Xerxes's mind raced for immediate solutions. He asked the bartender, "Where is the Stargate? Then I can find them—Dorian and Aya."
The dwarf shook his head. "Ya' must be crazy! If ya' wanted to use the Stargate, ya' first need to be an A-rank adventurer, then ya' have to have a crap ton of gold—and judgin' by the weight of yer pocket, ya' ain't got none!"
He then spoke in a more relaxed tone, sympathising with Xerxes after seeing his shock. "Look, kid, even if ya' had that, our Stargate only allows travel to the Daemon Kingdom, which is even further from Layne. Aye, it can take ya' to Indonyia, but that needs to be marked as a special request, directly to the king and queen. That's authority ya' don't have!"
"Then what can I do?" Xerxes asked solemnly. He felt stupid for being hopeful, for even believing there might be an easier way. Of course, it always had to be difficult. Didn't it?
"Look, my wife is runnin' on eggshells in there, and I won't get anythin' for meself tonight if I ain't helpin' her," he smirked with a playful expression—one Xerxes didn't care to inquire about further.
"We're only open for another two hours. Give me some peace, and then we can help ya' out tomorrow mornin'. How 'bout that, chap?"
"GUNDRIK!!" A voice called, and the hairs on the dwarf's body stood on end. He patted Xerxes on the shoulder, winked, and then ran back to his wife, leaving no time to waste.
Sighing, Xerxes understood the dwarf had his duties. He began walking back upstairs, navigating through the swarm of adventurers. Jumping left and right was no easy task.
Xerxes fell over more times than he could count, but eventually, he reached the stairs and began climbing them.
Xerxes stepped into the room quietly. The door creaked open with a weight heavier than its hinges could bear.
Leiya sat upright on her bed, still and silent. Airi was perched on the edge of the wooden cabinet between their beds, her wings slightly outstretched—as if afraid to move, to disturb the fragile silence.
Leiya didn't look at Xerxes. Her eyes were fixed beyond the cracked windowpane, staring out into the fire-lit street, where torchlight from a rough iron post shimmered. The flames danced, yes, but there was no life in Leiya's gaze.
The moonlight spilt in, cold and indifferent, etching her face in silver lines. Hollow eyes. Sunken cheeks. A stillness that didn't resemble peace.
It was ruin.
She had watched her world burn. Family, home, laughter—everything scorched and destroyed in a brutal breath. What remained of Leiya wasn't broken. It was emptied. Like a vessel, the gods had poured pain into until nothing else could fit.
The fire outside hissed softly, spitting embers into the dark. Its flicker mirrored in Leiya's eyes—faint, wavering, yet somehow defiant. Xerxes watched her from the doorway, sensing a deeper meaning in the flames. They resembled her.
The last spark of warmth in a heart gutted by loss. Unstable, wavering—at any moment, she could blaze into rage, into grief, into something fierce and unstoppable. Or she could be snuffed out, left in a silence that surely wasn't good for her.
"Leiya?" Xerxes said gently, his voice barely louder than a breath.
No response. Not a blink, not a flinch. She was stone carved in the image of someone who wasn't there anymore.
Xerxes stepped closer, uncertain. His words fumbled over the silence, like footsteps on shattered glass.
"I... I'm glad you're okay. I woke up before you, not too injured." He swallowed, the guilt of not knowing how to comfort her scraping at his throat. "We're in the Baratheon Kingdom. A couple who run this tavern, Gundrik and Bertha, said we crashed through their beer garden last week. They've been taking care of us."
Still nothing. Just the distant crackle of flame—and Leiya watched it die, perhaps hoping she would go with it.
Her words were callous and direct, "Xerxes, there's nothing in your power you can do to make any of what happened go away. So stop trying. Stop with this pathetic attempt. Please."
Xerxes held out a hand, gulping slightly. "I just... I thought I could help..."
"Help?" Leiya scoffed, repeating his words. "You heard Yves, didn't you? He said it was because of you." As she turned around, her eyes welled with the memories of those lost. "Mairon. My father. My mother. My grandfather. Everyone. My home. My peace. It's all gone, Xerxes—and I was powerless."
She pointed at him. "But maybe if you'd never come, maybe if you didn't even exist, then we all could've lived our lives happily. I was stupid, thinking I needed to admire some beauty the outside world held. Because I was blind all that time. Ignorant to the truth that my peace, my gratitude, my happiness it didn't come from dreams, it came from the reality I was in. Now that it's all gone because of you, I don't have that."
She clutched her mouth, rubbing away the tears streaming down her face. "I have nothing, Xerxes. You're the only person left, and I don't know if I should hate you or depend on you. I know you couldn't have controlled what happened—but then, who can I blame? How can I make up for my weakness?"
Xerxes looked at her. Her words struck him where she knew they would sear, yet he continued forward, crouching before her as tears welled in his own eyes. "You can hate me, Leiya. I'll accept it. You can blame me, Leiya. I'll accept it. All that pain you're holding onto, all the sorrow, I can bear it. Because in truth, I blame myself for it. I know... I know that if I hadn't been stupid enough to go on that mission, you would've been safe. They all would've been safe."
His voice softened as he gazed out the window at the moon. "But I need to make sure this isn't where I stop. I think, after all this time, I understand what Conrad and Aemon meant about the heart of a warrior. Without 'heart,' our journey is pointless. We need to bear it, Leiya. No matter how heavy it may be, we need to press forward."
Leiya couldn't bear to look him in the eyes any longer. "Then what can I do? I'm afraid to even use my mana. I'm afraid to take the next step forward—because I know as soon as I do, they'll all be left behind. I'm not ready, Xerxes. I'm not ready to move on." Her words were broken whispers, her head shaking.
Xerxes moved closer and held her, pressing her head against his chest as she poured out her emotions.
She sobbed incoherently, screaming into his chest, balling her fists and striking him weakly. "I hate you! I HATE YOU FOR COMING TO THE FALLEN KINGDOM, FOR TAKING EVERYTHING!"
"Why did it have to be me? Why am I being punished? I can't take it anymore—I CAN'T!" she roared. Xerxes stroked her hair gently.
He simply said, holding her pain, "I know, Leiya. I know. I won't go anywhere. It's just who I am. I'll never leave you, not after everything. I promise, I'll get strong enough. Strong enough to take everything and everyone down."
Xerxes held Leiya for the rest of the night until she finally fell asleep. Her body was under immense fatigue and restlessness, whereas Xerxes, despite his exhaustion, felt something different.
There was a restlessness for something else. He envisioned it all—his power growing fiercer, more potent. He'd rise through the ranks of the continent, becoming the strongest mage. He'd find Yves. He'd uncover the truth, why he came, what he had to do with it all, and what Xerxes sensed within himself.
Then, he would swear to kill him. To make Yves feel pain greater than anything he'd ever known. And today would be the day everything would change.
He swore it.