The silence was loud.
And his mind was blank
His senses were dulled.
And he couldn't find himself.
The harsh reality made things difficult for him to decide what to do.
And he wasn't sure who to trust anymore.
The floor inside the beast distorted, becoming translucent. Under them, the forest was quickly disappearing, a blur of leaves and branches. Then all of a sudden, his mind became clear. It was as if his world was muffled earlier. His eyes widened and he saw Mozrael was having the same reaction. He looked out at the forest behind them, and everything was getting clearer.
"Seems the effects are wearing off," Deadlock said.
A strange, gnawing unease settled in Aramith's chest. At first, it was nothing more than a lingering thought at the edge of his mind, but he felt it was more than that. His fingers twitched against his knee. His throat felt tight.
Something was wrong.
Mozrael shifted beside him. He barely noticed, too caught up in the slow, suffocating realization that the air around him felt... lighter. As if a weight he hadn't known was there had suddenly lifted.
Deadlock's voice sliced through his haze.
"Let me ask you this. Do you remember how you got here? Why we had to come for you?"
Aramith's breath hitched. His pulse quickened. The words sounded simple—direct—but something inside him felt very uncomfortable.
He tried to think. Tried to rewind his memories. The dinner. Lynnor. Jade. Lydan. Before that... the wolf, the sky, fireworks. Before that...
Mozrael gasped, it sounded like she had just touched something horrifyingly cold.
Aramith's fingers curled into fists. His heart hammered against his ribs, and his mind clawed at the fog as he tried to remember, then he suddenly realized...
Lia.
His world shattered.
His stomach twisted violently as her name ripped through his mind like a blade. Her limp body. The blood. The haze of battle. The last look in her eyes before everything blurred away.
"Lia." His voice barely worked. His throat was dry, too tight to force out anything more. But the panic in his voice was unmistakable.
Mozrael clutched her head, her entire body trembling. "Lia."
The name burned on her tongue, as if only now she had been allowed to remember it.
Aramith turned to Deadlock, the weight of realization making it difficult for him to remain still.
She was alive, but barely.
She was hurting, and they had forgotten.
"She's unconscious," Deadlock confirmed, his tone maddeningly calm. "You picked up a trail that night. You followed it. And then... a lot happened before... you entered the forest."
Deadlock's words were knives, cutting away every layer of memory until the whole truth lay exposed. The battle. The transformation. Lia's desperate power nullifying them before she collapsed.
And then—
"The fireworks," Aramith whispered hoarsely. "Father—"
"Used them to cover for Mozrael's light in the sky." Deadlock's voice was cold. "Once everyone was calm, he sent us to find you. As of now, news of Lia's condition is no secret. Your father made sure everyone knew some people were against them, and a hunt is going on. Only good thing is that the people are accepting of you two as the ones who saved her. Just that they don't know you're not home...yet."
Aramith felt like he was drowning.
How? How could they forget?
The forest.
"Why couldn't we remember?" Mozrael's voice was raw, her expression stricken.
Deadlock's answer was simple, merciless.
"That place is enchanted. The flowers there carry a pollen that erodes memory. The moment you stepped inside, the most important things to you at that moment began to fade."
Aramith felt his blood run cold.
"It can be countered," Deadlock continued, "but you didn't know that. And now..." He gestured toward the dark horizon behind them, where the forest had long disappeared.
"Only now is the poison wearing off."
Aramith swallowed, but the lump in his throat remained.
This was beyond terrible. He had nearly killed Mozrael. Nearly lost Lia.
And Lynnor…
Had she known? Had she understood what would happen? If so, why had she done nothing?
His fingers clenched. He turned slightly, catching a glimpse of Mozrael.
Her lips were pressed into a tight line, but her eyes were on him.
Not with judgment, but with concern.
She knew him, and she knew this moment would destroy him.
Aramith sat stiffly now, his fingers curled over his knees, staring blankly at the translucent floor beneath them. The world rushed past in a blur of green and gold, but his thoughts were frozen in place.
Lia.
The realization had struck him like a hammer, shattering through his already fragile state. He had forgotten her, forgotten that she had been lying unconscious, half-alive when he last saw her.
How was it that he had time to worry for strangers, try to console them when he didn't even know them. It hurt him even more now as he thought of it, that he had left Lia behind in his mind, abandoned her.
What kind of person does that? Now he felt guilt
Aramith swallowed, but his throat was dry. His initial urge had been to rush back, to see her as soon as possible, but now... now the guilt slithered into his bones like ice. He had attacked her. He had attacked Mozrael.
What if she wakes up and realizes what he almost did?What if she looked at him the way Lydan and Jade did? With nothing but resentment? What if she-
"Aramith," Mozrael's voice was soft, cutting through his downward spiral. "She's okay."
He didn't respond. His hands tightened into fists on his lap.
Mozrael leaned forward slightly, trying to meet his gaze. "We'll see her soon. You'll see she's fine."
Still, nothing.
A flicker of frustration crossed her face before she exhaled, forcing a small, almost playful smile.
"You know, for someone who fights like a demon, you're really bad at seeing things for what they are."
That almost made him react, almost, but he still didn't look at her. She tried again with a lighter tone this time.
"Things happened fast. You didn't mean to hurt anyone. If anything, it's impressive you lasted so long before breaking someone's nose."
A weak attempt at humor. But the moment Mozrael saw the way his shoulders tensed, the way his face darkened even more, she knew it wasn't working.
He's slipping away again.
A sharp sting of fear hit her.
Not again. Not after everything.
She wanted to reach for his hand, to shake him, to do something—but what if that just made it worse? What if she said the wrong thing? What if she was too much, or not enough? Her heart pounded against her ribs as she clenched her fingers into the fabric of her sleeve. What do I do?
The silence between them grew heavier, suffocating.
Deadlock 1, who had been observing quietly, finally stood. Without a word, he stepped out, leaving them alone. The sound of his boots against the Serpent's scales faded into the wind.
Aramith remained lost in his own world, and Mozrael could do nothing but sit there, feeling the crushing weight of helplessness.
As the hum of the Nether Serpent's great form faded in the air, another matter was being addressed at their destination.
Inside the Vermillion Kingdom…
The weight of the accusations pressed down on Hordin like a mountain. He sat on the cold stone floor, wrists bound by pulsing alchemical shackles, their glow casting eerie patterns on the dimly lit walls. His breathing was shallow, and his mind was a chaotic swirl of fear and frustration. He hadn't done anything. He knew that. But proving it? That was another matter entirely.
The guards stood around him, their patience long gone. Their anger was palpable, and their voices were edged with barely contained fury.
"Why were you there?" one of them snapped. "Twice! Not once, but twice you were found where disaster struck. And you want us to believe it's a coincidence?"
Hordin flinched. He opened his mouth, then shut it. He had no excuse, no evidence. Just his word. And his word meant nothing against their rage.
"I—I don't know," he finally stammered. "I just… I felt something. Like energy was surging from that place. I followed it. That's all. I didn't do anything."
His explanation felt weak, even to him. The guards exchanged sharp glances.
"You expect us to believe that?" another spat. "Some pull led you right to where the princess was taken to? Right to where all three of them were in danger? Twice?"
"I swear! I didn't—"
A heavy hand slammed onto the table beside him, making him flinch violently.
"We almost lost people that night, boy. Do you understand that?" The captain's voice was low, seething. "You might not have been the cause, but you were there. And you're going to tell us everything you know, whether you want to or not."
Hordin swallowed hard, his throat dry. He couldn't blame them for suspecting him. He'd be suspicious too. But no matter how much he racked his brain, he had nothing more to tell them.
Then the door creaked open. The tense silence was cut by slow, deliberate footsteps. An old man stepped inside, his hunched form casting a warped shadow against the light. Behind him, a soldier stood stiffly at attention.
"Who gave you permission to come here?" One of the soldiers who'd been interrogating Hordin asked.
He was ignored. "Let's go, Hordin," the old man said, his voice like dry parchment crumbling.
The guards stiffened. "And who do you think you are?" one barked. "This interrogation isn't over."
The soldier beside the old man stepped forward. "He has permission," he said firmly. "Direct orders." It was clear he didn't want that old man there as well, but he had been instructed. He raised a sheet for them to see- a red sheet with gold edges and a bright red vermillion bird within. The authority given to that soldier was absolute. ONly the King, Queen, or Lexon could issue such an order.
A heavy silence settled over the room before one of the guards muttered a curse and moved forward, unlocking the alchemy formations. They disappeared with a faint hum, leaving dark burns on Hordin's wrists. He winced but didn't complain. His body sagged with relief—until the old man leaned in close.
"You've made things very complicated for me, boy," he said quietly, his tone unreadable. "Do you know what happens to people who bring unnecessary trouble?"
Hordin's stomach twisted. He knew what was coming. The guards might have been harsh, but they weren't cruel. This man? He would be worse. And when they arrived home, his father would do worse to him.
He was trembling by the time they stepped outside, his body protesting every step forward. His thoughts were a mess of fear and confusion, but then-
"You can't leave."
A new voice, sharp yet charismatic, cut through the air. Hordin's heart stopped.
Commander Lexon stood before them. His eyes settled on the old man with piercing intensity.
"The King has changed his mind," Lexon declared. "Hordin will remain in our custody."
The old man's face twisted with barely suppressed fury. "I have orders to bring him back. That is not up for discussion."
Lexon didn't even flinch. Instead, he pulled out a sealed letter. "Take this to your King. Consider it our response."
"I won't leave without him," he snapped. "He's the prince of our kingdom. You have no right-"
Lexon's gaze turned to steel. "Are you imposing your kingdom's will upon ours?"
The weight of those words sank like a blade between them. The old man clenched his jaw. He knew what that meant. Hordin did too.
If they took him by force, they'd be declaring war. The five great kingdoms gave the illusion that they were peaceful, but inside, they knew that was a lie. The stronger ones wouldn't hesitate at the given opportunity to destroy their weaker opponents. And the Vermillion Kingdom was second in the rankings. The difference between them and the Bone Kingdom was vast.
A long, tense silence stretched between them, then with a furious glare, the old man finally stepped back.
"Fine," he spat. "Keep him. But you'll regret it." The old man snatched the letter, his fingers trembling with rage as he turned to leave.
Lexon didn't acknowledge the threat. He simply turned, motioning for Hordin to follow. The boy's legs felt weak, his body still trembling, but he obeyed. As they walked, his mind reeled.
How had things escalated so far? He'd done nothing—yet somehow, war had nearly sparked because of him.
And now…
Now he was about to meet the King himself.