The night was heavy, the only sound the distant rush of the great waterfall behind them. The moon bathed the Unbound in pale silver light, but no one spoke.

  Lisa sat by the water’s edge, her legs dipped into the lake, her shoulders trembling as quiet sobs wracked her body. Tears fell into the water, merging with the ripples, lost in the vastness of the world. Beside her, Jeriana wrapped an arm around her, holding her in quiet solace.

  Festron was gone.

  The Unbound gathered, standing in a silent semicircle, each holding yellow lanterns, their glow reflected in the water. At the center of it all, a small wooden boat drifted slightly with the current. Upon it, Festron’s body lay—surrounded by an abundance of flowers, leaves, and woven branches, a warrior's farewell.

  A deep, solemn voice broke the silence.

  Spencer’s Eulogy

  Spencer—a 7-foot-8 Fredeen, his fur brown, his arms and legs short—stepped forward. His expression was one of deep sorrow, but his voice was steady.

  Spencer’s small hands clenched into fists, his voice thick with grief.

  He looked at the boat, his ears twitching slightly, then bowed his head.

  The Unbound remained silent, their faces like stone, but the weight in their eyes was unmistakable. They were warriors—many had lost comrades before—but the pain never dulled.

  Even in mourning, they did not weep.

  Except Lisa.

  And Dreados noticed.

  ---

  Dreados’s Memory

  Dreados stood at the edge of the water, his arms crossed. The rippling lake mirrored the scene before him, but his mind drifted elsewhere—to years long past.

  A younger Festron, struggling under the weight of a massive boulder.

  Dreados had merely tilted his head, unimpressed.

  The memory shifted, a flash of laughter over roasted meat, the flicker of firelight casting shadows over the rocky cave they had once called home.

  For a moment, Dreados saw it—the boy’s earnest gaze, hope burning in his eyes.

  Dreados had smiled slightly, shaking his head.

  Festron had squinted at him, disbelieving.

  Dreados had slapped him over the head, smirking.

  Festron had merely grinned through the pain.

  ---

  Dreados’s Eulogy

  Dreados inhaled slowly, letting his past memories settle before speaking. His voice was low, dragging each word like steel through stone.

  Heads turned.

  Dreados’s eyes darkened, the image sharpening in his mind.

  A child, trembling, fists clenched.

  A breath.

  There was a murmur of quiet laughter from the Unbound, some shaking their heads. But Dreados’s face remained unchanged.

  The warrior exhaled through his nose, his fingers tightening slightly.

  Lisa covered her mouth, her tears falling faster.

  For the first time, Dreados’s voice wavered, just slightly.

  Silence. Heavy.

  Then—

  Lisa looked up, her face streaked with tears, but she nodded, stepping forward. A single torch burned in her hand.

  She passed it to Dreados.

  He took it, the fire’s glow flickering in his cold eyes.

  Stepping forward, he gazed down at Festron’s still form. The boy who had once defied him with tiny fists. The warrior who had laughed at pain.

  With a slow breath, he raised the torch.

  The torch met the boat’s edge, and flames spread over the flowers and leaves, consuming them gently, reverently.

  Then—Dreados pushed the boat forward, and the current took it.

  The fire drifted across the lake, carrying Festron with it.

  One by one, the Unbound raised their lanterns into the sky. The golden glow reflected in the water, a hundred tiny stars floating upwards.

  Watching.

  Honoring.

  Remembering.

  ---

  The Outsiders’ Perspective

  Eryndor, Valerius, and Ziraiah stood at a distance, watching the ceremony.

  Beside them, the Elf Queen, her arms wrapped around her daughter, spoke softly.

  Eryndor sat on a nearby rock, arms folded. His voice was measured, elegant, but contemplative.

  Then, he turned to Ziraiah.

  Ziraiah hesitated, watching as the burning boat drifted away.

  She sighed, crossing her arms.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Her fingers curled slightly, and she pointed toward Lisa.

  Eryndor’s gaze sharpened.

  Lisa wiped her eyes, stepping forward.

  ---

  The Fire Continued to Drift

  And the night carried Festron away, his memory etched into those who remained.

  As the last of the lanterns faded into the sky, the weight of the moment lingered. But grief had no room to settle—questions remained. Questions about the Unbound, about their power, about the unknown dangers that lay ahead.

  ---

  The Gauge System

  The soft glow of floating lanterns cast golden reflections upon the water, shimmering like fallen stars adrift in the night. The gentle roar of the waterfall echoed in the background, yet amidst its endless cascade, a quiet moment of respite settled between the three siblings.

  Lisa, Anuel, and Jeriana remained seated by the water’s edge, their legs submerged beneath the cool embrace of the lake. Nearby, Valerius approached, lowering himself onto a smooth stone, allowing the water to ripple around his ankles. Now, all the siblings sat together, their shared silence steeped in the weight of the funeral that had just passed.

  Eryndor, ever watchful, turned his gaze toward Valerius and noticed his eyes lingering upon Eliana. His voice was smooth but edged with a touch of reprimand.

  Valerius turned to his elder brother with an expression of pure exasperation, his shoulders slumping in disbelief.

  He gestured toward Eliana, as if expecting Eryndor to finally acknowledge the obvious.

  Then, as if struck by an epiphany, Valerius gasped dramatically, covering his mouth in mock horror.

  Eryndor, unshaken, merely allowed a small smirk to tug at the corner of his lips.

  From the side, Ziraiah scoffed, arms crossed.

  Valerius, utterly unimpressed, rolled his eyes and shifted his gaze toward the night sky, watching as the lanterns drifted ever higher, their glow resembling distant constellations.

  Eryndor, now composed once more, turned his attention to his sister.

  At his request, Ziraiah nodded and recounted her tale, detailing every event that had taken place since Anuel had abducted her. The battles, the trials, the friendships forged in the midst of danger—all laid bare under the moonlit night.

  When she finished, she let out a small breath.

  Eryndor exhaled slowly, shaking his head in astonishment.

  Valerius, on the other hand, was grinning, leaning forward with renewed interest.

  Eryndor’s brow furrowed slightly, his analytical mind already working through the implications of what he had heard.

  Ziraiah blinked, as if just recalling something.

  She turned toward the air, where the sentient entity resided.

  From nowhere and everywhere, Yelleen’s voice manifested around them.

  Valerius’ head snapped toward the unseen presence.

  Yelleen scoffed.

  Valerius narrowed his eyes.

  Yelleen paused, amused, before responding in a cryptic tone.

  Then, in a more instructive manner, Yelleen continued:

  Valerius shrugged, glancing toward Omfry. He did as instructed, concentrating on the towering warrior.

  And then—it appeared.

  Above Omfry’s head, nine stars flickered into existence.

  Valerius blinked in astonishment.

  Ziraiah, curious, tried the same and gasped.

  Her eyes widened, realization dawning.

  Eryndor’s gaze remained steady, though his curiosity was evident.

  Yelleen hummed.

  Ziraiah kicked her feet in the water absentmindedly, then explained.

  She turned to Valerius, her expression suddenly serious.

  Valerius leaned forward, eyes narrowing.

  Without hesitation, he began scanning everyone around him, checking one person after another.

  Then, he froze.

  Among everyone present, the majority bore five stars above their heads.

  Then, his gaze landed on Sumshus, who sat on a rock, drinking and weeping.

  Four stars.

  Valerius’ mind reeled. He recalled the moment he had stood against Sumshus, trying to save Ziraiah.

  His expression darkened.

  Meanwhile, in another part of the gathering, Silvie felt a strange shift in her vision.

  A panel appeared before her.

  ---

  [System Notification: Gauge System Activated]

  You can now determine the difference in power between yourself and others.

  Note: As you currently are, anything above 2 stars means certain death.

  To use this feature, focus on any living creature and think of the word ‘gauge.’

  ---

  Silvie’s breath hitched.

  She decided to test it.

  Focusing on Eryndor, she saw three stars above his head.

  She glanced at the panel again. The part about "anything above 2 stars meaning certain death" made her swallow hard.

  Meanwhile, Valerius tried the gauge on Eryndor.

  A single star.

  Valerius smirked.

  And for the first time since arriving on Yilheim, Eryndor laughed.

  A deep, genuine laugh, his hand slapping his knee.

  Valerius’ expression darkened playfully.

  His fist clenched.

  From the side, Ziraiah grinned.

  Valerius shot her a look of pure betrayal.

  Eryndor merely smiled, tilting his head toward the lanterns floating above them. His voice was smooth, composed, and regal, his words carefully chosen.

  The golden lanterns continued their slow ascent, drifting higher into the night sky, casting their gentle glow over the lake. The air was still, save for the rhythmic cascade of the waterfall behind them, yet amidst the serenity, tension brewed.

  Valerius shifted where he sat, the flickering flames reflecting in his thoughtful gaze. Then, suddenly, he snapped upright, voice low but urgent.

  Ziraiah blinked, unimpressed.

  For a moment, silence. Then—

  Ziraiah let out a slow, exaggerated sigh, shaking her head as if trying to comprehend the sheer stupidity of what she just heard.

  She turned to him with a blank stare, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  Valerius’s eye twitched.

  He started to rise, but before he could get far, a firm hand pressed against his head, effortlessly forcing him back down.

  Eryndor’s calm, commanding tone left no room for argument. His grip was steady, effortlessly pushing Valerius back into place as if he were a mere child.

  Valerius clicked his tongue, annoyed but unable to argue.

  Ziraiah, however, wasn’t done.

  Valerius whipped his head toward her, but before he could retort, she continued, voice rising in frustration.

  Her hands clenched into fists as she leaned forward, her voice filled with the sharp edge of raw experience.

  Her eyes flashed with exasperation as she pointed around them, motioning toward the gathering of warriors who stood like unmoving titans in the moonlit night.

  She exhaled sharply, but the frustration in her tone only deepened.

  She turned to face him fully, voice sharp as a dagger.

  The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.

  A tense silence followed, the weight of her words settling upon them.

  Then—a voice, composed and measured, cut through the air.

  Eryndor’s tone was gentle yet firm, his voice as smooth as flowing silk, yet imbued with an authority that demanded compliance.

  Ziraiah huffed, crossing her arms, but said nothing more.

  Valerius remained still, his jaw tightening as realization sank in.

  Damn it… she’s right.

  ---

  Not far from them, the Elf Queen sat with her daughter, Eliana, watching the exchange unfold.

  She had listened to every word.

  Slowly, she turned to her daughter, her expression thoughtful.

  Eliana nodded slowly, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her dress.

  “She is.”

  The Queen’s gaze returned to the three siblings, observing their dynamic—their frustration, their understanding, their undeniable bond.

  Her voice was calm, resigned, yet unwavering.

  And with those words, the moon bore witness to the unspoken truth—there was no escape.

  Only the uncertainty of what was to come.

  To Be Continued...