The story so far:

---- Aija and the others are on the South-Land. They are waiting for the Leadership to attack.

---- Aija finds out that The Gale was attacked on the Main Lands, and she worries for her brother - Rei/Goldstar.

---- Goldstar is alive. They lost the Premiere, Leigh, Tailyn, Arah Lin. His leg is broken and his finger missing.  

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****3.1. ZE ****

"An hajè iyoè."

"Zyn la ois cem.

I can do this.

He repeated it innumerable times; he would repeat it until it started to feel veridical. He said the words to himself in Iernei and Za because CommLang just didn't serve. He needed the language of the world he lived on, the world he belonged to.

Ze plopped onto the snow-covered land, winded after his training session with Ru'n Thr'vir – Aa'di Irih'va's cousin, and master of the fh're: an Iernei weapon. Ze heaved in loud rasps, sweat evaporating over his body from the intensity of the cold. Gone were the days of simple training; the moment he'd given the acceptance to becoming the Zayr Chief, his drill had taken a brutish turn. No more sheltered, glass-walled instruction rooms; he'd gone from practice in the Royal Gardens to practice in the Riu-nu-Areas-ean: the Valley of Blood-Flowers.

The Riu-nu-Areas-ean sat cosily amid the Mux'xra Range of mountains. Ze could see the Mux'xra Ust on one of the mountains ahead; the architectural wonder visible even from the distance. He'd heard from Ru'n On'jir that the structure, when viewed from atop, looked like a symmetrical eight-petal Au flower. Snow covered every inch of land around him, and the stalks of the nearing-to-bloom Blood-Flowers rose above the snow. Chunky snowflakes drifted down, coating the place in silence. The serenity of deep-winter silence was a beauty of its own merit. At first, the quiet fazed him, but with time, he'd started to recognize the enchantment in it. He wondered if Ru'n Thr'vir, currently walking back to the White Palace, would hear him whisper, the quiet carrying every sound far. Ze could hear his heart pounding in him, with clarity, reuniting him with the fact that his heart kept him alive. And that Na'thwir could take it away.

Still unaware if he matched the Zayr Chief in ability, Ze feared the imminent fight between them. But Aa'di Irih'va, though the Hi'er Emperor hadn't yet praised his improvements, seemed convinced Ze could defeat Na'thwir. And that motivated Ze more than anything else - Aa'di Irih'va's belief. Ze's lessons with the Emperor were hard, but he'd started to keep up with the unrelenting stamina of the man. Ze often reminisced that first fight where Aa'di hadn't held back, and his blood had streaked the white floor. He'd come a long way since then, and even though he'd never best the Emperor or draw first-blood, he knew he'd polished his rudimentary fight-skills into something more acceptable.

The suns – Ish'th and E'mn – were setting; it was just past noon. Ze picked up his fh're: he'd graduated to having his own weapon. He lifted his gaze to the Palace; he had to make the walk back to the mountains and then climb all the way to the Palace. That had become the present routine – make the climb down, walk to the Valley, train, and make it back to Mux'xra Ust on foot. It's what would make Ze gain endurance, the Emperor claimed. The man had done it, too, when he'd trained as a child. Ze had loathed it in the beginning; he'd be out of breath soon and needed several breaks. There had also been the fright of falling down the mountain if he slipped on the snow-covered stairs. The stairs, carved into the mountain, had no railings for support or safety. But now, Ze could climb without a single break or feeling like the cold would drain him of life. It wasn't effortless; he still felt out of breath once he reached the top, but the fact that he'd already bettered motivated him.

Ze started his journey, a smile gracing his lips at the thoughts of Ruyanir waiting for him. The Zayr Princess had her own training session with Ru'n Lwr'vyn in the instruction room. Ze still remembered her delight in learning Aa'di Irih'va had set up lessons for her.

Ze and Ruyanir weren't married yet. Aa'di Irih'va wanted to do it the formal way by inviting the Rulers of the smaller kingdoms that comprised the Hi'er Empire and broadcast the wedding to all of Ierne. Since it was winter and short notice, the Emperor had feared low attendance. But the Rulers had come through, and every last one had accepted the invitation. It meant that Ze would have an ostentatious, royal wedding. Even a year ago, he couldn't have imagined his life changing this dramatically. He only wished his family were there to witness it.

Halfway up the mountain, Ze started to tire. But with each step, he reminded himself why he went through the ordeal willingly.

Aa'di Irih'va: there was something profoundly pure, honourable, and genuine about the Iernei Emperor. That in itself was the man's power: authenticity and unfeigned love for his people. Ze had asked himself if he could ever match the Emperor by a sliver in leading the Zayr. He'd never found the answer.

Ruyanir and the Zayr: they deserved a better life than the one they had under Na'thwir. Ze had to fight for them.

Zxah'yr and Ze'dvar: to complete what they'd begun. Ze was proud he belonged to their family; their righteous blood ran through him, and he owed their people a better life.

His mother Diya: to show her his powers, like his father's, could be used for good. To, at least, make her proud of him.

And Ze, himself: for he'd found meaning to his inane existence. He'd been lost for so long; now, he had a purpose tethering his life to it.

He'd do it for himself.

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