4.2.25 - The 9 Eyed King and His Blind Fate pt 5

Parable 5 – The Cry That Chose Her

Chapter 5 – The Cry of the Ebek

Pel sulked about the cave as he helped the junior members clean up the mess. Absol handed him three bags: one for organs, one for scraps, and one for edible meat. Pel walked from group to group, collecting the remains. The three bags hung from a wooden stick across his back, shaped like a three-pronged crown.

It was a familiar task. Pel was often given scavenging duty during hunting raids, due to his hesitation and discomfort fighting in groups.

Shoulders slumped, he wandered the hollowed sapphire oak, collecting shells, feet, tentacles—but most importantly, the calcified hearts of the gruhanas.

“Pelican... are you okay?” Iris asked, startling him from behind as he bent over a carcass.

Pel’s thoughts had been occupied by the image of Iris in combat—the sharpness of her instinct, her movement, the grace in the chaos. He didn’t know how to respond.

“I’m fine, Iris,” Pel muttered, sharper than he meant. Their eyes met. He knelt down beside the gruhana and began to dress it. “I just gotta do this. Father’s mad. I guess I shouldn’t have taken that shield.” He dug into the slimy, tough hide, slicing carefully. “One of the members ended up without one... he was just mad, and…” Pel sighed, trailing off.

Iris knelt beside him and wrapped him in a quiet hug.

“Hey. I get it,” she whispered. “You’ve got a lot on your mind. And your ascension’s soon... how about I treat you to a tsokolate?”

Pel kept cutting. Iris’s voice sang in that teasing, musical tone.

“C’mon! Imagine how cold it’ll be in the village—we’ll be home, sipping a warm tsokolate, before your task. It’s on me!”

Pel finally broke through to the inner shell. With precision, he jabbed the tip of his knife, dislodging the plate. He reached into the opening and pulled out a heart.

“Okay, okay, help me finish this,” he said. “Maybe hold this shield? I swear they make these salobs to carry as much weight as possible before crushing a Zser and ripping ‘em in half.”

The thought of the sweet, frothy drink crept into his mouth. He glanced up to see Iris grinning smugly, face far too close for comfort. He pushed her away, grumbling as he went back to work.

Iris tousled his hair and whispered, “Your dad’s coming.”

Pel looked up. Roc approached, the great chasm behind him humming with potential.

Ek-Ek-Ek.

Three thunderous calls.

The cave floor shook. Even the dead gruhana bodies shifted. Roc turned. From the chasm’s depths, an Ebek burst forth—wailing, its nightshade feathers larger than homes, its gusts lifting the corpses like leaves. Its beak, razor-sharp, tore into the fallen gruhanas—perhaps its own brood.

Pel froze. He had never seen an Ebek before. Its size left him awestruck.

Roc’s voice cracked through the chaos. “PREPARE THE WALL! ABSOL, THEODAM, FORMATION ZETA!”

In an instant, Roc was airborne.

Pel’s eyes tracked him. He has to use Rabbit here. The distance’s too great for anything else.

He vanished.

Absol and Theodam flanked the Ebek, which pecked violently at the affirmers’ defensive dome. Just as Pel scanned for Roc, Iris threw a cloak over him. She lifted off the ground. Pel threw the cloak aside—his father was directly above the beast.

Roc’s fists glowed with medra as he finished his chant:

“One Above the Rabbit’s Kiss—Eternal Flower!”

From his hands burst two colossal floral rabbit ears. His fists struck the Ebek’s skull. Petals cascaded like blades, tearing through the beast’s wings, severing its control of the winds.

The gusts ceased.

Enhanzers emerged, forming a ring. They chanted in perfect unison:

“Blazing like the prayer of oceans, Ashes like the needs of the seed, Grow in opposition of Wither, We invoke the 3rd Parable of the Sun!”

Their medra swirled into glowing orbs. Roc landed, then launched himself toward the energy. He kicked one orb toward Theodam, who absorbed it mid-chant—his emerald ichor spikes pierced the Ebek’s side.

Roc leapt again—but his leg failed.

He crashed hard, shoulder scraping stone.

Iris had already reached the affirmers, but the Ebek, even maimed and bleeding, continued its assault. Tears streamed from its eyes.

Pel’s guilt surged.

He dove forward, aiming to help. He kicked the second medra ball toward Absol, but the kick was off—it arced wrong. The Ebek caught it in its beak.

Its wing began to heal.

It unleashed a wind blast, throwing Roc, Pel, and several enhanzers backward.

Pel staggered upright. The Ebek smashed through the weakened dome, grabbing one of the affirmers in its beak.

As it prepared to toss him skyward—Iris struck.

She sliced through the man’s arms, dropping him to safety.

The affirmers rewove shields of blood and hymn, containing the stumps.

Pel leapt. Roc appeared beside him.

“Sundai,” Roc muttered, voice wind-fast. He said more, but Pel couldn’t hear.

Dust exploded.

Light flashed.

When it cleared, the Ebek’s head lay on the ground. The affirmers and Iris lay unconscious behind Roc.

“ABSOL! GET THE HEALERS! MOVE THE WOUNDED TO ROCCO!” Roc shouted, commanding clarity in the chaos. “THEODAM, GET THAT BODY INTO THE CHASM—TAKE THE HEART AND ANYTHING YOU WANT. ENHANZERS—MOVE THE GRUHANAS TO STORAGE. DRESS THEM IN CAMP. THIS PLACE IS TOO DANGEROUS NOW.”

Roc turned and ran to Pel, who lay injured.

His rabbit foot had burned from the medra orb. Roc lifted him and carried him toward Rocco.

“You did good. Calm. No panic. Solid effort. I’m sorry I couldn’t reach you in time.”

He didn’t look down.

Pel thought of the man’s arms—severed.

“I know you’re thinking about him,” Roc said, as if reading his mind. “But that’s the risk we take. You’ve got the skill, Pelican. You just have to get out of your own head. You hesitated. Earlier too. And hesitation kills.”

He continued.

“We do this because we have to. The village needs resources. This isn’t about glory. It’s survival. Respect life. When you take from it, till something back. Sow with death—but always harvest with purpose.”

He looked at Pel.

“Remember what your mother said: Power is Balance. Balance is Life. Life is Power. Only the living can shape the living. Let the dead live in inaction.”

Pel didn’t respond. His foot ached. His soul sagged. He closed his eyes.

Another outing. Another sycle.

Another failure.

He wished for nothing more than to wake up in his bed and forget it all.