SPIRITBINDER: The Boy Without A Mark
Chapter 70: Ignition

Chapter 70: Ignition

Morvane made his decision without hesitation. "I’m going with Luna to Ketamran."

Lady Vianna frowned, concern flashing in her eyes. "But Morvane, you’re banished there. You can’t just enter and exit whenever you want. Medas tightened the gates—it won’t be easy."

"Don’t worry," she added after a brief pause, "I’ll come with you tomorrow. But today, I have something I need to take care of."

Morvane shook his head. "There’s no time. I have to go now."

And with that, he and Luna set off.

Slipping through the gates of Ketamran proved easier than expected. Under the cover of darkness, Morvane kept his identity hidden, his cloak pulled low over his face. The city pulsed with an eerie silence, a sharp contrast to the destruction that awaited them.

When they reached the burned village, the sight stole the breath from Morvane’s lungs. Charred ruins stretched before them, the once-thriving settlement reduced to ashes. The smell of smoke and ruin lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of the destruction that had unfolded.

Luna’s fists clenched. "This is worse than I thought..." she murmured.

Morvane barely heard her. His mind was already on their next destination—the place that mattered most.

His grandmother’s home.

The moment Morvane stepped inside, the air shifted. And then, without warning, his grandmother rushed forward, enveloping him in a tight embrace.

"I missed you," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

"I missed you too," Morvane murmured, holding her just as tightly. "How have you been?"

They sat down, and soon, the conversation turned to the question that had been burning in Morvane’s mind since he arrived.

"Esmael," he finally said. "Did he really do this? Did he burn the village?"

His grandmother’s expression darkened. "Why would he do that?"

A long conversation followed, filled with half-answered questions and unspoken fears. But before they could piece everything together—

A sudden, heavy knock echoed through the house.

They barely had time to react before the door burst open with a deafening crash.

And there, standing in the doorway, was Esmael—wounded, exhausted, barely clinging to consciousness.

Morvane and Luna rushed to Esmael’s side as he stumbled inside, barely able to keep himself upright. His body was trembling, his breaths ragged, and every step seemed to drain what little strength he had left.

"Help me Luna, let’s carry him." Morvane said, looping one of Esmael’s arms over his shoulder while Luna supported him from the other side. Together, they guided him to a chair near the fire.

Grandma hurriedly brought a warm blanket, draping it over Esmael’s shoulders. "Sit, my boy," she said softly, her voice brimming with concern. "You’re safe here. No one will hurt you."

Esmael sank into the chair, his head dropping as if the effort of holding it up was too much. His dirt-streaked face and gaunt frame told a story of hardship, but it was his haunted eyes that struck Morvane the hardest.

"What happened to you Esmael?" Luna asked, crouching beside him.

"Where have you been all this time?" Morvane pressed, his voice sharper, tinged with a mix of anger and worry. "Do you have any idea what’s being said about you? The rumors? What happened?"

Esmael raised his head slightly, his lips trembling as he tried to speak. "I... I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, I don’t even know why me," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Luna and Morvane exchanged a glance. "What do you mean? We can’t understand you." Luna asked gently.

Esmael shook his head weakly. "The fire... the village... I wasn’t the one who did all that. I—" His words faltered, his breathing growing more unsteady.

"You’re not making sense," Morvane said, leaning closer. "Esmael, we need answers. What happened in the village? Are the rumors true?"

But before Esmael could respond, his body slumped forward, unconscious. This just proved how much he endured along the way.

"Esmael!" Luna cried, catching him before he fell from the chair.

"He’s completely drained," Grandma said, quickly feeling his forehead. "Let him rest. Whatever he’s been through, it’s taken everything out of him. The questions can wait until he’s stronger. I’ll use my healing magic too to atleast help him with his tiredness and wounds."

Reluctantly, Morvane and Luna stepped back as Grandma began tending to Esmael’s wounds, her hands moving with practiced care. The room fell into an uneasy silence, the weight of unanswered questions pressing down on them like a storm waiting to break. They wanted to know the truth about their friend.

.

.

.

The quiet of the night was broken by a soft rustling as Esmael stirred. His breathing was slow but steady, and his eyes blinked open, adjusting to the dim light of the small room. Sitting nearby were Luna and Morvane, their expressions a mix of relief and tension.

"You’re awake," Luna said softly, leaning forward.

Esmael’s voice was hoarse. "Where am I?"

"At Morvane’s grandmother’s house," Luna replied. "You’re safe here."

Esmael nodded weakly, his body still aching. Before he could speak, Luna continued, her voice filled with warmth. "Esmael, I know the loss of your mother hurt you deeply, and I know nothing has made sense since then. But we’re here for you. You’re not alone."

Esmael’s gaze dropped, his hands trembling slightly as he held them together.

Morvane leaned forward, his tone more serious, his gaze sharp. "Esmael... did you do it? Was it another loss of control?"

Esmael froze, his breath hitching. Then, to their surprise, he started to cry, the tears streaming down his dirt-streaked face. His voice cracked as he said, "I didn’t do anything. I didn’t cause that fire. I wasn’t even using my power. I don’t know why people are pointing fingers at me!"

Morvane and Luna exchanged a glance. There was pain and desperation in Esmael’s voice, and for the first time in days, it wasn’t the rumors or the fear speaking—it was their friend.

"I swear to you," Esmael continued, his voice breaking. "I’m not the one who caused all this chaos."

Morvane’s expression softened, though his eyes still carried caution. "Then you need to tell us everything. Where you’ve been, what you’ve seen—every detail. Because the truth is the only way we’re going to fix this."

Esmael nodded slowly, wiping his tears. "I’ll tell you everything. But I need you to believe me... I didn’t do this."

Luna placed a hand on his shoulder, her voice gentle. "We’ll listen. And we’ll figure this out together."

The weight in the room seemed to lift slightly, but the questions still lingered, waiting for answers as the night stretched on.

Esmael took a deep breath, his hands trembling as he began. "I was just passing through the village. I wasn’t even planning to stay long. Then... suddenly, the fire started. It came out of nowhere, spreading so fast. I panicked. People were screaming, running in every direction. I tried to help, but..." He paused, his voice cracking. "I knew if they saw me, they’d blame me. So, I ran."

Luna listened intently, her eyes soft with understanding. "And the man they found? The one burned to death?"

"I wasn’t even there," Esmael said firmly, meeting her gaze. "I swear to you, I don’t know who he was or how it happened. Everything they’re saying about me—it’s not true. I didn’t cause the fire. I don’t know who did, but it wasn’t me."

Luna placed her hand over his, her voice calm and steady. "Esmael, we believe you. I believe you."

Esmael’s shoulders sagged with relief, the tension in his body easing slightly.

Morvane, sitting across from him, studied his face in silence. After a moment, he sighed, his tone measured but less assured. "I want to believe you, Esmael. And I do—for the most part. But you have to understand how it looks. People don’t just make these accusations out of nowhere."

"I understand," Esmael replied, his voice low. "But I’m telling you the truth, Morvane. I didn’t do this."

Morvane leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "Then someone’s out there framing you, or worse, using a power like yours to cause destruction. Either way, we need to figure out who."

"We will," Luna said, her voice firm. "But for now, Esmael, you need to rest and regain your strength. We’ll get to the bottom of this together. You’re not alone."

Esmael nodded, his eyes glassy with gratitude. For the first time in days, he didn’t feel entirely lost. But as the room fell quiet, the weight of the mystery still loomed heavy over them all.

Morvane quietly stepped out of the room, leaving Esmael and Luna behind. The house was still, the weight of the night pressing on him as he found his grandmother sitting in the small kitchen, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug.

"Is he awake?" she asked softly, looking up at him with tired eyes. "Is he doing fine?"

"Yes, Grandma," Morvane said, though his voice carried a trace of unease. "He’s awake and talking. But..." He hesitated, glancing toward the door.

"What is it, Morvane?"

"I can’t stay here any longer," he said finally. "The guards will already know I’ve entered Ketamran. They’ll be heading here soon—maybe even within minutes."

His grandmother’s face fell, and she reached for his hand. "But you just got here, Morvane. You haven’t even had time to rest."

Luna appeared in the doorway, her arms crossed as she leaned against the frame. "That’s too sad," she said quietly, her voice tinged with frustration. "We still don’t know what really happened between you and Medas."

Morvane didn’t reply to Luna but turned back to his grandmother, his expression softening. "I don’t know when I’ll be able to come back," he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "But I want you to know that I love you—always."

His grandmother stood, her hands trembling as she wrapped him in a deep hug. "I love you too, Morvane," she whispered. "And I’ll pray for your safety every day."

As they pulled apart, a quiet shuffle sounded from the hallway. Both Morvane and his grandmother turned to see Esmael standing there, his frame leaning against the wall. His face, once weary and innocent, seemed different now—darker, with an unreadable shadow in his eyes.

"Esmael," Luna said sharply, walking toward him. "You shouldn’t be standing. You need rest."

She reached out to steady him, but as her hand touched his arm, a sudden burst of heat flared up. Fire erupted from Esmael’s skin, burning her arm badly.

Luna yelped in pain, stumbling backward as she clutched her arm, the scorch marks already reddening her skin.

Everyone in the house froze, the air thick with shock.

"What are you doing?" Morvane yelled, stepping forward with wide eyes. "Are you out of your mind?"

Esmael’s face twisted into something unrecognizable—a mix of anger and torment. His voice was low and ominous as he said, "I’m not. But you will be."

The room fell into an eerie silence, the flickering light of the fire casting long, distorted shadows on the walls.