Kürdiala – City Gates | Year 8002 A.A.
Kürdiala, the hidden city, stood still beneath the moon, its golden sandstone walls silvered by night's gentle blessing. In the wind that wandered its streets, old stories moved—tales of joy, loss, and hope, all swirling through the air like the grains of ancient sand.
At the gate stood Ekene Çelik, tall and silent, his robes—obsidian-black, woven with protective sigils in gold thread—rustled faintly in the desert wind. A crimson sash cinched tightly at his waist, and his tall, lean form held still like a statue carved from vigilance. He was a Tracient of Cheetah blood—quick of thought and swifter still in spirit. His golden eyes, calm and watchful, swept across the desert.
From that vast desert came a procession of weary souls.
Leading them was Kon Kaplan, his orange fur dulled by ash and sweat, his eyes fierce even in exhaustion. Beside him walked Kopa Boga, solid as stone, steady as the sun. Behind them, a trail of rescued men, women, and children—some Narn, others ArchenLanders—all wounded by suffering, yet quietly burning with the light of survival.
Ekene stepped forward and bowed slightly.
"Welcome home, my Lords. The winds carried whispers of your return."
Kon barely nodded.
"Barely," he muttered, brushing past.
Kopa offered a more restrained gesture.
"The prisoners are safe. They'll need food and rest."
Ekene gave a short nod and motioned to the guards.
"They'll be seen to. Kürdiala keeps its own."
As the refugees were led inward, Ekene turned his gaze to Kopa and spoke in a low voice.
"He burns hotter than he shows."
Kopa's eyes followed Kon into the city's heart.
"He saw Adam."
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Within the mountain-stone halls of Kürdiala, Kon moved like a storm untethered. The obsidian floor beneath his feet sang with each step, and the violet veins of mana that ran along the walls throbbed with tension, as though the stone itself feared what was coming.
The doors to the High Chamber slammed open.
The throne room opened before him—grand and austere. Banners of the Narn Empire hung from every wall, each bearing the image of a red lion mid-leap. There sat King Darius Boga, the bull whose wisdom held nations together. His fur, once golden, now bore streaks of noble silver. The glyph upon his chest—the Hazël #4, symbol of kingship—glinted in the light of torches and magic.
He stood at once, his great form moving with surprising gentleness.
"You've returned. By Asalan's breath, I'm glad."
He opened his arms. Kon accepted the embrace but only for a moment. He pulled away sharply.
"No more hiding," he said, voice low. "I know you're in here. Come on out"
The chamber seemed to sigh. Then the mist came.
It rose like a breath from the earth—cool and crystalline—and from it stepped Adam Kurt.
He walked barefoot, silent as fog, his deep blue fur kissed with gold streaks that pulsed like veins of light. A yellow blindfold hid his eyes, but cold steam rose from beneath it. His greenish-blue robe rippled unnaturally, as if moved by something more than wind. The Arya of Creation rested at his throat, pulsing faintly. The Hazël #1 mark burned on his shoulder like prophecy made flesh.
"You," Kon snapped, stepping forward. "Why the hell did you interfere?"
Adam didn't raise his voice. "Sahira had them. You were compromised."
"I had it under control!" Kon's voice echoed in the chamber.
Adam turned his back. "You weren't supposed to be spotted. Besides, this mission was supposed to be given to more capable hands who wouldn't endanger those under their care.
Something in Kon snapped. "I've had it with you and your trust issues!! I've bled for a thousand years. For a thousand years I have been trying to gain your trust back. For a thousand years I have been trying to atone for my own wrong doings. And still, you treat me like an outsider. Like a traitor. Maybe the problem isn't me. Maybe it's you. You not being capable of accepting the reality that we are in now. I will not let you transfer your own misguided emotions on me anymore!!"
Adam stilled.
The mist coiled tighter.
"What did you say?"
The air turned bitterly cold. Frost crept across the walls. The banners froze where they hung.
"Enough!" Darius roared.
But too late.
A shard of crystal erupted from Adam's aura.
Kon moved. A collision and a huge explosion of crystal at the far wall.
Kon's sword unsheathed in a flash—
Steel kissed Adam's throat.
Another shard hovered before Kon's eye.
Both froze.
Then—
CLANG.
A golden staff crashed between them, dispersing the energy.
"Gözkıran, grow!"
Mana burst outward as the staff grew in size, parting the mist and pushing the two back.
Trevor Maymum stood between them. His brown fur was dusted with desert grit, the Maymum Clan muffler wrapped tightly around his neck. His headband bore three spirals—the symbol of the Arya of Derision. His amber eyes, framed behind smudged lenses, burned with exhausted fury.
"ARE YOU INSANE?!" he shouted. "You think this helps?! You think drawing blades on your own kin is the way forward?! What were trying to do, kill each other?!"
Kon lowered his weapon reluctantly, his shoulders heaving. "He started it!!!"
Adam didn't flinch. He said nothing as he dissolved again into the mist.
Kon sheathed his blade with a hard click, turned, and strode out.
Darius sighed deeply. "What now?"
Trevor slumped beside the throne, placing Gözkıran across his lap. He removed his glasses and wiped his eyes. "I don't know. Now we either rebuild trust… or we fall apart."
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Later, at the Hakakit Oasis
Water lapped gently at the moss-laced stones. The sacred waterfall murmured its ancient lullaby. Adam sat alone, the crystal mist from earlier now reduced to a faint halo around him. His blindfold was pulled loose. Crystalline blue eyes shimmered in the dark, golden flecks swimming in their depths.
Footsteps approached.
Trevor.
He carried no weapon. His robe was half undone, scarf flapping slightly in the night breeze.
"Still here, huh?" he said gently.
Adam didn't move.
"What were you trying to do back there? You almost Killed Kon!!"
"Let me be Trevor."
"No. Not this time. We are sick and tired of you always pushing us away. You think this Oasis would bring you peace when you keep lying to yourself? Not this time. I'm not leaving until you give me an answer."
"Trevor..." Adam warned with grited teeth.
"Who exactly are you so angry at that you would push all of us away?!"
"I'M ANGRY AT MYSELF!!!" The outburst shook the Oasis causing a tremor that shook even the water fall.
Adam was crying.
Trevors eyes were wide with horror and realisation.
"By the Lions Mane...You're not angry at Kon," Trevor continued. "You're angry at yourself. And you're drowning in it."
Adam's fists tightened in the grass.
"You think you're the reason we lost ArchenLand. You think if you'd been stronger, none of this would've happened."
Adam's voice cracked. "I couldn't stop it. I watched it burn. And I... couldn't do anything. And worse, I'm petty enough to be sad that Kon didn't regard me enough as family. And I still tried to kill him. By Asalans name... I almost killed Kon, Trevor."
Trevors eyes were filled with sorrow and we're becoming teary. He knelt close to Adam, his two arms wrapping around him.
"You did everything you could. And you're still doing it. You saved lives yesterday. You saved us. That matters. It's okay now. It's okay."
Adam trembled. His tears fell into the oasis waters.
And still, the world did not break.
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Kon stood alone on a rooftop, gazing across the desert.
Trevor had set up a telepathic link with him when he went to confront Adam.
He heard everything.
He could feel it—through the bond he shared with Trevor.
Adam was crying.
Behind him, hooves clopped gently.
Daruis's cream-and-gold fur gleamed, lemon-green eyes gentle, bare hooves steady. He opened his arms without a word.
Kon held his gaze for a while, hesitant, then stepped forward, burying his face in Daruis's chest.
Silent tears soaked the bull's fur, claws retracted.
"We'll be fine, Kon," Daruis murmured, voice a low rumble. "We'll be fine."
Above them, the moon bore witness as the desert wind carried their grief. Kürdiala stood—broken, perhaps, but still whole.
A family fractured.
Yet not beyond healing.