The Tower did not sleep that night.

  Smoke curled into the dark sky as the guards carried bodies one after another into the courtyard. Flames rose high, swallowing cloth, steel, and flesh alike. No prayers were spoken. No songs followed the dead. Only the crackling fire and the heavy breathing of soldiers who had survived what many had not.

  The smell of ash spread through the kingdom.

  Inside the Tower, grief moved like a living thing.

  Sarah stood motionless near the balcony, her hands trembling as orange firelight reflected in her eyes. She had not cried yet. The shock held her together like fragile glass.

  Joseph knelt beside a wall, head lowered, fists pressed against the stone. His shoulders shook silently. Every burned body felt like a personal failure.

  “We were too late…” he whispered.

  No one answered him.

  Far above them, beyond halls no ordinary being could enter, the Watcher stood alone.

  Tavari’s body lay before him.

  Still.

  Silent.

  Cleaned.

  The blood, ash, and scars of battle had been washed away by the Watcher’s own hands. Every wound carefully tended, every mark removed as if refusing to let suffering define the boy.

  The Watcher moved slowly, almost gently, placing royal garments upon Tavari — robes meant for kings, not warriors.

  His hands paused.

  For a long moment, nothing moved.

  Then—

  A single tear escaped the Watcher’s eye.

  It fell silently onto Tavari’s forehead.

  “I know I can save you,” he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of eternity. “But a rock must learn to withstand water on its own.”

  His fingers lingered briefly, almost like a father reluctant to let go.

  He lifted Tavari and laid him carefully upon his bed.

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  The room began to tremble.

  Walls vibrated. Threads of reality flickered faintly in response to the Watcher’s emotions. Power pressed outward uncontrollably, shaking the Tower itself.

  The Watcher turned away immediately.

  If he stayed longer, the world might break.

  Without another word, he left the room.

  The door closed.

  And silence swallowed Tavari once more.

  Below, footsteps echoed through the corridors.

  Matt arrived first, breath uneven, eyes searching desperately.

  “What happened?” he demanded.

  Arie followed close behind, his expression already filled with dread. Serena came next, calm on the outside but pale beneath her composure. Raphael walked slower, sensing something deeply wrong long before anyone spoke.

  Sarah finally looked at them.

  Her voice broke.

  “Tavari… didn’t come back.”

  The words struck like a blade.

  Matt froze.

  “No,” he said immediately. “No, that’s not possible.”

  Arie’s hands began shaking. The air around him stirred unconsciously, threads of wind responding to his fear.

  Raphael closed his eyes, whispering a quiet prayer.

  Serena stepped forward carefully.

  “Where is he?”

  Joseph swallowed hard.

  “The Watcher took him.”

  The hallway fell silent.

  Even breathing felt loud.

  A door opened nearby.

  Slow footsteps approached.

  Stephen emerged, newly awakened, still weak but conscious. His eyes searched the faces around him until he understood without being told.

  Grief hit him instantly.

  He walked straight to Matt and grabbed his arm tightly, standing closer to him than anyone else.

  Matt didn’t push him away.

  Stephen’s voice trembled.

  “He saved us… didn’t he?”

  No one answered.

  Because everyone knew the truth.

  Yes.

  He had.

  And he paid the price.

  Arie watched the moment quietly.

  Stephen standing close to Matt.

  Too close.

  Something sharp twisted inside his chest — not anger, not hatred, but a painful jealousy he didn’t understand. Tavari was gone, yet the bonds around him were shifting already.

  It felt wrong.

  Everything felt wrong.

  “I should’ve been there,” he whispered.

  Serena placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “We all should have.”

  But regret could not change what had already happened.

  Outside, the fires burned lower.

  Inside, grief settled into every corner of the Tower.

  Some cried openly.

  Some sat in silence.

  Some refused to believe.

  And above them all, in a quiet royal chamber untouched by noise or mourning, Tavari lay dressed like a king, unmoving, as if sleeping through a world that had finally realized how much it depended on him.

  The threads around him flickered faintly.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  For the moment he would awaken — not as the boy they knew, but as something forever changed.

  And somewhere beyond sight…

  The Watcher watched too.

  Darkness.

  No sound.

  No light.

  Tavari opened his eyes — or at least, he thought he did.

  There was nothing.

  No sky above him.

  No ground beneath him.

  No wind. No warmth. No pain.

  Only endless black stretching in every direction.

  The darkness felt heavy, pressing against his skin like deep water.

  He tried to move.

  His body responded slowly, as if it no longer fully belonged to him.

  “Hello?”

  His voice vanished the moment it left his lips, swallowed by the void.

  No echo returned.

  No answer came.

  He stood alone.

  Confusion came first.

  Then fear.

  Where was he?

  The Tower was gone.

  The battle was gone.

  Everyone was gone.

  Matt. Arie. Serena. Sarah. Gone.

  Tavari turned slowly, searching for anything — a light, a thread, a presence — but the darkness remained unchanged, eternal and unmoving.

  For the first time since gaining his power…

  he felt small.

  Alone.

  And somewhere deep within the endless void,

  something unseen began to watch him.