Yul slowly regained consciousness, the faint, heart-rending sob and the aroma of herbs and blood seeping into his senses. His body was heavy, paralyzed by immense exhaustion.

The familiar ger ceiling greeted him, but memories of the brutal battle and the burning pain in his chest surged back.

Instinctively, he explored his chest. He expected to find blood-soaked bandages, the gaping cut that should have been there. Instead, he felt only a clean cloth wrap and a dull ache, without the horrifying laceration. Confusion overpowered his pain. Had it been a nightmare?

The ger's curtain parted, and Bataar stepped in, his face weary and aged by grief. Seeing Yul awake, his expression shifted to deep relief. "You're awake," Bataar whispered.

Yul didn't reply. He simply stared at Bataar, his sky-blue eyes conveying a thousand questions. His first question wasn't about himself: "Jochi?" he whispered. Bataar fell silent for a moment, his gaze dropping to the ger floor, avoiding Yul's eyes. The silence was a more painful answer than any words. Yul felt his heart sink. Finally, Bataar met his eyes, his face hardened by sorrow. "Jochi has fallen... He fought bravely."

Yul's world shattered. Jochi, his friend, his brother, whose laugh was full of warmth, who always stood by his side in every hunt and battle, was gone. Grief and guilt overwhelming him. After a long silence, he asked about his own impossible recovery: "What about... my wound? I should have been..."

Bataar stared at Yul's chest, then back at his eyes, astonished. "Your wound should have killed you," he stated flatly. "Beihe said so. I saw it myself." He paused, as if weighing the impossible words, searching for a way to explain what he had witnessed. "Entya touched you, and the wound closed due to the light from her hands."

Yul stared, trying to process the impossible. Entya? The small girl he always protected, so fragile and tiny? Light? His faint memory of Entya’s anxious face, her glittering larimar eyes, and the sensation of a warm light enveloping him began to feel more real than a fever dream. A warmth spread from his chest, not the pain that should have been there.

Guilt crushed him. He was saved by a miracle, while Jochi was lost. A new question demanded an answer: Who exactly was Entya?

Yul pushed himself to sit up, his muscles screaming in protest. He felt a dull ache in his chest, a reminder of the miracle he had just experienced. With difficulty, he stood, leaning on the central wooden pillar of the ger to support his still-trembling body. A fierce determination burned in his eyes. He had to find her.

Yul stepped out into the faint night light. The cold wind pierced his skin, carrying the scent of battle smoke and the calming fragrance of herbs. Not far from there, near a pile of firewood, he found Entya.

The girl sat alone, hugging her knees, her small shoulders shaking with sobs. Her charcoal hair and swollen turquoise eyes were highlighted by a small fire. "Entya," Yul growled, his voice hoarse.

Entya flinched in surprise. She lifted her head, and her eyes widened in shock when she saw Yul standing there. "Yul! You shouldn't be up! Your wound..." "Bataar told me," Yul cut in, his voice cold. He walked closer, his long shadow completely covering her small form. "About my wound. About you." He locked his sharp, sky-blue eyes onto hers. "He also told me about Jochi."

A heavy silence enveloped them. Yul let his words hang, letting the cruel truth sink in. "If you could heal me," Yul finally whispered, the question shattering the silence, his voice filled with unbearable suffering. "Why not him? Why couldn't you save Jochi?"

The question shattered Entya's defenses. The tears she tried to hold back finally spilled, streaming down her cheeks. "I tried, Yul!" she sobbed, despair breaking her voice. "I swear, I tried. I put my hands on him, but... there was nothing. Empty. My power wasn't enough." She stared at her small palms, which seemed to have betrayed her. "The wound was too deep... I... I couldn't..." She couldn't finish the sentence, dissolving into tears.

Seeing Entya's devastation, Yul's anger dissolved, replaced by painful empathy. The girl before him was no goddess who could choose who lived and who died. She was only Entya, his friend, broken under a shared burden. The blame in his heart shifted:

'I was the one there. I should have protected him.'

Yul knelt before Entya and pulled her small, trembling body into a tight, awkward embrace. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice hoarse with suppressed emotion. The scent of grass, blood, and sweat now enveloped Entya, trying to soothe her. "I shouldn't have said that. This isn't your fault."

Entya wept on his shoulder, releasing all her pain and failure. Yul's hug, though awkward, became a source of strength. Their carefree childhood friendship was shattered, but a new, deeper bond of shared grief began to form upon its ruins.

At the same time, the main ger was brightly lit, but the air inside felt colder than the steppe wind outside. Within it, a negotiation that would determine the Salkha Clan's fate was taking place.

Elder Eldeghai and Bataar faced Nashr, the Talrakia leader. He appeared calm, as if the recent battle was no more than a minor interruption in his journey.

"We thank you for your aid, Commander Nashr," Eldeghai began, his voice hoarse. "Without you, we might have been annihilated."

Nashr merely nodded. "Gratitude will not stop the next attack. Your clan is wounded and vulnerable." His blunt words made Bataar clench his fists, but he remained silent. The truth in the statement was undeniable.

"I offer a solution," Nashr continued, his tone calculated. "Protection from the Kingdom of Talrakia. Move your clan to a fertile, safe piece of land on our eastern border, under our supervision."

Eldeghai felt a weight lift from his shoulders, but only for a moment. He knew nothing in this world was free. "The protection of a kingdom... that is not a small price," Eldeghai said, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What do you ask in return?"

Nashr did not answer immediately. His original plan was to offer standard protection—additional soldiers, a safe trade route. But then, he felt it again.

A silent melody only he could hear, the tremor of energy, the powerful resonance he had felt earlier. His gaze swept over the elders, the weary soldiers, the steppe valley outside the ger... yet all of it was filtered by the invisible energy hum. He found the source—a pulsing center of power within the compound. His amethyst eyes flashed gold, signaling his power's immediate reaction.

His diplomatic smile evaporated, replaced by the satisfied look of a man who had finally located his destiny's true compass. "You are right, Elder. Talrakia does not give protection without assurance. You possess a very valuable asset... to me."

The elders exchanged bewildered glances. An asset? Gold? Livestock?

Nashr continued, his eyes seemingly penetrating the ger walls toward Entya's location. "I felt it earlier. A power that is pure... and immense."

Instantly, the air in the ger froze. Eldeghai tensed. He knew exactly who Nashr was referring to. The granddaughter whose power he had kept secret. "She is just a girl!" Eldeghai hissed, trying to minimize her significance.

"A girl, huh..."

Nashr murmured, his lips curving slightly. That was precisely what made her interesting. Such great power in such a fragile vessel. A stimulating paradox. "Precisely because of that," Nashr countered, without the slightest hesitation. He looked straight into Eldeghai's eyes, hidden excitement masked by dominance. "To ensure that asset is safe, to guarantee our alliance... and to protect her under my authority..."

He paused, letting his words hang as a final decision, not an offer.

"I will take her as my wife."