, the old monarch seemed to regain twenty years of life.

King of Volny: "...What?"

Ida: "He wrote to me. He's in hiding. He's asked for asylum."

Her eyes filled with tears again, but her smile was radiant.

Ida: — He's alive, father. Alive.

The king stood up, leaning on his staff.

King of Volny:

— I... I thought all the Knights had fallen.

— He's not alone, Ida finished. But he asked for secrecy.

The king nodded slowly.

King of Volny: — If it's Harpya... it's someone who deserves to be heard. And besides...

his eyes darkened.

King of Volny: — I want answers about Vein. A victorious kingdom... that didn't seem victorious. I want to know what really happened there.

Ida held her father's hand, relieved.

— Thank you.

He gently touched his daughter's face with a rare gesture of affection.

King of Volny: — Send whatever is needed. Volny will receive them.

Ida left the room with her heart pounding so hard that it seemed to accompany each beat with a thought: He's alive. He's alive. He's alive.

She stood on the balcony for a few minutes, watching the wind move the flags of Volny. Something inside her rekindled hope, perhaps even happiness, feelings she had buried with the war.

Meanwhile, in the cave...

Harpya settled herself at the entrance, observing the pale horizon, when Cerberus began to growl. Low at first, then deeper and fiercer.

Harpya: — What is it, Cerberus? Harpya laughed, tired.

Harpya: — Still hungry?

But Cerberus kept his eyes fixed on the direction of the small village. His tails bristled. Harpya felt the air change. A strong smell... burnt... but it wasn't wood, nor gunpowder.

It was something much older.
Sulfur. Burnt flesh. Devilhands.

Harpya froze for a second. Then his heart raced.

Harpya: — It can't be...

The gray sky twisted, turning red as embers. Harpya ran into the cave to get his weapons, but stopped when he saw the flute.

He played it but felt nothing.
No pulse, no echo.
The Voice of Silence didn't answer.

He swallowed hard.

Then he grasped the golden sword of the Voice of Imposing Majesty, feeling its intense weight, as if holding a living fragment of a storm.

Harpya: — Come on, Cerberus!

The demonic wolf howled, and the two ran toward the village.

When they arrived, the sight was infernal: devils emerging from the shadows, breaking down doors, tearing up the ground, running through the streets as if they had been born there.

— They... come back? — murmured Harpya after cutting down two that had risen again. — This has never happened! It's as if... it's as if we're in their home!

Cerberus howled so loudly that the sound disoriented an entire group of creatures. Harpya advanced fiercely, the golden sword crossing the air in brilliant arcs that sparkled like stars.

The population watched in astonishment. None of them had ever seen a Knight in action.

And then, when Cerberus tilted his head, gathering energy in his three mouths for an attack...

"—No!" Harpya interrupted him. Harpya: "—You'll destroy the whole village!"

Cerberus lowered his snout, ashamed, placing his paws over his face. Harpya almost smiled, but in the next second, Cerberus launched a sphere of water upwards, which exploded into rain.

Blue drops fell on the devilhands...

and they began to melt.

"—Good, friend," said Harpya, impressed.

The golden sword shone intensely, as if awakening from a deep sleep. Harpya plunged it into the ground, and a colossal roar, like that of an ancient lion, echoed through the stones and rooftops, making the earth tremble.

The devilhands exploded into fragments of shadow, disappearing.

The sky turned gray again...

at least there.

But in the center of the city, above the distant horizon, red rays still snaked through the clouds. Something enormous was happening.

Harpya fell to his knees, panting.

Harpya: — What strength... he whispered. So it was that weapon... the one that killed so many in the war... the one that killed the Butcher.

How did Isz... and Hyogo... fight against that?

The people approached, frightened and grateful. Harpya instructed them to flee, but one villager spoke firmly:

Villager: — This village is all we have, sir.

Harpya lowered his eyes. He was no longer a knight. He couldn't give orders.

Harpya: — I understand... he murmured sadly.

An elderly man placed his hand on his shoulder.

Old man: — Thank you, war hero. Your secret is safe. You have already done too much for all of us.

Harpya stood still for a moment, surprised. The old man knew. He knew all along.

And never said anything.

He simply bowed his head in respect.

Back in the cave, Harpya entered, dropped his sword on the ground, and sat down near Isz, who remained motionless, his eyes drooping, as if trapped in another world.

Harpya ran a hand over his tired face.

Harpya: — Everything will be alright, friend... he murmured.

Harpya: — All that's left is for her to answer...

And outside, the sky still carried distant red lightning.

Something was coming.

But now... there was also hope.

Night fell heavily on the cave. The air was cold, vibrating faintly with distant echoes of the red lightning in the sky. Harpya tried to stay awake, but his body demanded rest, and soon he fell asleep, sitting beside Isz, his golden sword leaning against the wall and Cerberus lying like a silent guardian.

He was awakened by a soft, golden, warm glow, like a small sun rising in the air.

The scroll appeared before him, slowly turning before landing in his lap.

Harpya rubbed his eyes, still sleepy, and opened it.

As he read, his expression softened.

A tired, genuine smile appeared.

Ida had replied quickly.

Harpya,
Of course I can help. Tell me where you need to go, and I'll send someone you absolutely trust.
Are you safe? Is your friend safe too?
Count on me.

— Ida

Harpya closed his eyes for a moment.

"Thank you..." he whispered softly.

He picked up the phoenix feather, took a deep breath, and began to write:

Ida,
We're fine for now, but we need to leave immediately.
Could you send a discreet vessel to East Port?
It's a remote place, without patrols, and difficult to access for those unfamiliar with the area.
Thank you for everything.

— Harpya.

He hesitated.

He thought about asking how she was... if she was still working on the social projects, if she was still as dedicated to Volny as she had always been. He even thought about asking about marriage, but the thought came and went quickly.

They had never had anything more than a dance.
A single night, years ago.

He simply took a deep breath, closed the letter, and sent it.

The spell glowed and disappeared.

In Volny's castle...

Ida received the parchment directly into her hands as she walked down the torchlit corridor. She opened the letter expectantly as soon as she finished reading, and smiled.

She held the letter to her chest, close to her heart, and called her maid:

Ida: — Bring the nautical chart. And send a messenger to Captain Edward. Tell him that... that Harpya needs help.

The maid's eyes widened.

— Edward... the pirate?

— Ex-pirate, Ida corrected, with a slight smile.

Ida: — And a man I can trust. He's from Vein. He knew some of the Knights.

Harpya,

I've already sent a ship. It will be commanded by Edward, an old acquaintance of Vein, a capable man, and above all, trustworthy.

It will depart before dawn.

I hope it arrives safely. You are a person of great esteem to me.

— Ida.

When the scroll vanished in light, Ida stood still for a few seconds, holding her own hand, breathing rapidly.

Ida: — Please... let him arrive...

Back in the cave...

A golden glow awakened Harpya for the second time.

He opened the scroll and read slowly.

When he saw the name "Edward" and the final sentence, his heart tightened, not with pain, but with hope.

Cerberus raised his head, noticing the change in his master's mood.

Harpya carefully folded the scroll.

Harpya: "We did it, Cerberus..." his voice trembled slightly. Harpya: "Let's get out of here."

He stood up, walked over to Isz, and touched his friend's shoulder.

Even motionless, Isz remained warm, strong, like someone still inside, just trapped in silence.

"Tomorrow morning... we leave, my brother," said Harpya.

Cerberus howled softly, as if approving.

Harpya spent hours tidying up the few things they had: water, some provisions, the golden sword, the compass, the flute that no longer played, and some improvised remedies that people had given them over the months.

When he sat down again beside Isz, he felt something different.

Hope.

After so long running, hiding, fearing devils and memories...

for the first time, he felt that something could work out.

He looked at his sleeping friend, smiled, and murmured.

Harpya: — We'll go back home... our way.

And that morning, as he packed his gear to leave, the distant sky remained tinged with red, as if the world were preparing the stage for their next big step.

The night passed slowly, but for the first time in months, Harpya felt there was a path ahead of them.

Upon waking, he noticed Cerberus pacing in circles around Isz. The celestial dog tilted his head, observing his motionless friend with unusual attention, as if he had decided something.

"What is it, boy?" Harpya asked, still sleepy.

Cerberus then opened his mouth... and a bluish sphere formed in the air, spinning like a small planet of compressed water.

Harpya: "Hey! Hey! What are you going to—"

Before Harpya could finish the sentence, the sphere exploded in a powerful jet, hitting Isz from head to toe.

A sudden waterfall engulfed the cave, washing away the dried blood, the dust, the leaves stuck to his uniform—everything. The water was clean, crystal clear, and evaporated without leaving puddles, a magical water, created solely for purification.

Isz remained seated, motionless, his gaze downcast... but now clear, almost as if he were merely sleeping.

Harpya stood still for a few seconds, watching the scene.

"I can't believe you just gave Isz a bath," he murmured, unsure whether to laugh or scold.

Cerberus wagged his tail proudly.

Harpya sighed and ran a hand over his face.

Harpya: — Alright... that actually helped.

He picked up the chest of clothes he had taken from the forge before fleeing. Among cloaks, blankets, and simple fabrics... there was a carefully folded garment:

The dress uniform of the Scouts.

It contained no coats of arms, insignia, or symbols that linked them to their military past.

Only what an elite soldier wore in formal ceremonies:

elegant black, discreet gold details, strong threads, clean gloves.

Harpya felt a pang in his chest.

Harpya: "We used to wear this before the war started... remember?"

Isz, of course, didn't answer. But Harpya continued talking while carefully dressing his friend:

Harpya: "You complained about the collar... Hyogo said that uniform made you look like a pretentious nobleman..." He pulled the glove on Isz's wrist, adjusting it.

Harpya: "And I said that one day we would wear this without fear. Just to celebrate peace."

When he finished dressing Isz, he took a step back.

Isz seemed... alive.

Not awake, but alive.

He looked like the hero the world had lost, but whom Harpya insisted on carrying.

Cerberus approached, sat down with a proud posture, and rested his head on Isz's shoulder, as if to show support.

Harpya smiled.

The sun was already rising, painting the sky gold and orange.

Harpya put Isz on his back, as he had done so many times during training, and followed with Cerberus clearing the way.

The East Port was in an isolated area, a place where ships rarely docked. The sea there was calm, deep, and silent, perfect for those who needed to disappear.

When they arrived, the morning was sunny, the air fresh, and the salty smell of the ocean recalled better times.

Harpya sat Isz down on one of the stone benches near the dock.

Cerberus lay down beside them, his tail gently brushing the ground.

A gentle breeze stirred Isz's hair, illuminated by the sun. Harpya gazed at him for long minutes, in silence, until a sound echoed on the horizon.

Boom! ... Boom! ... Boom!

A maritime drum.
A rhythm familiar to those who have sailed with Vein pirates.

Harpya looked up.

A ship emerged from behind the light sea mist.

White sails with navy blue details.
Reinforced hull.

And on the bow, the painting of a stylized dragon, the personal symbol of Edward, Kana's friend, who had fled to Volny before the war worsened.

Harpya felt his chest loosen.

Harpya: — So... it's him.

The ship began to approach the port.

Volny's flag fluttered in the wind, showing that he came in peace.

Harpya placed her hand on Isz's shoulder.

Harpya: "The time has come."

Edward was coming to fetch them.

And their journey was about to change forever.