Seeds of The Seven (Rubia)

33. Battle of the Azurite Gem

Without hesitation, Eldon turned to follow the healer out of the room. Eliya and Mori exchanged a glance before quickly getting up and trailing behind him, their curiosity piqued.

The group made their way through the quiet corridors of the sanctum until they reached the room where the young man was being kept. Eldon stepped inside first, his eyes scanning the room until they settled on the figure lying in the bed, eyes open and alert.

“Greetings,” Eldon greeted the young man softly, approaching the bedside. “How are you feeling?”

The young man looked up at Eldon, his eyes filled with confusion, scanned his eyes to the group and saw Eliya, their eyes met and remembered something, closed his eyes and it took him back to his homelands.

The young man's eyes snapped open, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. He remembered why he had come to Rubia—to find a man with silver hair and same blue piercing eyes as his, rumored to possess a powerful gemstone that could save their homelands. The urgency of his mission flooded his mind, pushing him to try and rise from the bed, but his weakened state betrayed him, sending a sharp wave of pain through his body.

Eldon, sensing the man's distress, hurried to his side. "Easy," he said soothingly, placing a reassuring hand on the young man's shoulder. "You're still recovering. You need to rest."

The young man shook his head, his eyes filled with determination. "I must leave now. Time is of the essence."

Eldon's calm demeanor remained unwavering. "I understand, but rushing will only hinder your recovery and jeopardize your mission. Trust me, you need more rest."

Despite Eldon's words, the young man insisted, his voice growing more desperate. Eldon continued to reason with him, his tone gentle yet firm, until finally, the young man relented, his tense muscles relaxing as he sank back onto the bed.

Then a memory again played in his mind...

...The bitter wind howled through the icy landscape, carrying flecks of snow that stung like tiny needles. Amidst this unforgiving winter, an old rugged man stood firm, clad in thick fur-lined clothes adorned with tribal stitches. In one hand, he wielded an icy shield that shimmered with frost, while in the other, an icy axe gleamed menacingly.

Before him, a shadowy figure swirled and shifted, encircling them, its form elusive and menacing. The old man's eyes narrowed yet confused, but still he faced it with determination, the frosty air shimmering with magical energy.

Beside him stood a young man, his form surrounded by ice figures that mirrored his movements. With a sword crafted from ice, he fought fiercely alongside the old man, their movements synchronized and precise despite the biting cold.

The clash of ice against darkness echoed through the frozen landscape, each strike resonating with purpose and power. The old man's voice cut through the storm, strong and commanding.

"You must reach Rubia," he shouted over the howling wind. "Find this man. He is the key to our land's survival!"

Without questioning further ado, the young man nodded, for he heard stories about the man he was talking about, his focus unwavering as he parried an attack from the shadowy figure. Together, they fought with a fierce determination, their goal driving them forward even as the snow threatened to engulf them.

As the battle raged on, the old man's movements grew more fluid, his axe and shield dancing with deadly precision. With a final, powerful strike, he shattered the shadowy figure, dispersing it into nothingness.

Breathing heavily, the old man turned to the young warrior beside him. "You must not delay," he said urgently. "Rubia awaits, and with it, our last hope."