NOVEL NEXT Chapter 41 – The Letter in Crimson
Recap:
The last battle shook more than just the ground beneath their feet. Jemil was forced to tap into the forbidden core within him for the first time, unleashing a surge of power strong enough to shatter the stranger's composure. Yet, the enemy didn't seem defeated—he vanished, leaving only questions and the sinking feeling that this fight was just the beginning.
The courtyard was still a mess of broken stone and drifting dust. The wives picked their way through the wreckage, their eyes flicking between the damage and Jemil, who sat on a fragment of wall like a man trying to hold himself together with sheer willpower.
Kaela crossed her arms. "You're going to explain what that was. Now."
Her tone wasn't angry—it was the tone of a warrior who'd just watched her captain turn into a walking calamity.
"I will," Jemil said, voice low. "But not here."
Before anyone could respond, a faint flutter caught Liora's attention. She turned toward the main gate. Something small and red drifted through the air, twisting as if carried by an unnatural wind. It landed gently on a pile of rubble at Jemil's feet.
A letter.
Not parchment. Not paper.
It was folded from something that looked like living silk, the crimson surface faintly pulsing like a heartbeat.
Jemil didn't touch it right away. "Mirella…?"
The priestess knelt beside it, her hands hovering above the strange material as she muttered an incantation. Her magic shimmered over the letter, then fizzled instantly—like water poured onto burning coals.
She exhaled sharply. "It's warded. My magic can't read it."
So Jemil picked it up himself.
The moment his fingers brushed the silk, the letter unfurled on its own, the writing burning into existence across the fabric in glowing red strokes.
"Jemil,
Now that I've tasted your power, I can't allow it to sleep again.
Three nights from now, meet me where the moon touches the ocean's edge.
Come alone, or I will make them bleed."
Kaela's knuckles whitened. "He's calling you out. Again."
Liora's eyes narrowed. "Then we won't let you go alone."
But Jemil's gaze lingered on the last flicker of light as the words faded from the letter, leaving the silk to crumble into ash in his palm.
"No," he said quietly. "If he wants me alone… then that's exactly what I'll give him."
The wives stared at him like he'd just declared he was walking into a storm without armor.
Because in a way… he was.
Scene 2 – Preparations and Protests
The meeting room smelled faintly of ink, steel oil, and Mirella's lavender tea. Jemil sat at the head of the long table, tracing lines across a map while the wives occupied every possible space — in a way only they could.
Kaela leaned forward, her elbows on the table, staring him down. "You're not going alone."
Liora had perched herself on the table's edge, twirling an arrow between her fingers. "You really think we're going to sit here and wait while you go meet the guy who can literally rip magic out of people?"
Mirella placed her tea cup down with a little too much force, the soft clink more threatening than it had any right to be. "I am a priestess, Jemil. My job is to preserve life, including yours. You can't honestly expect—"
"I can." Jemil's voice cut through the rising protests, calm but unshakable. "This isn't just a fight. It's bait. And if you come, you'll be part of the bait."
The room went quiet for a moment.
Then Kaela pointed a finger at him. "If you come back missing anything—an arm, a leg, a piece of your soul—I'm breaking the rest of you myself."
Liora smirked. "And if you die, I'll kill you again."
Mirella sighed, the picture of exasperated grace. "I'll be waiting at the docks, whether you approve or not. Just in case your stubbornness decides to get you killed."
Jemil almost smiled at that — almost. But the tension in his shoulders didn't fade. He knew exactly why the stranger wanted him alone.
And if his guess was right… three nights from now might be the last time any of them saw him as he was now.
Scene 3 – The Blade and the Promise
The training yard was lit by the warm orange of the setting sun, its light turning the practice dummies into long shadows on the cracked ground. Jemil stood in the center, his black coat draped over the fence, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows.
Kaela entered without a word, two wooden swords in hand. She tossed one to him.
"You can't stop me from worrying, but you can let me make sure you're sharp enough to survive."
Jemil caught the sword and tested its weight. "You still think I'm rusty?"
Kaela smirked. "I think you've been leaning too much on that power lately. I want to see your own skill."
The next moment, wood clashed against wood in a sharp crack. She pressed the attack fast, aiming for his ribs, then his shoulder, then his head in a blur of motion. Jemil blocked each strike, his feet gliding across the dirt.
It wasn't just training — it was communication without words.
Kaela's strikes said: Don't be reckless.
Jemil's parries said: I'll come back.
After several exchanges, Kaela broke the rhythm with a swift kick that sent him stumbling half a step. She didn't press the advantage — instead, she lowered her sword.
"When you face him," she said, eyes locked on his, "remember who's waiting for you."
Jemil nodded once. "I will."
Scene 4 – The Healer's Warning
The temple garden was quiet, save for the soft rustle of leaves and the steady trickle of water from the stone fountain. The air carried the scent of night-blooming flowers, calm but heavy — like the pause before a storm.
Mirella knelt by the fountain, her long white robes pooling around her. She didn't look up when Jemil approached, but he could feel her attention on him.
"You're walking into something that will take more than strength," she said, fingers trailing through the water. "It will take parts of you that may never come back."
Jemil stopped a few steps away. "And if I don't go?"
"Then others will pay the price in your place." Mirella finally turned, her eyes catching the silver moonlight. "I know. That's why you'll still go. But I need you to understand—" She stood, moving closer, her hand resting gently over his chest. "Power has a cost. And the higher you climb, the more it takes from in here."
He didn't answer right away. The garden's stillness felt louder than any battlefield.
Finally, he gave a small smile — not his usual confident one, but one with a hint of vulnerability.
"I'll come back," he said quietly.
Mirella searched his face for a moment before pulling her hand away. "Just… come back as you."
Scene 5 – The Archer's Bet
Jemil found Liora leaning against the training yard fence, a bow slung casually over her shoulder, chewing on a thin stalk of grass. She didn't straighten when he approached — just eyed him with a sly grin.
"You've been doing the whole 'mysterious farewell tour' thing," she said. "I'm guessing that means you're expecting trouble."
"Not expecting," Jemil said. "Guaranteeing."
Liora chuckled and tossed him a small coin pouch. He caught it on reflex.
"What's this?"
"A bet," she said. "You win your fight and come back in one piece, you buy me dinner. You lose, and…" She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose I'll just keep your money. Less awkward that way."
Jemil smirked. "And here I thought you were worried about me."
"Oh, I am," Liora said, straightening at last. "But worrying's boring. Betting on you? That's way more fun."
She stepped closer, lowering her voice just enough for only him to hear. "Don't make me lose the bet, Jemil."
He met her gaze for a moment, then tucked the pouch into his belt. "Guess I'll have to make it an expensive dinner."
Scene 6 – Walking Into the Storm
The night was cold enough that his breath curled in the air, but Jemil barely felt it. His coat was back on, boots steady on the stone road that wound out of the stronghold and toward the mountains beyond.
Behind him, the lights of the courtyard still burned. He didn't have to turn to know they were all there — Kaela leaning on her sword, Mirella at the garden's edge, Liora perched on the fence. Each one had already said what needed to be said, in their own way.
A gust of wind carried their scents, their voices, their unspoken hopes toward him.
He tightened the straps on his gloves.
He was walking toward an enemy who had shattered kingdoms and left cities in ashes. But for the first time in years, he felt something that wasn't just grim determination.
He felt anchored.
Halfway down the path, he heard Liora's voice call out, "Don't forget — expensive dinner!"
He didn't turn, but a small grin pulled at the corner of his mouth.
Then the grin faded, replaced by the steel focus of a man heading into the heart of a storm.
The mountains loomed ahead. Somewhere beyond them, his enemy waited.
And Jemil kept walking.
Next Chapter Preview:
The storm breaks. Steel will clash, powers will ignite, and Jemil will face the first wave of a battle meant to break him before he can reach his true enemy.
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