The scent of herbs and steam filled the air as Joshua was led by two servants down a long stone corridor into a spacious chamber, where several black marble bathtubs were neatly arranged. Hot water overflowed, casting a mist that made it hard to distinguish the contours of the room.
Joshua looked around, bewildered. This place seemed more like a royal spa than anything he had ever seen. For a moment, he wondered if he was dreaming.
The real shock came when, without ceremony, the servants began untying the few rags that still clung to his body. Their hands moved quickly, efficiently — clearly used to handling newcomers.
— "I-I...," Joshua stammered, clutching the fabric to his chest. "I can wash myself... please."
The men exchanged glances. One of them, younger, seemed to hesitate for a moment but then gestured to the others. They stepped back, remaining nearby, waiting in case he changed his mind.
Joshua stood frozen for a few seconds, trying to process whether this was truly real. His eyes trembled as they scanned the crystalline water shimmering under the soft glow of the wall-mounted torches. Taking a deep breath, he slowly removed what little remained of his clothing and stepped into the tub, letting the warm water envelop him.
For a few minutes, the world vanished. Only the sound of the water remained.
"I killed a man..." — he thought, staring at his distorted reflection in the water. — "And... I don't regret it. I shouldn't regret it. So why does it hurt so much?"
Joshua clenched his jaw. He pulled his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them.
"I should be happy... I'm free. It's over. It's over... isn't it? But... what if it's not? Where am I? What is this place? What if... this is a punishment? What if... I died?"
He squeezed his eyes shut. Memories stabbed back into him like blades — the smell of blood, the sound of flesh tearing under the weight of the shovel, the lifeless eyes of the man who had been his tormentor for years.
— "I'm not weak..." — he whispered, as if trying to convince himself.
Yet, as a faint spark of pride flickered within him for what he had done, a suffocating sadness weighed even heavier. A sadness born from the years of abuse, from the absence of love... and from the haunting realization that no matter where he went, his ghosts would follow.
Unknowingly, he stayed too long in the hot water. His thoughts grew foggy, his vision blurred. He tried to stand, but his legs refused to obey. The world spun.
A muffled splash. Then... nothing.
The servants, hearing the thud, rushed over to the bathtub. They found Joshua unconscious, half-slumped over the side, his skin pale and lips slightly parted.
— "Quick! Get him out of there!" — one of them ordered.
In minutes, they dried him, dressed him in clean clothes — a simple, soft gray linen tunic — and carried him to the dormitory, laying him on a comfortable bed. The scent of clean fabric mixed with the herbal bath, combined with sheer exhaustion, made it impossible for him to even think about getting up.
---
✦
While the unwanted guest rested, Eryan was immersed in reading a book about portals. His chamber was wrapped in complete silence — a silence he welcomed. Noise had never been his companion.
Near an immense arched window that covered almost an entire wall stood a large ebony desk, where ancient books, scrolls, and quills rested in perfect order. A crystal blue inkwell, filled with shimmering black ink, always sat on the right side. Some books lay open, revealing diagrams of magic circles, maps, and texts written in forgotten languages.
There Eryan sat, absorbed in his reading, not realizing that the white-haired boy had yet to appear. He raised his eyes, gazing out at the forest beyond the window. Yet even the peaceful view couldn't shake the thought of the strange visitor.
"Could the prophecy really be true... or was it merely a mistake by the Alchemists?" — the question circled endlessly in his mind. It had been a long time since he had felt this way — a restless anticipation, the undeniable feeling that something was about to change.
— Knock, knock. — someone rapped at the door.
— "Come in." — Eryan replied, closing the book that had, truthfully, been open on the same page for the past half hour.
A slender young servant peeked his head inside, offering a small bow.
— "Your Majesty... the guest is awake."
— "Awake?" — Eryan raised an eyebrow. "He was asleep all this time?" — he thought but chose not to voice his displeasure. Instead, as always, he kept his face composed and murmured:
— "Send him in."
The door opened, revealing a boy with a delicate frame. Eryan blinked, slightly surprised.
"How can someone be... so small?"
The boy had a slim build, slightly below average height, giving him a fragile, almost delicate appearance to anyone judging from the surface. His narrow shoulders and slender silhouette seemed as though the world itself had tried — and failed — to erase him.
He wore a simple gray linen tunic. Yet even freshly bathed, something about him was striking. Eryan, with all his years of experience, instantly recognized the truth: that awkward smile masked experiences no one should ever have.
With a subtle gesture, he signaled for the boy to approach. As the boy did, Eryan noticed more — the boy's beauty was... unsettling. The contrast of snow-white hair against brilliant blue eyes, clear as diamonds, made him appear almost angelic.
For a fleeting moment, a dark thought crossed Eryan's mind:
"If the Aurora Faction laid eyes on him... they would absolutely use him to start a war."
And Eryan... was tired of wars.
— "What is your name?" — he asked, keeping his tone calm.
— "Joshua Bayle." — the boy replied without hesitation. — "And yours?" — he asked back, as if speaking to an equal.
A soft chuckle escaped Eryan before he quickly disguised it with a polite cough.
— "Kaelveth," — he replied. — "I am the Emperor of this realm."
It had been a long time since Eryan had felt like this — having a calm conversation... even with someone who might unknowingly become the spark for a new war.
"Joshua... What a strange name."
— "It's Joshua, but you can call me Josh if that's easier." — the boy smiled lightly. — "Now... can I ask why I'm here? And... what is this place?"
Eryan fell silent for a few seconds. "Aren't I supposed to be the one asking the questions?" — he mused, absentmindedly spinning the ring that never left his finger.
— "I ask the questions, young Josh." — he replied, his tone firm but not harsh. — "I know this was a mistake by our Alchemists... but tell me — how did you end up here?"
Joshua frowned but didn't flinch under the authoritative tone.
— "As you said... it's not my fault. So why am I the one being interrogated?" — he crossed his arms, his voice steady. Then, without waiting, he continued — "I'm from a place called planet Earth. I was in my school's library when I saw a strange light coming from a circle... and when I got closer — boom — I was here. Now... will you answer me?"
The guard stationed nearby instinctively stepped forward, raising a hand, ready to strike the insolent boy. But the Emperor raised his own hand, halting him.
— "There's no need," — Eryan said calmly. — "It's clear he doesn't know our laws. Stay alert... but if I need something, I'll handle it."
Joshua stood firm, maintaining eye contact with Kaelveth. His heart pounded wildly, fear coursing through his veins... but he refused to back down. Not after everything he had already endured.