I couldn't take it anymore.
The weight of the pain crashing over me was more than I could bear—it was stronger than my ability to breathe, to think, to even keep living. In that moment, I felt like my end had already been written, like the last fragments of my existence were slipping through my trembling hands with my tears. I sank to the ground, clutching the body of the one I loved, sobbing until I lost all sense of time.
I cried and cried… until I thought my tears would never stop. Then, suddenly, I felt a light touch on my shoulder. It wasn't heavy or startling—it was like a thin thread of light breaking through the suffocating darkness that had consumed me. My body trembled for a moment, and I lifted my head hesitantly.
There… through the blur of my tears, I saw a man. His features were hidden, as if shadows cloaked his face, leaving me with nothing but his mystery. He stretched out his hand toward me—a hand marred with bruises, bearing the scars of old battles. And yet, it seemed steady, firm, as if it knew exactly what it was doing.
I didn't know who he was, or where he'd come from.
And yet… I found myself reaching out, taking his battered hand, allowing him to lift me from the ground. In that moment, it felt as if I was being pulled out of the depths of my despair, forced—if only briefly—to accept the cruel reality in front of me.
I heard his whispers drift into my ear, his voice calm yet deep, as if the words had come from somewhere familiar within me:
"Calm down… this is your fate."
I didn't know him, not his name, not his story. And yet, strangely, I obeyed. I followed his words without resistance, as if I'd been used to someone whispering such phrases in my ear long ago.
Then he spoke again, clearer this time:
"I'll take care of the body. I'll put it in the morgue, then bury it properly."
I hesitated… I wanted to refuse, to cling to the body, to scream that I didn't want anyone else to touch it. But his eyes, his way of speaking, his uncanny stillness… all told me he was someone who wouldn't make a mistake. Someone who knew what he was doing.
We exchanged a few seconds of silence—brief glances heavier than any words. Inside me, something whispered: Let him… you can trust him.
And from that moment… something began to shift. The pain didn't vanish, but it grew quieter, less savage. A faint comfort slipped into my chest, like I'd finally found just enough space to breathe.
That's when I made a decision… to search.
To search for a legendary stone that could ease my curse. Perhaps it would mark the beginning of a new path, or at the very least, give me a fragile thread to hold onto in the dark.
Yes… the Great Stone… the Stone of Purification.
It wasn't just an ordinary stone. It shimmered with strange mystery, radiating a quiet calm that reached deep into the soul, as if it carried within its silence the secrets of the world. The magic of purification… magic that cleansed, stripping away black sorcery and shadowed spirits. All I dreamed of in that moment was finding this stone, healing myself, regaining my strength, reclaiming the pieces of life and spirit that had been torn from me.
My journey began in the Tower of Mages, that majestic place holding within its walls a long history of secrets and ancient magic. At first, I could've told my uncle, one of the grand masters of the tower. But… he wasn't mine anymore. Our relationship had ended long ago, leaving only a wall of silence and painful memories between us. I couldn't take that risk.
So I turned to his friend, another high mage of the tower, a man closest to our family. He was a wise man, patient, rarely refusing any request no matter how great. He welcomed me kindly, led me into his chamber filled with old books and cryptic symbols. Then he opened the stone room for me… a dim chamber where endless rows of stones glimmered like tiny stars.
I reached out carefully, smiling to myself, trusting my intuition. There was one stone, shrouded, its full shape hidden, yet radiating a strange warmth—as if it already knew me before I ever touched it. When I held it, I felt peace, like something within me was slowly returning. It was distant from fear, closer to hope.
One night passed… then another, both filled with deep contemplation as I studied the stone, sensing its power. And on the third day, I made up my mind. I couldn't endure it any longer—the waiting, the stagnation in a place that neither healed me nor set me free.
I decided to go to my second homeland… Japan.
The land of my grandmother—the woman who'd lived with grace and values, who used to tell me stories of Japanese culture, of the kindness of its people, of their rich traditions, their festivals that felt like legends. In her voice, in her tales, there was always a sense of peace, a sense of belonging I'd never found here.
I bid farewell to my father, his silence heavy as stone. He placed his hand gently on my forehead, in respect, in love, and I felt the deep sorrow crushing his heart. He didn't mean to be stern or sad, but he couldn't stop me from leaving. His tears were hidden, his apology silent… but genuine.
Then came my grandmother. I knew she'd feel guilt, a weight of regret for what had happened, for what was lost. But she stood before me calm, and I kissed her forehead and hand in respect for her age and her place. Her smile was sorrowful, deep, filled with love and regret all at once.
And then… the hardest of all. My uncle.
I expected him to shout, to forbid me, to cast me out as he had before. But no. He greeted me with quiet silence, no grand words, no anger. He bid me farewell gently, honestly, as if a fragment of the old love still lingered in his heart.
I boarded the ship, leaving with a heart full of contradictions. A sense of relief, of longing, of fear for what lay ahead. I missed those I'd left behind, and I longed for what I'd soon discover—but deep inside, something whispered this wasn't just the start of a journey… it was the start of the end.
---
Days crawled by until we reached Japan. The sea faded behind us like a thin thread of memory, while the fresh breeze caressed my face, carrying the scent of that faraway land—a blend of ocean, blossoms, and pure air I hadn't breathed in years.
On the second day, I began wandering the city's old streets, alive in a way that was both strange and comforting. Small markets, vendors calling out with warm voices, vibrant fabrics and flowers adorning the sidewalks… everything seemed as if it was trying to soothe me. And for the first time in so long, I felt the weight of sorrow inside me begin to ease, my heart slowly freeing itself.
People there recognized me quickly. I was "Osana's granddaughter." My grandmother was known in every corner of the city—for her name, her kindness, her place among them. I felt a flicker of pride, as if her history, her bond with the community, had become a shield protecting me from loneliness and grief.
Days passed, and I wandered through markets and temples, listening to people's stories, sharing words, learning their traditions. With every step I took, it felt like another scar on my heart was healing. I even began to laugh, to enjoy, to feel a rare sense of freedom after years of chains and conflict.
But, as always, peace never lasts.
One evening, as I read some letters sent from my homeland, something appeared I couldn't ignore. I turned the papers with trembling hands, and suddenly my blood froze. A murder…? Who was the victim? My friend… Vicky herself. The one who'd left me, the one whose funeral I'd never been able to attend.
The shock was crushing, and the first tear slid down my cheek before I could stop it. The news came faster than I could process: Vicky's stepmother was responsible. It wasn't surprising… I'd felt something in her, I'd suspected darkness behind those cold smiles.
I was devastated. Days passed as I dwelled on it, carrying the ache of loss and justice denied. Every moment reminded me of what I'd lost, every memory of Vicky stabbed deeper. But at least, her killer was caught, imprisoned, and justice had taken its course. That softened the rage gnawing at my heart—if only slightly.
Then one day, as exhaustion overwhelmed me, symptoms of dark magic began to consume my body—despite the Stone of Purification being in my possession. Chills tore through every cell in me, as if the night itself had merged with the shadows inside.
And when I realized the truth… I trembled.
The stone I'd taken… wasn't the Stone of Purification.
It was a black stone… a cursed, powerful one, radiating lethal sorcery.
I crawled across the floor to push it away, terror gripping me. I didn't know how to control it, how to fight its strength. But something I'd read in the tower's books saved me. There was a way: sealing it tightly, binding it so its dark power would weaken.
I spent the whole night watching the stone, sensing its energy, fearing every wrong move. It felt as if the stone itself was watching me, testing my courage and patience. But gradually, the symptoms of its magic began to fade. Slowly, peace crept back into my weary body.
The next day, I told the guards everything. They placed the stone in a safe, tightly sealed place, far from anyone's reach. Then the ship set sail back to my homeland—with me finally at rest, my body loosened, my spirit freed after all the torment.
During the voyage, I tried to find words again, searching for inner peace, for the voice I'd lost. It felt as if my soul had become lighter, as if my heart was finally smiling after a long silence. Simple moments—but they gave me happiness, gave me hope that maybe everything would be alright.
At last, we arrived home. A mix of longing and relief filled me. I remembered my promise: I'd try, somehow, to bring my family back together, to open the door to reconciliation, no matter how hard the path.
I stepped out of the carriage in front of the palace, my heart overflowing with joy. I wanted to see everyone again, to smile, to embrace all I'd left behind. But in that instant, I felt something strange… something I couldn't yet explain. As if time itself had shifted, as if this place no longer matched the one in my memory.
The palace was quiet, too quiet, and the main gate seemed slightly shut. Unease rippled through me, but I brushed it aside, clinging to the joy swelling in my chest. My steps quickened as I approached the great door, recalling every face I'd loved, every memory I'd held, every scar I'd carried, and the hope now shimmering ahead of me.
But just a few steps from the entrance, I felt it—something that would change everything. My return… would not be an ordinary reunion.
---
And when I finally stepped into the palace hall, my heart stopped. The shock before me was beyond words… the ground was drenched in blood. Every member of my family lay lifeless on the floor, their bodies stained crimson, their eyes extinguished in a single, merciless instant.
I shook violently, as if every bone in me had shattered, my whole body trembling beyond my control. It was like a curse—why? Why had this happened?! I screamed with all my might, my voice echoing through the walls, but the only reply was the palace's suffocating silence.
My body shook not only from the horror but from the crushing weight of helplessness and confusion. Even little Arian… the child's body lay lifeless among them.
I stepped closer, my vision blurred by tears streaming endlessly. I couldn't stop myself—the shock devoured my mind, my face drenched with grief, as the world collapsed around me.
Suddenly… a heavy hand struck my back, and a furious voice roared in my ear:
"You foolish murderer!!! How could you slaughter your family like this?!"
I turned to find one of our knights—someone I knew well—gripping my throat with brutal force, rage blazing in his eyes like fire. I couldn't even think; everything blurred into fog. I didn't know what to say, what to do. Every word felt wrong, every movement pointless. The only thing I managed to whisper after a long, trembling silence was:
"What?!"
Then, another voice rose—a familiar one. Calm, but carrying authority that silenced the storm:
"Let her go… now."
It was Sina, my cousin, standing in the shadows. Her eyes gleamed with clarity, her voice filled with the wisdom I'd always known in her. And in a single moment, his grip loosened. He turned to her, desperate to justify himself, but her words forced his silence.
I tried to rise, to move, but my body wouldn't obey. Everything felt like it was crumbling inside and out.
Then the harsh voice returned, sharper than ever before:
"I never expected this from you, Karina… How could you destroy your family like this?! You really had a black stone—and you used your sorcery on them, didn't you?!"
I froze inside. How could anyone accuse me like this? How could the truth be twisted so cruelly? There was no black stone… it was just a mistake, a terrible mistake—but it had been exploited, twisted, and now I was being buried beneath its monstrous lie.
I staggered to my feet, each step harder than the last, trying to find my voice, trying to explain, trying to move. But no words came out. Everything felt impossible, every second a battle to remain standing.
And finally, just before I collapsed from the crushing exhaustion, the world spun around me. Darkness closed in. A sensation of utter helplessness—of everything ending before it had even begun.
---
Would you believe me… if I told you I'm innocent?