The Golden Globe remained one of the last true sanctuaries in a broken world — a place where freedom still existed and crime was nothing more than a forgotten memory. Its streets were clean, its people safe, its walls untouched by the shadow of Ekekiri. The four Elders often wished the entire world could fit inside its protective barrier.
But wishes could not change reality.
Far beyond the Golden Globe, the Gogori Forest stretched like an emerald ocean. Towering ancient trees with thick silver bark and glowing blue leaves formed a dense canopy that filtered sunlight into soft shafts of green. It was once a hunter's paradise, rich with game and rare herbs. Now, Ekekiri's darkness stained every branch and shadow.
Golden Globe troopers moved like ghosts among the leaves — silent, unseen, perfectly one with the forest. Below them, Ekekiri patrols marched in rigid formation, weapons glinting. Avoiding detection was nearly impossible.
Yet the troopers always managed.
Two of the twenty-five scouts slipped into a hidden cave and sealed the entrance with a soft pulse of light from the Elder's mark. The moment the barrier activated, their presence vanished completely.
Ty'tian stepped forward first. He was a broad-shouldered man with thick, fiery red hair tied back in a warrior's knot. A short, neatly trimmed beard framed the lower half of his face, and his calm gray eyes carried the quiet weight of too many failed missions. Like all troopers, he wore the standard dark-green cloak over lightweight black armor etched with faint protective runes — practical, silent, and designed to blend into any terrain.
"Still nothing," he said, voice low and steady.
Klin pulled back his hood, revealing short black hair and the same calm eyes. He was taller than most, his movements precise even when exhausted. "Yeah," he answered simply.
Hallin leaned against the cave wall, rubbing her temples. "This feels hopeless. We've been doing this for years and we still have nothing useful to bring home."
Crystal stood a little apart, arms crossed, her white hair catching the dim light of the glow-stone lantern. "We need to return and come up with a better plan. This isn't working."
Ty'tian exhaled slowly. "I guess you're right. That's our only option for now."
Back inside the Golden Globe, the metal spires of the central buildings gleamed as the sun struck their peaks. People moved through their daily lives — laughing, working, shopping — but beneath the peace, the same quiet question lingered in every heart:
What are the Council keeping from us?
High in the Golden Tower, an uneasy aura filled the council chamber. The four Elders and the Golden Guardian sat around the circular stone table, the weight of unspoken truths pressing down on them.
The Iron Elder leaned forward, metal bracers clinking softly. "If we don't give the people a proper answer soon, this could spiral into chaos. They're already starting to lose trust."
The Spirit Elder sighed, fingers tracing the edge of the table. "This makes me wish we had told her the truth from the beginning… told her who she really is."
The Golden Guardian stepped closer to the table, mask hiding her expression, but her shoulders were tense. "Honestly… I'm glad we didn't. Putting that kind of burden on a child isn't right."
"No matter what," the Light Elder said quietly, eyes distant, "one cannot run from destiny."
"True," the Golden Guardian replied, a faint note of confidence in her voice. "But don't worry — she won't run from it when the time comes."
The Water Elder rubbed his chin, gaze flicking between the others. "Then what is our best option? Something that calms the people and prevents them from losing faith in us entirely."
The Iron Elder let out a heavy breath and leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight. "What other choice do we have… except to tell them the truth?"
A thick, uneasy silence settled over the room. No one spoke. The air itself felt heavier.
At the Flow Star, the sanctuary was as lively as ever. Carers moved between classrooms, children's laughter mixed with the rhythmic sounds of laundry being washed and meals being prepared. Groups walked the winding paths, talking and smiling beneath the glowing spirit trees.
Near the entrance, two scouts from the Golden Capital stood speaking with Immira.
"Please, ma'am," one of them said respectfully, "inform us the moment you hear anything about her whereabouts."
"I will," Immira replied, voice steady but tired.
The scouts bowed slightly and left.
Inside a quiet room beside her mother's bed, Koya sat in complete silence. Soft spirit orbs floated gently above the sleeping woman, casting a pale blue light. Koya stared at her mother's peaceful face, her own thoughts refusing to form. She had asked every question a thousand times — Why is she like this? What happened to her? — until no more questions remained.
Immira stepped in quietly and placed a gentle hand on Koya's back.
"Were the scouts here looking for me?" Koya asked without turning.
"Yes… the Council sent them. They must be really worried about you."
Koya said nothing.
Immira waited a few seconds, then asked softly, "When do you plan on returning?"
"Never." Koya's voice was calm and certain. "My life at the academy is over. I don't see myself going back."
"But Koya…"
"Immira, please don't try to convince me." Koya cut in, eyes still locked on her mother. "My mind won't change."
Immira stared at her for a long moment, then bowed her head slightly. She turned and walked out of the room, pausing at the doorway to glance back. The sorrow in her eyes was unmistakable before she finally left.
Koya reached out and held her mother's hand tightly, as if it was the only thing still anchoring her to the world.
To be continued…