Chapter 10: Talar's Decision

The embers of the feast fires glowed faintly in the predawn light, casting long shadows across Sundial Mesa. Most of the tribes had retreated to their tents, though the scout's grim report hung over the camp like a storm cloud. The Kavaran threat had become real—a presence just beyond the eastern border. Conversations carried through the crisp air, hushed and urgent, filled with fear and speculation.

Kael paced outside his tent, his boots grinding against the dry dirt. His hands flexed at his sides, restless with the need to act. The failure of the ceremonial hunt still gnawed at him, but now there was a chance to make things right. A chance to prove himself.

The sound of raised voices carried over the mesa, drawing Kael's attention toward the central fire. A small circle of elders had formed around his father, their faces lit by the low flames. Talar, his staff planted firmly in the ground, stood at the center. Despite the lines of age carved deep into his face, he radiated an authority that silenced the tension swirling around him.

Kael hesitated at the edge of the gathering, his heart pounding. This was a place for leaders, not failures. Yet he edged closer, the pull of the conversation too strong to resist.

"We cannot ignore this," Talar said, his voice low but commanding. "The Kavarans are testing us. If we do nothing, they'll take it as a sign of weakness."

"They could also take it as a provocation if we respond," Risa of the Ember Tribe countered. Her sharp eyes reflected the firelight, her tone cutting. "Marching into the borderlands could escalate the situation unnecessarily."

"We must consider the long-term implications," added Elder Jorek of the Stone Tribe. His voice rumbled like a distant avalanche, his massive arms crossed over his chest. "If we provoke them, we risk drawing the empire's full attention. The tribes are not united enough to survive another war."

Talar's gaze swept across the group. "We won't survive if we bury our heads in the sand," he said evenly.

"That doesn't mean we should rush into action," said Elder Lasha of the Bone Tribe, her thin frame wrapped in layers of tattered cloth. Her voice was soft, but her words carried a quiet authority. "The Kavarans are watching us. A single misstep could give them an excuse to strike."

"Or they'll strike regardless," Marek said smoothly, stepping closer. His golden cloak caught the light as he gestured toward the horizon. "The Kavarans don't need excuses. They expand because they can. If we hesitate, we'll be caught off guard when they come for us."

"And what would you suggest, Marek?" Jorek asked, narrowing his eyes.

"We prepare," Marek replied. "Strengthen our defenses. Send scouts to assess the situation. If the Kavarans have crossed into the borderlands, we need to know their numbers and their intent."

Talar's staff tapped against the ground as he straightened. "A patrol is necessary—to observe, not to engage. We need information before we act."

"And who will lead this patrol?" Marek asked, his tone deceptively casual.

"I will," Talar said simply.

Kael's breath caught in his throat. He stepped closer, his pulse quickening.

The elders exchanged uneasy glances.

"Talar," Risa said carefully, "you are our King Chief. Your strength is not what it once was. Shouldn't someone younger lead this effort?"

Talar's lips pressed into a thin line. "I will not ask others to risk their lives for a task I am not willing to undertake myself. This is my responsibility."

"You're the King Chief, not a scout," Marek said, his voice smooth but edged. "Your place is here, with the tribes."

"I know my place, Marek," Talar replied coolly. "And it is on the front lines when our people are threatened."

"We can't afford to lose our leader," Lasha said, her voice gentle but firm. "If something happens to you, Talar, it would destabilize the tribes."

"And if the Kavarans see weakness in our inaction, they'll strike regardless," Marek countered. "Talar's presence will send a message of strength."

Jorek let out a frustrated grunt. "If you're going, Talar, then you'll need more than a few scouts. This can't be a half-measure."

Kael clenched his fists, his chest tight as he stepped forward. The firelight danced across the elders' faces as all eyes turned toward him.

"Let me go with you," Kael said, his voice cutting through the rising tension.

Talar's gaze sharpened, his jaw tightening. "Kael, this is not a matter for debate."

"I'm not debating," Kael replied, his voice steady despite the knot in his stomach. "I want to help. I need to help. Let me prove that I can do this—that I'm not the failure everyone thinks I am."

"This isn't about redemption," Talar said, his tone heavy. "It's about protecting our people."

"I know," Kael said, stepping closer. "And that's why I need to be there. You've always told me that leadership isn't about words—it's about action. Let me take action."

Marek's voice slid into the charged silence, smooth and deliberate. "Perhaps he should go."

Talar turned sharply toward his brother, his staff digging into the dirt. "This isn't your decision, Marek."

"No," Marek said, his tone unbothered. "But it is an opportunity. You've always shielded Kael, Talar. Always stepped in to fix his mistakes. Maybe it's time you stopped. He'll never grow if you keep protecting him."

Kael bristled at Marek's words, but he hated how much truth they carried.

"I agree with Marek," Kael said quickly, though the words felt bitter on his tongue. "I can't learn if you don't let me try."

Talar's jaw tightened, his gaze boring into Kael with a mix of doubt and something deeper. He closed his eyes briefly, releasing a heavy sigh. The elders exchanged uneasy glances as the fire crackled in the silence.

Finally, Talar opened his eyes, fixing Kael with a piercing stare.

"Very well," he said, his voice reluctant but resolute. "You will join the patrol. But know this, Kael—this will not be like the hunt. Lives are on the line."

Kael swallowed hard, the weight of his father's words settling on his shoulders like a mantle. He nodded. "I understand."

Talar's gaze lingered, filled with both doubt and hope. "I pray that you do."

The circle of elders broke apart, their murmurs fading as they retreated to their tents. Marek lingered for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before disappearing into the shadows.

Kael stayed by the fire, his thoughts churning. He had begged for this chance, and now it was his. But as the flames flickered against the dark horizon, the enormity of what lay ahead pressed down on him like a storm waiting to break.

Somewhere beyond the eastern border, the Kavarans were waiting.

And for the first time, Kael would meet them not as a reckless boy, but as someone determined to lead.