As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the plains in deep oranges and purples, Traveler and Khaz’ara found a sheltered spot near a cluster of boulders. The remnants of the day’s warmth still lingered in the air, but a cool breeze began to creep across the grasslands. They worked in silence, setting up their small camp with practiced efficiency.
Once the fire crackled to life, casting flickering shadows across their faces, Khaz’ara finally broke the quiet. Her amber eyes reflected the firelight as she leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. “Alright,” she began, her voice steady but curious. “What in all the realms happened back there? That... thing—no, that Guardian—what did it say to you?”
Traveler paused, staring into the flames as if the answers he sought were hidden within. He let out a slow breath, his expression unreadable. “To explain that,” he said quietly, “I’d have to start at the beginning.”
The fire crackled softly, its warmth warding off the encroaching chill of night. Shadows danced on the boulders surrounding them, painting fleeting images across the rough stone. Khaz’ara’s sharp amber eyes stayed fixed on Traveler, her posture relaxed but her curiosity palpable.
Traveler sat back, his hands loosely clasped as he stared into the flames. For a moment, he said nothing, his thoughts seemingly far away. Then, with a faint smile, he began.
“It was a different world,” he said, his tone low and steady. “My home was scarred by war. I wasn’t a soldier—I wasn’t trained for that kind of fight. I was an EMT. A first responder. Do you know what that means?”
Khaz’ara frowned slightly, her brow furrowing in thought. “You’ve mentioned it before. A healer, but... different from our shamans?”
“Exactly,” Traveler said. “I was trained to keep people alive, to get them out of harm’s way when everything else was falling apart. It wasn’t magic—it was skill, grit, and sometimes just pure luck.”
He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the fire. “But in my world, war came to my home. Not the kind you’re used to, with swords and magic, but one fought with machines, guns, and bombs. It tore apart entire cities. I wasn’t fighting in it. But I was in the middle of it all the same.”
He shifted his weight slightly, the firelight catching the faint shadows beneath his eyes. “There was one moment I’ll never forget,” he continued. “My partner, Adam, and I were dispatched to evacuate a family from “hot” zone. The ceasefire gave us 30 minutes—30 minutes to get in, find them, and get out before the shells started falling again.”
His voice grew more vivid as he described the scene. “The house was falling apart. Smoke and ash hung in the air. The mother—she was terrified, she looked far older than she was, at first I thought her an old women. She told us her boys were hiding in the basement.”
Khaz’ara’s tusks gleamed faintly as her lips pressed into a thin line. “You went after them?”
“Adam did,” Traveler said. “He was braver than me, always ready to charge in headfirst. I stayed upstairs, trying to calm the mother while keeping an eye on the clock. Every creak of that house made my heart stop. We had minutes to save them, and every second felt like a lifetime.”
His expression darkened, the weight of the memory pressing down on him. “Adam got them out—two boys, scared but alive. We loaded them into the ambulance, a wagon of sorts. We were on our way away from the hot zone, when a group of Free State soldiers stopped us.”
Khaz’ara leaned closer, her expression unreadable. “What did they want?”
Traveler’s voice hardened. “At first to inspect us, and then to conscript me. They didn’t care that I was a first responder or that we were trying to save lives. To them, I was a trained medical responder. Adam fought for me, but... it didn’t matter. They gave him a choice: leave me or stay with me, risking the family. So, I told him to go.”
Traveler’s tone softened as he described his time with the soldiers. “They didn’t trust me at first. I was just the ‘coward in the reflective vest.’ But over time, I proved myself. I stitched their wounds, kept them alive when the fighting got too intense. they weren’t just soldiers—we were survivors. And in some strange way, they became my family.”
Khaz’ara’s amber eyes glinted in the firelight, her expression softening. “You saved them, didn’t you?”
“Not all of them,” Traveler admitted, his voice heavy with regret. “There was one day—crossing a bridge under fire—a sniper took out the soldier right next to me. I couldn’t save him. I had to leave his body behind just to make it out alive.”
His gaze dropped, his hands tightening slightly. “We were forced to retreat from our home, we found our way to a medical camp, where I was relieved of duty honorably. After working in the camp tending to the wounded for a year, I left and started something new. An orphanage. Lisa’s Haven, named after my wife.”
Khaz’ara’s expression softened further, her gaze searching his. “Lisa... she wasn’t with you anymore, was she?”
Traveler shook his head. “She died in the first hours of the war. Our home was bombed. I never even found her body. The orphanage... it was my way of honoring her. A way to keep moving forward. I even named the orphanage bus “Adam’s wings”, in honor of my old partner” he noted with sad amusement.
When Khaz’ara asked how he came to this world, Traveler’s voice grew quieter. “I died in my bed, surrounded by the children I’d raised, They’d all grown to rebuild what was lost, some of them even decided to keep on running the orphanage.”
Traveler’s voice softened as he leaned back, his gaze still fixed on the fire. “When I died, I thought it was the end. I’d given everything I had to the kids, the orphanage. I expected to be buried and forgotten until the time of judgment came. But what came next... it was beyond anything I could have imagined.”
Khaz’ara tilted her head, her amber eyes narrowing. “What did you see?”
Traveler smiled faintly, the memory both surreal and vivid. “It was... a place of pure stillness. Neither light nor dark, neither warm nor cold—just an infinite void where time seemed to have no meaning. And in the center of it, someone was waiting for me.”
The firelight flickered as Traveler’s tone took on a faint note of wonder. “He looked... beautiful. And I don’t mean that in a way that inspires desire—it was the kind of beauty that demanded respect. Perfectly symmetrical features, a strong jawline, and sharp, intelligent eyes that seemed to glow with a light of their own. His presence was calm, yet commanding, like he’d seen the universe itself and found peace in understanding it.”
Traveler chuckled softly, shaking his head. “And, to my surprise, he looked male. I remember thinking, Of course my deeds would look like a smug, handsome bastard. Why not?”
Khaz’ara’s lips twitched in the faintest smirk. “Your deeds? This being claimed to be your... actions?”
Traveler nodded. “Exactly. He introduced himself as the embodiment of everything I’d done in life—my choices, my actions, my intentions. All of it, given form.”
“He spoke with this voice,” Traveler said, pausing to find the words. “It wasn’t loud, but it carried weight—like music that resonates deep in your chest. He said, ‘Welcome, Yunis. You’ve left the lowest plane. This is the space between.’”
Traveler’s smile turned wry. “Naturally, I had to test him. I said, ‘Well, this isn’t the orphanage. What’s next? A slide show on my greatest hits?’”
Khaz’ara chuckled softly, her tusks catching the firelight. “And what did he say to that?”
Traveler grinned. “He just smiled, the way someone does when they’re indulging a child’s question. Then he told me, ‘Your humor is one of your most enduring traits. It lifted others in their darkest moments, and it will serve you still.’ That caught me off guard, but it wasn’t until he gestured that I really started paying attention.”
He leaned forward slightly, his expression more serious. “With a wave of his hand, he conjured... moments from my life. They hung in the air like stars, each one glowing faintly. I saw myself in the ambulance with Adam, joking to keep us both from breaking down. I saw the, their wounds being stitched up as they gritted their teeth, I saw scenes from before the war, the patients I treated in my career, from the little frail babies to the middle-aged men with toe pain. And then, I saw the orphanage—the kids laughing, growing, healing. Lisa’s smile, so vivid it hurt to see it.”
Khaz’ara’s gaze softened, her voice low. “He showed you your life.”
“Yeah,” Traveler said quietly. “Every decision I’d made, every person I’d tried to help... even the times I failed. It was all there, laid bare, but it didn’t feel like judgment. It felt... honest.”
“The being stepped closer, his expression calm but unyielding. He said, ‘Your deeds have been seen, Yunis. Your choices shaped lives, brought light to the shadows, and forged hope. For this, the Creator offers you a choice.’”
Traveler’s gaze dropped to the fire, his tone heavy with memory. “He explained that I could rest—wait for the final judgment, free from struggle—or I could take on a new role. A traveler, an agent of the Creator, moving through worlds to learn, to grow, and to bring change where it was needed. He said it wouldn’t be easy, but that my deeds had prepared me.”
Khaz’ara’s brows furrowed slightly. “And you chose to travel?”
“Of course I did,” Traveler said with a faint grin. “I couldn’t resist the idea of seeing new worlds, of helping in ways I never could back home, meeting beautiful warrior orcs.” He glanced at her, his grin widening mischievously as he caught the faint blush creeping over her cheeks, though she quickly turned her face away.
Traveler chuckled but continued, his tone growing more reflective. “But I had to ask him—why me? Out of all the people in my world, why was I chosen?”
“And what did he say?” Khaz’ara asked, her voice quieter now, the blush fading as curiosity took over.
Traveler’s expression softened, his smile tinged with emotion. “He told me, ‘Many across history have been given the choice you were given, but not many decided to take the offer—choosing to rest instead.’”
The fire crackled softly between them, its warm glow illuminating the faint smile on Traveler’s face. Khaz’ara leaned back slightly, her amber eyes locked on his. For a moment, she said nothing, letting his words hang in the air like the smoke rising into the night sky.
“So,” she said finally, her voice low, steady, “what made you say yes? Was it just the promise of adventure? Or... was there more to it?”
Traveler tilted his head, considering the question. “It was more than just adventure,” he admitted, his tone quieter now. “It was the chance to matter in a way I never thought possible. Back home, I did what I could—patched people up, saved lives—but the world kept breaking no matter how hard I tried. This... this was a chance to see beyond that, to leave something lasting, even if I didn’t fully understand what that meant at the time.”
He paused, his gaze drifting toward the distant mountains, their peaks barely visible under the starlit sky. “And maybe I was a little selfish too. The idea of stepping into the unknown, of seeing things no one else could... how could I say no to that?”
Khaz’ara’s expression softened, though her sharp eyes remained fixed on him. “You don’t strike me as selfish,” she said, her tone almost teasing. “Na?ve, maybe. But not selfish.”
Traveler chuckled, shaking his head. “You’d be surprised. There’s a lot I don’t know. A lot I’ve had to figure out as I go.” He gestured vaguely to the world around them. “This place? Your people? The wisps? I’m still trying to make sense of it all.”
“And yet you keep going,” Khaz’ara said, her voice quieter now. “Why?”
Traveler met her gaze, his expression softening. “Because the alternative is standing still. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that life—whether it’s in my world or yours—doesn’t wait for anyone.”
Khaz’ara nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to the fire. “You’ve been through a lot,” she said after a moment, her voice thoughtful. “More than most. And yet, here you are, sitting across from me, talking about your deeds like they were some kind of joke.”
Traveler smiled faintly. “Humor helps. It always has. I don’t know if I’d have made it this far without it.”
Khaz’ara’s lips twitched, a ghost of a smile playing on her face. “I noticed. Though I still think you talk too much.”
“Fair enough,” Traveler said, grinning. “But admit it—you’d be bored without me.”
Khaz’ara snorted softly, shaking her head. “Maybe. But don’t let it go to your head, Traveler. I’ve seen better storytellers.”
“Harsh,” Traveler said, clutching his chest dramatically. “And here I thought I was growing on you.”
“Growing on me?” Khaz’ara raised an eyebrow, her tone dry. “Don’t push your luck.”
The fire crackled as the night deepened, the stars above growing brighter against the velvety black sky. Traveler leaned back, resting his hands on the cool grass as he gazed upward. For a while, they sat in comfortable silence, the weight of his story settling over them like a shared cloak.
Khaz’ara was the first to break it. “This Creator of yours,” she said, her tone cautious, “do you think they’re watching you? Guiding you? Or have they left you to figure this out on your own?”
Traveler considered her question carefully. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Sometimes, I feel like there’s a hand steering me, nudging me toward something bigger. Other times... it feels like I’m just wandering, trying to make sense of it all. But maybe that’s the point.”
Khaz’ara frowned slightly. “The point?”
Traveler shrugged. “To figure it out for myself. To grow. I don’t think the Creator wants blind followers. They want people who choose their path, who take responsibility for their choices. At least, that’s what I like to believe.”
Khaz’ara leaned back, her arms crossed as she studied him. “You’re a strange one, Traveler,” she said finally. “Most people would take a chance like yours and use it for power, for control. But you... you just want to see what’s out there.”
Traveler smiled, his eyes glinting with a mix of humor and sincerity. “Is that so strange?”
“Yes,” Khaz’ara said bluntly, though her tone was lighter now. “But maybe that’s why you’re here.”
Traveler turned his gaze back to the distant mountains, the faintest smile still playing on his lips. “Maybe,” he said softly. “But whatever the reason, I’m glad I ended up here. Meeting you... well, that’s one part of this journey I wouldn’t trade for anything.”
Khaz’ara’s expression flickered with something unreadable—surprise, perhaps, or a faint blush quickly hidden by the shadows of the firelight. She cleared her throat, her tone turning brisk. “We’d better get some rest. The mountains won’t wait for us.”
“Agreed,” Traveler said, stretching his legs as he settled into his bedroll. “But for the record, I stand by what I said. Beautiful warrior orcs make this whole traveling thing worth it.”
Khaz’ara huffed softly, shaking her head as she turned away. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, here we are,” Traveler replied, grinning as he lay back to watch the stars.
The fire burned low as the night wrapped around them, the weight of their shared stories lingering in the cool air. For now, the mountains could wait.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The plains stretched wide beneath the rising stars, their undulating grasses a sea of silver in the moonlight. The air was cool and quiet, disturbed only by the faint crackle of a campfire nestled among a cluster of boulders. The smell of burning wood wafted faintly on the breeze, carrying with it the low murmur of voices.
And yet, it was not the fire or the voices that held the creature’s attention. Hidden in the folds of darkness, it crouched low to the ground, its sleek, panther-like form merging seamlessly with the shadows. Its crystalline fur, sharp and shimmering, caught faint reflections of the firelight without betraying its presence. Dozens of eyes—glowing faintly like scattered starlight—blinked in perfect harmony, fixed on the two figures seated by the flames.
The thing watched in silence.
It had seen them before, in the ruins where the crystal-studded beasts had roamed. The beasts, its creations, were a test—a measure of strength, resilience, and adaptability. The man had surprised it then, his unorthodox approach cutting through the chaos like a blade through silk. The woman had intrigued it, her strength and will an anchor that steadied the unpredictable tide of her companion’s actions.
Now, the it studied them anew.
The creature’s crystalline fur rippled as it shifted slightly, the movement impossibly fluid for a creature of its size. It had tested many before—wanderers, warriors, even the occasional fool who stumbled into its domain. Few had survived the trials it set, and fewer still had impressed it. Yet this man—this Traveler—was different.
He was not strong in the conventional sense, not like the orc beside him. He lacked the raw power of the beasts it had unleashed. But he had something else: adaptability, ingenuity, and a curious kind of courage that bordered on recklessness. He did not simply face challenges; he embraced them, twisted them into opportunities, and emerged from the chaos changed but unbroken.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
And the woman... she was his counterbalance. Where he was impulsive, she was deliberate. Where he spoke of ideals, she grounded them in reality. Together, they were... balanced. A fragile balance, perhaps, but one that intrigued the Guardian nonetheless.
The creature’s many eyes blinked in unison as it considered its next move. The tests in the ruins had been merely a prelude, a way to measure the Traveler’s worth. But the path ahead would demand more. The mountains they sought to cross were treacherous, not just for their terrain but for the unseen forces that guarded their secrets. Forces like herself, served the greater cause of balance.
This man, chosen by the force beyond, carried the weight of potential on his shoulders. Whether that potential would tip the scales toward creation or destruction remained to be seen. The creature’s purpose was clear: to watch, to test, and, if necessary, to act.
With a final glance at the firelit figures, the creature turned and slipped further into the darkness, its movements silent as the wind. It would not confront them—not yet. But it would watch, always watch, and when the time came, it would decide whether the balance they represented was worth preserving.
In the stillness that followed, the Guardian’s presence faded entirely, leaving only the whisper of the breeze and the flicker of firelight to mark its passage.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The fire had burned low, its orange glow casting long, faint shadows against the boulders around them. The stars above shimmered in the vast expanse, their light cold and distant compared to the warmth of the flames. Traveler leaned back against his bedroll, his gaze drifting to the horizon. Something about the stillness of the plains felt... uneasy.
“Hey,” he said suddenly, breaking the quiet. “Why don’t we ever take turns standing guard?”
Khaz’ara glanced up from where she was adjusting the straps of her axe’s sheath. Her amber eyes caught the firelight, glinting with faint amusement. “Only just thought to ask that now, have you?” she replied, her tone carrying a teasing edge.
Traveler shrugged, a sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “I guess I’ve just been trusting your instincts. But seriously—why don’t we?”
Khaz’ara snorted softly, shaking her head as she settled more comfortably against the boulder behind her. “Orcs have a sixth sense for danger,” she explained, tapping a finger against her temple. “It’s not something we talk about much—it’s just there. A feeling, a pressure, like a shadow in the back of your mind when something’s wrong.”
Traveler raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “And right now? What do you feel?”
“Nothing,” Khaz’ara said simply, her tone matter-of-fact. “The air’s still, the plains are quiet, and the fire hasn’t even drawn curious critters. Whatever might be out there isn’t close enough to bother us.”
Traveler studied her for a moment, his brow furrowed. “And you’re sure? I mean, what if it’s... sneaky?”
Khaz’ara’s tusks glinted faintly as she smirked. “Sneaky? Like what, one of those crystal-studded beasts from the forest? Because last time, I’m pretty sure we handled those just fine.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle, though the memory of the beasts sent a faint shiver down his spine. “Fair point. But what if it’s something smarter?”
Her smirk deepened as she leaned toward him, her sharp amber eyes locking onto his. “Then I’ll know before you do, Traveler. That sixth sense? It’s saved my hide more times than I can count. So, trust me when I say, you’d sleep through the night just fine without worrying about ‘sneaky.’”
Traveler held her gaze for a moment before sighing, leaning back again. “I guess I’m just slow on the uptake,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair.
“Slow?” Khaz’ara teased, her tone light. “You’ve been following me for days, and now you’re asking why you don’t have to stand watch? Maybe I should start charging you for lessons.”
Traveler laughed softly, shaking his head. “You know, I thought I was doing pretty well keeping up with you. But now I’m wondering if you’re grading on a curve.”
Khaz’ara snorted, settling back into her relaxed posture. “You’re doing fine, Traveler. Just don’t start jumping at shadows now. Orc instincts or not, you’d hear me coming before anything else out here.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Traveler said, a grin still playing on his lips. But even as he spoke, he couldn’t shake the faint prickling at the back of his neck. He cast one last glance at the horizon before letting his eyes drift closed, the warmth of the fire lulling him into uneasy rest, the feeling of being watched fading away.
The first light of dawn crept over the plains, bathing the landscape in soft gold and lavender hues. The fire had long since burned down to embers, and the cool morning air carried the faint scent of dew-kissed grass. Traveler stretched lazily, groaning as he sat up from his bedroll, the stiffness of the ground reminding him he was far from the comforts of home.
Khaz’ara was already awake, crouched near the firepit. Her iron kettle rested on a makeshift stand, and the rhythmic sound of her grinding herbs in a small mortar was accompanied by the occasional clink of tin cups. The rich, earthy scent of her signature tea wafted through the air.
Traveler rubbed his eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched her work. “You really take this tea thing seriously, don’t you?”
Khaz’ara glanced up, her amber eyes glinting with amusement. “And you don’t? I seem to remember someone saying this was the best tea they’d ever had.”
“Guilty as charged,” Traveler admitted, reaching for his pack. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t keep poking fun at you for it.”
Khaz’ara smirked but didn’t respond, her focus returning to the kettle as she added the crushed herbs and adjusted the heat of the embers. Meanwhile, Traveler pulled out his sword, its blade catching the soft morning light. He examined it carefully, his fingers brushing along the hilt.
He frowned slightly, his expression growing thoughtful as he sat cross-legged and began fiddling with the weapon. With careful precision, he twisted the hilt, a faint click breaking the quiet. The blade detached smoothly, leaving only the hilt in his hands.
“Seriously?” Khaz’ara’s voice cut through the morning calm, sharp with incredulity. She straightened, her hands still cradling the tin kettle as she stared at him. “You’re taking your sword apart now?”
Traveler grinned, holding up the now-bladeless hilt as if presenting a prize. “You’d be surprised how versatile a good hilt can be.”
Khaz’ara set the kettle down with an exaggerated sigh, crossing her arms as she stalked toward him. “Traveler, a sword is supposed to be one piece. A blade and hilt working together. What in all the realms are you even doing?”
He shrugged, still inspecting the detached components. “Experimenting. Back home, I used to tinker with things all the time. Why should swords be any different? Besides,” he added, flashing her a mischievous grin, “it’s not just a sword. It’s a tool.”
Khaz’ara crouched beside him, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and begrudging amusement. “A tool, huh? And what’s your plan, exactly? To scare enemies with your fancy detachable hilt?”
Traveler chuckled, sliding the blade back into place with another soft click. “It’s not just about fighting, Khaz’ara. Sometimes, it’s about adaptability. This hilt? It’s more than it seems.”
She raised an eyebrow, her skepticism clear. “Adaptability? Sure. And next, you’ll tell me it makes tea.”
“That,” Traveler said with mock seriousness, “would be the ultimate weapon.”
Khaz’ara rolled her eyes, but the faintest smirk tugged at her lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“And yet, here we are,” Traveler replied, giving the hilt one last inspection before sliding the fully reassembled sword back into its sheath. “You’ll see. One day, this little experiment might just save your life.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Khaz’ara said, standing and returning to the fire. “Now sit down and drink this tea before you start taking apart anything else.”
Traveler grinned, following her back to the fire. The morning might have started with incredulous looks and teasing banter, but the warmth of Khaz’ara’s tea and their easy camaraderie made it a moment of quiet peace before the challenges of the day began.
The tea’s warmth lingered on Traveler’s tongue, its earthy sweetness grounding him in the moment. Khaz’ara sat nearby, sharpening her axe with rhythmic strokes, the sound blending seamlessly with the soft hum of the morning breeze. They had settled into a companionable silence, their teasing from earlier giving way to a peaceful camaraderie.
Traveler set his empty tin cup aside, his hands drifting once more to the hilt of his sword. The quiet gave him space to think—of the things Khaz’ara had taught him about runes, their power to shape and guide energy, and of the pendant that hung around his neck, its swirling patterns a constant reminder of mysteries yet to be unraveled.
He drew the hilt into his lap, turning it over in his hands. The smooth metal caught the light, its surface unmarred save for a few faint scratches from use. The design was simple, functional—but to Traveler, it felt like a blank canvas.
His fingers brushed the cool metal as an idea began to take shape in his mind. “Runes,” he murmured to himself, recalling Khaz’ara’s lessons. The symbols she had shown him were precise, deliberate, each stroke imbued with intention. And his pendant... its intricate lines pulsed faintly whenever he focused his energy. Both were reminders that the magic in this world responded to will and imagination.
With a deep breath, Traveler held out his hand, channeling energy into his fingertips. It was a delicate process, one he had only begun to understand, but he willed the magic to flow, concentrating it into a single point. Slowly, his index finger began to glow faintly, the energy condensing into a fine, sharp tip.
“Let’s see if this works,” he muttered.
Traveler began by visualizing the symbols he wanted to carve—words from his heritage, ancient and deeply personal. He had grown up surrounded by the Amazigh script, its angular shapes etched into his memory like a familiar melody. It felt right to use them here, to infuse the blade with something uniquely his.
The first rune came easily: ?????—light. He pressed the glowing tip of his finger to the hilt’s surface, his will guiding the energy as it traced the shape. The metal glowed faintly under his touch, the rune forming in smooth, even lines. When he finished, the symbol shimmered faintly before settling, its light dimming but not disappearing.
Encouraged, he moved on to the next: ???????—sharp. The engraving process felt more natural now, as though the energy were responding to his intent, molding itself to his vision. He worked slowly, methodically, carving each stroke with care.
The third rune, ??????—sword—required more focus. The word carried weight, its meaning tied to the blade’s purpose. Traveler poured a bit more energy into this one, willing the symbol to resonate with the hilt’s design.
Finally, he carved the fourth rune: ??????—heat. The lines glowed brighter as he worked, the rune responding to the memory of firelight and the warmth of the forge. When it was done, all four symbols glinted faintly in the morning sun, their presence subtle but unmistakable.
“Done playing with your toy?” Khaz’ara’s voice broke the quiet, her tone light but tinged with curiosity. Traveler glanced up to find her watching him, her axe resting across her knees.
“Not playing,” Traveler replied with a grin, holding up the hilt to show her. “Improving.”
Khaz’ara leaned closer, her sharp eyes narrowing as she studied the engraved runes. Her expression shifted from skepticism to mild surprise. “Runes?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you had the patience for that.”
Traveler shrugged, his smile turning sheepish. “You inspired me. You said runes shape energy, right? I figured I’d try shaping some of my own.”
Khaz’ara reached out, her fingers brushing the hilt as she examined the symbols more closely. “These aren’t like the runes I’ve seen before,” she said, her tone curious. “What language is this?”
“Amazigh,” Traveler said, his voice softening. “It’s from my world. These words—light, sharp, sword, heat—they felt... right.”
Khaz’ara tilted her head, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she handed the hilt back to him with a faint nod. “Not bad, Traveler. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“I aim to surprise,” he replied, turning the hilt over in his hands again. The runes felt different now, like they had become part of the weapon, an extension of its purpose.
Traveler stood, the hilt held firmly in his hand. He turned it over once more, the runes gleaming faintly in the morning light, as though waiting to be awakened. Taking a steadying breath, he slid the blade free from the hilt and set the metallic blade aside, leaving only the engraved hilt in his grasp.
Khaz’ara straightened, her sharp amber eyes narrowing as she watched. “What are you doing now?” she asked, her voice laced with equal parts curiosity and skepticism.
Traveler grinned, a flicker of excitement in his expression. “Testing a theory.”
Before she could respond, he extended his arm, holding the bladeless hilt away from his body. He closed his eyes, focusing inward, channeling energy from the deep well within him and into the runes he had engraved. The symbols glowed brighter, their light pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.
“Come on,” he murmured, willing the runes to respond.
Suddenly, the air around the hilt shifted, a faint hum building into a sharp, resonant squeal. In an instant, a blade of pure, searing light erupted from the hilt. The glow was intense, almost blinding, the edges shimmering like molten gold. The air around it rippled with heat, and the faint scent of scorched ozone filled the air.
Khaz’ara took an instinctive step back, her hand falling to her axe as she stared, wide-eyed. “By the ancestors,” she muttered. “What in all the realms is that?”
Traveler’s face broke into a wide grin, his excitement spilling out as he marveled at the blade. “It worked!” he exclaimed, his voice brimming with childlike glee. “It actually worked!”
He swung the hilt experimentally, the blade leaving a faint, fiery trail in the air with each motion. The hum deepened, the sound reverberating through the ground. His grin widened as he spun the hilt in his hand, his movements growing more theatrical.
Without warning, Traveler reached for his cloak, pulling the hood up over his head and tilting it forward to obscure his face. He held the glowing blade aloft, his voice dropping into an overly serious tone. “I am a Jedi, master of the Force. And now, you shall witness the true power of the light!”
Traveler swung the glowing blade of light in another exaggerated arc, the hum of energy following his movements like a resonating anthem. His cloak billowed dramatically as he twirled, his grin widening under the hood. “Fear me, Sith!” he declared, pointing the blade skyward. “For I am the—AHHH!”
The hilt in his hand suddenly grew scorching hot, the heat transferring from the blazing energy blade into the metal. A sharp yelp escaped his lips as pain shot through his palm. His reflexes took over, and he flung the hilt away with a panicked shout. The weapon tumbled through the air, the glowing blade extinguishing with a sharp hiss mid-fall as it lost its energy source.
The hilt clattered against a nearby rock and lay still, the faint smell of singed skin and hot metal lingering in the air.
Traveler swung the glowing blade of light in another exaggerated arc, the hum of energy following his movements like a resonating anthem. His cloak billowed dramatically as he twirled, his grin widening under the hood. “Fear me, Sith Lords!” he declared, pointing the blade skyward. “For I am the—AHHH!”
The hilt in his hand suddenly grew scorching hot, the heat transferring from the blazing energy blade into the metal. A sharp yelp escaped his lips as pain shot through his palm. His reflexes took over, and he flung the hilt away with a panicked shout. The weapon tumbled through the air, the glowing blade extinguishing with a sharp hiss mid-fall as it lost its energy source.
The hilt clattered against a nearby rock and lay still, the faint smell of singed skin and hot metal lingering in the air.
“You—you burned yourself with your own blade of light?” she managed between fits of laughter, clutching her sides. “Oh, that’s rich. The great Jedi, master of the glowing stick, defeated by... basic physics!”
Traveler scowled, though the faint pink in his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. “It’s not funny,” he muttered, flexing his now-healed fingers. “How was I supposed to know the heat would transfer? It’s an energy blade, not a forge tool!”
“That’s the point!” Khaz’ara howled, leaning back and nearly collapsing from the force of her laughter. “You’re walking around with a weapon made of light and heat, swinging it like an idiot—and you didn’t think it would burn?”
Traveler crossed his arms, his lips twitching as he fought the urge to smile. “I was testing it. These things take trial and error.”
“Oh, it’s definitely an error,” Khaz’ara shot back, wiping tears from her eyes. “You’re lucky I didn’t grab it, or I’d have thrown it at you myself.”
Traveler sighed, standing and retrieving the hilt from where it had fallen. The metal was cool now, its runes faintly glowing but otherwise inert. He held it carefully, his expression thoughtful.
“Alright,” he admitted, turning the hilt over in his hands. “Lesson learned. I’ll need to find a way to insulate it—or channel the heat away. Maybe I can engrave another rune for... temperature regulation?”
Khaz’ara snorted, finally regaining some semblance of composure. “Or maybe just don’t swing it around like a fool next time.”
Traveler glanced at her, his grin finally breaking through. “You have to admit, it was pretty impressive. Right up until the part where it burned me.”
Khaz’ara shook her head, still smirking. “Impressive? Sure. But you’re never living this down, Jedi.”
Traveler groaned, sliding the hilt back into his belt. “Remind me to design a weapon you can’t make fun of.”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find a way,” Khaz’ara quipped, her laughter still echoing faintly as the two companions returned to their morning preparations. For all his missteps, Traveler couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of pride in his creation—burns and all.
Traveler sat cross-legged on the grass, the hilt of his blade resting in his lap. The morning sun bathed the camp in warm light, but the faint burn mark on his hand served as a constant reminder of his earlier miscalculation. Beside him, Khaz’ara leaned against a boulder, sipping her tea with a satisfied smirk, her earlier laughter still evident in the occasional glance she shot his way.
“Well,” Traveler muttered, examining the hilt closely, “if physics wants to be a problem, I’ll make it part of the solution.”
Khaz’ara raised an eyebrow, lowering her cup. “You’re not seriously thinking of messing with that thing again, are you? You just managed to avoid setting yourself on fire.”
Traveler grinned, though his expression carried a hint of determination. “I have a plan this time. I’m adding another rune—something to insulate the heat so it doesn’t transfer to the hilt.”
Khaz’ara snorted. “Let me guess. Another one of those scribbles from your world?”
“They’re not scribbles,” he replied, his voice mock-indignant. “They’re Amazigh runes, and they’re more than just words. They’re part of my heritage.”
Khaz’ara shrugged, her tone teasing. “If it stops you from yelping like a pup next time, I won’t argue.”
Traveler focused his energy, channeling it to his index finger until the tip began to glow faintly. The memory of his earlier success with the other runes guided his movements, his will shaping the energy into a fine, precise point. He carefully pressed the glowing finger to the hilt’s surface, choosing a clear spot near the other runes.
“This one,” he murmured, “will be ?????— ‘barrier.’” The word carried a weight of protection, a boundary between what was and what could harm. He visualized its meaning as he began to carve, letting the energy flow into the hilt with each deliberate stroke.
The lines formed cleanly, the rune glowing brightly as he completed it. When the final stroke was finished, the rune shimmered before dimming to a faint but steady glow, joining the others in harmony.
Khaz’ara leaned forward, her curiosity overcoming her skepticism. “That’s it? Just a few lines, and you think it’ll solve the problem?”
“Only one way to find out,” Traveler said, standing and holding the hilt at arm’s length. He glanced at her, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “And no laughing this time if it doesn’t work.”
“No promises,” she replied, smirking.
Taking a deep breath, Traveler channeled energy into the hilt. The runes flared to life, their combined glow almost blinding as the blade of light erupted once more. The familiar hum filled the air, but this time, he was acutely aware of the heat near his hand—or lack thereof.
“It’s working,” he said, his voice tinged with awe. He swung the blade experimentally, the hum deepening with each arc. The hilt remained cool in his grasp, the ????? rune faintly pulsing with energy as it absorbed and redirected the blade’s heat.
Khaz’ara stood, crossing her arms as she watched. “Well, I’ll be damned,” she said, her tone laced with reluctant admiration. “You actually fixed it.”
Traveler deactivated the blade, the light retracting into the hilt with a sharp hiss. He turned to Khaz’ara, his grin wide and triumphant. “See? Physics might be a bitch, but I can be stubborn.”
Khaz’ara chuckled, shaking her head. “Stubborn doesn’t even begin to cover it. But... good work, Traveler. Maybe you won’t set yourself on fire after all.”
Traveler sat back down, the hilt still warm from its activation but no longer a hazard. He ran his thumb over the new rune, its presence a quiet reassurance. “It’s not perfect,” he said softly, almost to himself. “But it’s getting there.”
Khaz’ara settled beside him, her tone lighter now. “Just don’t get cocky. You’re one mistake away from giving me a reason to laugh again.”
“Noted,” Traveler replied, chuckling. “But for now, I think I deserve a little pride.”
The two companions shared a rare moment of quiet satisfaction, the glow of accomplishment lingering in the air as they prepared for whatever challenges the day would bring.
