The Pursuit Of Catalyst: A Dive Into Another Verse

After breakfast, the cottage settled into a light, relaxed rhythm.

They all lingered at the table for a while—sharing little stories, laughing at Elza's dramatic retellings of past training mishaps, and listening to Serena and Ashia compare the Academy's current class gossip. Lyana joined in quietly, offering tea to everyone and occasionally smiling at their banter, though she mostly observed, tucked gracefully beside the hearth.

When the plates were cleared, they wandered around the cottage in small pairs or groups. Ashia explored the library corner, trailing her fingers across the aged tomes and noting each rune-scribed title. Sylves showed Serena a few enchanted artifacts on the side shelf, explaining their harmless quirks. Elas wandered off with Elza into the back corridor, investigating Hawk's oddly-labeled jars with exaggerated caution.

Outside, the sun climbed higher. Birds chirped lazily. A few rays slipped through the leaves and lit the floorboards through the windows. It was peaceful—almost like time itself had slowed.

But midday arrived too soon.

A firm knock echoed from the back door—Hawk's way of announcing his presence, even though the house was his.

He stepped in, arms crossed, gaze calm but direct. "It's time for you people to head back."

The words fell gently, but still brought a pause to the room.

Ashia looked up from her spot near the window, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "Already…"

Serena stood beside her, brushing invisible dust from her sleeve. "Feels like we just arrived."

Elas stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders. "Well… we'll have many chances to meet them again," he said, giving a bright grin to lighten the moment. "Let's not act like it's goodbye forever."

Ashia nodded, her smile small but real. "You're right… We'll see each other again."

Sylves stepped beside her and gave her a reassuring look. "We'll be the ones visiting next time. I'll be waiting."

Elza patted Ashia's back gently. "Try not to miss me too much."

Lyana stood nearby, her hands folded neatly. "I'll prepare the herb tea you liked for next time," she told Serena, with a faint smile.

As they all stepped out into the clearing, the portal shimmered into existence with a flick of Hawk's hand. Wind stirred around them, tugging lightly at their robes and hair.

"Take care of yourselves," Hawk said simply.

Ashia bowed low. "Thank you for the hospitality, Mr. Hawk."

Elas and Serena followed suit, nodding in gratitude. Then, one by one, they stepped into the glowing portal. With a soft pulse of light, the portal closed behind them.

The clearing returned to silence.

Back inside, Lyana cleared the last of the dishes. Elza sprawled on the couch with a groan. "Guests are exhausting."

Sylves leaned against the doorway, looking out toward the now-quiet path. "Still… it was nice to see them."

Hawk, arms behind his back, replied in his usual quiet tone, "Now that your minds are at ease… training begins tomorrow."

Elza groaned louder. Sylves smiled. And just like that, life in the cottage resumed.

_______

Just like that, the days turned into weeks, the weeks into months… and the months slipped into years.

The five students—Sylves, Elza, Ashia, Elas, and Serena—kept their promise. Every month, without fail, they met. Sometimes Ashia, Elas, and Serena would travel through Hawk's portal to visit the forested cottage. Other times, Sylves and Elza would make their way back to the academy grounds. With every visit came shared meals, laughter echoing through familiar halls, and quiet moments that deepened their friendship into something unshakable.

Five years had passed since Sylves left home.

Within the grand duchy of Ellesmere, the morning sun bathed the estate in soft golden light. Birds chirped outside the open windows, and the gentle rustle of leaves gave the air a lazy peace.

Duchess Ylva sat by the veranda, her silver-blonde hair cascading elegantly over her shoulders, catching glimmers of light like moonlight trapped in silk. A porcelain teacup rested in her hand, steam curling from the surface. Her violet eyes gazed out over the serene estate grounds with a faraway expression.

Across from her, pouring another cup of tea, stood Aria—the head maid, and mother of Ashia. Her posture was disciplined as always, but her movements were laced with a grace that spoke of long years of service.

"I wonder what they're doing right now," Ylva murmured, her voice soft and thoughtful.

Aria, placing the teapot down gently, offered a small nod. "Yes, Lady Ylva. They must be in their sixth year by now. Just one more year… and the young master will finally return home."

Ylva chuckled softly, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Shouldn't you be more worried about your daughter? Who knows what Sylves may have done by now—he's been alone with her more times than we can count."

Aria allowed herself the faintest smile. "I trust the young master. His eyes never spoke of betrayal or disrespect. And even if… even if he were to do something with my daughter, it would be entirely his decision. After all… Ashia is only a humble maid, bound to serve her master."

Ylva gave a quiet laugh again, leaning back against her chair. "What if they've formed a bond stronger than duty—a bond that can't be broken, even by rank or tradition? I wouldn't mind if she became his wife—."

Aria's composure faltered for a moment, her eyes widening. "Lady Ylva… that would be improper. The young master's name would suffer if he were to take a maid's daughter—a maid herself—as his bride. Society would never allow it."

Ylva's amusement softened into something more maternal. "Forgive me. Perhaps I let my teasing carry me too far." She set her cup down, turning her full gaze upon Aria. "But, Aria… remember this..."

Aria stood upright again, her hands folded neatly before her. "Yes, milady?"

Ylva smiled, gently but firmly. "Status and rank may shape a life… but they should never decide one's heart. Whoever my Silver chooses, I will stand by him—with everything I have. So let us wait and see… what future he creates, and who he brings home."

Aria found herself silent. Her heart swayed between the firm beliefs of a lifetime of service… and the quiet, hopeful weight of the duchess's words. She bowed her head slightly, unable to argue—yet still uncertain.

In her heart, the loyalty to her master battled the love of a mother.

And beyond the distant hills, somewhere between forest and starlight, her daughter stood beside the boy who might change both of their destinies forever.

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Zweinston Country

Southern Neighbor of the Empire of Asphalia

Zweinston shared its northern border with Asphalia, and though it rivaled the empire in size, the two nations had never crossed swords. Neither allies nor enemies, they coexisted in a delicate, silent balance—until now.

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Royal Chambers of Zweinston — War Council Room

The grand stone walls of the council chamber were lined with red banners bearing the twin eagle sigil of Zweinston. A massive circular table stood at the center, lit by the glow of enchanted lanterns that floated above like silent observers.

King Vali Zwein sat upon the throne-like chair at the head of the table. His dark violet cloak shimmered faintly under the dim light, and his eyes burned with ambition. His fingers tapped against the armrest rhythmically—controlled, calculating.

He spoke with quiet gravity.

"How many troops have completed training?"

The war minister, Bram Joogis, stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Your Majesty, we currently have a standing force of approximately 30,000 men stationed at the southern barracks—just outside the Royal Capital. They are well-trained, well-fed… and hungry for war."

A murmur of agreement echoed through the room.

"We are ready," spoke one noble.

"Our blades thirst for conquest," another declared.

"Let them fall before our march," cried a third, slamming his goblet down.

The air grew thick with eagerness and steel-sharp hunger.

King Zwein raised a single hand, quieting the room.

"We commence in four months."

His voice was calm—but it struck like thunder. "The Empire of Asphalia will fall. And its lands… its pride… its riches… shall become ours."

He lifted his goblet of wine, the crimson liquid catching the lantern-light like blood.

"To conquest."

"To conquest!" echoed the nobles, rising to their feet and raising their glasses in unison. "To Asphalia's fall!"

A satisfied smirk pulled at the corners of King Zwein's lips. He turned slowly, reaching for the large war map unfurled across the table beside him. His gloved hand traced the lines of mountains and rivers until it stopped at a prominent, fertile territory nestled just beyond Asphalia's southern border.

"Yes," he said softly, with certainty. "Our first strike… will be here."

His finger pressed down firmly.

The Duchy of Ellesmere.

There was a beat of silence.

Then the room erupted with dark approval.

"Strategic and symbolic," Bram murmured. "A blow to their pride."

"They will bleed," said another.

King Zwein stood, his cloak sweeping the polished marble floor.

"Begin preparations. Let the world see the dawn of a new order."

And so, as the fires of ambition flared within the heart of Zweinston, the quiet lands of Asphalia remained unaware… that the shadow of war had begun its long march northward.

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