This was the first time Cecilia had spoken so openly about her foresight. While she had often described the visions she witnessed in detail, she had never explained how they occurred or what the process was like. Seiyad, already feeling uneasy, grew even more anxious as Cecilia continued speaking in this manner.
“Tell me what’s going to happen to His Highness.”
But not wanting to pass that anxiety onto his little sister, Seiyad replied as calmly as he could.
“I don’t know that far. Just… I was told that if I went into the forest with you, I’d be able to tell you what to do. So you have to take me with you, okay?”
“Of course, Cecil. You’re a Tither who bears the name of Brosius. It’s only right.”
“Thank you, Oppa.”
As she said that, Cecilia slowly clasped Seiyad’s hand tightly. When he returned the gesture, holding her fair and delicate hand, she lowered her gaze to their joined hands and began to speak again.
“…You know, I always thought my ability was worthless. I couldn’t kill Nir’a with strength like yours, so I believed I’d never be someone who truly belonged in Brosius. When I left you, I used that as a cowardly excuse. But lately, I’ve been thinking… maybe everyone in this world has their own role to play in some way. Whether it’s big or small, everything has meaning.”
Her words carried the weight of long contemplation, and Seiyad chose to listen without interrupting. He had only recently begun to understand that everyone carried their own burdens, and Cecilia’s words struck a deep chord within him.
“So I started going back through the dreams I’ve had. And then I remembered something you said once… and I thought, maybe you were right.”
Seiyad looked at her, prompting her to go on. Cecilia’s eyes now held a firm conviction.
“You asked me once if you had turned back time for me. Back then, I thought it was absurd. But I think I was wrong. The more I think about those recurring dreams, the more certain I am—there’s a span of time I don’t remember.”
“Explain it in detail.”
Her dark eyes, inherited from their mother, shimmered with sorrow. Cecilia parted her lips, carefully choosing her words. Each one came with hesitation, as if she had to deliberate on every thought.
“This is… about what happened after you died. I told you before about that vision—piles of corpses like mountains, and you covered in blood. In that place, I kept seeing… His Highness Ressas. He held your dead body and wept for a long time. Then, when he returned to the castle, he and I spoke. And then… he said to me…”
Cecilia’s voice dropped to a whisper, guilt woven through every word.
“He told me to stay by my family’s side in the next life. That you had done all you needed to do, that you were someone who never abandoned your duty…”
Her grip tightened around his hand, then she fell silent. After biting her lip and steadying her ragged breath, she pressed on with quiet resolve.
“Most of the dreams fade when I wake up, and… it’s like something invisible keeps me from speaking about them freely. So it’s hard to remember a lot. But somehow, I etched that last part into my heart. Before His Highness left, the last thing he said was… to pray for your soul. He begged me to stop your time, somehow…”
As Seiyad listened to his sister’s labored words, he realized he had forgotten to breathe. A heavy tightness pressed down on his chest, and he forced out a painful breath, clenching his teeth.
‘Ressas, you…’
What kind of heart did you have to stand in that moment? What were you feeling when you said those cruel words to me… when you killed me with your own hands? Just imagining it twisted Seiyad’s insides with pain.
Just like when he had uncovered the reason Ressas had to stab him, this sorrow crushed him even more completely, as if his entire body were collapsing. As though standing firm in a blizzard, he straightened his legs with effort.
‘The more I come to understand you, the more I realize—I can’t even begin to grasp the depth of your sorrow.’
Now that the truth, which he had only vaguely guessed at, had been spoken aloud by Cecilia, the weight of all his past doubts threatened to bury him.
There had been times—he was certain of it—when he had thought Ressas’s confession of love was a lie, when he had dismissed his sincerity and called it deceit.
The truth was too entangled to be easily unraveled. So perhaps it had been inevitable that he couldn’t fully believe in Ressas. But Seiyad now regretted every moment he had refused to acknowledge the truth in his feelings. He had reduced all those whispered words of love to nothing more than lust. Believed they were shallow. And now… he hated himself for it.
But punishing himself wouldn’t bring Ressas any comfort—Seiyad knew that. What he needed to do was protect Ressas, ensure that every moment he lived could be filled with joy. Knowing that, he forcefully suppressed the self-loathing that surged within him.
Perhaps sensing her brother’s thoughts from his expression, Cecilia said nothing more. After a brief pause, she gently stroked the back of his hand and gave him a bright smile, as if to say it was okay.
“The past is already buried by time, so let’s focus on what we need to do now. I think I saw what might happen, so that we could stop something tragic before it does. So let’s protect His Highness.”
Seiyad embraced her silently in response to her tender words. The warmth of his dear sister in his arms calmed him. His damp breaths scattered into the air without a sound, and Cecilia patted his back. As she stood on tiptoe to hug him, Seiyad was reminded just how much he loved and cherished this little sister. In that moment, more than anything, he wanted to protect the time that had returned to him—along with all that he had once lost.
Knowing that his sadness would startle Ressas, Seiyad deliberately suppressed it. Instead, he prepared bathwater for him, set out the most extravagant table he could manage, and did everything he could to get Ressas to sleep, even for a little while. He did his best, but the North wasn’t known for its cuisine, so there were no grand dishes like the ones in the capital. Seiyad himself was a lord far removed from indulgence and luxury, so there wasn’t much that could surprise Ressas.
After returning from battle, he decided he would find a truly talented chef. He wanted to feed Ressas every kind of food imaginable and teach him how to enjoy himself—because Ressas didn’t even know what he liked. Since he himself also needed to relearn such things, it was certain to be good for both of them.
Seiyad was confident he wouldn’t die. He had to survive. He’d made a promise to Ressas, and it wasn’t a matter of will anymore—it was a duty that must be fulfilled. Perhaps because of that, the steps he took toward the Forest of Night weren’t as heavy as they had once been. This time, he wasn’t alone in traversing that vast and solemn place. There were people walking beside him.
The forest, just before the onset of winter, was quiet. All around, the dormant figures of Nir’a curled in on themselves like coiled shadows. As he swept his gaze over those pulsating, indistinct forms, Asella’s words resurfaced in his mind. Her claim that the things they had spent their lives battling were, in fact, guardians that kept humans away from the forest replayed over and over in his head.
He had found those words offensive—like they nullified everything the Tithers had done. But now, reflecting on recent events, they didn’t seem so absurd.
If, as Asella suggested, the moon had sealed the Devil within the forest and the sun’s role was to vigilantly oversee that seal… then the forest might be some kind of medium. Knowing how easily the Devil could beguile humans, it made sense that the seal needed to be hidden somewhere inaccessible.
And yet, something didn’t add up. Nir’a fed on human souls and corrupted the minds of animals. It felt paradoxical to think that the sacred moon had created such a being.
“Your Highness, do you really think the sword is out there?”
Cecilia asked abruptly as she looked out over the blackened forest. Although she had asked to come along, she now seemed uneasy facing the seemingly endless expanse of trees.
“Yes. In all of Solias, this forest is the only place where the sword can be safely kept. Even Tithers struggle to enter it. And it’s a place where the Devil’s power can easily reach.”
“But will we really be able to find the exact location? The forest is so vast… it might take days.”
Cecilia wasn’t wrong—the forest was enormous. Even Seiyad had no memory of venturing past this point. Just finding their bearings in this endless woodland was a challenge in itself.
“It’s possible.”
Ressas responded calmly, just like when he had tried to send Seiyad alone. Having gone several hours without speaking in order to move quickly, the sound of his voice was welcome. Maybe noticing that, Ressas locked eyes with Seiyad and gave him a radiant smile.
“If we follow the pull of Nir’a’s growing power, the sword will reveal itself. You can do it, Eid.”
“Ah, that’s right! Oppa was always the first to sense Nir’a, even in the South!”
Cecilia looked at Seiyad with eyes full of hope. Caught in their gazes, he instinctively tensed his lips. No one had ever looked at him quite like that before, and for the briefest moment, he questioned whether he truly deserved it. But Seiyad forcibly shook off that thought, swallowed a deep breath, and looked beyond the trees.
“…I’ll do it.”
Even though the sun hadn’t yet set, the forest lived up to its name—it was already cloaked in darkness. Gazing into the pitch-black space beyond the towering trees, each taller than most castles, Seiyad closed his eyes. Just like when he used to bury himself in shadow, he let go of everything that made him him, allowing his body to sink into the sensation of dissolving.
As Cecilia had said, he had always been especially attuned to Nir’a—more than any other Tither. Everything from his powers to the way his eyes turned crimson, to his uncanny ability to sense Nir’a faster than others… All of it had once made people call him a demon in his previous life. He had come to believe he was something monstrous because of it.
But after facing an actual Devil, Seiyad was certain—he was nothing like that creature. He could finally believe in himself now.
His consciousness began to seep into the forest, scattering into its shadows. As he extended his senses outward, combing through the vast surroundings, he finally felt something familiar. That instinctive, gnawing fear that always came when facing Nir’a was curled up in a certain place. Fixating on that sensation, he pressed forward.
Then, suddenly, he realized something—Nir’a’s presence wasn’t composed solely of overwhelming dread. Beneath the dense, dark emotions that cloaked it like armor, he sensed a profound grief lying hidden.
How sad