With a final affirming nod, Khaalseru activated the portal, the swirling energies of space gathering around Lassim. He took a deep breath, ready to face whatever awaited him on the other side, his fate and the fate of the Drow now intertwined more than ever.
~~~~
Perched on the edge of a weathered cliff, Hallen sat alone, his gaze locked onto the horizon where the sky melded with the sea in a wash of twilight colors.
Each day, he returned to this spot after checking leads or stayed for weeks at a time, the very place where disaster had struck five years ago.
It was here that he had last seen Lassim, the young master whose safety had been his responsibility, the prodigious talent meant to ascend to unprecedented heights. He should have traveled to and entered the Lightning Sect for a few years now, now a sad dream that had passed by.
He had hopped he would’ve heard tales from the Young Master or heard stories from the far away southern continent of the rise of a remarkable youth with dual lightning and water elemental control. Instead, there was only despair.
As the cold wind tugged at his worn cloak, Hallen’s thoughts churned with a relentless tide of guilt and regret
.
He replayed the moments leading up to Lassim’s disappearance over and over, scouring his memories for some clue, some mistake he might have corrected. The memory of wishing the Young Master farewell was etched in his sad mind.
He should have been there, should have protected him better by escorting him further, should have foreseen the danger. He HAD foreseen the danger of a cult member possibly trying to capture him. Yet, he still let him travel with no guards or escort.
He told himself how easy it would’ve been to just send two of the Spirit Ascension cultivators of the family with him and it wouldn’t have affected their building contract in the slightest. He ridiculed his thoughtlessness every moment that passed.
"Lassim should have been celebrating his 14th birthday in the Lightning Sect two months ago by now," Hallen muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the howling wind. "A prodigy, unmatched in the history of Nexaria, reduced to a memory under my watch."
The pain of this thought was a constant ache, exacerbated by the isolation he had imposed upon himself.
He had abandoned everything—his duties, his role in the family business, his social ties. Nothing else held meaning without ensuring Lassim’s safe return.
Night after night, Hallen camped by the cliffside, staring out into the void, hoping for a sign, any indication that Lassim was still out there. Each passing day without word or sign was a silent torment, a reminder of his failure.
As another day drew on, with the sun high in the middle of the sky, Hallen prepared to spend another day and night out in the open after wasting away underneath the sun and later the stars.
He settled in, his eyes fixed on the spot below where Mercy’s attack had struck the cliffside years ago. It was a ritual, a penance of sorts.
Suddenly, the routine of his vigil was shattered by a flash of purplish light that split the gloomy mood.
Hallen shielded his eyes, then squinted into the brilliance. As the light faded, a figure emerged—a tall young man with velvet blue hair that seemed to float around his head like caught in a stream of water, his violet pupiled eyes crackling with tiny sparks of electricity that jutted off the edges of his eye outwards.
The young man’s presence was both commanding and serene, a stark contrast to the rugged, barren cliff. There was also a supreme weight that, although the man’s cultivation showed he was at Spirit Transformation level 8, Hallen knew he would be crushed like an ant before he could even summon his mana to attack.
"Excuse me, sir," the young man said, his voice calm and friendly, "Could you tell me who you are?"
Hallen, taken aback, stared in disbelief.
The voice, the posture, the very essence of the young man before him—it couldn’t be, yet it was unmistakably Lassim. "Y-Young Master!?Lassim, Is that really you? Am I dreaming? This isn’t real right?" Hallen’s voice broke with emotion, a mix of hope and fear gripping his heart as he scrambled to stand up from his sitting posture towards the young man.
"Yes? But… who are you? How do you know my name? Do I know you?" Lassim’s brows furrowed in confusion, scanning Hallen’s haggard, dirty appearance.
Recognition dawned slowly, and with it, a rush of relief and disbelief. "Hallen! What in the heavens happened to you!?" Lassim’s shock mirrored Hallen’s own.
Hallen’s knees felt weak, his heart pounding with a mixture of joy and sorrow as he crumpled to the ground grasping the legs of Lassim’s pants. "I’ve been waiting for you, young master! I thought I’d lost you forever! What happened to you? Where have you been?"
As Lassim took in the sight of the man who had once been a pillar of strength and protection across the start of his journey, his expression softened. "It’s a long story, one you will probably struggle to believe. But I’m here now, please stand up Hallen! Let’s see if we can get you cleaned up."
As they stood there, the gap of years slowly bridged by their shared presence, Hallen felt a weight lift off his shoulders, a burden he had carried alone for far too long.
Lassim was back, and though the future was uncertain, the possibility of mending what had been broken gave Hallen a sliver of hope.
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"Let’s get you cleaned up and something to eat. You look horrid and unbefitting for a man of the Rohese family," Lassim said. "There’s much to discuss, and I have plans that would be great if you could help with. I will also need your help contacting my Father and see if he can come here."
As Lassim held Hallen, someone he felt was practically an uncle to him, Hallen directed him towards his makeshift home he’d shoddily built all those years ago.
In the simple cabin, constructed from the rugged materials of the surrounding landscape, Hallen unlocked the door and led Lassim inside.
The cabin, although rarely used, held a semblance of home—a refuge that Hallen had built but had been too consumed by his own guilt to truly inhabit. Now, with Lassim back, he was happy to be inside for once, never taking his eyes off of him as if to hope he’d not wake up from this dream.
Lassim, adapting quickly to the more mundane aspects of their reunion with a routine that spoke of many years of practiced effort, rummaged through the supplies he’d carried with him and began preparing a meal with his provisions.
These were not ordinary provisions but foodstuffs from the Drow as he’d long consumed the original rations and meals intended for his journey to the Lightning Sect. Those were only meant to last a year but he’d shared them among the starving drow during the tumultuous beginning they’d had.
Unpacking the food, he set about preparing a meal, a simple act that felt strangely grounding after the cosmic events he’d just been part of.
As they sat down and Lassim handed him a plate to eat, Hallen took his first bite with a sense of relief, grateful for the normalcy of the moment.
However, the normalcy was short-lived. Almost immediately after ingesting a mouthful of the Drow cuisine, a surge of mana so powerful and pure flooded through him that he almost choked.
He forced the bite down to his stomach. His eyes widened in shock as the energy coursed through his pathways, demanding to be controlled.
With a hurried focus, Hallen began to rotate his cultivation technique, channeling the sudden influx of divine mana.
To his astonishment and without any preparatory intention, he found himself breaking through two whole levels of Spirit Ascension within moments. From Spirit Ascension stage 3, he vaulted to stage 5, a feat unheard of in normal circumstances.
"What in the world was that!?" Hallen gasped, trying to catch his breath as beads of sweat now covered his body. He turned to Lassim with a glare to demand for explanation.
Lassim, who had been casually eating, paused, realizing his oversight. "Oh, I... I’m an idiot." He smacked his head before continuing, "I should have mentioned, the food from where I ended up— Khaalseru’s realm—it’s... special. Well, it’s definitely not ordinary food with all things considered. I’ve gotten so used to it that I forgot how potent it could be..."
Hallen shook his head, both bemused and mildly irritated by the oversight, yet the breakthrough in his cultivation was not something he could easily complain about.
"I’d recommend not sharing this with anyone else except Spirit Ascension spirit warriors or higher in cultivation! That nearly killed me!" Yet, he was still grateful as his body felt rejuvenated, his mana pathways expanded and strengthened in ways he hadn’t felt in years.
As they settled down, Lassim began to recount his tale, carefully curating the details to leave out his newfound status as a progenitor of the space element and the specifics of the divine politics he was now entangled in.
However, he did share and speak of his life among the Drow, their culture, their struggles, and how they had become his second family.
"And now," Lassim continued, his expression turning serious, "I need to find them a place here in Nexaria. I was hoping... perhaps the Vanthar lands under my father’s rule could welcome them. They’re skilled, strong, and could greatly contribute to the kingdom."
Hallen listened, his initial shock giving way to contemplation.
The whole situation was absurd and he hadn’t even come to terms yet with Lassim’s presence in front of yet, but the idea was not without merit.
The addition of such a unique and powerful group could indeed prove beneficial to the Aurora Kingdom and to the Iron Marquis’ lands. "It’s a big ask," Hallen finally said, "but for you, Young Master, for everything you’ve been through and achieved... I think it’s the least I can do to help make it happen."
He paused for a moment before continuing, "If you’ll allow me, I’d be happy to be their custodian and ensure they settle down properly. You’re not aware but, during the time you were gone I’ve given up my role in the Rohese family. I have been too guilt ridden to focus on the work and just wanted to wait for your return."