The dim glow of lanterns flickered against the wooden walls of the Jetta-U council chamber. The night wind howled outside, yet inside, a storm of a different kind was brewing.


    Vice Leader Varian Muro stood with arms crossed, his expression dark with irritation. He had held his tongue long enough.


    Varian: "Elder Harwin, I must speak plainly. This cannot continue. That boy—Lee Ardent—he is reckless, loud, and disrespectful. He speaks of war like a fool who has never seen one. Why do you let him disrupt our order?"


    Elder Harwin Jetta remained seated, his weathered face unreadable. He exhaled softly, hands clasped before him.


    Harwin: "Lee speaks his truth. You do not have to like it, but you will not silence him."


    Varian’s scowl deepened.


    Varian: "Truth? He is nothing but a dreamer! He does not respect our ways—he stirs division among our people. The others mock him, and yet you refuse to put him in his place. Why?"


    The elder’s gaze lifted, eyes distant, as if looking beyond the present moment. He was silent for a long time before he finally spoke.


    Harwin: "Because years ago, I saw what happens when a world without justice creates its own monster."


    Varian frowned, but before he could ask, Harwin continued.


    <hr>


    Harwin: "It was during the days when we sought to expand our clan, offering sanctuary to those without a home. We traveled far, searching for the lost and abandoned."


    His voice grew quieter, heavier.


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    Harwin: "Then, we found the village."


    The memory burned vividly in his mind. The air had been thick with the stench of death. Homes reduced to cinders, bodies strewn across the ground—men, women, children. Some had been slaughtered mercilessly, others left to suffer. It was a sight that even hardened warriors could not bear to look at for long.


    But amidst the carnage, there had been one survivor.


    A boy, no older than eight, drenched in blood, gripping a dagger far too large for his small hands.


    Around him, the corpses of eight men lay still—the ones who had come to finish off the village, looters seeking to take what little remained.


    Harwin: "Eight men. Eight killers, slaughtered by a single child."


    Varian stiffened, his earlier irritation giving way to something colder—disbelief, perhaps even unease.


    Varian: "You''re saying Lee—"


    Harwin nodded.


    Harwin: "That boy was Lee Ardent."


    <hr>


    Harwin: "He did not cry. He did not speak. He simply stood there, covered in their blood, gripping his dagger as if it was the only thing keeping him alive."


    Varian remained silent, absorbing the weight of the revelation.


    Harwin: "What would you have done, Varian? If you had found a child like that? A child who had nothing, who had lost everything?"


    The vice leader looked away, jaw clenched.


    Harwin: "You call him reckless, but do you know what I see? I see a boy who never got to be a child. A boy who fought alone when no one came to save him. A boy who learned that in this world, the weak are left to die."


    Varian exhaled sharply.


    Varian: "And yet, he refuses to accept reality. He still believes in change."


    Harwin allowed a faint, almost sorrowful smile.


    Harwin: "Yes. And that is why, despite everything, he is stronger than us all."


    Varian scoffed but didn’t argue. He ran a hand through his hair before shaking his head.


    Varian: "Strength? You speak as if he is destined to surpass us."


    Harwin leaned forward slightly, his voice now carrying a quiet certainty.


    Harwin: "Not destined, perhaps. But capable. His strength is unlike ours. It is raw, untamed. He does not wield it yet, but one day, if he learns to channel it…"


    Varian’s eyes narrowed.


    Varian: "Then what?"


    Harwin exhaled, his words a warning and a prophecy.


    Harwin: "Then he will be the strongest warrior our clan has ever known."