NOVEL WEB Chapter 9: Forged (Part 1)
Chapter 9: Forged (Part 1)
He refused once again, just as he had so many times before. Ignoring my warnings, my attempts to reach him. Hasar looked at me as if my words were the ramblings of a madman, and I, frustrated, watched as his mind clung to the bubble of happiness he had chosen to live in. That bubble that kept him safe from everything he feared facing.
He simply stared at me, a shadow of the man he once was. His gaze drifted somewhere beyond me, as if he were trying to escape his own reality. The distance he had placed between us had turned into an abyss, and frustration burned inside me. But what worried me most was his family. His children were growing up without the guidance only he could offer them.
It was clear that fear held him captive. His fear of repeating past mistakes, of losing more people he loved. But this fear had turned him into a man who no longer recognized himself. That night, as the air grew colder and the darkness deepened, I decided I could wait no longer. I had to do something to help my friend.
He had created that refuge. A world where the shadows of his past couldn’t reach him. But that world was false, a lie that only brought more pain in the long run. I saw it in his eyes, though he tried to hide it. The scribes always said that the eyes were the passage to the soul, and if you dared to look long enough, you’d see the truth of someone. And I saw it. That spark, that flame that had once been his unbreakable strength, was still there, hidden beneath layers of fear and suffering.
“Hasar... I know you’re still in there,” I thought as I silently watched him, sitting in front of his house, staring into the void.
The man who had once saved my life, the warrior I admired and respected, was still there, even if it didn’t seem like it. Resilient as steel. Hasar wasn’t broken; his edge had only been bent under the weight of what had happened. The deaths of Jenni and Thomas… his own squadron, his family on the battlefield. And he blamed himself. He blamed himself because it was his hands that had ended their lives.
That memory had destroyed him, driving him to flee, to lock himself away in a life of false peace. What had once been an unstoppable force on the battlefield was now a shadow of its former self. But I wasn’t going to let him completely fall apart.
“I’m going to help you, my friend,” I swore to myself. “Even if I have to use this ground as an anvil and my fists as hammers, I’ll bring your edge back. No matter what it takes, I won’t let you keep losing yourself in that fog.”
I approached him, determined. There was no more time for beating around the bush or being delicate. Hasar had been lost in that fog for years. He had buried himself in physical work, training his body to the limit, but never training his soul. Ten years, and he was still refining muscles as if that would save him from what he carried inside. It was absurd, and even more so, it pained me to see the person he once was slipping further and further away.
And something else troubled me: not one of his children had been trained in breathing. How could it be that Hasar, of all men, hadn’t guided his own children in the most basic of teachings? Youth is the best time to learn, to lay the foundations for who they will someday become. Even the humblest farmer trains his children in the arts he knows. But Hasar had failed in this.
My mind began to work on a plan. I had to break that bubble, even if it meant pushing him toward the fight. The idea of facing his pain was terrifying, for both him and me. But I knew it was a risk I had to take, not just for him, but for his family as well. The children needed a father, not just a guardian who kept them shielded from reality. It was time to act, to pull Hasar from his refuge and confront the demons that haunted him.
Fear had him trapped. A deep fear that had turned him into someone he didn’t recognize. That fear had paralyzed him, making him believe that protecting his family meant keeping them away from everything he knew about the real world.
But I wasn’t going to let him stay in that place. I would pull my friend out of his bubble, even if I had to break it.
“Hasar, come with me,” I said, standing in front of him, as he barely lifted his gaze.
He remained silent, uncomfortable. I already knew the routine: he always tried to avoid me when I started talking about what he preferred to bury. But this time, I wasn’t going to back down. I grabbed him by the arm and forced him to stand.
“No more hiding. Come on.” I insisted with a firmness he couldn’t ignore.
He tried to pull away, but I held him tightly.
“You can’t keep running from this forever, Hasar. Look at me.” I demanded, and when his eyes finally met mine, I saw the fear. A fear so deep I could almost feel it. But I also saw the spark, the spark of the warrior that was still there inside.
“I’m not who I used to be, Darius,” he said, his voice broken. “I can’t go back to that, not after what I did. Not after them…”
“Jenni and Thomas are dead, yes. But even if their blood stained your sword, it wasn’t truly you who killed them, Hasar. It was the war, the chaos we were caught in. They don’t blame you. You’re the one who’s been blaming yourself all these years.”
His eyes filled with tears, but I didn’t stop.
“Hasar, I need you. Your children need you. You can’t protect them by denying who you are. If you don’t train them, if you don’t give them the tools to face the world around them, the world will devour them.”
The silence that followed was heavy, but Hasar didn’t look away. I knew my words had reached him, that something inside him was breaking. He wasn’t the man he used to be, but he could still become something more.
Something just as important.