The opened door revealed a remarkably robust old man standing in the doorway. He looked like he was half giant and half human, with an impressive height of at least eight feet—towering over most ordinary people. His hair and full beard had both turned completely grey, clearly indicating his advanced age. But despite the grey hair, the man still looked incredibly strong and vital, with well-defined muscles still firmly in their place—seemingly untouched by the passage of time and age.
"You've gotten even older since I last saw you," was the very first thing Aiona said after glancing at the man up and down, assessing the changes.
"And you still look exactly the same as you did sixty-three years ago when we first met, Furna," the man answered back with a gruff, rough voice that matched his imposing appearance.
"Come on in," he said warmly, opening the door fully to reveal the cozy, inviting interior of the cafe. It really doesn't suit such a warrior, Aiona thought to herself with amusement as she walked inside past him.
The man's name was Grendran, and he was a legendary warrior that Aiona had met sixty-three years ago during a memorable adventure. Aiona had joined his group in a dangerous hunting party with her true identity carefully concealed—introducing herself to them simply as Furna, a traveling hunter. Along with an elf and a powerful mage who had also joined their party, they had worked together to defeat a massive leviathan that had been spreading fear and death among the sailors, seriously disturbing all maritime trade activities in the region. The creature had even come dangerously near the shores of Heinnas, directly threatening its people with destruction.
It hadn't been easy at all to bring that ancient giant creature—the last of his kind in the world—to his final grave. The leviathan had been absolutely massive, around ten times the size of Aiona's own dragon form. The battle had been epic and terrifying.
After the successful expedition concluded, Aiona had revealed her true identity to her companions, asking all of them to consider settling permanently in Heinnas. The elf and the mage had politely declined the generous offer, stating that they had to continue traveling the world and pursuing their own paths. But Grendran had accepted the offer readily, choosing to settle himself in Fulpa and establishing this cozy cafe. He had named it "Leviathan" in honor of their greatest battle together.
And he had also been one of hundreds of men over the centuries who had asked Aiona for her hand in marriage.
And of course, she had declined him as she had declined all the others.
Back then, sixty-three years ago, he had been a robust, vital young man in his prime who would blush furiously up to his ears even when Aiona was just slightly near him. Time had steadily replaced that eager young warrior with the old man standing before her now after sixty-three long years had passed.
Aiona could not help but wonder with a pang of guilt and sadness: Had he waited for her all those years? Had he spent his entire life hoping for a love that could never, ever be returned? That thought made her feel a deep sadness in the very depths of her heart.
"He's over there," Grendran said, interrupting her melancholy thoughts. He pointed toward a table positioned in a corner of the cafe, where a very nervous young man sat fidgeting. "Take your time with him." That was all he said before he disappeared further inside the cafe to give them privacy.
Aiona turned her attention back to where her adopted son was seated. The boy—Garam—stood up abruptly upon seeing her, causing the table to sway dangerously.
"Mother!" he said, his voice cracking with emotion. He walked quickly over to her.
"Mother, what you said in the letter—is that really true? Are you actually going to leave us? Please tell me it's a lie, mother! Please!" The anxious boy was completely all over the place emotionally, barely holding himself together.
"Take a seat first, Garam," Aiona said gently but firmly as she let down her concealing hood. She fixed her windblown hair with her fingers. "Let's talk slowly and calmly," she added, patting his head affectionately in the way she'd done since he was small.
The boy obeyed her almost immediately, as he always did. He sat down obediently in his chair and waited patiently for Aiona to take her own seat. She did, settling gracefully into the chair, and so did Yana, who had been following her quietly and respectfully throughout.
"When you were young, I told you the story about dragons and their fated mates, yes?" Aiona asked Garam carefully as she let out a heavy sigh. "Do you remember that conversation?"
The boy nodded silently, acknowledging that he remembered the tale.
"Well, I found mine," Aiona said somewhat shyly, suddenly realizing that talking about this particular topic with her son felt kind of awkward and uncomfortable. "I found my fated mate."
"So I've decided to leave with him," she continued, forcing herself to be direct. "And travel around the world together. Experience new things. Spend whatever time we have with each other. And I might not return to Heinnas. This might be goodbye forever."
She let out these difficult words with some visible difficulty, her voice catching.
"But mother, he won't let you go," Garam said after a moment of serious contemplation, his voice dark. "The king—Jarun. We all know he won't just let you leave peacefully. We have to kill that monster if you truly want to leave, mother."
The boy raised his eyes to meet hers with sheer determination burning in them.
This wasn't the first time Garam had said something like this, suggesting violence against the king. Even Yana, who was sitting quietly beside Aiona, let out a slow, meek "yes" of agreement as soon as the words left Garam's mouth. They might be ordinary humans without any real knowledge of what that abomination, their king, truly was at his core. But they were absolutely right about one fundamental thing: Jarun should not exist in this world. Whether it was an intuition or just the sheer pressure and instinctive fear that man spread simply by existing, they sensed the wrongness of him.
"I'll help too," declared a voice from behind them. It was Grendran, who had returned from the back carrying a wooden tray with four cups of hot black coffee steaming on it. He set the tray carefully on the table, pulled out a chair with a scraping sound, and sat down heavily. The chair creaked and groaned under his substantial weight. "You know very well that thing isn't human, Aiona. We should eliminate him before he becomes an even greater threat to everyone."
They all looked at Aiona now with their serious, expectant faces, waiting for her response or agreement.
"Mother, I know you're hesitating because of the promise you made to that thing's mother on her deathbed," Garam said, his voice passionate. "But I genuinely don't think that thing will continue to pretend to be human any longer after you are gone from Heinnas. He is fundamentally vile and evil by his very nature. All that 'good king' persona he presents to the public is just a carefully crafted performance he's been maintaining solely for your benefit, to please you. After you leave and are gone, there will be no reason for him to continue pretending anymore. And if that happens..."
He trailed off, too scared to even put his worst fears into words.
"That's all assuming he even lets you leave in the first place," Grendran added grimly as he took a sip of the hot, bitter coffee. "That monster is so unpredictable and unstable that I don't know what kind of scheme or plan he might be brewing even right now as we speak. He could be planning anything."
Aiona fell into even deeper, more troubled thoughts at their words. This was so incredibly hard to navigate. They weren't wrong in their assessment of the danger Jarun posed—not entirely. But they also weren't completely correct in their judgment that they should simply kill their king without more concrete justification either.
Aiona knew far more than any of them about Jarun—his true origin, what and who he really was at his core, the circumstances of his birth. And she obviously understood and agreed that having that much raw, cosmic power concentrated in such an unpredictable being was nothing but serious trouble waiting to happen. It was dangerous beyond measure.
But outside of his childish whims and occasional displays of power, Jarun had never actually used his immense power to genuinely harm anyone. He had never killed or tortured anyone, never used his abilities for evil. So Aiona wasn't completely sure whether, just because he might potentially become a problem later in the future, they could justly judge him like this right now and kill him in cold blood. Without a concrete reason or actual crime to justify such an execution.
Could they really make that choice?