Renard opened his eyes slowly. The first thing he saw was wood.
The ceiling was the first thing he saw. Faded beams stretched across it, marked with old cracks and knots. Light crept into the room through the edge of a heavy curtain, casting thin bands across the dusty air. The sun outside was weak, and the room itself felt like it had been holding its breath for a long time.
He blinked slowly, his eyes heavy with something deeper than sleep. His crimson eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. The pillow beneath his head was rough, and the faint scent of straw clung to it. He shifted slightly, and the thin blanket rustled against his skin.
There wasn't much in the room. Just the bed, a wooden chair in the corner, a chipped basin beside the wall and a ghostly silence. His head tilted back against the pillow, and the memories surged.
Not just blood and screams. Not just the bodies. It was the cold he felt first. A sharp, freezing pain that had driven straight through his chest. Ice. Not in the air—but in him. He remembered the jagged spikes that pierced through both him and his mother as she held him close, shielding him in those final moments. He remembered her gasp. The way her arms went limp around him. He remembered the despair and pain he felt as the spikes tore through his flesh and bones.
He had died.
He remembered dying.
His small hands clenched the blanket. His breath came quicker now, though the room was still quiet. His chest ached, not from the wound, but from the memory of it; the instant that he felt as if time had stopped as they were impaled, the warmth fading between them,
His mother's embrace becoming weaker.
He remembered how he saw everything in the whole kingdom, he remembered the temple like place he saw. He remembered the man he saw, who without explaining, took him away from death. He hadn't asked him if he wanted to live. He simply did it. Saved him. For some reason he didn't understand.
Why?
Why him?
He stared at the ceiling as the question echoed again and again in his mind.
Why did I have to come back?
He was just a boy. Deep down, he wasn't strong. He wasn't brave. All he had wanted was to enjoy the festival, to go around with Lucia, eating and laughing.
All he wanted was to live peacefully in the kingdom, and to someday grow to become the king, to serve his people.
But now, even that had been taken from him.
Everything had been taken away from him.
Maybe it would have been better to stay dead.
The thought wasn't shaped fully, not in words he could speak aloud, but it was there. Sitting in the dark corners of his mind like something waiting to grow.
His eyes stung. Not from tears, but from the weight of it all. Of knowing he had lived through something no child should ever see. And worse, knowing that he hadn't really lived. Not after that.
Then, the silence broke as the doorknob turned and in came Jin carrying a basin of water and some towels.
"You're awake!" He said as he quickly placed the basin down. Before he could talk even further, he saw the depths of sadness in his eyes. Closing the door, he walked towards the bed, sitting at the edge. Without saying a word, he hugged Renard.
"No need to worry about who I am right now," Jin said, his voice gentle.
"You don't have to hold it in," he added as Renard's grip on him tightened, his face downcast as if he didn't want to cry.
"You can cry. You should cry. You can scream, shake, you can curse the world if you want. You can curse the killers all you want. Let it all out, I will be here for you."
Jin's gentle voice got to Renard and the floodgates opened. For the first time in several years, he cried, cried a lot.
Outside, Neil and Mordain listened. Neil cast a barrier around the room, making it soundproof.
"He's very strong. I can't imagine the thoughts going through his young mind right now," Mordain said.
"We will have to raise him well, where he won't remember all that happened." Neil said as he looked at the heavy box on his hands.
"I wanted to respect the wishes of that blacksmith, but this will have to wait until he grows. Giving this to him right now will trigger even more memories." He added as a ring on his finger lit up. The box vanished, as if swallowed by the ring.
Inside, Renard cried all he could, till his voice was hoarse.
***
Velka walked past the streets that were loaded with adults and children alike, all in happy moods.
"Belfast was also like this two days ago.."
As she said this, a young elf girl bumped into her as she played around with some friends. She quickly apologized as she went on to play. As she kept walking, she found it comical.
Did the people really know?
They had all taken the news casually, and now since it was morning, they had all heard about the fall of Belfast already. Why were they not sad or angry?
"It was done as the will of the Light Sovereigns"
"They were cursed. We purified the cursed in the name of the Sovereigns."
That was a lie. They were all lies. Now she was aware of that. She once used to believe that, but now, her faith had been shaken. Stopping in front of a shop, she opened the door, heading inside.
"Oh Velka! Welcome back!" Said a young woman as she placed what seemed like herbs on her shelf. The store always had a calming aroma of a mixture of many medicines and herbs, an aroma that Velka really needed.
"May," she called out.
Sensing something was amiss, May walked out of her counter, bolting the door and windows, leaving them in darkness.
"What happened Velka?" She asked as fire lamps lit above them.
"We need a huge favor from you. What I am about to say should never leave this room, no matter what."