The wind swept swiftly through the valleys like a fleeting whisper of nature, rising up to the Armesto house, where the dawn had begun to paint the skies with shades of pale pink and pearly white. That light filtered gently through the windows of the home, slipping into the most intimate corners, including the room where Aolani slept.

  Her figure rested barely covered by the sheets, her skin glistening with sweat—not so much from the heat of the morning, but from the anxiety of thoughts that circled her without rest. Her mind was a restless tide, and her body shifted positions constantly, as if searching in discomfort for some form of solace. She clutched the fabric of the sheets tightly, trying to contain the emotional vertigo that pressed against her chest.

  Then, she felt it.

  A warm figure slid beside her, pressing its body against hers with a gesture that, at another time, might have been tender. A large, strong, and protective arm wrapped around her waist. Aolani turned immediately, startled, to discover who had slipped into her bed.

  She was stunned to see her husband, Tawnylon. His face was pale, his eyes dry and red, as if his soul had worn thin after hours of silent, desperate weeping.

  "I didn’t hear you come in..." said Aolani, gently placing a hand on her husband’s waist, noticing his heavy breathing and the emotional weight he carried.

  "What happened to you? You look… broken. As if you lived through a terrible night."

  "Too many things," murmured Tawnylon, closing his eyes as if he needed to hide from the world for a second.

  "Now it turns out that my old master… is going to face our son in the fourth round. He wants to die, Aolani. It's a promise he made to himself long ago."

  "Mister Vixkard?!" exclaimed Aolani, sitting up suddenly, her heart pounding.

  "That can't be… how is something like this even possible?"

  "I didn’t believe it at first either," responded Tawnylon, his voice broken.

  "But Vixkard was clear. He spoke of his desire to die in combat, to end his story with honor..."

  "Zarakel has completely lost his mind," said Aolani furiously, crossing her arms as she paced back and forth across the room.

  "How dare he pit your master—who's almost like a father to you—against our son? It's unacceptable! Does Thamuz know anything about this?"

  "No. Vixkard confessed it to me last night. By the time I got back, Thamuz should have already arrived home," said Tawnylon, looking out the window, his voice heavy with helplessness.

  "If we tell him, he probably won’t want to fight… or maybe he’ll choose to stay here, hiding."

  "That would be for the best…" Aolani whispered, her voice breaking.

  "We don't know how much your master has improved over the years. This fight… it might be the last time we see our son alive."

  Her body began to tremble—first slightly, then with a visibly growing anguish. The words tasted like poison in her mouth.

  "We could run away," she suggested, a thread of hope in her voice.

  "Like we talked about before, we could hide somewhere Zarakel would never dare to set foot. We could disappear. Wait until all of this is over…"

  "I thought about it, believe me," said Tawnylon, approaching from behind to embrace her. His presence was a mix of comfort and resignation. He rested his chin on her shoulder and closed his eyes.

  "But on my way back, I saw something that erased that idea from my mind. Every street was guarded by shamonak fighters in colossal armor, like demons chained to an insane cause. The whole territory is sealed. Zarakel won't let us escape that easily… he's determined. He has no limits. And the only thing he wants now… is to see our son and Vixkard fight to the death."

  Aolani intertwined her fingers with her husband’s, clinging to him as if she needed to anchor herself to something still solid amid the chaos. She closed her eyes and let out a soft sob—contained, yet heartbreaking—as the cruel reality unfolded before them.

  "I don’t know why all this is happening to us…" she whispered, barely audible, as if saying it out loud would make the suffering more real.

  "Everything used to be so normal. We were a happy family… we had our first child, raised him with love, with hope… and now look at us. Worried that we might be… facing his death."

  Tawnylon lowered his gaze, gently squeezing his wife’s hands, feeling in her touch the fragility of the moment. He remained silent for a moment, searching for the right words among the remorse and the love.

  "Maybe… this is Zarakel’s way of punishing me," he finally said, his voice deep.

  "For what happened that time during the tournament… the one held to win your hand. We had agreed that if I let him win, he’d get all the women and riches he could ever desire by becoming king through marrying you. But I broke that pact."

  He paused, brushing Aolani’s face with his lips, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek—as if offering a silent promise of his loyalty.

  "I never cared about his riches… no woman, no treasure in the world could compare to you. I knew it from the very beginning. Choosing you was the bravest and most selfish thing I’ve ever done… and I’d do it a thousand times over."

  Aolani opened her eyes, wet with tears, and looked at him in silence—her heart torn between fear and the deep love she felt for him.

  "This is just a trial," Tawnylon added, with a tone that tried to recover its strength.

  "One of many life will throw at us. Others will come, I know… and we’ll have to be strong every time. But for now… let’s focus on this one. Let’s overcome it together. And I promise you, my love… that when this is over, when we’re safe… we’ll leave. To the blue valleys of Gharmandia. Just you, me, and our beloved Thamuz. Breathing peace, as we always should have."

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Aolani closed her eyes again, letting those words wrap around her like a warm blanket in the middle of a storm. For a moment—just a moment—she imagined those valleys, the color of the sky reflected on the hills, the whisper of a wind free from threats… and allowed herself to believe.

  "I hope so…" Aolani said, pressing her body even closer to her husband’s.

  "All we can do now is endure… withstand everything that's happening."

  Tawnylon responded with a warm embrace, holding her gently to comfort her. In the midst of that tender gesture, he slid his hands to her belly and tickled her lightly, provoking bursts of laughter and playful spasms from Aolani.

  "Stop it, you fool!" she blurted between laughs, trying to escape his hands.

  "By the way…" Tawnylon said, stopping the tickling as they both caught their breath from the laughter.

  "Did Thamuz get home safe yesterday? Where is he now?"

  "Yes, he got here exhausted. Greeted everyone without much energy and went straight to his room. As soon as he hit the bed, he passed out," Aolani replied as she walked toward the bedroom door.

  "Come, let’s go wake him."

  Tawnylon nodded silently, following her out of the room. They walked together down the hallway bathed in the soft blue light of morning streaming through the wooden slats, until they reached Thamuz’s door. Aolani gently turned the knob to avoid making noise, but when she opened it just a bit… they were met with a surprise.

  The bed was empty. No sign of their son. Not in the corners, not under the blankets.

  "Where could he be?" they wondered, exchanging a puzzled glance.

  Without wasting time, they hurried downstairs, moving quickly through the house, checking every room: the dining area, the kitchen, the reading room… nothing.

  Then, a distant sound—like a grunt held back by sheer effort—caught their attention. It came from the back of the house, the backyard, where Armesto usually spent his mornings reading ancient manuscripts or sipping tea.

  They rushed outside and froze at the sight: Thamuz, training with intense focus. He struck the air with an open palm, causing the vegetation at his feet to swirl in small whirlwinds, helped along by the gusts of wind sweeping through the residence. Sweat drenched his body, sliding down his torso as his muscles tensed and twisted with every movement, sculpting the image of a warrior at peak concentration.

  He was completely absorbed in his training until he sensed his parents behind him. He stopped, exhaled deeply, and turned calmly to face them.

  "Morning," Thamuz greeted with a gentle smile as he walked over to hug them.

  "I thought you’d wake up later."

  The strong scent of his sweaty body was undeniable, but neither Aolani nor Tawnylon made any gesture of discomfort. They embraced him tightly, with a deep sense of relief.

  "We thought you'd still be asleep," said Aolani, gently caressing his cheek as she pulled away from the embrace.

  "I'm still a little sleepy, to be honest," he replied, scratching the back of his neck.

  "But the excitement for my fourth match wouldn't let me stay in bed. I can't wait to find out who my opponent will be."

  His voice was like a burst of pure energy. That genuine enthusiasm made Aolani press her lips together, holding back her emotions, while Tawnylon forced a smile, trying to conceal the unease twisting inside his chest.

  "Yes... we're hoping to find that out too," he said, glancing briefly at Aolani with a look full of concern, unnoticed by Thamuz.

  "Why don't you go with your mother, take a bath, and get ready for the fight?"

  "Good idea. I need to freshen up," Thamuz agreed, glancing at his body, covered in sweat and dirt.

  "I don’t want to stink in front of my opponent."

  Aolani let out a soft chuckle, though her eyes never left her son, as if trying to memorize every gesture, every step.

  Tawnylon remained seated on a chair in the main hall, leaning back slowly as he stretched his body. Fatigue weighed heavily on his muscles, and his eyelids threatened to close again and again. He hadn't slept well. The storm of thoughts that battered him through the night still lingered, gnawing at the edges of his mind like a silent plague. He imagined scenarios he had never dared to consider… like the one where his own son, Thamuz, might be forced to take the life of his former master.

  That thought brought a sharp ache to his chest that refused to fade.

  Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Thamuz lay resting inside a large stone tub, the water reaching halfway up his torso due to his imposing size. Steam filled the room with a comforting warmth. Beside him, Aolani assisted him with gentle, loving hands, running a soft cloth over his body. She scrubbed with care, removing the grime that had built up during his training. She paused with special attention on her son's horns, cleaning them with precision, and then on his ears, where the most dirt had gathered.

  The moment, though silent, was filled with a deep maternal connection. Aolani said nothing, but in her eyes was the visible battle between the tenderness of seeing her son as he once was—a child—and the sorrow of knowing that soon, he might face a fight where death was a near certainty.

  Once clean and dry, Thamuz dressed in clothes he had chosen himself. He descended with his mother to the main hall, wearing a unique combination of garments that highlighted his distinctive style: long trousers made of coarse, rugged fabric, giving off a warrior’s presence, and a shirt that left his chest and arms exposed, as if ready for combat, yet still true to his personal identity.

  "I'm ready to go now, Father," said Thamuz with a confident smile, radiating youthful assurance.

  Tawnylon, however, had fallen asleep in the chair, arms crossed and a thin line of drool sliding from the corner of his lips. Aolani approached him in silence and gently touched his shoulder.

  "Dear... wake up, Thamuz is ready," she whispered, careful not to startle him.

  Tawnylon opened his eyes abruptly, disoriented for a moment. He blinked several times and slowly sat up, still visibly exhausted. When his eyes landed on his son, he couldn't help but smile.

  "You look amazing, son..." he said sincerely as he pushed himself up from the chair with effort.

  "Who gave you those clothes?"

  "Armesto gave them to me just as he was about to leave with the others," Thamuz replied.

  "I think they went ahead to the combat arena."

  "If that's the case, then we better head out too. We don’t want to miss our special seats," Aolani said, a faint smile appearing on her face.

  "You’re right," said Tawnylon, rising slowly from the chair. He stretched his body with a soft groan, his joints cracking like dry branches under pressure.

  "Let’s get going."