The smile on Ressas’s face deepened as he embraced the smaller youth.
“I didn’t expect to see you here, Zion.”
“Are you okay? Are you hurt—huh…?”
Zion had rushed to check if Ressas was alright, but his words trailed off. Pulling away from the hug, he stared at him in disbelief. It was only natural he noticed it—after all, he too was a Tither. The moment he saw Ressas, he would’ve immediately sensed the power of a Guide.
“Am I… imagining things? What is this…?”
Seiyad locked eyes with the confused Zion. From the moment he spotted Zion Shildras, Seiyad’s gray eyes had hardened with an icy chill. After deciding to face Ressas again, he had anticipated crossing paths with a Shildras—but not this soon. The timing was too abrupt; Zion had just finished burying his father.
The blood of Shildras was, as ever, revolting to look at.
Though he had resolved to suppress his hostility for now, it wasn’t so easy to discard emotions that had calcified over the years. The revulsion he felt upon seeing him again surged up instinctively.
Zion’s reaction wasn’t much different from Seiyad’s. The joy on his face, sparked by Ressas’s return, vanished in an instant. His gaze turned hostile, openly glaring at Seiyad. Their mutual loathing had long since become a routine, so much so that others barely batted an eye at their tense dynamic.
“So the Duke is here, too. I heard you went missing during the battle, but you seem… surprisingly intact.”
Unlike Ressas, who had endured Seiyad’s provocations with calm, Zion had clashed with him on multiple occasions. Now, he stood on edge, unable to comprehend why the two were even together, speaking warily to Ressas.
“What exactly is going on, Your Highness? I’m not hallucinating, am I? Otherwise, how could you be with him—and why does the power of a Guide radiate from you?”
Only now did Zion seem to remember Seiyad’s presence and address him with proper decorum. Ressas gently pulled the overly tense Zion closer to stand by his side.
“I’m fine, so calm yourself, Zion. Just as you sensed—it’s true. The power of Solias has finally come to me. Rejoice with me instead.”
Matching Zion’s speech, Ressas smiled sincerely. Despite his lingering wariness about Seiyad, Zion’s expression softened at those words.
“It seems a rightful power has finally found its master after a long journey. We must inform everyone at once—especially those who mocked and scorned Your Highness so shamelessly!”
No sooner had the words left his lips, Zion shot another piercing glare at Seiyad. He stood like a loyal hound, fiercely protective of his lord and future partner.
Or perhaps not future—perhaps present. Seiyad didn’t know the true extent of their relationship.
“If you didn’t come all the way up to the North just for small talk, then I suggest you escort His Highness back to the castle. Unlike the South, the North must remain vigilant against Nir’a every single day.”
Facing them was far more exhausting for Seiyad. He turned away from Ressas’s smiling face entirely and gave a warning to Zion. When Seiyad took a jab at the South, Zion flared up as expected, but Ressas intervened before he could retort.
“Let’s head back for now, Zion. There’s much to take care of.”
Seiyad felt Ressas’s gaze brush against his back but ignored it. The memory of Ressas’s voice cursing him when he was on the brink of death echoed in his mind.
“So you truly followed that name—‘Devil of Solias’—to the grave.”
The wounds that nearly killed Seiyad had mostly come from Zion. As a Tither, Zion’s affinity was the perfect counter to Seiyad’s own. He had studied Seiyad carefully and knew how to attack with precision. That moment of being under Zion’s assault came rushing back, along with a wave of disgust.
Seeing the two of them standing side by side reignited all the emotions he’d felt right before dying. It was too complex to reduce to a single feeling. Dying at the hands of the Shildras family he hated above all else was bitterly tragic. But what stung more than death itself was the realization that Shildras had been right—and the Brosius had been wrong.
Seeing the two heroes who had slain evil standing there so affectionately, Seiyad felt like he himself was some kind of grotesque, indelible stain—like Nir’a itself.
This was shame, humiliation. The guilt and disgrace he had once felt facing Ressas grew tenfold with Zion beside him.
Shildras—just, virtuous, and unwavering in their pursuit of righteousness. Brosius—cursed, blood-soaked, killers of the innocent, lost in madness. Messengers of God who slayed the Devil.
Before that logic, Seiyad became something monstrous—someone whose grief over his mother’s death now seemed grotesque. He’d nearly forgotten what kind of life he was supposed to live: one where his rage and sorrow no longer mattered. Though he thought it had vanished with death, it still lurked inside him.
***
As expected—or perhaps even more than expected—Ressas’s return turned the castle upside down. The news that the possibly cursed and incompetent second prince had awakened the power of Solias spread like wildfire, reaching the North and even the royal palace within half a day. It was only a matter of time before the entire kingdom knew.
The disappearance of the Duke of Axid and the incident in the forest were forgotten just as quickly. After all, the Duke had returned alive.
Though the timing made a formal celebration impossible, the castle was already abuzz with festival energy. Nobles who had come for the Ritual of Invocation delayed their departures, clamoring to see Prince Ressas for themselves. Zion Shildras had to personally stand guard—despite it not being his domain—to manage the constant stream of visitors seeking audience.
Unsurprisingly, the entire household staff was in an uproar over Ressas. Many maids had already fallen for his striking appearance, and no matter where one went, whispers and gossip could be heard through the walls.
Though everything was unfolding within Seiyad’s own castle, he couldn’t find his place anywhere in the excitement. He was far removed from the fervor, having come to a small, secluded tower with Duke Bridehit and Aster in tow.
“It’s truly a relief you returned safely, Duke.”
It was impossible to count how many times Bridehit had said that now. After safely escorting Vetria to the castle and placing her in isolation, the Duke had immediately gone out again in search of Seiyad. He had delved as deep into the forest as he could alone before organizing a search party when he failed to find him. Even today, when they finally discovered Seiyad, the search party had been combing through another side of the forest.
Seiyad hadn’t known Bridehit was this kind of person. As a child, he’d only seen him at formal events, and ever since Bridehit had helped the former Duke of Shildras pressure the Brosius family, Seiyad had consistently ignored his presence. With his ever-slick demeanor, Bridehit had never struck him as someone who took grudges or responsibilities so seriously.
“The Duke of Axid wouldn’t be shaken by something of this scale, would he, Your Grace?”
Aster, walking alongside Seiyad, added with a smile. In the four days Seiyad hadn’t seen him, Aster’s face had taken visible damage. Having searched near the forest with Bridehit, Aster hadn’t reacted much to Ressas’s awakening. Instead, he clung to Seiyad, inspecting his body from head to toe. The look of anguish on Aster’s face when he saw Seiyad’s injuries—that was something Seiyad had never witnessed in his entire life.
“I understand that the matter with Duke Vetria is urgent. Once her sentence is decided, you are to come to my chambers.”
It was with that permission that the three of them had now arrived at the tower where Vetria was imprisoned. Bridehit had confided that Aster hadn’t slept the entire time Seiyad was missing. He’d received nonstop updates from the search party and had personally joined the search for half the day. Reportedly, he’d barely eaten, and everyone was growing increasingly concerned.
And that made Seiyad feel… strange.
Only now was he beginning to realize that Aster had used him as a pawn—but now, Aster was showing a side he had never revealed before. In the past, Seiyad had never gone missing, so he had never even imagined this version of Aster existed.
Pushing the turbulence in his heart aside, Seiyad stopped in front of the tower. Several knights stood guard at the entrance. The tower, containing only a single room at the top after a long climb, had long served as a place to confine those caught between the status of prisoner and guest.
“What is Duke Vetria’s condition?”
“She’s not in a frenzy like before. But if anyone tries to touch her, she goes into a fit. It’s not quite rampage-level, but…”
Aster, gazing up at the tower, spoke to Seiyad gently.
“Count Miriam left for the capital earlier today. He should arrive before nightfall with Lady Parma in tow, so with Purification, she should recover.”
Count Miriam was a Tither affiliated with the royal palace, a courier capable of spatial travel. Each courier had their own methods and limitations on who could travel with them; in Miriam’s case, he only moved for Guides or Dukes. If Miriam was already on his way, then Parma—Vetria’s Guide—would be arriving soon.
“If the courier’s departed, she’ll be here soon. That’s a relief. In that case, Duke, wouldn’t it be better to wait for Purification before checking on her?”
“I’d still like to see her condition first. This will be the first time I’ve witnessed a Tither post-rampage.”
Bridehit seemed to concede to that, but the one to give a warning was Aster.
“You are the master of this castle, so your responsibility is understood. But don’t get too close. You haven’t forgotten where your wounds came from, have you?”
Despite the smile in his blue eyes, Aster’s voice was cold.
“Each Tither is a being that must be protected—but she’s also someone who could rampage again at any time…”
Though they’d spared and imprisoned Vetria, as Aster said, anything could happen. Seiyad himself still wasn’t sure how to handle her. He was the only one who had ever encountered a rampaging Tither firsthand, and he’d never been given time to consider what recovery might even look like afterward.
Using the silence from his thoughts as a cue, Seiyad stepped into the tower. At the end of the endlessly winding spiral staircase stood a door reinforced with layers of iron. He unlocked the first door with a key, and far ahead, beyond a small corridor dimly lit by torchlight, was a tightly barred iron cell—Vetria sat within it.
She must have sensed their approach long ago. Sitting on the edge of the small bed, she was watching them. Moonlight streamed in from a narrow window near the ceiling, nearly reaching the roof itself, but the room inside was still drenched in a heavy, desolate darkness.
In that cramped space, Seiyad suddenly remembered the image of his mother crawling on the floor.
