41 – The Saint of the Water Path
The air outside Mèt Agwe-Djall's house was cool and heavy with the scent of salt and wood smoke. The water below shimmered faintly like liquid glass, reflecting the faint moonlight that cut through the tall trees around the lake. Zed and Makroz stepped out onto the wooden deck, the boards creaking softly under their boots. The world felt quieter after everything they had discussed — the kind of silence that sits heavy, not empty.
Mèt Agwe-Djall followed behind them, his hands folded behind his back, his long blue robe brushing lightly against the floor. His expression was calm, but there was weight in his eyes. He had seen too many warriors leave through his door with noble hearts and not all of them returned.
"You two," he said, his deep voice rolling softly like a wave brushing against sand, "are about to walk through a gate that even the gods hesitate to use."
Zed exhaled slowly, a small trail of steam escaping his lips. "Yeah… but hesitation isn't really our thing, right Makroz?"
Makroz smirked, eyes glinting under the dim light. "Hesitation? Never heard of her."
Even Mèt Agwe-Djall chuckled faintly. "You two haven't changed one bit. Always talking about destiny like it's a road you can just run down barefoot."
Zed looked toward the still water and then back at their old friend. "I'm just thankful we got this far, Agwe. If it wasn't for your help, I'd still be wandering around in circles trying to figure out how to find her. I owe you."
"You owe me nothing," Mèt Agwe replied, raising a hand. "We've all carried our share of debts in this world. Besides…" he smiled faintly, "I like the noise you two make when you come through here. It wakes the fish."
Zed laughed quietly, and for a moment the tension in his shoulders eased. But when he looked at Makroz, the humor faded. "You ready?"
Makroz tilted his head. "You didn't even have to ask that question, my brother. We were born ready."
Mèt Agwe-Djall stepped closer, his calm breaking for just a moment. "Then listen carefully," he said. "Where you're going, the water runs backward. The air itself listens. If you speak lies there, they'll come back to you as truth, and truth will turn against you. Keep your intentions steady. Keep your hearts light, no matter how heavy the journey gets."
Zed and Makroz both bowed deeply in respect. "We'll remember," Zed said quietly.
Agwe nodded and spread his arms. His voice dropped into a chant that felt ancient — words older than rivers, each syllable vibrating through the air. The lake below them began to churn, glowing faintly blue, then deepening into a radiant teal. The surface of the water rose slowly, folding in on itself like fabric being drawn upward, forming a perfect oval of liquid light that shimmered in midair.
A soft hum filled the air as waves rippled outward across the lake.
"It's ready," said Mèt Agwe-Djall, his eyes glinting with the same glow as the portal. "Step through and it'll take you near the place where Natas hides his walls. I wish you strength — and patience. You'll need both."
"Strength we have," Makroz said, grinning. "Patience… we'll borrow some from you."
Zed gave a faint smirk, then bowed again. "We'll repay this one day, old friend."
Mèt Agwe-Djall's tone softened. "Just come back with your daughter. That'll be payment enough."
Zed and Makroz looked at each other — no words, just a nod — and stepped into the portal.
The water swallowed them like smoke caught in wind.
---
They emerged on the other side into a land far different from the lake's serenity. The air here felt dry and heavy, almost crackling with static. The sky was dim — neither night nor day — and the horizon glowed with faint streaks of orange. The ground was a blend of stone and sand, cracked like old parchment.
Before either of them could take a proper step forward, a warm voice echoed from behind a cluster of tall, thin rocks.
"Hey there, you two!"
Zed and Makroz spun around in unison. A woman stepped out from behind the rocks, her presence bright enough to make the air itself seem warmer. She had long, golden-blond dreadlocks that shimmered faintly as if touched by sunlight, her skin a deep, smooth brown like polished mahogany. She wore a white flowing dress with gold threading and simple leather sandals, and her jewelry gleamed faintly with every motion — gold bangles that whispered softly when she moved.
"Who…?" Zed began, but she raised a hand with a playful grin.
"Mèt Agwe-Djall sent me a telepathic message," she said easily, like someone announcing the weather. "Told me to come meet you two here. He said you've got an important mission, and you might need an extra set of hands — preferably ones that can heal, burn, and control the weather if things go bad."
Makroz blinked. "Of course he did." He turned to Zed and chuckled. "You see? The old sea-lord's always got a backup plan tucked under a wave."
Zed folded his arms, narrowing his eyes. "You mean to tell me he managed to call you while chanting a spell, and neither of us noticed?"
Carmel winked. "He's Mèt Agwe-Djall. You think he can't multitask?"
That earned a laugh from both men. "Fair point," Zed admitted. "Still, I'm surprised. I didn't expect a saint to come walking out of nowhere."
"Saint?" Makroz echoed, raising an eyebrow.
Carmel smiled. "That's what humans call me, yes. They pray to me, light candles, sing songs. I don't mind — they're sweet. But I'm no different from you two. I just… get invited to more dinners."
Makroz snorted. "Must be nice."
"It is," she said cheerfully, then her tone softened. "But Mèt Agwe wasn't wrong. You're walking into a mess, and if you plan to take on Natas, you'll need every bit of help you can get."
Zed nodded slowly. "You know, I didn't think we'd get a third member on this journey, but I'm glad you're here."
"Good," Carmel said, brushing past them with a confident sway in her step. "Now stop staring and start walking. We've got a daughter to save."
Both Zed and Makroz flinched slightly as she walked past, her perfume — faintly citrus, faintly fire — lingering in the air. They exchanged a look.
"She always this bossy?" Makroz muttered.
"I think that's part of the charm," Zed whispered back.
Carmel turned her head just enough for them to see the smirk on her lips. "I can hear you, boys."
They both coughed in unison. "Right. Moving."
---
The trio walked for nearly an hour through the stony valley. The land stretched endlessly in both directions, the cracks glowing faintly under their feet as if something ancient still burned beneath the crust. The closer they got to the horizon, the clearer the enormous silhouette became — a castle, colossal and strange, its towers spiraling like twisted horns. It pulsed faintly with crimson light.
"That's Natas's castle," Carmel said, her tone serious now. "I can feel his energy even from here."
"Big place for one guy," Makroz muttered.
"Big ego too," Zed added.
Carmel gave a small laugh. "You two are impossible. You make it sound like we're about to prank him instead of face a god."
Makroz looked over his shoulder at her. "What's the difference? A prank with the right intent can ruin a tyrant's whole day."
Zed grinned. "Exactly. It's all about presentation."
Carmel sighed but smiled anyway. "You two have the strangest way of preparing for war."
Zed's face softened. "We've seen too many wars to forget how to laugh before them."
That silenced her for a moment. She looked ahead again, her expression shifting into something gentler. "Then promise me something — if this goes wrong, if one of you falls, the other doesn't stop. Annaïs must be saved."
Makroz placed a hand over his chest. "Promise accepted. But for the record, I don't plan on falling."
"Neither do I," Zed said, smirking. "And if I do, I'll just burn the ground on my way down."
Carmel laughed quietly. "You two really are trouble."
They kept walking until the castle loomed close enough for them to make out its shape in detail — black stone with veins of red light running through it like molten lava, and a massive gate guarded by statues that almost looked alive. The air here smelled like old metal and ozone.
"Looks like we've reached the doorstep," Makroz said, cracking his knuckles.
Carmel stopped, eyes fixed on the glowing towers. "That's not just stone," she murmured. "Those walls are made from crystallized essence — souls trapped and condensed over centuries. You can almost hear them whisper."
Zed frowned. "Then we'll make sure they stop whispering when this is over."
Makroz crouched, touching the ground. The shadows bent toward his fingertips. "We should rest here before heading in. Plan our approach. I can feel there's something guarding the entrance — not just soldiers. Something heavier."
Carmel nodded. "Agreed. Natas's servants patrol in layers. The outer ones you can see; the inner ones see you."
"So the trick," Zed said, "is to hit them before they realize they've been seen."
Makroz smirked. "My specialty."
They set up a small camp behind a cluster of jagged rocks. Carmel conjured a small flame in her palm — not orange, but soft gold. It radiated warmth without smoke, steady and comforting. The three of them sat close to it, their faces lit by its gentle glow.
Zed stared into the flame for a while before speaking. "You know… I still can't believe we're here. It feels like a story my grandmother would've told me — the kind where heroes get swallowed by something too big to fight."
Makroz chuckled. "We are those heroes, my friend. The ones who don't get to finish their stories until the monsters stop breathing."
Carmel glanced between them. "You two have been fighting together for years, haven't you?"
"Since before time learned how to count," Makroz replied.
Zed smiled faintly. "He's exaggerating, but not by much. We've fought, bled, and nearly died more times than I can count. And every time, we walked away with fewer scars than regrets."
Carmel leaned back against a rock, her eyes half-closed. "It's rare to see loyalty like that. Most of the saints I've known fight alone. Too proud to share their burdens."
"That's because they never met us," Zed said, grinning. "We're stubborn enough to be each other's burden."
Makroz laughed out loud, and Carmel couldn't help joining in. The laughter echoed softly across the empty valley, breaking the stillness that hung in the air.
After a long pause, Zed looked toward the distant castle again. The laughter faded, replaced by quiet determination. "Tomorrow," he said, "we walk into that place. We bring Annaïs home. Whatever it takes."
Carmel nodded, her golden eyes reflecting the soft flame between them. "Whatever it takes."
Makroz stretched his arms and leaned back. "Then let's rest. We'll need all our energy. Natas isn't just waiting — he's watching."
Zed smirked. "Let him watch. Tomorrow, he'll see what happens when you mess with family."
They all fell silent after that, the only sound the soft crackle of Carmel's golden fire. Above them, the strange sky shimmered faintly, the stars swirling as if the heavens themselves were shifting in their sleep.
Three figures sat beneath that sky — a king of fire, a lord of shadows, and a saint of flame and wind — resting before a storm that could change the balance of worlds.
And somewhere, far in the distance, behind those glowing red walls, a young girl whispered her father's name in her dreams.