A NEW BEGINNING

Excerpt from the philosophical writings of Valin Sart, archivist of the Panta Nae oasis

(280 years after the Awakening of the werren)

“An ending, as I understand it, is not a sudden moment but the culmination of a long process that precedes it.

A chain of events carries us toward it, and then comes the time. A time meant to let memories slowly fade.

Only then can one say that the true ending has arrived.

Our stories vanish the moment we stop remembering them, when no one recalls why we lived, why we loved, why we fought.

Homes burn, names sink into dust and the faces of those we cherished dissolve into the past forever.

That is the end: when everything that ever mattered is swallowed by forgetfulness.”

***

Ela, Blatterside

Blatterside felt like a place where life moved in a slow, lazy tide. The only local in sight was an older man in a worn hat, sitting on a rickety chair outside his workshop and sleepily watching the road for passing vehicles. The only sign of real activity came from the quiet hum of generators and the swarms of persistent insects that hurled themselves at anything that might hold one last drop of blood.

It was nothing more than a roadside stop on the western routes of Raj. The plaster on the houses was peeling, the paint faded by the sun. Behind the shacks lay two small fields of bukar, a tiny supply store, a workshop and, most importantly, the central building meant for travellers to rest. The ground floor housed a dining hall with a fresh coat of paint already beginning to peel. The second part served as a storage room and the upper floor had once been used for lodging, though judging by the state of the roof, no one had slept there in a very long time.

And then the stench.

Ela rubbed her nose as the omnipresent repellent stung her sinuses. The locals probably no longer noticed it, but her eyes were already watering. She was grateful that Gramp insisted on only a short stop. They were running low on fuel and he didn’t want to leave anything to chance. His instinct and experience told him that something could always go wrong and he didn’t want to be stranded with empty tanks.

While he negotiated for fuel cells, Ked treated himself to a proper meal. Ela briefly considered joining him, her stomach already tightening in warning, but then something else caught her attention, an info terminal tucked in the corner of the dining hall.

She walked to it slowly and was pleased to find it powered and working. She slid a few arens into the slot.

The terminal lit up at once.

She leaned over the faded monitor.

The very first headlines made her heart race. She scrolled through the news and each new line sent a tremor through her entire body. She wanted to believe it was real. A feeling she had not known in a long time spread through her chest. Hope.

But in the depths of her mind, a shadow of doubt was already forming.

What if this was just another face of the same war?

What would it mean for ordinary people?

Could Prim handle a new order?

And what if Letras chose revenge?

Gramp stepped into the dining hall, content with the deal he had made. His gaze slid to Ked first, but he didn’t spot Ela until he found her in the corner. Her expression was impossible to miss.

“We lost,” she breathed, her cheeks flushed.

Gramp smirked, amused. Losses were usually announced with grief, not with eyes full of light. Ela switched off the terminal and suddenly threw her arms around him, catching him completely off guard for the first time.

“Prim officially admitted defeat in the south this morning,” she said. “They’re pulling people out and the Council is agreeing to diplomatic talks with Letras.”

She still couldn’t believe it. The conflict had dragged on for so long that she could no longer imagine its end. For years she had lived with the certainty that she stood on the right side.

And now?

She felt joy. Real, unfiltered joy. And at the same time, regret.

If only she could have been there.

If things had unfolded differently.

Tonot, at her side, sitting at the negotiating table.

If only…

Then it struck her that Tonot’s end had played its part as well.

Neither he nor she had ever been meant to stand there. They had been sacrificed for a greater good.

Gramp tilted his head, still unsure he’d heard her correctly.

“You’re serious?”

Ela nodded and shared everything she’d managed to gather.

“And there’s more, so brace yourself. Councilor Bruks suggested that Letras should receive temporary representation in the Grand Council. As a safeguard for cooperation between the two cities. And guess who’s the leading candidate for the position.”

“Sill,” Gramp scoffed, remembering the Letrass spy. Ela nodded.

“I knew he was a sly bastard. He always called it diplomacy, which is just another way to pull people by the nose.”

“He won’t have it easy. I’ve had the pleasure of dealing with the Council a few times and being one of them is more punishment than reward,” Ela added dryly.

Gramp shrugged. “Well, serves him right. He wanted this. That Letrass bastard always played his own game and stayed with us only because, for a while, our roads happened to aim in the same direction. Bruks as well, for that matter. I’m guessing they cooked this up a long time ago.”

Ela had to agree. At the memory of the composed councilor, a bitter disappointment tightened her chest. He had managed to slip through the cracks and return on his feet.

Would she be able to do the same?

Without thinking, she reached for the pocket where she kept the meco. She longed to put it on and speak to Seren. But she couldn’t. That secret wasn’t something she could reveal to Gramp or to Ked. She had to wait for the right moment.

Gramp sat down at the table, running a thoughtful finger along the rim of his cup.

They both knew that politics never knelt out of pity. If Prim was backing down, they had one hell of a reason. And that reason certainly wasn’t a guilty conscience.

“We’ll have to be careful,” he grumbled. “They got what they wanted. They won’t need us anymore. They’re already preparing for the next round of the game.”

Then he turned to Ela. “Any news about the Beacon? About the Alters?”

She shook her head. “Only that they’re pulling the Modificants out of the field and the project is being shut down. No war means they’re no longer needed.”

“That’s not enough,” he muttered with a deep scowl.

Ela nodded. “They’ll blame it on Tonot, since he was their creator. He was punished and his project terminated. For them, that closes the matter.”

“And that’s exactly what we need to change,” Gramp replied, his voice carrying a quiet threat. “The Beacon has to face consequences. For everything they stuck their fingers into.”

Ela looked at him and knew he was right. How many mistakes had the Beacon made just within his lifetime? And how many even earlier? She didn’t know, but she was certain that for each one there should be accountability.

“First we need to find Reng,” she reminded him, so he wouldn’t lose sight of their goal.

And then another question stabbed her without warning.

Why did she care so much?

Did she want to save him because she owed him? For everything she had taken from him?

Or because, in his presence, a small piece of Ela still existed, the part that believed in a future. The one that once wanted to be with Reng?

Or maybe… he was only part of the plan. A necessary piece of the puzzle, without which all their hopes would collapse.

She didn’t know.

And that uncertainty burned more than the bites of the ever-present insects.

“I just hope that plan you talked about will actually work, girl,” Gramp sighed and lowered his face toward the steam rising from his bowl of hot soup.

***

Gramp’s truck rolled slowly through the Valley of Mysterra as evening settled in.

Ela, seated on the back, let the wind play with her hair. She drew in a deep breath. This place had always smelled beautiful. After the stale swamps, it was a welcome change. She caught the scent of damp soil and fresh sap, mixed with the fragrance of fading shrubs. And hanging in the air was the weight of the storm season, its electric charge brushing against her senses with every breath.

She closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the feeling that she was almost home.

When she opened them again, she noticed Ked staring at her. He sat across from her in silence. The valley clearly didn’t stir the same feelings in him. His eyes were filled with unease.

“Have you thought about how you want to handle it?”

She knew instantly what he meant. She only shook her head.

There was no point planning something she knew nothing about. And yet her mind kept spinning through possible scenarios. In the best ones, her father and the Council would overlook her transgression and take her back. In the worst, they would cast her out. Every outcome was possible. And none of them involved Gramp and Ked standing by her side. That could elevate her return… or make it much worse.

“So we’re improvising,” her brother snorted and turned his gaze to the greenery lining the road.

For a moment Ela felt the urge to snap back at him, but she swallowed it. He was right. She would have to improvise.

Ked shifted again, restless and clearly exhausted by the long trip. But then something caught his attention. He tensed, shot to his feet and slammed his fist against the cabin. Gramp obeyed and brought the truck to a halt. He looked back at him with a question in his eyes, but the young man was already jumping off the bed and heading back up the road.

Ela hesitated for a moment.

She would have preferred to leave Ked to his fate and keep going, but in the end she stood up and followed him.

“What now…?” she muttered when she saw Ked searching along the roadside.

Suddenly he let out a triumphant yelp and vanished into the bushes. Ela caught up with him.

“Scrap,” she said dryly when she spotted the rust-eaten vehicle hidden among the trees.

“Definitely scrap,” Ked admitted, bending down toward the chassis. “Thrown together from anything they could get their hands on.”

“So we stopped because of a wreck that might not even run? And you’re rolling in the dirt because of this?” she scoffed. She still didn’t understand why she had even bothered to follow him.

“This one doesn’t belong to anyone from the oasis,” Gramp said as he arrived. “These are used by all sorts of filth in Raj. Scrappers, thieves.”

He walked over to the trunk and tried the lock. To everyone’s surprise, it gave way.

“Well now,” he chuckled as he looked inside. “Looks like Reng beat you to it.”

“What?” Ela leaned in... and gasped.

The light caught on a piece of Modificant armor. She recognized it instantly.

She snatched it from Gramp’s hands. The armor was custom-made, each one unique. If it was Reng’s, she would know it. She sifted through the pieces, seeing scars, scratches, dried grime, and deep dents whose origin was hard to guess. Everything spoke of brutal encounters.

“It’s his,” she said at last, quietly but with certainty. Her voice trembled with sudden excitement.

“You sure?” Ked asked skeptically.

“Yes. This armor is missing the mobzar dispenser.”

They stared at her, confused.

“A drug,” she explained. “MOdificants use it to boost themselves. But Reng can’t. Because…”

She hesitated. She knew what he had gone through.

But how could she explain it to people who had no idea what really happened behind the Beacon’s walls?

“That’s not important,” she said finally, cutting it off.

She looked around. Her heart pounded at the thought that Reng might be hiding nearby, watching them from the shadows. Maybe, if he recognized her, he would step out from behind the trees.

But the air carried only the rush of the wind.

Hravs screeched in the branches.

Nothing else.

The silence was unbearable.

“He’s not here,” Gramp said, without needing to read her thoughts. He took the armor from her hands, placed it back into the trunk and closed the lid with care.

“What makes you so sure?” Ela snapped.

“Because Reng learned the same school I did. And Noel taught him,” Gramp explained calmly. “And that school says that if you want to stay unseen, you don’t linger near places where people will look for you. Only an idiot hangs around a vehicle that anyone could stumble upon. Including Ked here, for example.”

Ked snorted, not at all offended. Who knew if he even registered the real meaning behind the words. Ela did. And she could feel the mockery in them.

“He’s probably somewhere in the valley, properly hidden,” Gramp added. “He didn’t return to the oasis. If he had, he wouldn’t have left this vehicle here. So the next move is his.”

Ela had to admit he was right, but the knot of unease in her stomach only tightened. Maybe because this time she wanted him to be wrong.

On the way back to the truck, excitement began to rise in her chest. They were close. So close.

Ked walked beside her, and unlike her he showed no hint of joy. Perhaps because Reng’s name reminded him of the unresolved debt between them. And now that Reng had become a Modificant, it likely worried him even more.

“I’m not letting him hurt you. Only I’m allowed to torture you,” Ela muttered, trying for a smile.

Ked smirked. “That does sound exactly like something you’d enjoy.”

He swung his legs over the edge of the truck bed, but the corners of his mouth twitched in a faint hint of a smile.

And then at last, Karhen Rouz appeared.

The tall walls rose into view beyond the bend, and Ela felt nervousness mix with a suppressed flicker of joy. She was relieved, they were almost home.

But Gramp slowed down and finally stopped.

Ela stood up in alarm, trying to see what had made him change the plan.

At first glance everything looked the same.

But the air was motionless, as if the oasis itself were holding its breath.

No creak, no gust of wind.

Only a tense silence that crept under their skin.

The entrance to the oasis was partly closed. The heavy gates that protected the settlement from the outside world were half shut. The towers above the gate stood empty. And between the slopes of the valley she caught sight of a few figures slipping into the undergrowth.

“You have any idea what’s going on?” she leaned toward Gramp and noticed the way he tightened his grip on the wheel.

“Where is everyone?” she whispered, straining her neck for a better view.

Gramp rubbed his chin. “Something’s wrong.”

He cut the engine.

Ela pressed her lips together.

It couldn’t be wrong.

She was coming home. She wanted to see the house on the edge of the oasis, listen to her father, argue with him. Anything, as long as things were the way they were supposed to be.

Beside her Ked stood up and snorted. “Told you. Ela attracts trouble.”

“Ked…” she warned him, though deep down she couldn’t exactly prove him wrong.

Why could nothing ever go according to plan?

Gramp finally stepped out and immediately turned to them with an uncompromising order.

“You stay here. Both of you. And don’t even think about disobeying me.”

Ela had one foot out already, but his look froze her in place.

“I mean it. This is an order.”

An order.

Someone deciding for her again.

Still, she nodded and watched as Gramp headed toward the gate. He moved quietly, as if expecting something behind the wall to stir at any moment. His eyes swept every crack, every shadow.

Ela clutched the edge of the truck bed, fingers digging into the metal, her eyes fixed on Gramp.

He reached the gates. Stopped. Listened. Leaned toward the narrow gap between the heavy doors.

He froze.

His hand curled into a fist, knuckles turning white. He muttered a muffled curse.

And then a gunshot cracked through the air.

A sharp blast rolling across the quiet valley until it seemed to bounce off the cliffs.

A flock of startled hravs burst upward above them.

Ela’s breath hitched. She flinched instinctively. Ked threw himself beside her, eyes blown wide in fear.

“What’s happening?” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

“Where are you going!?” Ked hissed.

“I need to see what’s going on,” she snapped, and bolted toward the gate.

Gramp noticed her too late, still focused on whatever was happening on the other side of the wall.

She didn’t stop.

She slipped past him and hurried toward the first building.

And there, for the first time, she slowed.

On the Grand Square, a sight struck her like a fist and locked her throat.

Crying.

Hysterical wailing.

Familiar faces twisted in terror.

People kneeling on the hard ground, huddling close to one another.

And among them walked Modificants, strutting as if the whole town belonged to them.

One of them stepped over a body thrown carelessly into the dust.

A man. Motionless.

Dead?

Ela’s heart slammed against her ribs… yes.

She heard voices, fragments of orders and arguing, but the words didn’t make sense.

And then one of the Modificants turned in her direction.

She recoiled in fright.

Borin.

She wasn’t stupid. She understood at once that she was looking at hunters sent to find her.

But the worst came only now.

Her knees almost gave out as every part of her tried to reject the reality standing before her.

That can’t be him.

Not Reng.

Not like this.

Not among them.

Maybe they forced him? Maybe…

But that stance.

That look.

He held the weapon firmly, and yet as if it weighed on him.

Why is he just holding it?

Why isn’t he shooting?

Why isn’t he defending any of these helpless people?

He stood there, calm.

And that was what terrified her the most.

Her heart pounded when she recognized the man Reng was speaking to in that quiet, tense way.

Broad shoulders that never bowed to anyone.

A wrinkled, tired face, still carrying resolve — and acceptance.

Noel. His family, even if not by blood.

Two opposites.

Youth against age.

Freedom against the shackles of the Beacon.

They couldn’t have been more different, yet somehow they were the same.

She couldn’t hear their words.

She only saw the way Reng replied, the refusal in his posture.

Noel placed a hand on his shoulder.

A father’s gesture.

The last bridge.

She would have expected reconciliation.

Crack!

The next shot tore the world open.

The sound rippled through the oasis, but time itself slowed. Ela watched Noel’s body collapse to the ground. First the knees, then the entire weight of him folding helplessly at Reng’s feet.

And with him fell everything that had still felt solid in Ela’s world.

He did it.

He killed him.

No… he murdered him.

After the shot, he didn’t scream, didn’t break, didn’t run.

He just stood there, weapon in hand.

Maybe he regretted it.

Maybe he didn’t.

He turned and his voice echoed across the square:

“Are you satisfied? Is this what you wanted?!”

And that was when she understood.

He was one of them.

He no longer stood on their side.

And worse…

...he no longer stood on her side.

Her heart split.

She drew breath for a desperate scream and Gramp’s arms locked around her. His palm clamped over her mouth to keep her silent. She writhed, kicked, beat her fists into him while tears and hopelessness streamed down her face.

Behind them the first shots rang out.

Gramp dragged her back to the truck. Shoved her inside without mercy and slammed the door.

“Get in!” he barked at Ked. “Take her! Now! To the Fourborder. And don’t stop anywhere!”

“What happened?” Ked gaped at him, shaken by Ela’s state and the gunfire beyond the walls.

“Reng just killed Noel…” Gramp said. Even he couldn’t hide how heavily the sight weighed on him. He had lost an old friend.

Ked swallowed hard, fingers trembling as he started the engine.

But before he could drive off, Ela leaned out the window and grabbed Gramp’s arm in a fierce grip.

“You have to avenge him…”

Saying it hurt so much she felt as if she were killing a part of herself with the words.

Gramp froze. “You said we needed that boy.”

“No!” she cried, her voice breaking. “No, not anymore. He’s with them. With Borin. I was wrong. He’s one of them. Promise me you’ll end this, and I’ll help you. I’ll do anything. I’ll find a way without him. Just trust me.”

Gramp searched her eyes. He saw she meant every word.

He hesitated and then he nodded.

“If you promise to let Ked take you away, I’ll deal with him. He’ll vanish from this world. Do we understand each other?”

She agreed, and in her tear-filled eyes a flash of fury appeared.

But Gramp knew it wasn’t meant for him.

“Now go!”

Ked obeyed, turned the truck around and shot away from Karhen Rouz. He tried not to listen to her sobs, broken by sharp bursts of despair. She pounded her fists against the dashboard, fingers tangled in her fiery hair, pulling hard as if outside pain could drown the one inside.

Eventually, when the Valley of Mysterra widened and turned into the wet marshlands, her voice faded. Her eyes dried. She leaned her head against the cold window and slipped into a silent stupor.

The storm inside her had burned itself out, leaving only emptiness. Heavy. Suffocating.

For a moment she glanced into the side mirror.

Above the trees, where their home once stood, black smoke was rising.

Whatever was happening there, one thing was clear. Karhen Rouz would remember this day.

And so would she.

Reng was dead.

Maybe his body still breathed.

But everything else in him was gone.

And she finally understood that. Far too late.

Ked said nothing and focused on the road. He had no idea how to help her and wasn’t sure he wanted to. Everyone carries grief differently. He had chosen not to carry it at all. Grief was a chain to the past, and he was leaving that behind.

He thought of his father.

Felt nothing.

He had lost him long ago. The physical death changed nothing. Maybe that was for the best. Ela was drowning in pain, but he knew pain was weakness.

He thought only of what would come next.

With Ela at his side, his place in the world would finally improve.

No more Ked the carrot-top. Ked the traitor to his family. Ked who was good for nothing.

Now he would be the brother of Ela. Ela, who might finally help Gramp carry out his grand plan.

And that meant something.