In the founding myth, it was said that the Devil could only move once darkness fell. One day, to devour more humans, it swallowed the sun—and during that time, which became the present winter, it slaughtered mankind.
However, beyond that, little else was known. Even the story about the moon and the Devil, which Seiyad had recently learned through the palace archives, was something he had never heard in his previous life.
“When the Devil begins to amass strength and cast shadows over the world, signs will start to appear. The Nir’a—its minions—will remain awake longer and begin to evolve into stronger forms. Don’t you think the grotesque Nir’a that appeared today, in the middle of spring daylight, aligns perfectly with such records?”
The Duke’s words sounded like some far-fetched ancient folklore, yet they were hard to refute. The bizarre phenomena unfolding all over couldn’t be reasonably explained. From the beginning, the mere existence of the Tither and the Guides served as proof of those legendary tales—there was no reason not to believe them.
“What you say makes sense, Duke. But if this is true, then why now? The Devil has been absent for hundreds of years since the founding of the kingdom. In the first place, wasn’t it supposed to have been destroyed?”
“The Devil never disappeared, Grand Duke. If it had, this forest and the Nir’a wouldn’t exist either. It was merely sealed away. The Tither and the Guides exist solely to monitor the Devil.”
It felt like an obvious truth, but until Bridehit voiced it, Seiyad had never considered that interpretation.
Until now, he had thought the founding myth was simply a convenient story invented to explain the Nir’a. A device forged by the royal family to validate their bloodline and powers.
“But… in the myth, it says the four stars slit the Devil’s belly and retrieved the sun. Doesn’t that mean it was already…”
His words trailed off. Nowhere did it explicitly state the Devil had died. As if to say I told you so, Bridehit nodded and continued.
“As you’ve seen, the core in the forest is the proof. When you consider the countless Nir’a guarding it, and the way the forest shrinks each time one is destroyed, doesn’t it make sense that it’s the Devil’s remnant?”
“But how do you know all this? Nothing you’ve said appears in the myth, nor is it taught to the Tither.”
As Seiyad looked at him with suspicion, Bridehit smiled silently. He glanced around the Shildras estate, as if lost in memory, then turned to the window and began recounting the past.
“Sirkhan and I once delved into the nature of the Tither. Both of us hated this constrained life. A life tethered to the Nir’a, bound to nothing else—felt like hell. I wanted to roam the kingdom, and Sirkhan loathed the lack of freedom.”
At the sudden mention of the previous Duke of Shildras, Seiyad’s face hardened. Just hearing that man’s name stirred a violent urge to tear him apart. He hated even hearing others speak of him.
But at the same time, something clicked into place.
The Nir’a in the form of a serpent, and the unknown figure who commanded it. If Sirkhan Shildras had truly desired destruction, perhaps he had been the one to awaken the Devil.
Clues drifted in and out of reach, weaving a chaotic web. If Sirkhan had stirred the Devil for the sake of ruin, and if the Devil truly intended to swallow the sun once again…
Then the Tither would be its first target.
From Selfini Vetria and Aster Bridehit’s deaths in his previous life, all the way to his own Rampage—it might not have been a coincidence after all. As the image of the sunless, burning kingdom at its end rose in his mind, Seiyad felt a grim certainty. Whether it had truly happened or not, that was the future that would come if the Tither vanished.
With only young Tither left like now, there was no way to hold back the flood of Nir’a. Even in this current subjugation, had Seiyad not personally stepped in, someone would’ve surely been gravely injured—or worse.
“But that was all in our youth. I found someone I loved and came to understand the weight of my duty. Sirkhan, too, built a family and compromised with reality. It was such a distant memory that I thought I’d forgotten… until last winter, when it all suddenly returned.”
Bridehit turned his gaze out the window like a man clinging to fading memories. The sorrow cast across his face at the memory of an old friend was almost unbearable for Seiyad to witness.
“Didn’t the former Duke of Shildras lead quite a free life? Beloved Duke of the South, always boasting of the Tither’s greatness wherever he went.”
Bridehit caught the hostility in Seiyad’s voice and slowly turned his head. His gaze was filled with subtle complexity as he spoke.
“Everyone carries a sorrow only they themselves know. Just like you have your own story, each of us bears unseen truths in our hearts. Sirkhan, too, was never able to attain what he most wanted in life.”
“If you’re talking about freedom, then that’s not unique to the former Duke. Everyone lives that kind of life. I don’t feel any sympathy.”
“I’m talking about love. The one Sirkhan cherished more than his own life…”
That was unexpected. Sirkhan Shildras had always been known as a devoted husband. He raised his children—Zion and his sibling—with affection that no one doubted.
But Seiyad didn’t want to know any more. Whatever kind of life the man had lived, to him, Sirkhan was no different from the Devil—detestable and unforgivable.
“I don’t want to hear more. And I suggest you not yearn too deeply for a dead friend either, Duke.”
If Sirkhan had been the one to release the Devil, then it was ultimately his choices that led to Bridehit’s death in the previous life. That paradox was revolting.
“Rather than that, if you know anything else about the Devil, I’d prefer you share it.”
Bridehit looked conflicted for a moment, then gave a small nod.
“The Devil is—”
Just as the Duke opened his mouth to speak, footsteps echoed from down the hall. Seiyad’s gaze shifted slightly past the Duke’s shoulder, where Aster was approaching with knights in tow. His golden hair shimmered under the glass lanterns, perfectly matching the opulence of the corridor.
Following Seiyad’s gaze, Bridehit turned his body and quickly stepped back. They both moved aside into the corridor and bowed toward Aster, who approached them slowly, a smile curling his eyes as he spoke.
“So the Stars of Solias were here all along. Duke Bridehit, you’ve been quite elusive lately. Only now do you show yourself?”
“My apologies, Your Highness. I was delayed while looking into something.”
“And what held your steps?”
“The string of anomalies felt too bizarre to ignore, so I conducted a bit of an investigation.”
Aster hummed softly, rubbing his chin before making a casual gesture.
“Let’s talk in more detail tomorrow. For now, your daughter needs her father. You should go to her.”
“Has the meeting concluded?”
At Bridehit’s question, Seiyad also turned a steady gaze toward Aster. Locking eyes with Seiyad, Aster responded with a smile that seemed almost eager for praise.
“There’s no reason to drag it out. Since Zion Shildras failed to fulfill his duties as commander and committed a grave mistake, we’ve concluded to strip him of his field command. Three royal knights and ten knights of House Shildras were injured, and the Grand Duke Axid himself was put in serious danger and wounded. Reports from the battlefield describe the Duke of Shildras’s leadership as utterly abysmal.”
Bridehit looked stunned, as if he hadn’t heard this part yet, and turned wide eyes toward Seiyad.
“You were injured? Why didn’t you say anything?”
Just then, Aster reached out and took Seiyad’s hand, pulling him away from Bridehit. With a gentle tone, he answered in Seiyad’s place.
“He hasn’t received my Purification yet, so the wounds likely still linger. Wouldn’t it be best, Duke, to leave us now?”
“Ah, I understand.”
With a regretful glance toward Seiyad, Bridehit stepped back. Watching him go, Aster gestured to the knights as well.
“Escort the Duke to his quarters. I’ll remain here alone with the Grand Duke.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
The knights responded with more formality than usual and offered Seiyad a respectful nod before withdrawing. From the Shildras knights earlier to these ones now, something in the air had shifted oddly—and the change left Seiyad momentarily silent. Once the two of them were alone in the hallway, Aster led him onward.
“So, how was the Purification with Ressas?”
The question made his stomach twist. The shameful events in the barracks, which he had tried so hard to suppress, resurfaced in his mind. The lingering heat, the excessive pleasure still fresh in his senses—Seiyad held firm to his impassive expression as he replied.
“I didn’t expect you to leave me there.”
Since he had decided to continue acting like someone still loyal to Aster, Seiyad stuck to the same approach as before. Despite the chastising tone, Aster responded with delight.
“Were you upset, my star?”
“I still remember when you angrily ordered me to stay away from the second prince.”
“I only did that to make sure you wouldn’t hold on to any lingering affection.”
Aster laughed cheerfully as he tugged Seiyad along by the hand. With brisk steps, he pulled him forward. The two of them crossed a moonlit corridor and came to a stop in front of a room.
“No matter how much that vermin tries, he’ll never be able to heal your wounds. You’re only whole by my side, Eid.”
Leaning against the door, Aster pulled Seiyad closer. Their eyes met at equal height. For a fleeting moment, the heat in Aster’s gaze overlapped with Ressas’s. Then Aster’s hand slid around Seiyad’s waist, slipping under the loose shirt to gently touch the wounded skin on his back.
