Seiyad responded with silence instead of questions. There was nothing incorrect about what he had said. Rather, it was Ressas who was the strange one.
The idea that all lives are of equal worth was not right. Just as the wicked deserved death and the good deserved to live, just as a child’s life was more precious than that of someone who had lived long, saving the one who could be of greater help while alive was the proper course. That was what Seiyad had been taught. The lives of the Tithers and the Guide were directly tied to the fate of the kingdom. Saving the prince, the Guide, was more important than knights who would merely end up as prey for the Nir’a.
Seiyad genuinely could not understand the prince. Just as he was trying to dissuade Ressas from once again endangering himself, he noticed that Ressas’s breathing was uneven. He was trying to hide it, but his chest rose and fell in an unsteady rhythm. When Seiyad slowly looked him over, he saw blood trickling down from the back of his clenched fist.
‘He’s injured.’
He had acted so nonchalantly that Seiyad hadn’t realized. He had no interest in arguing with a wounded man—better to bring him back to the castle for now. The prince’s knights could also grow more endangered if more time was wasted.
“I didn’t save Your Highness. I merely killed the Nir’a.”
That was Seiyad’s response. At this moment, Ressas had nothing he could offer him. Seiyad had come here in part to ease the prince’s hostility, but since Ressas was flaring up in incomprehensible anger, his intent had ultimately failed. Creating a needless sense of debt and provoking Ressas further would only be a loss.
Yet Ressas’s expression only grew more desolate at Seiyad’s words. His violet eyes trembled violently, and then he turned his gaze away from Seiyad. As if the chill in his voice moments earlier had never existed, he spoke to his knights with gentle warmth.
“Those with the least injuries, help the others. I’ll support Sir Anka myself.”
It was an act of kindness far too generous for those who had failed in their duty. But the Ressas in Seiyad’s memory had always been like that. Even after gaining power, he always cared too deeply for his people, and he grieved bitterly over the deaths of others. Ressas was a man Seiyad could not comprehend.
Seiyad turned and stepped into the forest. Pushing aside branches to clear the way for the others to follow, he retraced the path they had come. Two knights, panting and running, appeared from the shadows and stopped in surprise when they saw him.
“We’re sorry, Duke! We tried to follow you as best we could, but we failed….”
Seiyad cut them off and pointed behind him.
“There are wounded. Go help them. Prince Ressas is there too—ensure his safety above all else.”
“Y-yes, understood.”
The knights quickly followed Seiyad’s command and ran back down the path. After confirming in the darkness that they had rejoined Ressas’s group, Seiyad turned and began clearing the way forward once more.
***
The banquet hall that had been prepared for the Ritual of Invocation had, in an instant, become a triage center. The entire atmosphere within the castle turned tense under the weight of an unimaginable crisis. Multiple deaths, overflowing casualties. Those who had gone to attend the ceremony returned half-dead, and the sight left a chill in every onlooker’s bones.
Seiyad had a mountain of tasks to handle. He sent carrier pigeons to the capital and to each Tither household, assessed the damage, and began formulating recovery plans. After reorganizing the personnel to care for the injured and distributing the castle’s medicinal herbs and rations, only then did Seiyad finally catch his breath.
The world beyond the window was pitch black. As if someone had painted the panes with dark ink. He opened the window. A wind like a blade sliced across his skin, cooling his overheated body. The moment that bitter wind hit him, Seiyad felt a stabbing pain as though his skull were being split open. Every nerve in his body lit up in unison.
The sound of the wind boomed like thunder in his ears, his eyes ached with pain, and his heart pounded so violently it hurt. An uncontrollable sense of dread surged up in that moment—followed by a voice, whispering into his ear.
“Eid, avenge me. Kill them all. Everyone who did this to me—kill them. Kill them. Kill them!”
A pain like sharp blades piercing outward from within wracked his entire body. The voice repeated without pause. Seiyad jumped to his feet.
‘Is this… a side effect? From something this small?’
The voices and pain assaulting him were side effects of his ability. The symptoms varied depending on how much power he had used. Killing a few mid-tier Nir’a wouldn’t normally bring on the voices. At most, he would suffer from insomnia or nerve pain. Hearing voices only happened when he had pushed himself too far.
‘Why? For what reason?’
A wave of anxiety overwhelmed him. It reminded him of the time when he had lost control. The moment the hallucinations had consumed him, the voices had driven him. What he had thought were Nir’a, those he had killed, were in truth powerless people he had meant to protect. The memory of blood dripping down his blade was vivid. If he had truly killed Nir’a, his hands should’ve been clean. But his hands had been soaked in human blood.
The crushing guilt drove him into a panic. Staggering away from the window, he turned and left the room. The wind slammed the door shut behind him as he stumbled down the corridor. The flickering torches along the hall made the shadows dance.
Barely aware, he wandered through the halls and down the stairs until he reached Aster’s room. His body had brought him here, guided by his instincts, to the one person who could help him now. The royal knights stationed at the door stopped him.
“Duke, please return after sunrise. His Highness has already retired for the night.”
The moment he opened his mouth, a fresh wave of pain struck his skull. The amplified voice whispered again in his ear.
“Kill them all, my child. They all hate us.”
Seiyad’s shadow trembled unstably. He clenched his fist and dug his nails into his palm. The sting of pain tore through the skin.
“I must see His Highness.”
The words came out with difficulty. His voice was hoarse and broken. The knights exchanged glances, troubled. Then they shook their heads.
“We’re sorry. Please return in the morning.”
“I…”
A flush of red tinged Seiyad’s eyes. His voice dropped, low and chilling.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
The knights reacted to the ominous surge of killing intent. Straining to maintain composure, they placed their hands on their sword hilts, trying to conceal their fear. A tense energy crackled between them. Seiyad clenched his fist tighter, steadying his breath. It felt like he was suffocating. His throat burned with thirst, as if it were being filled endlessly with sand. If this kept up, he feared he might harm the innocent. Just as he turned to walk away, the door opened.
“Come in, Eid.”
The voice was sweet enough to melt his ears. Like snow dissolving in sunlight, Seiyad crumbled and ran toward him, throwing himself into the arms of the only person who could ease his pain. He hugged him tightly, as if trying to crush him. Aster, who embraced the large man without the slightest hesitation, smiled at the startled knights watching them.
“You may go. It seems the Duke is unwell—do not interfere.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
The two knights, recognizing the signs of a side effect, bowed and closed the door. The sound of their voices felt distant, as if from another world. The moment he embraced Aster, Seiyad inhaled the soft fragrance that clung to him. His chest rose and fell as he clung to Aster’s back.
“Aster… please… grant me… peace…”
The fear that he might truly kill someone if left like this any longer made Seiyad desperate. As he clawed at Aster’s back with trembling strength, Aster calmly held him in return.
“Hush now, Eid. Don’t be so impatient.”
There was no room for a reply. Aster began to gently soothe his convulsing body, stroking him with steady hands. With every motion down his back, a soft wave of warmth washed through Seiyad’s body. Aster’s purification was always radiantly warm, almost blissful. Like sunlight thawing frozen winter soil, it was so bright it drew in those left cold and alone—like Seiyad.
“Did they forget to keep the fireplace lit? Your cheeks are freezing.”
The hand that had been caressing his back moved up to his face. The tension that had made his body razor-sharp finally began to melt. Aster, who could tame even the fiercest of beasts with a single touch, guided Seiyad to the bed. As Aster slowly sat on the edge, Seiyad—as always—knelt on the floor at his feet. Cold from the stone floor seeped into his knees. Though usually resilient to cold, his body became terribly sensitive during the side effects. Shivering, he looked up at Aster, who gazed down at him with gentle eyes.
“Seems you used quite a bit of power tonight.”
Aster’s ash-gray hair, swept back earlier, fell forward across Seiyad’s forehead. As Aster brushed the loose strands away, his waves of energy continued to seep in. The hallucinations had completely faded. But the storm of sensations still assaulted his body. Every sound was painfully loud, his body freezing to the bone, and his head felt as if it were splitting in two. He needed more purification. When he looked up with dazed, unfocused eyes, Aster smiled, as if he found the expression endearing.
Still quietly stroking Seiyad’s hair, Aster leaned down. Purification usually required only light contact, but the deeper the Tither’s distress, the more deeply Aster would intervene. When Seiyad was suffering like this, Aster would often press a kiss to his forehead to calm him. At times, when things were worse, it would go even further—but this wasn’t one of those times.
His lips hovered just above Seiyad’s brow. Seiyad looked up into his golden eyes as Aster curved them into a gentle smile, approaching as if ready to grant him peace. But his lips never touched. Instead, they paused nearby, slightly parted.
“Why did you go out of your way to save Ressas?”
