The sect was unusually quiet. Last night had been a disaster—a tragedy that cast a somber shadow over what was supposed to be a joyous festival. News of the deaths spread like wildfire, igniting grief and fear among the disciples. Peers mourned their fallen friends, tears flowing freely as whispers of blame and dread filled the air.
Among the chaos came another revelation: Elder Sylra had been injured. This news sent shockwaves through the sect. Elders were meant to be untouchable—guiding lights in times of uncertainty. Yet here was Sylra, battered and bruised, proof that even they weren't invincible.
From the dojos, only fragments remained intact. The first dojo, once bustling with activity, now felt eerily empty. Save for Elder Myrra and Kale, along with a handful of surviving first dojo members, it stood nearly deserted. Most of the others had perished during the festival—some claimed by the mist guardian, others lost under mysterious circumstances.
It was clear: something far darker than anyone anticipated had unfolded in those mountains.
•---•
The dojo hall was silent except for the faint hum of murmured prayers from distant corners. Kale sat on the last row, his gaze sweeping across the sparse gathering. It struck him how much emptier it felt now—not just physically, but emotionally. He'd read the reports earlier, and the numbers were grim. Over thirty disciples dead. Dozens more injured or missing. A massacre disguised as celebration.
As his thoughts churned, Elder Myrra rose from her seat at the front of the room. Her presence commanded attention, even amidst the sorrow hanging heavy in the air.
"For now," she began, her voice steady but firm, "you are not to leave the compound. Either dive into the Ocean of knowledge or train your insights further. We cannot risk any more lives until we understand what we're dealing with."
Her words sparked immediate reactions.
One disciple raised their hand hesitantly. "But Elder Myrra, our alchemical recipes require rare materials found only outside the sect grounds. If we can't gather them, months of work will go to waste!"
Others chimed in, some voicing agreement while others argued against the restrictions. Tensions flared briefly before Myrra silenced them with a sharp glance.
"That is enough," she said curtly, her tone leaving no room for argument. Then, unexpectedly, her eyes locked onto Kale.
"Kale," she called out, her voice softer but still commanding. "Report what you found."
Kale froze for a moment, caught off guard. He hadn't expected to be singled out so directly. But he quickly composed himself, standing up slowly as all eyes turned toward him. Guess they weren't going to let him slip away quietly after all.
Clearing his throat, Kale began recounting the events of the past few days. His summary was brief but deliberate—he spoke of Alden's betrayal, the strange man who promised protection, and hints of danger tied to the Lake of Mist. He avoided mentioning specifics about the Moon Bloom flower or the Midnight Dust, keeping those secrets close for now.
When he finished, the room fell silent. Disciples exchanged uneasy glances, piecing together the fragments of his story. Elder Myrra nodded thoughtfully, her expression unreadable.
"Thank you, Kale," she said finally, signaling the end of the briefing. With that, the disciples began filing out of the hall, murmuring amongst themselves as they left.
•---•
Just as Kale was about to rise and follow the others, Elder Myrra's voice stopped him cold.
"Kale," she called again, her tone casual yet pointed. She was seated cross-legged now, watching him with an intensity that made his skin prickle.
Kale sighed inwardly, sinking back into his seat.
Guess they really aren't going to let me go easily, he thought bitterly.
Elder Myrra gestured for him to approach. As he walked closer, her piercing gaze never wavered. Whatever she wanted, it wasn't going to be simple—or quick.
"You've been holding back," she said bluntly once he stood before her. "Tell me everything. No omissions this time."
Kale swallowed hard. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.