The air was thick with tension, so much so that it nearly suffocated the room. Kael's face twisted—not in confusion anymore, but betrayal.
"You lied to me," Kael seethed, his voice sharp as broken glass. "You told me my father was an ordinary mage! That he died in some petty village skirmish! All those years—you let me believe I was the son of a nobody!"
"Kael, please—"
"Don't!" he barked, cutting off Virelle with a trembling hand. "I wandered in the dark for years, grieving ghosts and chasing shadows! I looked in the mirror every night wondering why. Why I felt cursed. Why the pain wouldn't stop. And now, you tell me I was born from power the world fears?! That my bloodline sparked a war?"
Virelle stood frozen, lips parted as if words might still save this moment—but no sound escaped.
Kael shoved off the blanket and swung his legs over the bed, still aching but fueled by pure fury. "I thought you were all I had left," he muttered, voice shaking, "but now I don't even know who you are."
"Kael—!"
He didn't look back. He stomped out of the room, the floor groaning under his pace, leaving behind silence thick with shattered trust.
Saria sat there, wide-eyed, before slowly turning to Virelle—who stood like a porcelain statue, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes.
"…Where is he going?" Saria finally whispered.
Virelle inhaled shakily, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "The old hut… on the farmland. He built it when he was little. Whenever he was upset, he'd hide there."
Saria's heart broke a little more. "Why didn't you ever tell him? Even if it hurt…"
Virelle gave a tired, pained smile. "Because I wanted to give him a chance to live without the weight of legacy and loss. A chance to heal without vengeance carving the path for him." She looked away. "But I was wrong. Time didn't heal anything. It just buried the pain until it was too deep to reach."
There was a long, aching pause before Saria said softly, "You should talk to him. He needs you."
Virelle shook her head. "Not now. He's not Kael right now—he's a storm looking for something to break. Let him settle. When he's ready, I'll be there."
They said nothing more. The quiet between them wasn't awkward—it was reverent. Heavy with unspoken grief.
After a few moments, Virelle's posture changed. She stood straighter, her eyes sharpening.
"I need your help with Tilly and his group," she said.
Saria nodded immediately and followed her out of the house. The sun was beginning to dip into the horizon, painting the sky in strokes of crimson and gold. The wind carried the lingering scent of scorched earth and magic still fresh from the earlier conflict.
Kael was nowhere in sight, but Virelle's instincts told her exactly where he was: the little hut in the northeast corner of the farmland. Hidden behind rows of wheat and stone—his fortress of solitude since childhood.
She paused at a patch of grass that appeared utterly unremarkable.
Saria blinked, confused, until she noticed the ordinary-looking bracelet on Virelle's wrist begin to emit a soft blue light. Then—fwwwhm—a scroll of pale-gold parchment materialized in her hand with a flash of divine glyphs dancing along its edge.
Saria stared, half in awe and half in horror.
"I keep forgetting you can do that," she murmured.
Virelle smirked without humor. "Let's just say… being the personal maid of two geniuses like Kael's birth parents, you'll tend to pick up one or two things."
The sun had nearly disappeared behind the western hills, casting long shadows over the blood-stained grass where Kael's fury had once erupted. The air still felt tainted, like the earth itself hadn't yet forgotten the rage that had soaked into it.
Saria stood silently, arms crossed, watching as Virelle knelt and pressed her hand to the patch of empty ground. The symbols on her bracelet glowed once more—calm but potent, like the breath before a storm. A pulse of silver energy surged outward, spreading in a perfect circle. Then—
Fwwm.
Tilly and the other teenagers appeared in a flash of light, their bodies still lying where they'd been cloaked. Groaning, bandaged, bruised—but alive.
Saria stared. "That's… unreal."
Virelle gave a small nod, her hand still hovering just above the now-dormant rune circle. "The cloak held. Good."
Then came the question that had been clawing at Saria's throat.
"Virelle… are you a mage?"
Virelle chuckled—not in amusement, but weariness. "Not quite. I'm a rune master."
"A rune master?" Saria blinked, baffled.
Virelle finally stood, brushing the dirt from her hands as she answered, "It means I don't cast spells in the traditional way. I inscribe runes—symbols of power—into physical objects. Potions, scrolls, weapons, even clothing. Each rune has its own properties. Combine the right ones, and you create miracles… or disasters."
Saria's mouth opened slightly in awe, but she didn't know what to say. She had never heard of such a thing—at least not in the shallow circles of village life.
Virelle knelt beside the unconscious teens, carefully checking each one, her fingers glowing faintly as they skimmed across wounds and bruises. Her brow creased at the worst of the injuries—particularly the boy Kael had nearly annihilated—but she gave a satisfied nod.
"They'll live," she said. "With no memory of what really happened. But only if we act now."
Saria turned toward her, her expression sharp. "What do you mean?"
Virelle straightened and met her eyes. "We both know what will happen the moment they wake up and start talking. They'll tell everyone that Kael nearly killed them with magic no one's seen before. That he turned into something they couldn't even comprehend. If that spreads…"
"…They'll call for his arrest," Saria whispered. "Or worse."
"Exactly." Virelle's face hardened, her voice becoming a blade. "Kael won't be seen as a victim. He'll be seen as a threat. And they'll use this to destroy him—so I have a plan that I need your help with".
---
Saria's feet pounded against the dirt path, her breath sharp in her throat as she tore through the winding alleys of the village. Her heart raced—not from the run—but from the weight of what she was about to do. Every second mattered now. Don't mess this up, she told herself. Kael is counting on you.
By the time she reached the village administrative building, a small crowd had already begun to gather—pulled by the distant echoes of some indistinct but unsettling noise. She didn't wait to knock. She slammed her fists on the front doors, shouting the moment the guards appeared.
"I need to see the Village Head! Now! It's urgent!"
The guard—alarmed by her panic—hesitated only briefly before hurrying inside.
Inside the building, Walter Grefen sat in his finely carved wooden chair, a goblet of sweetmead in his hand as he entertained two officials from the town. They were discussing trade tariffs when the guard entered, breathless.
"Sir… a girl named Saria is requesting your audience. Urgently."
Walter furrowed his brows. "Saria… Saria Millsworth?" The name clicked. Ah, yes. The baron's niece. Stunning child… but what could she want here, now?
He turned to his guests with a courteous smile. "Forgive me a moment, gentlemen. This won't take long." Then, to the guard, "Let her in."
The door opened, and Saria strode in, her clothes slightly dusted from her sprint, her face flushed with urgency. Walter rose with a warm smile.
"My dear Miss Millsworth! What brings you here so suddenly? Is everything well with your—"
"There's no time!" Saria snapped, voice sharp and high-pitched. "A magical creature has wandered into the village from the dark forest! It's headed this way!"
Walter blinked.
"I—what?"
He barely had time to process the words before it happened.
A roar—deep, guttural, and ancient—rolled across the village like a thunderclap. The very windows of the building trembled, and startled shrieks erupted from outside. It sounded distant… but unmistakably real. Whatever it was, it was not natural.
Walter's guests bolted upright from their seats, their faces pale.
"What was that!?"
"Is this some kind of joke?!"
Before Walter could calm them or call for the guards, a watchman burst into the room.
"Village Head!" he cried, visibly trembling. "Something's coming—some beast! A huge creature was seen emerging from the edge of the dark forest! It's heading toward the village fields!"
Walter's blood ran cold.
Then his gaze shifted slowly to Saria, who stood deadly still—eyes wide, mouth slightly open, as if even she hadn't expected the roar to be that convincing.
Walter swallowed hard. "Raise the alarm! Lock down the western sector and evacuate the nearest houses. And summon the town militia!"
The room exploded into movement.