Chapter 26 - BAYU

Jabari's funeral was a solemn and heartrending affair, held at the heart of St. John's under the twilight sky. The entire square was a sea of mourning elves, their black garb glinting faintly with subtle embroidery that caught the fading light. The air was heavy with grief, raw and unspoken, yet it resonated in every tear-filled gaze and trembling hand.

A sharp procession of elven warriors moved through the crowd, their movements precise and unified. Medallions glittered on their chests as they bore Jabari's coffin aloft on their shoulders. The crowd surged forward to toss offerings—delicate flowers, coins, and even chocolates—onto the path ahead of the warriors. Each gift seemed to carry its own whispered prayer, the rustle of petals and clink of coins a quiet symphony of farewell.

At the head of the procession was Maleko. He walked with the posture of a man far older than his years, his deep navy suit perfectly tailored but somehow only accentuating his gaunt frame. A waistcoat hugged his slim torso, and a quiver of arrows slung over his back. His face was drawn, shadows settling under his eyes like bruises from sleepless nights. He didn't glance at the crowd; his focus was unwavering, fixed on some invisible point ahead, his jaw clenched in what seemed a mix of grief and fury.

Beside Bayu, Isaac murmured softly, his voice barely audible over the somber hum of the crowd. "I feel so bad for Maleko. He's so strong..."

Bayu glanced at Isaac and then at Maleko again. Strength? Bayu wasn't so sure. To suddenly shoulder the weight of leadership, to bear the title of Chief of Elves at just twenty-four, was something Bayu couldn't begin to fathom. Jabari's death had thrust Maleko into a role he might not yet have been ready for, but there was no time for readiness in war or grief.

Bayu shifted his gaze to Tomoya. He stood apart from the crowd, close to Kai, his head bowed and his expression veiled. Pale and sickly, Tomoya looked as though he might collapse under the weight of his presence here. He shouldn't have come—not after everything—but he had insisted. Perhaps this was his own penance.

Isaac swayed slightly beside Bayu, his steps faltering. Bayu leaned in close. "Are you okay?" His eyes flickered briefly to the puncture wounds on Isaac's neck, still raw and faintly red.

"Yes." Isaac wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow."Just a little dizzy."

Before Bayu could say more, a trumpet's mournful wail echoed through the square, long and sorrowful. The sound seemed to settle deep into his chest, a vibration of sorrow that brought an ache to his throat and made his breath hitch.

Maleko ascended a podium at the square's center. The wooden structure creaked faintly under his boots, but he moved with purpose, his presence commanding. He faced the gathered elves, his back straight, his face steely.

"My father..." Maleko began, his voice steady but laced with emotion, "was a brilliant man. Utterly and completely devoted to the elves of Antigua. He taught me that leadership is not about ruling but about serving. He gave his life for us, for me, for this island."

The crowd stood in heavy silence, many with tear-streaked faces, as Maleko drew in a trembling breath and continued. "Today, we honor his memory, not only with our tears but with our resolve. We will not let his sacrifice be in vain."

He paused, his hand tightening into a fist as his voice rose, edged with defiance. "Aetherwing Brigade." He looked directly at Kai, his gaze fierce and unyielding. "I am planning to drive out every last witch who has settled on our lands. They do not belong here. We will reclaim what is ours."

The crowd rippled with murmurs, but Maleko silenced them with a raised hand. A single tear rolled down his cheek, but he wiped it away sharply, almost angrily. "I will not let you down, Father."

He unslung the quiver from his back and pulled out an arrow, raising it high into the air. The elven warriors behind him, dressed in ceremonial uniforms adorned with silver embroidery, followed his lead. Each warrior drew their bowstring taut, their arrows tipped with gleaming steel.

The archers fired in unison, their movements perfectly synchronized. The arrows arced high into the sky, their formation immaculate, and then burst into trails of shimmering green light, a symbol of life and renewal in elven magic. The display drew gasps from the crowd as the glowing streaks faded into the clouds, leaving an impression of beauty amidst the sorrow.

Beside him, Bayu felt Isaac clutch his arm. The elf's green eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "That was... beautiful," Isaac whispered.

Bayu nodded but said nothing. His own throat was too tight to speak.

Maleko stepped down from the podium, his expression once again closed off as he disappeared into the sea of mourners. Bayu's chest ached with a strange mixture of grief, admiration, and apprehension. He had never felt smaller in the face of such profound loss and responsibility.

This wasn't about healing or moving forward; it was a declaration of war. The peaceful rhythms of Antigua would never be the same again.

******

Bayu balked at the sight of Lukas Kowalski, Commander of Squad 9, lounging in their main living room as if he owned the place. The tall, broad-shouldered commander sat with his legs crossed, sipping a glass of water with maddening leisure. His ice-blue eyes gleamed as he noticed the four recruits entering. He waved a casual hand toward the seating area, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"You're back from the funeral, I take it," Lukas said smoothly, his tone devoid of sympathy.

Kai stepped in front of the group instinctively, his stance protective. "Did you have to come today?"

Lukas stood, brushing off invisible specks of dust from his perfectly pressed uniform. "Unfortunately, yes. It couldn't wait. As of this moment, Squad 14 is officially disbanded." His words landed like a punch. "You are to return to Alaska tomorrow morning, undergo the formal ritual to relinquish your posts, and turn in your uniforms." He paused, letting the gravity of the statement sink in before adding, "It's not just you. Four other squads have been dissolved as well. Frankly, this year's recruits have been... underwhelming."

Bayu caught the flinch on Isaac's face, his cheeks flooding with color as he stammered, "W-what? You can't just—"

Lukas cut him off with a dismissive shake of his head. "This isn't up for negotiation."

The room fell into a suffocating silence. Kai's lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes darting between Lukas and the others. Isaac was still spluttering incoherently, his indignation bubbling to the surface, while Tomoya stood slightly apart, staring at the floor as if he could fall through it and disappear.

Bayu felt a surge of something—anger, desperation, resolve—burst through him. He stepped forward, his heart pounding, until he was face-to-face with Lukas. The commander's frosty gaze didn't waver, but Bayu didn't back down.

"Please," Bayu began. "I have an idea. At least... let us try this."

Lukas arched a brow, the faintest flicker of curiosity crossing his face. He gestured with his hand for Bayu to continue. "Go on."

Bayu took a deep breath. "We don't know yet who or what is behind the surge of black magic in Falmouth—or the disappearances at the carnival. And the people we found... they're still in the infirmary, sick and unresponsive. But no one—no one—could have predicted that." He paused, his voice gaining strength. "We're new recruits. We've barely had time to find our footing here, and you can't expect us to solve this kind of crisis overnight."

Lukas's jaw tightened, but he didn't interrupt.

"Our job as soldiers," Bayu pressed on, "isn't to predict the future or solve mysteries. It's to protect." He clenched his fists, willing his voice not to break. "No matter what. No matter the threat. That's what we're here to do. And right now, this island is in danger. From the black magic, from the unrest, from Maleko's grief-driven plan to wage war on the witches." Bayu's chest heaved as he met Lukas's icy stare.

"We need one more chance," Bayu said, his voice firm. "Send us to Ondale Reef. The Tidewater Pearl has the power to repel black magic—permanently. If we bring it back, we can protect Antigua from whatever's causing this. And if we can do that, we can stop Maleko before he drags this island into chaos. Just one last mission." Bayu thrust out his hand, hoping Lukas didn't notice it trembling. "Please."

For a long, excruciating moment, Lukas said nothing. Then his gaze shifted to Kai, his brow raised in question. "Well?" he asked.

Kai nodded, his amber eyes blazing with determination. "Give us this chance. Please."

Lukas let out a slow, deliberate sigh, the weight of the request evident on his face. He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze flicking between them.

"Do you even realize what you're asking?" he said finally. His voice was low but sharp, each word slicing through the tension. "Ondale Reef is no simple expedition. The underwater kingdom isn't exactly hospitable to outsiders. And the Tidewater Pearl?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "It's guarded by creatures worse than your nightmares. If you fail..." He let the words hang, the implication heavy.

But then his expression shifted, his usual frost melting into something softer—something almost thoughtful. "If you're serious about this, you'd better be ready to fight harder than you've ever fought before.." He stepped closer to Bayu, his piercing gaze locking onto him. "This is your last shot. Don't waste it."

Lukas turned toward the door, pausing with his hand on the frame. "I'll give you clearance for the mission. But remember—if you screw this up, there won't be any redemption. You'll come back as nothing more than failures. And trust me..." His voice dropped into a low, chilling whisper. "I'll make sure everyone knows it."

With that, Lukas walked out, leaving the room heavy with the weight of his words. Bayu exhaled slowly, his heart hammering in his chest. When he turned to the others, he saw the mix of determination and fear etched into their faces.

It didn't matter how insurmountable this mission seemed. They had no choice. They had to succeed.