The meeting room was silent. The large windows let in the pale morning light, but it warmed no one. The hall felt cold, austere—as if it reflected what each person carried within.
Everyone was seated. Some with hands clasped, others with arms crossed, as if trying to contain the emotions spilling over inside them.
Lyssandrel, seated at the head of the table, observed the young faces before her. She took a deep breath before speaking.
"Saphira has told us part of your journeys…" she said, her voice firm but laced with compassion. "But I want to understand how it all began."
Kaellia closed her eyes, as if diving deep within herself. A heavy silence hung in the air.
"You want to know how we met him, don't you?" she murmured, more to herself than to the others.
Allan, pale, spoke in a low voice:
"His village was destroyed by Bouros."
Aserion raised an eyebrow. His sharp gaze narrowed.
"The scourge…" he muttered, more with suspicion than surprise.
Allan hesitated, then nodded briefly.
"We don't know the details… only the pieces he trusted us with."
Kaellia lowered her eyes. Memories crashed over her like waves.
"It wasn't for long… but he became part of something. A kind of family."
Lyn, silent until then, nodded gently.
Saphira raised her face. The pain in her eyes was so vivid it was almost physical.
"He told me his story," she said, her voice breaking. "He lived in an isolated village. Small. Forgotten."
She swallowed hard.
"Bouros came… and took everything. His brother, his father, his mother… He saw it all."
The room seemed to darken a shade. A heavy silence fell like a mantle.
"He sealed Bouros within himself," she continued, struggling. "But the seal… it drained his emotions. A cruel bargain. When we found him, he was already a shell of what he had been."
Kaellia closed her eyes, her voice barely a whisper:
"He was lying in a clearing, near Eres." Her throat tightened. "A group of adventurers was mocking him. Beating him. Laughing."
Lyn added, without strength:
"He didn't defend himself. Didn't speak. Barely breathed."
Kaellia raised her eyes to the ceiling, trying to hold back tears:
"Later, I started waking up in the middle of the night… And he was always awake. Tears streaming down… but he didn't seem to understand why."
Aserion leaned back in his chair. A cynical smile curled at the corner of his lips.
"He sealed the murderer of his own family within his soul…" he murmured, as if savoring poison.
Eriane, who had been silent until then, lifted her face with a look of gentle disbelief.
"How old was he?"
Lyn answered after a long pause:
"Seven. Maybe eight… even he wasn't sure."
Allan turned his gaze to the window, as if the light outside were less cruel.
The silence that followed wasn't empty. It was a dense, saturated silence. Almost tangible.
Kaeron crossed his arms. He stared at the ceiling, as if fleeing the truth.
No one said anything more. Because there was nothing to say.
Then the silence was shattered with a crash.
Eira stood up. She slammed her fists against the stone table, the sound echoing like thunder. Her face was red, her eyes blazing with tears.
"From the beginning…" she said, trembling with rage, "you only laughed. Doubted. Questioned everything we've been through!"
She pointed directly at the king. Aserion held her gaze, impassive.
Ziek then spoke. His voice, usually controlled, now came like cold blades.
"Disappointing."
A subtle pulse ran through the room, as if the emotions had taken form, as if the air itself rebelled.
Lino stood up. He turned his back to everyone and faced the door. Only then did he speak:
"The so-admired king… turned his back on one of his own."
Saphira wiped her face with the back of her hand. Her voice trembled but was firm:
"You didn't just kill him, Father…" She took a deep breath. "You disrespected his pain. Our pain."
Aserion looked away. He said nothing.
One by one, the young people stood. In silence. The gesture was more eloquent than any shout.
Kaellia and Allan paused at the door. The light filtered through the stained glass in cold hues. The marble floor reflected a deep blue, like a mirror of mourning.
Kaellia took a deep breath.
"Allan and I… we're stepping away," her voice was calm but heavy. "From the court. From the responsibilities. From everything."
Aserion frowned, confused.
Allan continued:
"The war is coming. But before it, we need to understand… what's left of us."
Kaellia nodded beside him.
"We've done too much for the blood to keep flowing. Maybe it's time to silence the weapons… and listen to the silence."
Allan adjusted his cloak. With one last look, he concluded:
"We're going back to being adventurers."
No one responded. But the silence seemed to approve.
Both bowed. And left.
Only the royal family remained.
The sound of their footsteps faded in the corridor. The king still stared into the void.
"What should I have done…?" Aserion murmured, more to himself than to the others. "If he lost control… and destroyed the capital?"
But Lyssandrel didn't let the doubt linger.
"And then… it would be your fault?" she cut in, her voice sharp as a blade.
Aserion didn't respond. He merely lowered his eyes.
The queen stood. She faced him without looking away.
"If you had seen a human… and not a threat… you would have understood."
Eriane tried to ease the tension.
"This can't be undone…"
But the queen silenced her with a look.
"It will change," she said curtly. "Do you know why you didn't answer Kaellia and Allan?"
The king sighed.
"Because you killed him, Aserion," Lyssandrel's voice now trembled with anger and pain. "And you did it in front of everyone who loved him. Without hesitation."
Kaeron lowered his head.
"I understand my father… He's the king."
But Lyssandrel now seemed like a storm in the flesh.
"And the king killed a child who was begging for help. But it's fine… we're the royal family. Who's going to judge us?"
Eriane shrank back.
Lyssandrel continued:
"Think if it were Saphira… Kaeron… you, Eriane." Her voice broke. "Think if someone did this to one of our children."
The king said nothing. His expression fell. There was no defense left.
Lyssandrel whispered, but each word cut:
"The boy was seeking a light… and that light pierced his chest."
Aserion closed his eyes. The pain finally reached him.
Then the queen declared:
"I'm going after him."
Aserion raised his eyes, surprised.
"You're joking…"
But her gaze was ice.
"Alive or dead. It's the least we can do."
He hesitated.
"I'll go with you."
But she cut him off.
"Go for what? To step on his body?"
Aserion looked away, tense.
"If he's alive… will you finish what you started?"
The king inhaled, defeated.
"At least take someone with you."
Lyssandrel replied with coldness:
"It seems you haven't understood, Aserion. Do the minimum. Stay. Think."
And she left.
Her footsteps were the last sound in the room.
The king remained seated.
Small. Silent.
For the first time… alone with his own mistake.
The stone walls seemed to absorb the sound, and even the soft crackling of the fireplace in the corner felt distant, muffled.
Kaellia sat with her elbows on her knees, her eyes fixed on some invisible point on the floor.
Beside her, Saphira kept her hands clasped, trembling.
Lyn stared at her own shadow on the wall, motionless.
Allan was the only one who dared break the silence.
"Ziek, Eira, and Lino… have they already left?" he asked, without looking at anyone.
Kaellia answered in a low voice, as if her words carried weight.
"Yes… I think no one was thinking straight."
The silence returned, this time even more oppressive.
None of the four could look at each other.
None dared say what they all felt.
Lyn then smiled, tears beginning to stream down her face.
"Remember when we found him? He cried until he vomited in the forest."
Saphira, also crying, smiled and said:
"I thought he was going to die right there."
Lyn closed her eyes and continued:
"My magic seemed useless."
Before anything more could be said, the door creaked slowly.
Eriane entered.
She stopped before the group, lowering her head. The nobility of her posture was gone—only the young woman remained, full of guilt.
"I'm sorry…" she said, in a whisper heavy with shame.
Everyone raised their eyes, surprised. Eriane continued, not daring to meet their gazes:
"I didn't know him… But I had no right to mock his death."
There was a heavy silence. A silence that said everything no one knew how to express.
Allan, his face weary, looked up at her. His voice was low but firm:
"You're not to blame."
Kaellia tilted her head, sighing.
"No, you weren't the one who drove a sword through his chest."
The door opened again. Kaeron entered shortly after.
He stopped beside his sister and, in a gesture few had ever seen from him, bowed his head slightly.
"About that…" he began, hesitant. "I'm sorry… for my father. For his words… his actions… for everything."
Saphira stood up. Her eyes were filled with tears, her voice trembling but harsh.
"Apologies won't change anything!" she shouted, her anger suppressed. "Apologies won't bring him back!"
She looked directly at Kaeron and Eriane.
Lyn thought about intervening to calm her but only lowered her head.
"Jin is dead… and nothing you say will change that!"
The last sentence rang like a verdict. Final. Painful.
Everyone lowered their eyes.
There were no more words.
Only the weight of their actions.
And then long seconds passed.
The queen, in her chambers, prepared to leave.
The door to the room closed with a soft click.
Lyssandrel walked silently to the center of the spacious chamber, where the soft moonlight filtered through large blue glass windows. The night enveloped the castle in an illusory calm—but within her, everything boiled.
With slow movements, she brought her hands to the golden necklace she always wore. It was delicate, but its shine hid an ancient weight. Her fingers slid familiarly to the clasp, and as she released it, the metal seemed to tremble in the air.
That's when Aserion's voice came from behind her.
"Are you sure about this?"
She didn't turn. She stood still, still holding the necklace in her hands, as if it held the final word she needed.
"About finding the boy?" she said firmly. "Or about taking off the necklace?"
Aserion didn't answer immediately. He took a deep, heavy breath. The sound of hidden regret.
"Both."
Lyssandrel walked to a small glass shelf beside her bed. Carefully, she placed the necklace there. The moment it touched the glass, something in the air seemed to shift. Her presence intensified.
The temperature dropped slightly.
The aura around her transformed—becoming denser, almost tangible, as if the power that had been contained until then now spread freely through the room.
She spoke in a low voice, but with the strength of someone who had already decided.
"Yes. Something about that boy called to me. Something you couldn't… or wouldn't see."
Aserion took a hesitant step forward.
"Even so… you going alone might be—"
"I'll go alone," she cut in, allowing no hesitation. "Use this time to do what you need to do. Apologize."
Aserion stopped.
For a moment, the king, feared on battlefields and adored by the people, didn't know what to say.
Lyssandrel, without turning, added:
"Not to the people. Not to the soldiers. To them. To those who saw your crown tarnished."
She then took a step forward, her royal dress whispering against the floor. Her demeanor was that of a queen… but her eyes, still fixed on the window, held the fury and grief of a mother.
Aserion remained still.
Silent.
The queen slowly left the room. With firm, determined steps. She was the only hope of finding Jin. Alive or dead.