Djuma's eyes finally dimmed, and he descended, facing Mike with urgency etched on his face.
"They're coming!" he exclaimed.
"Who?" Mike asked, alarm rising.
"Dahra's warriors," Djuma replied, struggling to keep his eyes open. "They're coming for you, my Jyuran."
"Then we fight!" Christina declared.
Djuma swiftly closed the distance, grasping her collar. "You're going to ruin everything and put us all in danger, Christy," he said through clenched teeth. "Your safety and the Jyuran's come first. I'll handle the fighting."
"Let go of her, Djuma! What's going on?" Mike intervened.
"What do you mean?" Christina whispered, her gaze searching Djuma's face for answers.
Djuma released his grip and took a step back, his expression grim.
"If you don't want your man to fall prey to dark forces, refrain from reckless actions," he cautioned. "Don't jeopardize his sanity. Keep yourself safe, okay?"
"What are you talking about?" Mike asked, staring at Djuma with intensity. "What do you mean?"
Rachael and Stefan exchanged worried glances, sensing the escalating tension.
"You're the Jyuran, the key to Perebia's balance. Dahra's forces seek to exploit your power," Djuma said to Mike.
"I'm not sure what you mean about falling prey to dark forces," Mike insisted.
"It's nothing, my Jyuran. Never mind." Djuma waved his hand dismissively.
"I heard everything you said to Christina. Don't forget, I possess super-hearing," Mike reminded him. "Who would be consumed by dark forces?"
"You wouldn't understand if I explained. You need to unlock your memories as soon as possible," he replied. "Right now, the best option is to hide."
Mike shrugged. "Why hide? I'm strong now; I can protect myself."
"You're not strong enough, my Jyuran. The incoming warriors are ruthless and merciless. If they capture you, we're all doomed."
Djuma paused, his voice filled with foreboding. "Heaven knows what destruction would unfold if Dahra lays his hands on his naive father."
He turned to Stefan and Rachael, who had been observing the exchange in silence. "Whatever happens, don't confront them. For the sake of your world and mine, stay safe."
He then shifted his focus to Christina, his voice transitioning to a more serious tone.
Christina, the previous Jyuran's downfall was caused by the loss of his lover. Don't play the hero; flee if danger arises. Your safety is paramount.
Christina's eyes widened in shock. Before she could respond, Djuma continued, speaking through their mental connection.
This is real, Christina. I'm communicating with you telepathically. Keep this secret from the Jyuran. Share your thoughts with me silently; don't speak aloud.
Christina was dumbfounded. Can I really hear what he's saying in my mind? she thought.
Of course, Christina. I can hear you too, Djuma's prompt telepathic response left her stunned.
Christina stepped back, her mouth agape in disbelief. How is this possible? she thought.
As I said to you, I'm a witch, and as long as you open your mind and stay within five meters, I can communicate with you through telepathy.
Mike noticed Christina's sudden change in expression and approached her. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?" he asked.
"I'm fine, just feeling a bit dizzy," Christina quickly fabricated an excuse. She turned back to Djuma, her thoughts flowing silently to him. I'll keep this secret, but you need to explain more so I can understand.
I'll enlighten you when the time is right. For now, we must prepare your... lover for the incoming warriors, Djuma replied.
Why do you keep calling him my lover? We only became friends yesterday, Christina stated. Or is your emotion-reading power corrupt?
My abilities are accurate, Christina. I sense the bond between you two. Don't deny it; your emotions are palpable.
Christina's cheeks flushed, her heart pounding relentlessly.
Are you certain you haven't harbored feelings for him for a long time, suppressing them beneath a facade of hatred? Djuma's probing question lingered in Christina's mind.
Her silence betrayed her introspection. She pondered Djuma's words, questioning her own emotions.
Had she truly been suppressing her feelings for Mike? Did she have a genuine reason for hating and picking on him all those years?
"I have a question!" Stefan's voice broke the contemplative atmosphere.
The group turned to face him, curious.
"If you could locate Mike easily, wouldn't his enemy, or whatever he is, also be able to find him?" he asked.
"As a witch, I possess certain advantages. While it would require time and energy, I can sense the Jyuran's unique energy when he utilizes his abilities," Djuma replied. "However, I can pinpoint his location only when he transforms. The warriors dispatched by Dahra can track him only by the distinct energy signature emitted during his transformation."
"But Mike has never transformed before. How did you find him?" Rachael asked.
"He transformed once, only partially," Djuma responded.
"When did I do that?" Mike furrowed his brows in confusion.
"It was the day the Krara was activated. You fell from a towering building; you wouldn't have survived if I hadn't intervened by freezing time so your wings could emerge," he explained, stepping closer. "Do you remember? That was the first time your wings sprouted, but I guess you didn't use them because you weren't aware."
"Oh my god! I remember that night!" Mike exclaimed as the memories resurfaced. "I thought I was hallucinating. Time froze that day, slowing down my descent. Was it you all along? You saved my life?"
Djuma nodded solemnly. "Yes, my Jyuran."
"But how did you manage to do that?" Stefan interrupted. "You mentioned that your homeland is incredibly far away. How did you traverse such a distance to save him?"
"As a witch, I possess a rare ability—the power to project my soul out of my physical body," Djuma explained. "This allows me to traverse time and space, defying conventional limitations."
"You mean… you can actually do an astral project?" Rachael asked.
Djuma shrugged. "I don't know what that means, but it's more complex than you think. Only a select few witches can achieve this level of spiritual liberation. It requires immense mental discipline and three or more portions of Gastra," he clarified.
"What's Gastra?" Christina asked.
"It means magic," Djuma replied. "As I said earlier, even though we speak the same language, not all our words mean the same thing."
"But how did you know he was in danger?" Stefan questioned.
"I sensed his unique energy signature, even from afar. As a powerful witch, I knew it was my duty to protect him," Djuma said. "Saving him almost cost me my life; I was drained of my energy and unconscious for two days."
"So now we must keep his transformations concealed?" Christina stated.
"That's our best option for now to keep him and everyone safe."
"For how long?" Rachael asked. "The brother I know would only do exactly what he's told not to do."
"Do you have a death wish?!" Mike growled. But Rachael ignored him, her eyes fixed on Djuma.
"And what about his daily life? How will he balance school and these... transformations?" Christina continued.
"I think we'll have to put that on hold for now," Stefan said with a grin. "We've got a world to save, after all." He paused, a mischievous glint in his eye. "And I've got one more question though."
The group's attention snapped to him, their faces expectant.
"Relax, don't stare at me like that," Stefan chuckled. "I was just wondering where our old man is going to sleep tonight. I doubt your parents would appreciate an alien under their roof."
Mike nodded thoughtfully. "We'll figure something out. We can't leave him out in the open."
"You don't need to worry about me. I'll stay vigilant and keep watch from the roof," Djuma assured them.
He then crossed his arms and said to Stefan, "And for the record, I'm not an old man. I'm only ninety-six years old."
The group erupted into stunned gasps.
"Ninety-six?!" they exclaimed in unison.
"You're older than my grandma!" Stefan said.
"Seriously, I'm not old. In human years, I'd be in my mid-40s—middle-aged," Djuma interrupted defensively.
"Wow, your species lives an incredibly long life. I'm envious," Christina said.
"You might need a secure, secluded location to train Mike," Rachael said to Djuma. "Somewhere utterly inconspicuous and off the radar. Any suggestions?" She addressed the group, her strategic thinking kicking into high gear.
"Honestly, I'm drawing a blank," Mike admitted. "The only potential options that come to mind are school and..."
"Home, right? You can't be serious," Rachael interrupted. "That's the same as inviting trouble. We'll be in soup if caught."
"I'm open to any viable alternatives," Mike opened his palms, inviting suggestions. "Where do you think would be safest from those tracking our every move?"
Rachael pondered for a moment before replying. "Stefan's house or Christina's would likely be the safest option. It's the last place our pursuers would think to look."
"I don't think that's wise," Stefan immediately countered. "My siblings and nanny would have a meltdown if we brought this into our home. Plus, my dad has a strict no-strangers policy."
"In that case, Christina's house becomes our best bet," Rachael concluded. She turned to Christina for confirmation. "You don't have any objections, do you?"
Christina shrugged nonchalantly. "Actually, no... except my stepmom is always at home, and she might—"
"We'll do whatever is necessary at my house; that's final," Mike said decisively. He looked at Rachael and shook his head. "This must remain strictly between us. Our parents cannot find out, okay?"
"What the heck, Mike? Do you honestly think I would rat us out?" Rachael snapped. "You think I'm a chatterbox? Of course not, I'm not like Stefan."
"Wait, what do you mean by 'you're not like me'?" Stefan grunted. "Are you implying I'm some kind of talkative traitor who rats out his friends?"
"Wait, what do you mean by 'you're not like me?'" Stefan grunted. "Are you implying I'm some kind of talkative traitor who rats out his friends?"
"That's enough, guys," Mike interrupted. "This isn't the time for petty squabbles. We need to focus on the challenges ahead."
Christina's pale face and downcast eyes revealed her distress. "I'm... I'm sorry," she stammered. "I feel like I've let you down. Is there anything else I can do to help?"
"You don't have to worry, Christina," Mike said reassuringly. "I understand, okay?"
Christina slowly nodded, still looking down.
Stefan's gaze shifted between them. "What exactly do you understand, Mike? Is there something we're missing?"
Just as another heated conversation seemed imminent, a thunderclap echoed through the sky, interrupting the tension.
Rachael seized the opportunity to redirect the group. "It's going to pour. We should head back before the school gate closes."
She grabbed both Mike and her bags and quickly took off.
As the rest of the group dashed after Rachael, the gentle raindrops began to patter against their clothes, soaking them as they slipped into the woods.
Stefan slowed his long strides and turned to Mike. "Will Djuma keep following us like this and freak people out?" he asked quietly.
Mike halted and turned back, scanning their surroundings for Djuma's figure, but he was nowhere to be seen.
"Where did he go?" he wondered, spinning around.
"He said he'd meet us at home," Christina replied.
"When did he say that?"
"A few seconds ago, when Rachael took off."
"How did I not hear? Is my super hearing malfunctioning?"
"You must have heard, but you didn't listen. It was just a whisper."
"Come on, let's go. I'm getting drenched," Stefan interrupted.
Mike nodded. "No problem. I shouldn't make a big deal out of it. Let's go."
As they resumed running, Christina and Stefan fell into step beside Mike.
Unbeknownst to Mike, Djuma had communicated with Christina telepathically earlier. She had to keep the secret hidden, so she had no choice but to fabricate a plausible explanation.