The grand hall of the Citadel of Pantax was nothing short of magnificent. Towering obsidian columns lined the vast chamber, their surfaces etched with intricate gold filigree. The ceiling stretched high above, an immense vaulted dome adorned with celestial mosaics that depicted the constellations of Pantax's night sky, each star embedded with a tiny gem. The floor beneath was polished onyx, so smooth and reflective it seemed almost liquid.
At the far end of the hall, seated upon a raised platform, was Lord Ryosei himself.
He was tall, his posture straight but not stiff. His sharp features bore the chiselled refinement of noble lineage - high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and eyes dark and unfathomable. His hair, a deep black streaked with silver at the temples, was tied back in a simple yet elegant style, revealing the faintest lines of age at his brow.
He wore robes of dark indigo and gold, the fabric heavy with intricate embroidery. Though his attire spoke of wealth, it was not ostentatious; every detail was precise, restrained, exuding confidence rather than excess. A blade rested at his side - not just ceremonial, but one well-maintained, the hilt wrapped in fine leather. His hands, though refined, bore faint calluses - a warrior once, and perhaps still.
When he looked at Mokai, there was no warmth in his eyes, but neither was there open hostility.
His expression was unreadable, his gaze weighing them as if already measuring their worth.
Mokai led the group forward with the air of someone returning home, though there was a stiffness in his movements.
When they stopped before the platform, he bowed his head.
"Father."
Lord Ryosei's gaze lingered on his son for a moment.
With the barest nod, he said, "So, you have passed the trials and earned your place among the Guardians."
"As expected," he smiled.
There was no overt praise, only the acknowledgment of a fulfilled expectation.
Then, his attention shifted to Master Lira.
"You brought company."
Master Lira stepped forward. She bowed her head, just enough to be respectful but not submissive.
"Lord Ryosei, I am Master Lira, here on behalf of the temple. I will remain briefly to ensure matters proceed as expected."
"You've accompanied my son personally."
"A gesture of good faith," she replied, unfazed.
He studied her for a moment longer before giving a slow nod.
"Very well."
His attention moved over to the rest of them.
Mokai cleared his throat.
"These are my companions. Kaelyn of Thalorim. Fengyu of Solirae."
He hesitated, stealing a glance at his father, before he added, "And Seline of Yuevalen."
Lord Ryosei's brows rose slightly at that. His gaze settled on Seline. If he found her presence unusual, he did not remark on it. Instead, he sat forward slightly.
"You arrive at an interesting time," he said. "The Temple does not send its initiates lightly."
"Oh, no, father." Mokai corrected. "I extended the invitation to my companions. The Temple did not send us."
A pause. Then, a slow nod.
"I see."
Yet, the simple words carried an underlying meaning - one only Mokai would understand.
"You are guests of Pantax," he continued, his voice carrying the weight of finality. "Rest, eat, and tomorrow, we will speak of what comes next."
It was an acknowledgment, but not quite an acceptance.
„Mokai, show your guests the capitol. I would like to talk to you before dinner."
Then, he addressed Master Lira, "Master Lira, if you don't mind, we could have a conversation in my study now."
Mokai led them through the halls of the Citadel, a small entourage of servants followed. When they arrived at the guest quarters, one of them stepped forward, sliding open the door to reveal the rooms beyond.
The rooms were far from modest.
The floors were covered in mats, the walls adorned with delicate silk tapestries depicting scenes of Pantax's history. A low table sat in the centre of each room, a tea set already arranged on it, and the air smelled faintly of sandalwood.
The servants moved, offering to unpack their belongings and ensure their comfort.
"If you need anything, the attendants will see to it." There was little else to be said.
After allowing them time to settle, he gathered them again, leading them beyond the walls of the Citadel and into the heart of the capital.
The city unfolded before them like a living tapestry, layered upon the terraced slopes of the mountain. It was a masterpiece of stone and timber, its structures rising in tiers, following the natural shape of the land.
Winding stairways and sloping pathways connected each level, carved directly into the mountainside, while intricate bridges arched over the cascading waterways that cut through the city.
The streets were alive with movement, lined with market stalls, merchants calling out their wares - exotic silks, fine ceramics, glimmering trinkets. The scent of spiced meat and freshly baked bread filled the air.
Mokai walked ahead. His presence enough to part the crowds as people stepped aside instinctively.
He paused at the entrance to the small garden, tucked away in a side street, his gaze sweeping over the gate.
He did not notice when his feet brought him here. It was just as always - peaceful, timeless, and untouched by the passage of years. As he stepped inside, he felt a pang of nostalgia, perhaps, of regret.
The garden was a hidden gem nestled within the heart of the city, a place where the clamour of the streets faded into a profound, almost sacred stillness. The pathways were paved with smooth, jet-black stones that glistened faintly in the dappled light. They wound through the garden like veins, bordered by lush, dark green plants. Towering ferns unfurled their fronds like banners, while low-growing mosses carpeted the ground in velvety emerald. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth.
At the centre of the garden stood a stone fountain, its base carved from the same obsidian as the pathways. The fountain's surface etched with swirling patterns that seemed to shift and dance in the flickering light.
Water cascaded from its tiers in a gentle, rhythmic flow, the sound soft and hypnotic. The pool at its base was impossibly clear, its surface reflecting the surrounding greenery and the faint glimmer of the sky above.
"This is the Garden of Echoes," he said, his voice low but carrying easily in the quiet space. "It's said that if you listen closely, you can hear the whispers of those who came before."
Fengyu tilted his head, a look of genuine interest in his eyes. "Whispers of the dead?"
"Not just the dead," Mokai replied. "The echoes of the past - of moments, of passions, of lives lived and lost."
Kaelyn crossed her arms, her expression intrigued. "Do you believe that?"
Mokai hesitated, his gaze drifting to the fountain.
"I used to," he said quietly. "When I was younger, I would come here often."
He trailed off.
The garden had been his mother's favourite place. She had brought him here often, teaching him to listen to the whispers, to find meaning in the stillness. After her death, he had stopped coming. Why did he come today?
"It's beautiful," Seline said softly.
Mokai nodded, "It is."
For a moment, they stood in silence, the only sound the gentle trickle of the fountain and the rustle of leaves in the breeze.
Then, Fengyu broke the stillness, his voice light and teasing, clearly meant to deal away with the nostalgy.
"So, what do you hear, Mokai? Any echoes worth sharing?"
Mokai's lips curved into a faint smile.
"Not today," he said. "But perhaps one day."
As they left the garden, Mokai felt a strange sense of relief. Fengyu's question hadn't been as offhanded as it seemed. It was a gesture, small but meaningful, a way of acknowledging, "we're together in this life".
He remembered that his past was not particularly rosy either. Suddenly, Mokai felt a sense of belonging to this group, this unlikely band of companions.
As the afternoon wore on, Mokai led them to a small, open-air eatery tucked into a quiet street.
The place was modest but inviting, its tables arranged around a central fire pit where skewers of meat and vegetables sizzled over glowing coals.
They took a seat at a low table and a server brought over some platters of food - spiced lamb, roasted vegetables, and flatbread still warm from the oven.
Fengyu wasted no time digging in, his enthusiasm earning a smile from Kaelyn.
"You'd think you've never eaten before," she remarked, her tone dry but not unkind.
"When the food's this good, you savour every bite," Fengyu replied. He gestured to Mokai with his skewer. "This place is incredible. And so not like you," he winked.
Mokai chuckled, the sound low and warm. "There's more to Pantax than its politics and stonework. The food is one of its best-kept secrets." He grinned.
Fengyu leaned back slightly, stretching. "Honestly, I would have thought you'd drag us to the training grounds or the armoury. This is a very pleasant surprise."
Mokai only smiled. That was true, wasn't it? So why had he chosen to bring them here first, instead of showing them the might of Pantax? He had to admit that the time spent with them strolling through the city was time nicely spent. But why? Why had he done it?
"Well," he finally said, "I'm sure my father will take care of the training grounds and armoury tomorrow."
Fengyu groaned. "I knew it."
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, they returned to the Citadel. They climbed the winding stairs of the central tower, where they emerged onto a wide balcony that offered a breathtaking view of the city and the surrounding mountains.
For a moment, they stood in silence, taking in the view.
Mokai leaned against the railing, his gaze sweeping over the city he had called home.
Fengyu broke the silence, his voice soft. "Not a bad way to end the day," he said, his gaze fixed on the horizon.
"Not bad at all," Kaelyn agreed.
Mokai watched them all, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It was strange, seeing the city through their eyes.
As they finally parted before dinner, he caught sight of Kaelyn and Fengyu standing close together, whispering in hushed tones.
Those two seemed incorrigible. What kind of scheme were they cooking up this time? He shook his head with quiet amusement, and turned away. With a final glance at his companions, he quickened his pace, heading toward his father's study.
Lord Ryosei's study was unexpectedly simple, a stark contrast to the general grandeur of the Citadel. The usual dark obsidian walls were concealed behind elegant white space dividers, softening the room's severity. A low wooden desk stood at the centre, its surface uncluttered except for a few neatly stacked scrolls and an inkstone. Shelves lined the walls, holding carefully arranged books and artifacts.
It was still before evening, and the setting sun cast long, golden rays through the wide windows, bathing the study in warm light. The air was light with the scent of parchment and faint traces of herbal tea. The scene most serene.
His father stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back, his silhouette stark contrast against the light. He did not turn as Mokai entered.
"You passed," Lord Ryosei said finally, unimpressed. "Barely."
Mokai's jaw tensed.
His father turned now.
"Master Lira was sent to train you, to sharpen you into something more. And now, I am expected to entertain her personally." A pause. "Tell me, Mokai, why?"
Mokai hesitated, then frowned. "I thought she was here because of the Blue Faction."
Lord Ryosei let out a quiet breath through his nose, something between exasperation and amusement.
"No. She is here to train you. According to the Temple, Pantax is not ready for what is coming."
His gaze darkened.
"Tell me, Mokai - what did you actually do in those trials to make them think we are weak?"
That was a surprise. Mokai had thought it was all about the recent problems with the Blue Faction.
But not, it was about him.
"What is coming, Father? Are you telling me you actually believe in the Temple's premonitions now?"
"Don't be ridiculous! The Blue Faction was taken care of. The Temple aided us in that, that is true. I spent a lot of energy balancing the matter so we do not look vulnerable. But now, they send Master Lira - to train you. What did you do in the trials to make them think we need it?"
Mokai held his ground, his shoulders squared.
"I passed," he said evenly.
Lord Ryosei's lips pressed into a thin line. "Not well enough."
A tense silence stretched between them.
"You had had just one task. Just be yourself and win perfectly." Lord Ryosei sighted heavily, "I do not like having to clean up after you."
"Sorry, father. I failed you."
Lord Ryosei did not try to hide his disappointment.
"And what about your companions? Why did you bring them here?"
"Fengyu and Kaelyn started suspecting the Temple of some grand conspiracy," he said carefully. "And Pantax happened to come up in that suspicion."
His father's eyes narrowed. "And?"
"I wanted to show them that the Temple is not trying to seize control over Pantax. That whatever they think is happening, they're wrong."
Lord Ryosei let out a slow breath, his fingers tapping once against the lacquered wood of his desk.
"And you thought bringing them here, to see everything firsthand, would convince them?"
Mokai nodded.
"And do you think that is actually important?"
Mokai hesitated, then set his jaw, "Yes."
"And they could be useful allies." He added.
"You waste time on the doubts of outsiders when you should be securing Pantax's position." After a moment, Lord Ryosei's gaze softened, "Yeah, there may be some value in your new acquaintances. You take care of them. It is your responsibility now."
"Yes, father."
"And try to do a really good impression on Master Lira."
"Yes, father."
"It is really troublesome," Lord Ryosei muttered under his breath.
The conversation had come to an end, and Lord Ryosei gave a single, dismissive wave of his hand.
"Let's move on," he muttered, standing and leading the way toward the dining hall.
Mokai followed.
The dining hall was as magnificent as the grand hall of the Citadel.
Tall windows allowed the fading light of the evening to cast a golden glow across the room. At the far end, Master Lira stood near the table. Kaelyn, Fengyu, and Seline were already seated, their conversation soft.
Mokai caught a fleeting glimpse of the scene inside from behind his father's back, just before a surge of lightning split the air with deafening force. He was thrown to the floor, an unseen hand slamming him down with brutal force.
The air crackled with static. The world around him twisted, the ringing in his ears raised to the deafening quality, drowning out all other sound. His breath came in shallow as he struggled for air.