Jaakan and Jud'la stood in the courtyard, their movements accompanied by the crackling sound of the fire. The torches nearby flickered, casting dancing shadows on the ground. As Jaakan manipulated the flames effortlessly, the courtyard was bathed in a warm, golden glow, pushing back the surrounding darkness.
Suddenly, Jud'la's fist struck Jaakan's chest with force, causing him to stumble and lose his balance. "Well done, my young student," Jud'la praised, his voice resonating in the quiet night. "But remember, true strength lies not only in power. What did I teach you on the very first day?"
Jaakan's voice trembled slightly as he replied, "True strength comes from Eloh becoming your strength, Shimori Jud'la." The words hung in the air, mingling with the scent of burning wood and the faint aroma of sweat.
Impressed, Jud'la circled around Jaakan, his footsteps barely audible on the stone ground. He stopped in front of Jaakan, who kept his head respectfully bowed. "Tell me, what is your purpose?" Jud'la inquired, his voice filled with curiosity.
"To perfect my technique, to become the perfect Shimori," Jaakan responded with determination. "And to rid my world of darkness." The words carried a hint of urgency, like a flame yearning to consume the darkness.
"Rid the world of darkness," Jud'la repeated, his voice resolute as he locked eyes with Jaakan. The weight of his gaze sent a shiver down Jaakan's spine. "And how do we achieve this?"
Jaakan's gaze lifted towards the sky, his eyes filled with unwavering confidence. "The key is to maintain purity, untainted by any mixture or dilution, by staying connected to the Yah," he declared. The cool night air brushed against his skin, heightening his senses and strengthening his resolve.
Jud'la's gaze held a mixture of pride and certainty as he spoke softly, "When the Malik'Aram comes, I pray that he discovers his servants as devoted as you, my student." Jaakan felt a surge of gratitude and respect, his heart swelling with a sense of purpose.
"Thank you, Shimori," Jaakan whispered, his voice filled with gratitude and determination.
As Jaakan strode confidently across the cobblestone courtyard, a palpable tension filled the air. The piercing gaze of the Septuni Soldiers bore into him, their presence looming tall and imposing. Their polished armor emitted a faint glow, casting an eerie light in the darkness. Undeterred, Jaakan's determination burned fiercely in his eyes as he pressed on towards the Governor's quarters.
Entering the opulent palace, the cacophony of enraged voices and the clinking of armor assaulted his ears, creating a symphony of discord. General Rufis, breaking away from his meeting with Jaakan's father, raised his head and turned to face him. Governor Zamiel, weariness etched on his face, "Son, You're home early."
With a stern gaze, Rufis peered down at Jaakan, his voice dripping with condescension, "Is that your heir?"
Zamiel, his fatigue evident, confirmed, "Yes, that's my son."
Rufus, leaning in closer, taunted him, "I hope you're as weak-willed as your father, boy."
Jaakan, refusing to be belittled, defiantly looked up, "You have no right to talk about my father in such a manner!"
The tension in the room escalated, prompting Zamiel to interject, "Jaakan please…"
Jaakan interrupted, "No father, who do they think they are coming here and taking our home, our workers, our crops, our panthers," the anger built in his voice, "Our firstborn! We aren't like you Ithori mangelodites, we value our firstborn…"
Zamiel, now enraged, shouted, "Zamiel!"
Rufus chuckled, his laughter echoing in the air, "Kids got more stones than you, Barfos, for your sake I hope he doesn't become the next Governor, because I'd love to make an example out of this one or face him on the battlefield."
Jaakan looked up at Rufus, his eyes blazing with defiance. "You won't get the chance, Ithori."
Walking out, Rufus couldn't help but break into a wide smile.
© Copyright Tailspinners Ink and Dustin Cooley all rights reserved 2024
No comments:
Post a Comment