The Black mamba

The blazing sun poured over a field of fruit trees, its golden light filtering through the leaves. Thaurex, with baby Falethier strapped securely to his chest, worked steadily, plucking ripe fruits from the branches. A small, sharp cry broke the quiet rhythm—Falethier was awake, squirming in discomfort.

Smiling softly, Thaurex set her down on the grass, letting her tiny hands explore the basket of freshly picked fruit. Spotting a bright yellow lemon among the haul, he plucked it out and sliced it open with a practiced hand. Offering her a wedge, he watched as she curiously licked it, her face scrunching up in protest at the sourness.

But after a few hesitant licks, her displeasure shifted to delight. She giggled, her small fingers gripping the lemon tightly.

Thaurex froze, his gaze softening as he watched her—the simple joy on her face a sharp contrast to the weight he carried in his heart.

The loud bang of the door shattered the silence, bringing Thaurex back to reality. He sat in an old, abandoned warehouse, surrounded by rust and the eerie stillness that followed the rain. The cold wind howled through the empty space, mirroring the chill in Thaurex's heart. His determination to reunite with Falethier drove him forward.

Before him sat Ruco, Ethan, Eric, and Krumboli, their serious gazes reflecting their understanding of the risks and consequences of Thaurex's plan. Yet, they trusted their leader implicitly.

"I've made contact," Ruco said, his voice low and even. "They're ready to meet as soon as possible. It's your call, Thaurex. We leave now, or we abandon the mission and accept reality."

Thaurex's eyes locked onto Ruco's, burning with determination and conviction. "Do it," he said, his voice firm. "I know Falethier is alive."

Ruco's face broke into a wide grin as he clapped Ethan on the shoulder. "That's the Thaurex I know! Let's go get Falethier back!"

The group set off, their spaceship landing on a distant, icy moon. As they stepped out, another ship came into view. Thaurex approached the vessel, his heart pounding in anticipation.

The door hissed open, and a towering figure emerged. His dark skin and gold beard seemed chiseled from the very ice that surrounded them. Thaurex's eyes widened in awe as he turned to Ruco.

"That's..." he began, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ruco finished his sentence, a hint of reverence in his tone. "Valmor's half-brother, the true descendant of Avitraux's creator."

The two men shook hands, sealing their alliance as the others closed in around them.

"Lavex," Thaurex greeted, gripping the heir of Avitraux's hand firmly.

Lavex returned a dazzling smile, one that seemed to radiate comfort and authority. "You must be Thaurex," he said, his presence as reassuring as his expression.

"I hear you're planning to tear down Umbra Keep. Why the sudden change of heart?" Lavex asked, his tone calm yet probing.

Thaurex's jaw tightened. "I discovered they've been using children for twisted experiments—even after Avitraux supposedly abandoned such practices," he began, only for Ruco to interject sharply.

"We suspect his daughter, Falethier, is being held in a large black vault at Umbra Keep HQ," Ruco added bluntly.

Thaurex shot Ruco a look of disbelief. Ruco simply shrugged, unfazed.

Lavex stroked his beard thoughtfully, his intrigue evident. "A father risking it all... for a mere theory," he murmured to himself. After a moment of silence, he straightened up. "I'll help you—on one condition."

Both Thaurex and Ruco exchanged wary glances, their curiosity piqued.

Lavex's warm smile faded, replaced by a steely seriousness. "We destroy Umbra Keep together. And that means..." he paused, his eyes narrowing, "...killing the General."

The weight of the words hung heavily in the cold air.

Thaurex's response came in a voice low and sharp, like the edge of a blade. "The General has lied to me for five years, trying to convince me my daughter was dead—rejecting every lead I've uncovered." His fists clenched as he continued. "To me, he died the moment he allied himself with Zaulkom."

Lavex's smile returned, a grin of satisfaction. Moments later, his laughter echoed through the frigid night.

Snow began to fall, settling gently over the barren landscape. Thaurex, now silent, turned his focus away from the conversation. Lavex and Ruco were finalizing plans, their voices distant and indistinct.

As Thaurex's eyes wandered, he caught sight of something—or someone.

There, in the snowy haze, stood Falethier. She wore the same outfit she had during her last winter with him, though her hair had turned a striking mix of black and white. Her white gloves, however, remained unchanged. She gazed back at him, her expression unreadable yet hauntingly familiar.

A sudden gust of wind swept through, breaking Thaurex's concentration. He blinked, and just like that, she was gone—disappeared into the snow as if carried away by the very breeze.