Echoes of War: The Oath Amidst the Ashes (Book 8)
Chapter 8: The Promised Day
Three sharp raps hammered against the wood, dragging Kayn from the depths of sleep. He woke feeling as though his head had been used as an anvil all night. Cowering beneath the sheets, he pulled the fabric up to his nose and buried his face in the pillow, seeking a darkness that the grey dawn of Mistville refused to grant him. The knocking persisted with that particular brand of insistence that promised consequences if left unanswered.
"Kayn, don’t you think you’ve slept long enough?"
Thalia’s voice cut through the oak door, muffled yet unmistakable. Kayn cracked an eye open; light stabbed beneath his eyelids, bleeding through the half-drawn curtains. Outside, the snow fell in silence, erasing the paths and piling upon the windowsills into miniature white mountains.
Thum. Thum. Thum.
Kayn curled tighter into a ball, pressing the quilt against his face, but the rhythmic pounding vibrated through everything. The door creaked open. He looked up, his face etched with the deep creases of his pillow, as Thalia crossed toward the window. Her light brown hair fell over her shoulders in disheveled waves, and her amber eyes swept the room with an expression Kayn knew all too well: patience teetering on the edge of exhaustion. She wore only a slender robe cinched over her nightgown.
"How much longer do you intend to lie there?"
Kayn turned his back to her and burrowed deeper into the bedding, clutching the hem against his chin. Thalia sighed and yanked the curtains wide, letting the leaden sky flood the room. The light revealed shelves groaning under the weight of books, wooden practice swords of varying sizes—piled in a corner beside a training dummy that had lost an arm—and a wardrobe standing ajar, cascading with clothes.
Thalia surveyed the clutter, her jaw tightening for a fleeting second before she swallowed her words. The glare hit Kayn’s eyelids, making him groan and mash the pillow against his face. He cursed whoever had seen fit to invent the sun.
"Five more minutes, Mom..."
"Fine. But don't make me come up here again," Thalia said. "Or I’ll have Pong roll you out of bed."
No. Not that.
The memory of sixty kilos of Pong lunging onto the mattress was enough to snap Kayn’s eyes wide open. Thalia stepped out, leaving the door ajar. Pong might still be asleep, but Kayn wasn't about to tempt fate. He sat up and perched on the edge of the bed, feet dangling in the air, refusing to touch the freezing floorboards. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles until the skin stung, blinked against the light, and felt blindly for his slippers. He found them on the second try.
The hallway greeted him with the same biting chill as the bedroom, frost etching intricate patterns across the glass panes. Kayn walked on, not bothering to tame the tangle of brown locks that insisted on veiling his eyes. Descending the stairs, he found his father sitting on the bench by the hearth. He was working at the low table, bracing a piece of wood between his knees and palm. With a short, curved blade, he was carving a leaf that was not yet a leaf.
On the floor, Pong was gnawing on a fresh branch from the garden, the bark crunching between his jaws with every bite.
"Good morning, son," Gael said. "Happy birthday."
Kayn answered with a smile that still carried the weight of sleep in its corners. "Thanks, Dad."
He approached the sofa and ran a hand over the panda’s rounded head; the soft fur gave way beneath his fingers. "Morning to you too, Pong."
The guardian didn't flinch. He glanced up just long enough to confirm the voice belonged to someone who mattered, then returned to his branch with renewed vigor. Gael set the wood aside.
"Ready for today?"
Kayn tilted his head, his hand still buried in Pong’s fur. "Ready for what?"
"The Binding Ceremony, son. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten."
Kayn frowned, his mind slow to bridge the gap between the words and their weight. Heat crawled up his neck and flooded his cheeks. He slapped a hand to his forehead. How could I have forgotten? He had spent years waiting for this day—counting the months, the weeks, the days—tallying marks on the wall beside his bed. And he had forgotten.
Gael let out a laugh that rang through the living room, though his amusement was short-lived.
"Well, look at that." Thalia emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on an apron speckled with flour. "That poor memory reminds me of someone I know very well."
Thalia’s laughter joined Gael’s, who quickly averted his gaze toward the window, his neck turning a shade of crimson.
"If I recall correctly, dear, you were the last one to arrive at the ceremony."
Kayn turned to his father. "Really? You never told me that."
"Because he was embarrassed, Kayn."
"Well..." Gael cleared his throat. "I admit I was so anxious for the trial that I couldn't sleep a wink all night. When I finally woke up, the ceremony was nearly over. I barely made it."
"Not to mention," Thalia added through stifled giggles, "that you bolted out of the house so fast you didn't realize you were still in your nightclothes. You should have seen him, Kayn. When he finally established the bond with Pong, he started shouting, 'I did it!' all proud... in his underwear, in front of the entire village."
Gael buried his face in his hands. "I thought we agreed never to speak of this again..." He cast a pleading look at Pong, seeking an ally. "But we pulled it off in the end, didn't we, partner?"
He extended a fist toward the panda, who ignored him and tore a fresh leaf from the branch. Gael’s dejected expression pulled another laugh from Thalia.
Kayn was no longer listening. His parents' voices faded into a distant hum as his gaze drifted through the frosted glass, out beyond the snow-dusted rooftops. Though he wasn't there yet, he could see the central plaza where, in just a few hours, the Binding Ceremony would take place. He saw himself standing before the people of Mistville, reaching out to claim a guardian—a companion, a piece of himself he hadn't met yet, but who had been waiting for him since before he was born.
"I’ll do it too!" he announced suddenly, startling his parents.
Gael and Thalia exchanged a glance and fell silent.
"Alright, enough talk." Thalia straightened up and gestured toward the kitchen with her thumb. "Breakfast is almost ready."
Gael rose from the sofa, stretching his arms like a bear waking from hibernation, and rested a hand on Kayn’s shoulder.
"You’d better eat. You don't want to reach the ceremony on an empty stomach. Trust me, I don't recommend it."
Kayn followed his father into the kitchen, which occupied the east wing of the house. The scent of warm honey and fresh pancakes hit him the moment he crossed the threshold, and his stomach responded with a growl that would have put Pong to shame. He slumped into the chair by the window. His mother placed a glass of milk and a plate of five fluffy pancakes on the table; they steamed in rising spirals, their edges perfectly golden. The birthday breakfast. Every year, without fail, for as long as Kayn could remember. Today would be no exception.
"Don't just stare at it," his mother said. "Eat before they get cold."
Kayn took his fork and sank it into the stack. He poured a drizzle of honey and watched the amber liquid slide down the sides, pooling on the plate. Gael sat opposite him with a steaming mug of coffee, using it as a makeshift hand-warmer. Pong settled beside him like an infant far too large for its own body. He abandoned his branch and fixed his gaze on the pancakes with an intensity bordering on obsession.
Kayn looked from the pancakes to the dark liquid in his father's mug, eyeing it with suspicion. His father insisted it gave him energy, but Kayn remembered the single sip he’d tried two winters ago. It had burned his tongue like he’d bitten into a coal, and he’d nearly spat it across the table.
Since that day, he had sworn never to touch the stuff again.
Gael lifted the cup and blew gently, but as the ceramic brushed his lips, he paused. Pong was watching him from his cushion, a pink tongue peeking between black-and-white lips. Gael moved the cup to the left; the panda’s eyes followed. He moved it to the right; the eyes followed again. He sighed, pushed the cup to the center of the table—out of reach of those thieving paws—and Pong let out a huff, crossed his arms, and turned his gaze toward Kayn’s pancakes. He let out a mournful grunt when he realized they were nearly gone.
The table fell silent, broken only by the sound of Kayn devouring the last bites, but his mind was already elsewhere. He was outside, out in the snow, walking toward the heart of Mistville where a guardian waited.
"What are you thinking about?" Gael asked.
"Wha' fofm my bond will take," Kayn mumbled through a mouthful.
Gael let out a chuckle at his son’s muffled speech. Thalia was quick to step away from the stove to give Kayn a playful swat on the head. Gael took a sip of his coffee. He seemed to want to say more, but he simply looked out at the garden. Kayn drained his milk in one gulp, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and stood.
"I’m going to go get dressed."
The clothes he had chosen the night before lay draped over the chair by his desk, folded haphazardly. Over a linen shirt, he donned the dark, lined doublet he always wore, accented with yellow lines at the shoulders. Finally, he wound a grey scarf around his neck. He finished by picking up the pendant resting on his desk—a bluish crystal hanging from a braided cord. He looped it over his head.
At the entrance, his parents were waiting. Gael wore a heavy wool coat over his doublet, collar turned up against the cold, rubbing his gloved hands as if trying to wring heat from the air. Thalia was wrapped in a fur cloak that fell to her knees, adjusting her scarf with fingers that were already beginning to redden.
In his room, Kayn struggled with his lined boots, which refused to budge. He blew on his fingers and tried again.
"Kayn, are you coming or what?" his mother called from below.
"Coming!"
Kayn raced downstairs, his foot slipping on the penultimate step. His hand caught the banister just before his face caught the floor. As he moved toward his parents, his eyes caught the metallic glint on the table near the coat rack. A katana rested on a dark wooden pedestal, encased in a red-and-black scabbard.
"Almost forgot..." He stepped closer and bowed before the sword. "Good morning, Grandfather. The day of my Binding Ceremony is finally here. Do you know what that means? Soon I’ll be a Tamer, just like you and Dad."
The steel did not answer—it never did—but Kayn continued regardless.
"To be honest, I’m nervous. But I’m sure everything will be fine. That’s what Dad always says." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Though you know he’s not always the most reliable source."
"Kayn, for the last time, move it or we’ll be late!" his mother insisted.
"Right away!" Kayn called back, looking once more at the blade. "Looks like I have to go, Grandfather. When I get back, I’ll tell you how it went. Wish me luck."
He rested his hand on the hilt, the cold metal biting into his fingers. One day he would wield this blade, but for now, he was content just to look at it. He burst through the door and sprinted down the path, leaving his parents behind, his boots carving tracks into the fresh snow.
Gael and Thalia looked at each other as a gust of frozen wind kicked up the powder at their feet.
"He certainly loves your father," Thalia remarked, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "He never misses a chance to talk to him."
Gael nodded, a smile softening the lines around his eyes. His father—Gael’s father, the grandfather Kayn had never known—had fought in the War of Discord and never returned. The war had swallowed him young, so young that Gael barely possessed true memories of the man. The only thing that had returned was the katana, appearing one morning at the doorstep, wrapped in stained cloth and leaning against the wood as if it had walked home on its own.
Though Kayn had never met the man who once brandished it, he had grown up on the stories his father told: tales of war, of honor, of sacrifice.
"Today will be a big day for him," Thalia added.
Kayn was waiting for them by the gate, hopping from one foot to the other.
"No doubt," Gael said. "Whatever happens, we’ll be right by his side."
Thalia looked at her husband, then at the boy who couldn't stop jumping with excitement at the gate. She tilted her head, offered a smile, and took his arm. Together, they set off.
The promised day had arrived...
..."
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