Arrival

After Kael recounted his bizarre encounter with the murderous girl to his parents, Lyla and Ammar were overcome with worry. Then they were furious that he hadn't called for help, but their anger quickly turned into an apology, and they embraced him tightly.

It was, all in all, a fairly typical reaction. Safiya, too, was concerned. Meanwhile, Shukran stood nearby, watching the boy with a pained smile.

They discussed who the girl might have been, but no one had any concrete answers. They did manage to gather some crucial information about her, though:

She was clearly a Binder, for she possessed powers only they wield. And a powerful one at that—Shukran had only faced her for less than a minute, but he had already proclaimed her one of the strongest opponents he had ever encountered, had she been serious.

She was—or seemed to be—extremely young, a bit younger than Kael. Her playful demeanor contrasted with her psychopathic tendencies. She was unhinged.

This led them to a conclusion: the girl hadn't been specifically targeting Kael—if she had, he would be dead by now. He had simply been unlucky enough to step outside at that moment. Moreover, the girl had deliberately shown herself, perhaps as an excuse to toy with Kael.

Kael mentioned the other four figures he'd seen, but aside from a few worried glances, nothing significant came of it.

This would have been the perfect opportunity for Kael to tell his parents about the voice in the desert, but he didn't. Not now. He decided to trust Shukran and spare his parents from more distress.

So, despite heightened tension, the caravan continued at dawn. Shukran walked alongside Kael for the remainder of the journey, as did the rest of his family.

They chatted, reminiscing about old times, but Kael wasn't listening. His thoughts were elsewhere.

"She was about my age... and despite being a complete lunatic, she's a Binder... damn."

To Kael, Binders had always been a distant concept. He knew they existed, protecting the land, wielding great powers, and commanding the divine Beasts. Then he met Shukran, and suddenly Binders became associated with two things in his mind:

Strength. Incredible strength.

And benevolence. Shukran might be a fool and a bastard, and Kael would give anything to finally win a fight against him, but he knew Shukran was doing him a huge favor. They had good conversations, understood each other, and now he was even accompanying and protecting Kael. Kael liked him and was immensely grateful. He understood why he and his parents had been friends for so long.

But after encountering the girl, another association was added: Danger. Not dangerous like an Al'Shalin or a Sandspear. An Al'Shalin was a master of knowledge, bringing enemies down as if cutting the strings of a puppet. A Sandspear was a great warrior but still a human.

A Binder was a different kind of danger. Kael glanced at Shukran. The Ramalkin seemed so harmless. Yet Kael knew better. Any Binder was as deadly as a hundred—perhaps even a thousand—warriors.

Their danger was more akin to a tornado. How powerful could the girl's flames become? Could a dozen soldiers even stop her, or would they turn to ash in seconds?

And what about a Ramalkin? How many people had Shukran killed during the Iron War? Ten? A hundred? Thousands?

Kael felt a chill run down his spine. And the girl with the blue hair had been just a child. So much power over life and death in the hands of a single person.

Apparently, he still knew nothing about this world.

While Kael was lost in thought, the caravan passed the last guard post outside the capital. Ammar spoke briefly with one of the soldiers, and then they continued.

And even before the eternal flame reached its peak, Kael crossed a dune and was immediately snapped out of his thoughts.

Before him stood the heart of Zephyria. The capital.

It stretched out for miles, a sprawling metropolis that melded seamlessly with the golden sands of the desert. From Kael's vantage point atop the dune, the vast cityscape unfurled like a colossal tapestry, its structures bathed in the golden hues of the eternal flame.

Buildings of varying heights and styles filled the skyline, each hewn from sandstone, their textures varying from rough to smooth, glistening in the golden light. Towers with ornate carvings pierced the heavens, their silhouettes casting long shadows on the bustling streets below. Atop domed roofs and arched parapets, vivid textiles fluttered in the warm breeze, bringing bursts of color to the monochromatic palette of sand and stone.

The streets wove like arteries through the city, filled with a cacophony of life—traders shouting their wares, children darting through the throngs, and pilgrims making their way to the heart of the capital. Above it all, the eternal fire burned brightly, crowning the Sun Palace that towered over the city like a guardian.

The Sun Palace itself was a marvel of engineering and artistry, its vast edifice seemingly carved from the very bedrock of the desert. Its massive pillars and vast courtyards spoke of grandeur, its walls adorned with intricate patterns that danced in the interplay of light and shadow.

This was also where the current Sun Sovereign, Queen Soraya the Radiant, Rasha'alor resided, with the rest of the royal house.

At its zenith, an enormous flame danced in the wind, its red and orange tongues licking at the sky. The eternal fire burned day and night, its light casting a warm glow that could be seen for miles, even from the farthest reaches of the capital.

Whenever Kael got the chance to visit the capital, he always forgot his breath at this marvelous sight. This was the heart of Zephyria, a place of power and legacy, and for now, his destination.

As Kael and the others descended the dune and made their way toward the capital's sprawling streets, Kael saw a teeming mass of humanity converging upon the city from all directions.

Travelers from every corner of Zephyria flocked to the capital, their Ra'eds and Sundaras reflecting the diverse cultures and regions of the nation. Families huddled together, their children wide-eyed and excited, darting from one stall to the next, while merchants set up shop on every corner, eager to profit from the influx of festival-goers. Qahwat Al'Sahara flowed out of every available barrel and filled the heads of the people with all kinds of thoughts.

The multiple marketplaces, nestled in bustling squares near the heart of the city, were a vibrant hub of activity. Vendors shouted their wares from behind stalls draped in colorful fabrics, selling everything from exotic spices and sumptuous textiles to intricate jewelry and hand-crafted trinkets. The scent of freshly baked bread and roasted meats wafted through the air, mingling with the pungent aromas of incense and perfumes.

Street performers captivated the crowds, their voices and instruments blending harmoniously into the symphony of the city. Fire dancers spun and twirled, their flaming batons tracing arcs of light, while musicians plucked strings and blew into flutes, creating a lively melody that echoed through the alleyways.

Everywhere Kael looked, there were games and activities to engage in—children throwing stones at clay jars, men testing their strength by lifting weights, and women haggling with vendors over prices. Laughter and cheers echoed through the square as a group of revelers engaged in a playful wrestling match, their bodies covered in sand as they grappled in one of the city squares.

As Kael and his family made their way deeper into the city, they passed countless other scenes of jubilation and festivity. The capital had become a melting pot of cultures, its streets thrumming with life, its markets and courtyards filled with people celebrating the beginning of the festival.

Kael realized that despite the festival having not officially begun, thousands of people were already here, and in a few days, the numbers would swell to hundreds of thousands. Only then would the festival reveal its full splendor.

Though a small part of Kael wanted nothing more than to dive headfirst into the festivities, he knew that first, there were important matters to attend to. His family needed to secure lodging for the many days ahead, and this was why their early arrival had been so crucial.

Yet Kael felt confident his family wouldn't have trouble finding accommodation. The reason was simple: the two women clad in black robes adorned with white trimmings — the Al'Shalin of his family.

To Kael, they were his beloved mother and sister, but to the people of Zephyria, the black robes with their white circle held deeper significance. They symbolized faith, Atherion, the Eternal Flame, and power. People made way for them as they passed, bowing their heads slightly. Some even offered food or other gifts, which the women politely declined.

The priestesses of Atherion commanded respect wherever they went, and for good reason. They were few in number, and each was a highly trained woman. They knew the ways of Atherion better than anyone and were skilled in healing, divination, politics, alchemy, and even combat.

Anyone who denied lodging to an Al'Shalin would live with the knowledge that they might have offended Atherion himself. This position of power granted them influence across Zephyria's society, from the deepest mines to the chambers of the Sun Queen herself.

This made it all the more surprising to Kael that his mother had been shocked when she first heard about the festival. Her order had known nothing of it; the announcement had come directly from the Sun Queen, without consulting others.

Kael also recalled the words of the messenger, Baako Orahid, and his mood darkened slightly. So much seemed to be happening lately.

The voice, the figures, the girl. Rasha'alor had received a message from Sirocco, and it would be announced here at the festival.

Change was approaching, and fast at that. A prophecy. A storm. A darkness. And here, amid this lively and wondrous festival, Kael felt certain the beginning would unfold.