Kazaf: The upside down

The silence between Alaca and Suleiman stretched, filled with memories and unspoken emotions. Azra stood nearby, watching the two with a knowing look. This was a moment long overdue, yet the weight of the past kept the tension alive.

Kazaf and the others had remained in the Elara Sect, preparing for whatever lay ahead, while Alaca made this journey to face her father. But even as she stood before him now, she couldn't shake the feeling that the real battle was not against Jalwa, but within herself.

Finally, Suleiman exhaled. "Come inside."

Alaca hesitated but stepped forward, following him into the modest wooden house. Despite his status as a powerful cultivator, the place was simple. No grandeur, no lavish displays of power—just a quiet refuge away from the world.

She sat across from him at a wooden table, Azra choosing to remain by the door, giving them space. A kettle rested on a fire, steam rising from its spout. Suleiman poured them both tea, his movements slow and deliberate.

"I never thought I'd see you again," he admitted.

Alaca traced her fingers along the rim of her cup. "Neither did I."

Suleiman studied her. "You've grown strong."

"I had to."

A shadow passed through his eyes. "And Kazaf? Your son?"

Alaca straightened. "He's stronger than I ever was at his age. And he's in danger."

Suleiman nodded. "I know."

Alaca narrowed her eyes. "Then why have you been in hiding?"

Suleiman took a sip of tea before answering. "Because the moment I step out of this valley, the balance shifts. You don't understand the weight I hold in the Down world. If I move, so do my enemies. And my allies."

Alaca clenched her fists. "Jalwa already moved. He took Kazaf's father. And now he wants my son."

Suleiman set his cup down. "Jalwa wants power. He always has. But taking a human… that is unlike him."

Alaca leaned forward. "Then help us. Help him."

Suleiman was silent for a long time. Then, finally, he nodded.

---

Back at the Elara Sect

Kazaf stood at the training grounds, his blade slicing through the air in a series of rapid movements. His mind was restless, filled with thoughts of his mother's journey, Idris's proposal, and the growing conflict ahead.

Rahim watched from the side, arms crossed. "You're pushing yourself too hard."

Kazaf didn't stop. "I don't have time to rest."

Rahim sighed. "You won't be much help to anyone if you collapse from exhaustion."

Kazaf paused, catching his breath. He turned to face his friend, his expression tense. "I can't afford to be weak."

Rahim shook his head. "No one said you were."

Before Kazaf could respond, Asma approached, her expression unreadable.

"We need to talk," she said.

Rahim took the hint and stepped away, leaving them alone.

Asma crossed her arms. "What are you thinking?"

Kazaf wiped sweat from his brow. "That I need to be stronger."

"That's not what I meant," she said, stepping closer. "You've been distant. Ever since Idris came."

Kazaf sighed. "I have bigger things to worry about than some arrogant cultivator who thinks he can bargain for your hand."

Asma's eyes darkened. "It's not a bargain. It's politics. And it's real."

Kazaf met her gaze. "And what do you want?"

She hesitated. "It doesn't matter what I want."

"It does to me," he said firmly.

For a moment, something flickered in her eyes—something vulnerable. But she quickly masked it. "You need to focus on the bigger picture, Kazaf. We all do."

Kazaf exhaled. "Then let's end this conversation."

Asma looked like she wanted to say more, but instead, she nodded. "Fine." And with that, she turned and walked away.

Kazaf watched her go, his heart heavier than before.

---

The Dark Master's Influence

Far from the Elara Sect, within the depths of a hidden fortress, Jalwa sat upon a throne of black stone. His presence radiated power, the very air thick with his dark aura.

Kneeling before him was Rami, his enforcer. "We attacked, but the Elara Sect held strong. Kazaf is more powerful than we anticipated."

Jalwa's lips curled into a smirk. "Good."

Rami hesitated. "My lord?"

Jalwa stood, his black robes shifting like shadows around him. "Let them believe they have the upper hand. Let them grow comfortable." He turned his piercing gaze on Rami. "Then, when they least expect it… we strike."

Rami bowed. "As you command, my lord."

Jalwa looked past him, into the darkness beyond. Soon, he thought. Very soon.

---