Cherreads

Chapter 5 - The Farewell & Return

In Leonhelm's Capital, Gretencer

The court was in uproar. Three days passed since no news of the crown prince.

By the time the scattered guards straggled back with word of the ambush, ministers barked orders, garrisons emptied, and search parties poured into the wilds. The sudden surge of imperial patrols swept through the glades and border woods, forcing the dark elves to melt away sooner than they had planned.

They returned empty‑handed.

Where the prince's horse had fallen, there was nothing—no door, no black hand, not even a footprint.

To them, the crown prince had simply... vanished.

---

In Antithesis

Alden said goodbye to Aurenya.

Not forever, he hoped.

Just for now.

Then he returned to his world.

Just before he stepped through the gate, he looked back.

She stood among the golden leaves, hair lit like fire in the dusk. Her eyes shimmered, and her hands clutched a single fallen leaf from the Tree.

He memorized everything—the curve of her smile, the way the wind carried her voice, the light on her skin.

He didn't speak much; he didn't trust his voice.

He just stared at her, glowing like a dream he was about to wake from.

He stepped through the passage.

The light of Antithesis vanished behind him.

But her memory did not.

The man who had just felt his first beat of love had no idea that he had already stepped into an irreversible game of fate—one whose consequences lay beyond even his greatest horror.

The wheel had begun to turn, slow but unstoppable, pulling him forward along a path no longer his to choose.

Unbeknownst to them all, somewhere far behind, the ancient trees—enduring witnesses to time—felt his vanishing presence and rustled their leaves in quiet pity, as if mourning a fate even they could not change.

---

Back in the Empire

Seeing the crown prince back in one piece, the golden silence shattered into the roar of the empire.

Trumpets blared from Gretencer's walls, orders barked through the streets. Messengers sprinted between barracks.

But Alden didn't stop to explain.

He carried the black thread to a sealed chamber.

There, he used fire enchanted with phoenix feather and frost drawn from the empire's deepest glacier—both rare imperial treasures.

He burned it, froze it, then burned it again.

For an entire week, it remained locked within the magical chamber.

He was careful. Too careful.

He had made a memory‑promise: if he failed to destroy the thread, he would lose everything—every word, every image, every moment with her.

He would forget Aurenya completely.

And he would never let that happen.

But using not one, but two imperial treasures was not something that could go unnoticed.

High in the palace, unseen eyes were already watching.

Not Alden—he was too closely guarded.

But the chamber? That was vulnerable.

The secret agents of his half‑brother, Prince Aran, waited until Alden stepped away.

On the very last day, just as Alden left for another official duty, they slipped into the chamber.

The thread was stolen. Quietly. Efficiently.

Taken for research.

Alden had no idea about the theft.

He had fulfilled his promise of burning and freezing it for a week, so his memory stayed intact.

The oath was satisfied because he had genuinely tried and done everything he knew to do.

But unknown to everyone, the threat was still out there, not destroyed.

---

The following day, during the court assembly, Alden stood before the council with a stone‑faced expression.

Surrounded by ministers, foreign envoys, and his fiancée's family, he spoke clearly:

"I will not marry."

Gasps filled the chamber. Outrage rippled through the crowd in sharp whispers.

But Alden stayed calm.

"The war on the southern front was my responsibility to begin with. I will go there to make up for it, to repay blood with blood.

Those who dared to attack the empire will pay for their insolence."

He let the silence settle before continuing, his voice unwavering:

"In such a time, I will not bind another life to mine when I cannot promise my return.

To marry now, while walking into a battle from which I may never emerge, would be selfish and dishonorable.

As such—

My deepest apology to Duke Viremont—I will not marry your daughter."

It was not a plea. It was a verdict.

No one dared to argue.

Not the ministers.

Not the foreign envoys.

Not even Duke Viremont himself.

The court remained frozen, stunned into silence—because everyone understood one thing:

Alden's decision was final.

So, using duty as his excuse, the engagement was called off.

But the truth was much simpler: his heart was no longer his.

---

Late that night, long after the court had gone quiet and only crows moved in the trees, Alden lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.

The faint thread in his chest pulsed.

He could feel it sometimes—soft and warm—especially when he thought about her.

Like sunlight brushing against his bones.

He had never asked her name.

She had never asked his.

She had been too curious, too busy marveling at his world with those glowing, innocent eyes.

And he—he had been too afraid of losing control, too overwhelmed to speak.

Every time she looked at him, it felt like his sanity teetered on the edge of a cliff.

But he had heard the others call her name.

Aurenya.

So now, in the darkness, with only the sound of his own breathing and the memory of her voice lingering like a fever, he let the name slip past his lips like a prayer.

His eyes burned red.

His jaw clenched.

Beneath the blankets, his hand gripped the sheets—in quiet desperation—as he whispered her name over and over into his pillow.

Her lips. Her laughter.

The unbearable heat of her being close.

He was certain she couldn't hear.

She couldn't be watching.

---

Far Away, in Antithesis

Aurenya stirred beneath the flaming branches of Virelya.

Her wings gave a soft flutter, brushing against the grass.

She blinked, sat up, and tilted her head, eyes glowing faintly.

The thread between them flickered—then pulsed.

She could feel him.

Clearer than ever.

Her expression froze.

"...He's thinking about me again and—wait. What exactly...?!"

Her cheeks flushed with confusion as her hands flew to cover her face instinctively.

"KAELIRA!!!"

Somewhere not far off, Kaelira sighed, already rubbing her temples.

Syralis muttered from a distance, without even blinking:

"Told you he was trouble."

More Chapters