The silence still reigned inside the brothel. The people remained motionless, frozen under the influence of Ereon, as if time itself had hesitated before him.
Each gesture, each breath seemed contained; at any movement, there was a latent tension, silent and palpable, as if the air became denser around.
Ereon raised his gaze, his fingers dancing lightly in the air, and spoke:
"Since we are all gathered, we shall move immediately."
Karna looked around, eyebrows arched:
"And these people?"
Ereon did not answer with words. He raised his hand, spinning his fingers with the precision of one who weaves his own fate.
His purple eyes shone intensely, radiating a silent black energy that seemed to bend the air around. A whisper passed through the mind of each one: Mentis.
He tilted his head slightly, as if speaking only to each of them:
"Forget…"
The words slid through the air like an ethereal touch, caressing and erasing simultaneously. No sound, no physical contact — only the sensation of a presence that dominated and reshaped memory.
The effect spread through the brothel. The memories of everything that had happened since Ereon's arrival evaporated, leaving behind a silent, heavy, almost palpable void.
There was no trace of fear, shock, or recognition — only absolute silence, as if nothing had happened.
The space seemed to breathe in relief, each gesture, each glance and each laughter erased with the subtlety of a divine touch, and yet loaded with an involuntary reverence, as if something invisible reminded everyone that they had just witnessed a power without equal.
Karna remained motionless, his clear eyes fixed on the prince's movements. A mixture of fascination and apprehension ran down his spine.
"I always thought you were a monster without equal…" he murmured, his voice low, filled with reverence and disbelief "but seeing this… I don't even know how to define it."
He blinked, trying to understand what he had just witnessed, his heart beating faster than he could measure.
"He… is not only powerful, Éon," he continued, firmer now, trying to organize the turmoil of emotions. "It's as if everything around him bends to his will. Each gesture… each glance… the entire world seems to obey."
Éon kept his gaze on his brother, serene as always, his calm contrasting with Karna's emotional storm.
"Exactly," he said, his voice measured, almost whispered, but filled with weight. "He will become stronger with time. Because Ereon does not manipulate only reality… he manipulates the fabric that allows it to exist."
Where the gods of order shape, he undoes. Where they impose laws, he restores the silence of what came before.
"But," Éon added, the edge of his voice laden with caution "everything has a price."
Karna took a deep breath, assimilating the words. The glow in Ereon's eyes was not only power; it was absolute authority over what existed and what should be forgotten.
And, for an instant, Karna realized that before that power, any definition of monster or prince was insufficient.
All remained motionless, frozen like statues, while Ereon completed the gesture, his purple eyes still shining intensely. The silence dominated the brothel, heavy, almost tangible, soaking every corner with a sensation of invisible vigilance.
Ereon turned slowly, precise and measured steps, each movement filled with authority, as if gravity itself bowed before him.
He walked toward the exit, his presence distorting the air around, as if the world were being gently pushed by his will.
Karna and Éon remained for a moment, staring at the still people, their gazes sweeping over each frozen gesture.
Then, silently, they followed him, keeping the same rhythm, as if they were shadows of the prince.
As soon as the door closed behind them, the brothel began to breathe again. The sound of conversations, the clinking of mugs, the lazy music of the lute — everything returned to normal, but carried a slight residual reverberation, as if something invisible still hovered over the space.
A woman wrapped in a single blanket rose slowly, confused, her eyes wide as she tried to understand what was happening:
"What…? How…?" she murmured, her voice trembling, not knowing whether to laugh or cry before her own forgetfulness.
The place resumed its routine, with no memory of invasion, no trace of Ereon's presence.
Only the air carried a latent tension, a silent reminder that something had been different, something no one could explain.
Outside, Ereon, Karna and Éon advanced silently, prepared for the next move.
The destination now was the temple — the next stage of information and intrigue, where plans would be tested and secrets revealed.
Outside, the night advanced with absolute silence. The moonlight poured over the streets of the North, bathing the path in silver and cold tones.
Each stone, each contour, seemed sharper, as if the moon itself outlined the path of the trio.
Ereon walked ahead, firm and calculated steps, his presence bending the space around in an almost imperceptible way, as if each shadow bowed to his command.
His purple eyes shone under the lunar mantle, reflecting the black energy that still waved silently around him, a constant reminder that no one before him could ignore his authority.
Karna and Éon followed right behind, attentive, absorbing every detail of the night that seemed to vibrate under the prince's influence.
The shadows of the houses stretched and bent with the moonlight, as if the world itself opened the way for them, anticipating their arrival.
The night wind blew softly, carrying aromas of wet earth, distant smoke and wildflowers, reminding those present that even nature was subtly under Ereon's presence.
Ereon advanced like a living shadow, guiding them along the path to the temple. Each step seemed inevitable, each breath measured and conscious.
No sound beyond their own footsteps — and yet, the moon seemed to illuminate more than just the ground; it reflected the tension that was building up, the silent anticipation of an upcoming confrontation, of information waiting to be discovered.
As they approached, the temple rose in the distance, imposing, bathed in silver light, as if the sanctuary itself were aware of the arrival of those three, each carrying their own weight, power, and secret.
When they approached the temple, two Knights, still seeing them from afar, one of the guards shouted loudly:
"There! Who are you? The temple is closed! If you came to pray or ask for the priests' blessing, come back tomorrow!"
The trio kept walking, indifferent to the warning, like shadows advancing under the pale light of the moon.
The guard shouted again, his voice now filled with anger and fear, pulling the sword from the scabbard:
"If you don't stop now… don't blame me for what will happen!"
They advanced slowly, tense, eyes wide. They murmured to themselves, with a thread of disbelief:
"Weren't there three…?"
Before he could realize it, the world around him seemed to freeze. The bodies of the two guards who advanced fell silent, dragged by an invisible and lethal force, as if darkness itself had swallowed them.
One last glance cast toward Éon, who stood behind him, motionless, the sheathed katana sliding under the black mantle like a living shadow.
Life drained from their eyes before the shock had a chance to arise. No scream, no sound — only the echo of a silent death that seemed to bend the air around.
After the small confrontation, the trio advanced along the moonlit path to the temple entrance. Ereon stopped for a brief moment, casting a look behind him.
Karna and Éon stared at him in silence, each absorbing the overwhelming presence of the prince.
He remained like that for a few seconds, as if sensing something, before slowly turning toward the temple doors.
Inside, a low chant echoed, reverberating through the stone walls, filled with an unsettling calm, almost ritualistic.
Ereon turned his gaze to Karna, his voice calm and firm cutting through the night air:
"The temple shelters orphans who were abandoned. Find where they are. There will be a girl with blue eyes, dark brown hair, short and slightly wavy, falling messy over the face. Bring her to me."
Karna nodded, his expression serious and determined. Without delay, he set off along the path, moving like a shadow, ready to fulfill the mission.
Ereon then turned to Éon, his voice heavy with command and warning:
"Any knight, priest, or whoever tries to enter… if they dare, kill them."
The air around seemed to stiffen, as if the world held its breath before the silent promise of destruction.
Éon remained still, black eyes shining under the moon, the katana ready to act at any signal.
Ereon extended his hand and pushed the great temple doors. They yielded with a deep creak, opening the way to an impressive interior.
The hall was vast, adorned with tapestries embroidered in golden threads and walls of polished stone that reflected the light of hundreds of candles.
Columns carved with ancient symbols supported the ceiling, while bronze jars and vases with fragrant flowers decorated every corner.
The marble floor gleamed, and small fountains scattered around the environment murmured gentle sounds, creating an atmosphere of peace and prosperity.
In the center, priests in light robes bowed before the bishop, who stood upon an elevated altar, his voice echoing in ceremonial chants that filled the hall.
But everything changed when their eyes met Ereon's.
The candlelight seemed to retreat, trembling before the overwhelming presence of the prince.
The heavy air seemed to bend around him, and every object in the temple appeared subtly to bow to his passage.
The bishop and the priests, once immersed in the ritual, rose immediately, their gazes fixed on Ereon, shock and fear reflected in every gesture and expression.
No sound was heard anymore beyond the tension that grew in the air; each of them understood, instantly, that this was not an ordinary visitor.