The Essence Flow-Chapter 40: The Stillness Between Wars
Towan sat up slowly, the aches in his body dull but present. Across the room, the tall man—calm, stone-faced—watched him like he’d been waiting.
“Who…” Towan rasped, “...are you?”
The man didn’t move. “Lytharos.”
The name hit like a dropped sword.
“I was investigating the ruin you stumbled into,” he said, arms crossed. “Too late, unfortunately. The corruption was already deep. And the one I was tracking…”
His gaze sharpened.
“Karn.”
Towan’s jaw tightened. “You were after him?”
Lytharos nodded. “He’s made a habit of working with dangerous people. Always walks away with more than he deserves.”
Across the room, Elliot stirred, his voice rough. “We were looking for you.”
Lytharos turned.
“Leon sent us,” Elliot added.
That made Lytharos pause.
“Leon,” he repeated, quieter this time. “He’s still alive.”
Towan gave a weak grin. “Yeah. Still kicking. Told us to find a guy named Lytharos in Stoneveil.”
“And to train us,” Elliot finished.
Lytharos exhaled sharply. “You’re too green for that. He knows better.”
Towan huffed. “We held our own.”
“No,” Lytharos replied, blunt. “You survived. That’s not the same thing.”
A tense silence fell… until something on Towan’s wrist caught the firelight.
Lytharos stepped forward, eyes narrowing. “That ring.”
Towan glanced down. “Oh—yeah, I knew he forged these. Told us he bought them or something, but c’mon…”
He held up his hand. “You can
feel
the flow.”
Lytharos extended his own hand. A different ring—heavier, older—but pulsing with the
same exact energy.
“He only made a few of these,” he said. “Gave them to the ones he trusted most.”
He studied Towan and Elliot again. This time, with something new in his eyes.
“You really are his students.”
Suddenly—
A groan.
The third bed shifted.
Towan turned, startled, as the silver-haired girl sat up slowly, hand to her head. Her expression was hazy, but sharp. Her eyes flicked around the room, then locked onto the boys—and Lytharos.
“…Where am I?”
Towan blinked.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Elliot reached for his bag, just in case.
Lytharos straightened. “You’re safe now.”
She eyed him, untrusting. “Define ‘safe.’”
Towan leaned over to Elliot.
“…She was the one who tried to break my ribs, right?”
“Yeah,” Elliot muttered back. “Pretty sure.”
“...Still kinda cute though.”
The silver-haired girl sat upright, blinking slowly. Her breath was steady now, but her body still trembled slightly—like it wasn’t quite convinced the nightmare was over.
Lytharos stepped closer, tone level but not unkind.
“What do you remember?”
She looked at him, gaze sharp despite the haze. “A lot of screaming,” she muttered. “Pain. Then… silence. And before that—”
She winced, holding her temple. “I don’t know how long I was in that place.”
Her eyes shifted to the boys. “I fought you, didn’t I?”
Towan raised a hand sheepishly. “In my defense, you were trying to decapitate me.”
She blinked. “That tracks.”
Lytharos gave a small nod. “Your name?”
The girl hesitated—then squared her shoulders.
“Sylra,” she said clearly. “Of Windvale.”
Lytharos tilted his head. “Hmph. I was offered a commission to find you.”
Her eyes widened.
“I declined it,” he added without hesitation. “Figured you were dead.”
Sylra’s face didn’t change. “You’re not the first.”
Towan leaned toward Elliot. “Okay but why does her name sound like it should be carved into a statue?”
Elliot: “Don’t flirt with the ex-corrupted assassin.”
Towan: “Not flirting. Just admiring. Very different.”
Sylra sat at the edge of the bed, her fingers curled around a ceramic cup. The herbal tea Lytharos had prepared steamed faintly, carrying a scent of mint and something unfamiliar.
Across from her, Towan sat cross-legged on the floor, fidgeting with the ring on his finger. Elliot leaned against the wall beside him, arms crossed.
None of them spoke for a moment.
Then—Sylra broke the silence.
“I owe you both an apology,” she said quietly.
Towan blinked. “Huh?”
“I was… not in my right mind.” Her eyes didn’t waver. “The corruption buried everything. I didn’t even know who I was anymore. I’m grateful you stopped me.”
Elliot nodded. “We’ve seen what that stuff does. It wasn’t you.”
Towan scratched the back of his head. “Still almost broke my spine. Respect.”
A faint smile tugged at Sylra’s lips. “You dodged most of it.”
“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “Because I
had to.
”
The next few days passed in a strange peace.
Lytharos let them rest.
He didn’t say much.
Didn’t ask questions.
But he watched.
He took care of them without hovering—bandaging wounds, providing food, and occasionally muttering something about
“kids these days”
under his breath.
Sylra stayed for two nights.
On the third morning, she stood by the door, cloak draped over her shoulders like a final layer of armor. Her silver hair was tied back with precise intent, not a strand out of place.
Towan stirred from his seat, watching her silhouette framed by the pale morning fog.
“Where are you going?” he asked, though part of him already knew.
She glanced back. Her expression was unreadable—calm, distant, maybe just a touch too calm.
“I’m going to take a walk,” she said.
Yeah, and I'm the Queen of Virell, Towan thought. She was clearly heading somewhere,
for
something. But if she didn’t want to say it, he wasn’t going to pry.
“You sure you’re good to travel?”
“I’m not.” She smiled faintly. “But I’m going anyway.”
A pause hung in the air. He thought about what to say. How to say it.
“…Thanks for not killing me,” she added, quieter this time.
Towan gave her a slow nod. “Thanks for not making me try.”
She dipped her head in return, then turned and walked into the mist, vanishing like a passing memory.
Later that day
A wooden training spear landed with a
thunk
at Towan’s feet.
Lytharos stood across from him, arms folded, his usual grim scowl firmly in place.
“Get up.”
Towan blinked, still nursing the remnants of post-breakfast laziness. “Huh?”
“You want to fight like Leon’s students?” Lytharos rolled his neck, joints popping like distant thunder. “Then start proving it.”
He looked over to Elliot. “You too. Get over here, boy.”
Towan sighed, standing up and rolling his shoulders. “No rest day, huh?”
Lytharos arched a brow. “You just had three.”
Elliot was already walking over, eyes sharp, expression focused. “Let’s begin.”
“First,” Lytharos said, stepping forward, “let me see your moves.”
He shifted into a semi-guarded stance—feet planted, hands loose, weight forward. It was a classic veteran posture: ready for anything, worried about nothing.
“Careful,” Towan smirked, gripping the practice spear. “You sure you’re up for this, old man?”
They’d fought Leon once—and got thoroughly wiped. But they’d also survived corruption, stood against Karn, and walked away stronger.
Their confidence wasn’t just rising. It was catching fire.
Lytharos cracked his knuckles. “Don’t hold back.”
Elliot joined Towan’s side. “We weren’t planning to.”
The morning mist still lingered around the field—soon to be scattered by the clash of wood and will.
.
!
Chapter 40: The Stillness Between Wars
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