Nirit's POV
I reappeared in what I already recognized to be LoudeRealm.
The jar was still in my hands—
Yellow.
Golden.
Empty.
So this was Quintiel's real world.
Fascinating~
I scanned the landscape. Whoever the red-turned-golden feather belonged to had to be close by somewhere.
And yes, I wasn't stupid—
the white feather I absorbed earlier? [>>Refer to Ch.4<<]
Definitely Princess Cilicia's.
Finally, all my theories were lining up.
I took a careful step forward, then another.
The sky was dark-unnervingly dark.
The only source of light was the lone golden sun suspended above. It felt both impossibly far away, and yet, too close.
LoudeRealm… creeped me out.
Such a sharp contrast to the glowing colours of Whisper-Realm.
Even it's skies lacked birds. The trees were fruitless and the air smelled like burned potatoes. Not the sweet kind. Trust me.
I was beginning to understand why Quintiel might hate Whisper-Realm so much.
After all, you only hate what you couldn't have.
Up ahead, I noticed an Osam sitting on a rock like a dramatic little mermaid.
He looked sorrowful, and the tune from the flute he played was something between a lullaby and a funeral hymn.
I watched him from a distance.
This realm was misery turned into landscape—so his mood fit perfectly.
As I stepped closer, trying not to be noticed, the tunes blended into lyrics – typically formed by my head but it was a song. A diss from all the characters I'd ever written so far.
Reminding me of everything wrong I had done to them in the past. All those rage baits that was the cause of everyone's suffering.
I hated it.
I hated myself for it.
For being so stupid– emotionally driven.
Then suddenly, the music stopped.
And so did my spiraling thoughts.
The Osam rose gracefully from the rock. He turned around to face me.
"It'd be rude of me to use magic on cold visitors," he said with a faint smile.
"But hey, you looked miserable."
"That was… magic?" I managed to ask.
My head was still spinning, the emotional hit was too real.
He looked a LOT like Quintiel, but he didn't sound like him at all.
The Osam offered me a hand, his eyes glowing like sunlight through water.
"Relax. The effect will fade.. with time, yes."
"How does it work?" I asked quietly, still disoriented.
" You mean the spell?"
His expression softened.
" It's unintentional.. flows with the wind." He levitated upward and dragged me along with him.
"..Within you…"
My wings unfurled on their own, matching the movement of his.
"…pulling out every negative thought until it becomes visible."
He released my hand and spun effortlessly in the air.
"I only use it to spot villains. And it seems like I've found one."
I glared. "Are you serious right now?"
He laughed… then paused, grinning as he looked at me properly.
"You're flying. Surprised?"
I rolled my eyes. "What? Does this magic of yours also let you read minds?"
"Hmm." He rubbed his chin playfully.
"Maybe. But I'm not as good as my brother. Oh—right. He told me not to call him that."
He soared high into the sky, then dropped down again with impossible grace.
"Then what do you call him?" I asked.
"Boringly, what everyone else calls him—"
The sky rumbled violently before he could finish.
He looked up.
"…that's new."
"What's going on, Osam?" I asked.
He straightened, voice deepening.
"Quell Evern, if you must."
His playful mood shifted instantly.
"I may be easygoing—
But I am the king, co-ruler of this Realm. Show some respect."
He shrugged, "Or at least pretend to. 'Osam' is a name addressed only to commoners."
I blinked.
" …O-kay?"
Quell's expression suddenly brightened, he practically squealed,
"I must go!"
He summoned a swirling portal, grinned one last time, and stepped through.
The jar in my hands glowed violently—
Definitely his feather.
But that only meant he was at the Orphanage.
And if he was~
Why?
Before I could think further, the jar teleported me again.
And my legs nearly gave out as I landed.
I looked up, and my jaw dropped.
Whisper-Realm was in ruins.
Dark smoke swallowed the once-brilliant sky.
The ground beneath me was wrecked and cracked, if not battered to bits.
And hovering high above, glowing with raw power, A familiar figure.
My jaw clenched.
'Quintiel?'
His wings looked different.
No, not just that. He looked.. different ?