Instructor W's brow furrowed, his lips curling into an unmistakable frown as he looked at the two guards blocking the entrance. His fingers twitched slightly, as though holding back a more violent reaction, but his voice remained even, controlled, yet laced with an unmistakable edge.
"Did you just deny me?" he asked, his tone thick with authority. "You do know that I rank superior to you, right?"
The guards, their golden armor gleaming under the oppressive light, remained unmoved. Their helmets cast their faces into shadow, but their voices rang clear, cold, and unyielding.
"It does not matter. You're not the top of the court. Your orders do not override theirs."
A low, almost imperceptible hum of frustration rose in Instructor W's chest. His gaze flickered to the guards, contempt curling like smoke around his words as he murmured to himself, "Why even am I talking to them? They're just puppets."
His eyes then shifted to Erasmus, standing a few paces behind the group. He sighed, an exaggerated, almost dramatic gesture, his face morphing back into something friendly. He stepped toward Erasmus with a forced, apologetic smile.
"Sorry, young man, it looks like we part here." His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned in, close enough that only Erasmus could hear. "I'm sure you'll find a way up. Don't worry. We'll be waiting for you with open arms!"
The words hung in the air for a moment, both a warning and an invitation wrapped in the same breath.
Instructor W straightened up and gave a final wave, a quick flick of his wrist that held no warmth, before turning toward the guards. "Let's go."
With that, the entire group marched the final steps for entry, disappearing into the looming tower's entrance. The sound of their steps echoed lightly against the soft wind, a rhythm that fell silent as Erasmus remained motionless on the platform, his gaze fixed ahead.
They've helped me more than they realize, he thought, the quiet realization sinking in with a subtle satisfaction. His expression never faltered, never flickered with anger or frustration. There was no need for that now. His situation, inconvenient as it was, was merely another step in his journey.
Erasmus stood still for a few moments longer, observing the golden stairs, the gleaming tower above, and the faint outlines of people huddled behind windows, watching. He reached up to smooth his long, white hair, fingers brushing through the soft strands with an elegance that betrayed no sign of the trials he'd just endured. His cloak fell perfectly at his feet as if it had just been freshly pressed, untouched by dust or the horrors of the forest. His boots remained immaculate, the golden sheen of the steps glinting off their polished surface.
He didn't dwell on the absurdity of it—his pristine appearance, so unlike the path he had taken to get here. It didn't matter. He was here now.
I better hurry up, he thought. I can't use any powers here for too long. The feeling of being observed is back. It's only a matter of time before they figure out I don't belong.
Erasmus turned away from the tower, his boots clicking softly against the golden steps as he began descending the stairs. He kept his head low, his steps smooth and calculated. He didn't rush. He couldn't afford to.
The village below was silent in the wake of the bloodshed. As he walked, Erasmus noticed the locals emerging from the shadows, their faces hollow with grief. Their eyes—dull and glassy from weariness—bore the weight of a thousand unsaid sorrows. They wandered from behind their broken walls, their homes crumbling with neglect, their bodies draped in sickness and fatigue. The cries of mourning filled the air, but there was no sense of urgency in their movements—no desperation, only resignation.
As they stepped into the open, their eyes found Erasmus. Suspicion flickered briefly in their stares. They couldn't tell who he was, but they knew him to be one of them—the same as the corrupted tower-lords who had torn their world apart. They saw him as just another harbinger of destruction. Another mask to wear. Another face of the system that had forsaken them.
But Erasmus did not react as they expected.
He didn't turn away. He didn't scorn them or distance himself.
Instead, he smiled.
It wasn't a smile of mockery, nor one of cold calculation—it was genuine, warm, and strangely holy. It was the kind of smile that shone through the fog of years of abandonment, a rare glimmer in the grayness of their world. The villagers, their faces creased with suspicion, found themselves momentarily lost in it. A momentary flicker of hope.
Erasmus walked forward, his steps purposeful. He approached the bodies lying in the dust, the fallen souls whose lives had been extinguished by the chaos. He knelt down, his hands pressed against the cold earth as he began murmuring a prayer under his breath.
The locals watched, eyes wide, as if they couldn't believe it—someone was finally acknowledging their existence. Someone was finally standing in solidarity with them. Their thousands upon thousands of prayers had been answered.
Tears welled up in their eyes. The air seemed to thicken with something like reverence. Erasmus stood up, his expression serene as ever. The prayer he had offered was not for salvation. It was just something he had done for himself.
Why would he pray and ask for salvation from someone else? He didn't speak aloud. But the villagers saw it, even if they couldn't name it. They saw holiness. They saw hope.
And, for the first time in a long time, they felt seen.
The golden shine of the steps from behind seemed to emanate from Erasmus himself, magnifying his presence, making him appear more than human—more than anyone could truly comprehend. His very existence began to shine in a way they couldn't quite explain.
A whisper of wind stirred as he rose, and with a final glance at the mourners, he went deeper into the abandoned graveyard of a place.
And as he stepped back into the quiet of the village, his mind turned to what lay ahead. There was so much more to uncover. So much more to change. The Court of Faces wasn't done with him. And he wasn't done with it either.