Raven's POV
I was still standing there, half lost in my own thoughts, when reality fully caught up to me.
I looked down at the girl holding my hand and frowned.
"Princess Lyria?" I said, genuine surprise slipping into my voice. "What are you doing here?"
She stared at me as if she hadn't breathed properly since the moment the gate opened. Her eyes were slightly red, glassy, like she had been fighting tears for a long time.
"Riven…" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Are you okay?"
That single question snapped something sharp inside me.
I pulled my hand back and frowned, irritation leaking through despite myself.
"Why are you here?" I demanded. "Don't you know how dangerous this place is?"
My gaze shifted immediately to the woman standing beside her.
"Kara," I said sharply, "how could you allow her to come here? There are monsters everywhere. What if something had happened to her?"
Before Kara could even open her mouth, Lyria suddenly stepped forward. She raised both hands and gently but firmly cupped my face, forcing me to look straight at her.
"Riven," she said, panic clear in her eyes, " are you hurt? You're bleeding. There's so much blood—please, let's go back to the city. You need treatment."
I froze.
For a long moment, I just stared at her. I didn't speak. I didn't move. My mind raced—not with pain, not with exhaustion—but with calculation.
I couldn't let them know.
I wouldn't let them know.
Slowly, I lifted my hands and wrapped them around her wrists, gently pulling her hands away from my face.
"Don't touch me," I said quietly. "You'll get dirty."
Her expression shifted instantly—from worry to anger.
"I don't care about that!" she snapped. "I'm worried about you, and you're talking about getting dirty?"
I wiped the blood above my right eye with the back of my hand, smearing crimson across my skin. The cut still burned faintly.
"I'm sorry," I said, my tone calmer now, controlled. "And… thank you for worrying about me. But you need to go home. This place isn't safe."
Then I turned to Kara.
"Please," I said firmly, "take her back safely."
"I'm not leaving without you," Lyria protested immediately. "Come with me. Let's go together."
I opened my mouth to respond—
—and suddenly, arms wrapped tightly around me from behind.
Then another pair.
Then another.
The pressure on my injured side made my breath hitch.
"Ow—ow—hey, that hurts," I hissed.
They released me at once, stepping back with guilty looks.
When I turned around, I saw them.
Elise.
Daniel.
Chris.
Ayla.
All of them were staring at me like they'd seen a ghost.
"Riven," they said almost in unison, relief flooding their voices. "You're alive. We thought… we thought you wouldn't make it out."
They looked me over properly then—and their relief shifted to concern.
"Are you okay?" Daniel asked.
"That wound looks deep," Ayla added. "You're still bleeding."
I forced a small smile onto my lips. It didn't reach my eyes.
"Don't worry," I said lightly. "I'm fine."
Sam pushed her way forward, her expression tight and sharp.
"No, you're not," she said flatly. "Elise—heal her."
Elise nodded immediately and stepped closer before I could protest.
"I really am fine," I tried to say, but Sam cut me off with a look that brooked no argument.
Elise placed her hand over the cut on my forehead. A soft white light bloomed from her palm.
Seconds passed.
Nothing happened.
Elise frowned and tried again, pushing more mana into the spell.
Still nothing.
Her confusion was obvious now.
Sam leaned closer. "What's wrong?"
"I… I don't understand," Elise said slowly. "I'm healing her, but nothing is responding. It's like… the wound isn't accepting my mana."
I wiped the blood from my eye again and took a step back.
"She's probably exhausted," I said quickly. "That's all. Let's not push her."
I had just finished speaking—
when a calm, unfamiliar voice sounded behind me.
"Then allow me to heal you instead."
The air shifted.
And every instinct I had screamed at once.
Before I even turned around, I felt it.
A presence.
Not loud. Not explosive.
Just… heavy.
Dark mana pressed against my senses like wet iron sinking into flesh—dense, corrupted, and wrong in a way that felt deliberate. This wasn't the crude savagery of dungeon monsters or the feral hunger of a Black Gate. This was controlled. Refined. Intelligent.
I turned slowly toward the source of the voice.
And froze.
What shocked me more than his mana… was his appearance.
He was tall—and draped in a long, layered robe etched with sigils I didn't recognize. His body was… uneven. One half looked human enough, pale skin stretched tight over sharp bone. The other half was something else entirely—twisted, malformed, as if reality itself had failed while shaping him. His long hair spilled forward, obscuring part of his face, but not enough to hide the distortion beneath.
In his hand, he carried a long staff, dark crystal embedded at its head, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.
He stepped toward me slowly.
Each step felt calculated.
He raised one hand slightly and smiled—a small, polite smile that never reached his eyes.
"My name is Seraphiel Valenne," he said calmly. "I am an Archmage. I was summoned here by Guild Master Alaric Thorne to investigate a gate that transformed from red… into black."
I met his gaze without flinching and replied evenly,
"Raven Nightthron. Hunter."
His eyes lingered on me a moment longer than necessary.
Then he took another step closer.
"You are bleeding," Seraphiel said mildly. "Allow me to heal you."
I immediately stepped back.
"There's no need. It's a minor wound."
Before I could move any further, a hand settled firmly on my shoulder from behind.
Sam.
"Raven," she said, her voice low but firm. "Let him heal you. He's an Archmage. It'll take seconds."
"I said I'm fine," I replied, irritation creeping into my tone.
Her grip tightened slightly.
"Raven."
I exhaled slowly through my nose.
"…Fine."
Reluctantly, I stood still.
Seraphiel stepped closer and lifted his hand, placing it just above the cut on my forehead. White light bloomed instantly—pure, brilliant, and powerful enough to make several people shield their eyes.
I felt it.
The spell hit me.
And then—
Nothing.
The pain didn't fade.
The blood didn't stop.
The wound didn't close.
The light dimmed.
Seraphiel lowered his hand.
Silence fell.
His face was completely blank now.
Sam stepped forward sharply. "Why didn't it heal her? She's still bleeding."
"I attempted to heal her," Seraphiel replied calmly. "But something is… wrong."
He turned his gaze back to me, studying my face with unsettling intensity.
"Her body does not respond to my magic," he continued. "Nor did it respond to the healer's mana earlier."
Sam frowned deeply. "That's impossible. Healing works on everyone."
She looked at me. "Raven… has this ever happened to you before?"
I hesitated for half a second.
"…I don't know," I said quietly. "This is the first time anyone's tried to heal me."
Seraphiel began circling me slowly, his footsteps soundless against the ground. It felt less like he was walking—and more like I was being inspected.
Dissected.
"Fascinating," he murmured, a faint smirk touching his lips. "Truly fascinating."
He stopped in front of me.
"How did you close a Black Gate alone," he asked softly, "without sustaining any fatal injuries?"
I felt it then.
The shift.
Chris and Daniel stepped closer.
Elise and Ayla followed, curiosity written clearly on their faces.
Even Lyria and Kara edged nearer, eyes bright with anticipation.
Sam crossed her arms. "Yes," she said. "I want to know too."
All eyes were on me.
Inside my head, Morivane laughed softly.
Well… she said with amusement,
It seems you're in quite a bit of trouble now.
I kept my face calm.
But inside—
I was already calculating how big this lie would need to be.
"I wasn't the one who defeated the dungeon boss."
My voice was calm—too calm, perhaps—but I kept my expression carefully neutral.
For a heartbeat, no one spoke.
Then confusion rippled through the group.
"What do you mean?"
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Raven…?"
I exhaled slowly, as if gathering my thoughts, and continued.
"There were too many monsters," I said evenly. "The dungeon was overflowing with them. I knew that if I pushed forward alone, I wouldn't survive this time."
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Seraphiel watching me.
He was smiling.
Not openly.
Not mockingly.
Just enough.
As if he knew I was lying—and found it amusing.
I ignored him.
Sam stepped closer, her eyes sharp. "Then how did you survive?"
I hesitated just long enough to make it believable.
"I don't know if it was a miracle… or coincidence," I said. "I was fighting a group of monsters. I was exhausted—at my limit. I was about to give up when a massive surge of energy exploded from the boss chamber."
A few of them stiffened.
"I felt it even from far away," I continued. "Before I could react, every monster in the dungeon started running toward the boss room. I heard fighting. Screams. Roars."
I swallowed, then added quietly, "I got curious. So I followed them."
No one interrupted me now.
"When I reached the chamber," I said, "I saw all the monsters attacking the boss together. They were trying to kill him."
Ayla frowned. Chris exchanged a glance with Daniel.
"He was strong," I went on. "Too strong. He slaughtered them—but not without cost. He was badly wounded. He kept bleeding… until he finally collapsed."
Silence.
Thick. Heavy.
No one spoke for several long seconds.
Inside my head, Morivane burst into quiet laughter.
That is genuinely one of the most illogical stories I've ever heard, she said, amused.
I doubt they'll believe a word of it.
They don't have a choice, I replied coldly. No one else was inside. And the result speaks for itself.
Ayla was the first to break the silence.
"Wait—wait," she said, shaking her head. "Are you telling us that the boss was killed by its own monsters? Not you? No, that doesn't make sense. Why would they do that?"
I shrugged lightly. "Stranger things have happened in red dungeons we've cleared before."
Sam studied my face closely, searching for cracks.
"Is that really everything, Raven?" she asked. "There's nothing else you want to tell us?"
I met her gaze without flinching.
"That's all that happened," I said. "What matters is that the gate was cleared. If those monsters had escaped, there would've been a massacre."
Lyria stepped closer then, worry written all over her face. She gently pressed a handkerchief to my forehead, wiping the blood from above my eye.
"We should return to the city," she said softly. "You need treatment. We can talk about this later."
She turned to Sam. "She's still bleeding. We need to stop it."
Sam sighed, clearly unsatisfied, but nodded. "We'll talk tomorrow."
"I'm exhausted," I replied, my face carefully blank. "Can we postpone it? I need a few days to rest."
That part wasn't a lie.
My mind was chaos.
All I wanted was distance—from questions, from suspicion, from everyone.
Sam studied me for a moment longer, then relented. "Fine. Rest. We'll talk once you've recovered."
I nodded.
I had just turned to leave when Seraphiel stepped closer.
Too close.
He leaned down until his mouth was near my ear and whispered, his voice silk-smooth and dangerous.
"I know you're not alone," he murmured. "There is a presence inside you—powerful. Far stronger than your own aura, but somehow weak enough that no one notices it ."
My expression didn't change.
He straightened, stepped back, and smiled faintly.
"We'll meet again soon, Raven Nightthron."
I said nothing.
I turned away, reached out, and caught Lyria gently by the wrist.
"Come on," I said quietly. "Your family must be worried."
Without waiting for a response, I started walking.
And this time—
I didn't look back.
We mounted our horses and began moving at a slow, careful pace, leaving the forest behind us and heading toward the city.
Only then did I truly notice how crowded the woods had become.
Hunters stood scattered between the trees, some resting against trunks, others checking weapons or tending to minor wounds. Beyond them, squads of soldiers in the king's colors patrolled in tight formations, their armor catching the pale light filtering through the canopy. The forest felt tense—alert—like a held breath that hadn't yet been released.
I must have frowned without realizing it, because Kara noticed.
"The king declared a state of emergency," she explained calmly. "When word spread that a black gate was close to expiration—and this close to the city—he didn't want to take chances. Troops were dispatched in case the worst happened."
I nodded slowly, then glanced at her and at the rider beside her.
"And you?" I asked. "And Princess Lyria? The king won't be pleased when he hears about this."
Lyria lifted her hood slightly, as if that alone explained everything.
"I'm disguised," she said quickly. "He won't know." Then she added, softer, "But that's not important right now."
Her gaze dropped to my side.
To the blood still seeping through the torn fabric at my waist.
"We need to take you to a doctor," she said, worry tightening her voice. "That wound is still bleeding."
I kept my eyes forward. "I won't die from it. It's a small wound. I'll be fine."
Her reins jerked as she slowed her horse, clearly irritated.
"Stop saying that," Lyria snapped. "You're covered in blood, Raven. Why can't you be honest for once in your life?"
I turned my head slightly, surprised by the sharpness in her tone.
"If you're in pain, say you're in pain," she continued, her voice trembling now. "If you're hurting, say you're hurting. If you're not fine—then don't pretend you are. Aren't we your friends?"
I studied her for a moment.
Really looked at her.
Then, softly, I laughed.
Not mocking. Not cruel.
Just tired.
"Thank you," I said, offering her a small smile. "Really. I appreciate your concern."
I placed my hand lightly over the wound at my side. "It does hurt a little," I admitted. "But it's not deep. Other than that… I'll be fine."
Lyria stared at me for a long second.
Then she turned her head away sharply.
"Idiot," she muttered.
Kara laughed from Lyria's other side, shaking her head as she guided her horse forward.
"Are you two done fighting?" she teased. "Because we're almost at the city gate."
The moment we passed through the city gates, the world felt… different
The streets were empty.
Too empty.
Hoofbeats echoed sharply against the stone roads, the sound unnaturally loud in the silence. No merchants packing up their stalls. No late-night chatter drifting from taverns. No children running, no lanterns swinging from doorways—only a handful of soldiers stationed at intersections, standing rigid and alert, hands never straying far from their weapons.
The sun had long since set. Darkness pressed down on the city like a heavy cloak, broken only by the soft blue-white glow of mana stones embedded along the streets and walls. Their light felt cold tonight—watchful rather than comforting.
I scanned the deserted road slowly.
"I've never seen the city this quiet," I said. "Not once."
Kara exhaled softly. "People are afraid. They've locked themselves inside their wooden houses, thinking thin walls will protect them if something goes wrong… instead of standing up to defend themselves."
Lyria shook her head gently. "There are elders and small children here," she said. "Not everyone can fight, Kara. Some need protection in times like this."
I didn't argue.
After a few moments of silence, I turned toward Lyria. "Let me walk you home. It's late. The king and queen must be worried sick."
She immediately shook her head. "Not before you're treated."
I sighed inwardly.
"And I know," she continued quickly, "that if I asked you to come to the palace so the royal physician could heal you, you'd refuse." She glanced at me knowingly. "So instead, we'll take you to the orphanage, call for a doctor there, and then we'll leave."
I stopped my horse.
I said flatly. "I'm not going back to the orphanage."
Her brows drew together. "Why not? And where will you stay, then?"
She ask Too many questions.
I looked away. "I can't go back like this," I said quietly. "And I'm fine. The bleeding has already slowed. I don't need a doctor."
That wasn't entirely true—but close enough.
Lyria studied me for a long moment, then asked more softly, "Then where will you go?"
"I'll stay with my master ," I answered without meeting her eyes. "For a few days."
Her expression dimmed.
"Then… there won't be training for a while," she said. After a pause, her voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "I won't be able to see you for several days."
I turned to her. "What did you say? I didn't hear you."
She looked away quickly. "Nothing."
Kara cleared her throat, breaking the moment. "Can we visit you tomorrow? Just to make sure you're okay?"
I hesitated.
Then I nodded slightly, offering a small smile that never quite reached my eyes. "If you want to. I don't mind."
Lyria brightened just a little at that.
I said. "Then let me get you both home."
Lyria shook her head again. "We can return on our own. You should rest, Raven. You're clearly exhausted."
"I—" I started.
She cut me off gently, smiling. "I'll be fine. I'm disguised, remember? No one will recognize me. And the streets are full of soldiers. Nothing will happen."
I studied her face, then nodded.
"…Alright," I said. "Then I'll head out first. This is my way."
I guided my horse forward and paused, glancing back one last time.
"I'll see you later."
As I turned away and disappeared into the dimly lit streets, the quiet followed me—heavy, suffocating.
I'm… really tired.
The thought repeated itself with every step as I walked through the quiet streets, my body finally allowing itself to feel everything I had been ignoring.
I pressed my hand against my side, fingers sinking into the fabric already stiff with dried blood.
"This really hurts," I muttered under my breath.
Morivain's voice echoed lazily inside my head, sharp with familiar sarcasm.
"You deserve that. When you fight, you're supposed to defend, evade, or redirect your enemy's attacks. But when you get angry, you lose control. You drop your guard completely and stop caring whether you get injured. That's your biggest weakness."
I didn't answer.
I just kept walking.
After a moment, Morivain sighed. "You're allowed to be angry. Just… don't lose control like that again."
"…Thank you," I said quietly.
She chuckled. "And what, exactly, are you thanking me for?"
"For what you did back there," I replied. "Inside. For saving me."
Morivain laughed outright. "No need to thank me. If something happens to you, it affects me too. I literally live inside you."
That earned a faint huff of breath from me—almost a smile.
By the time I reached Master Elyra's house, my legs felt heavy, like they might give out at any moment. The lights inside were dim, warm against the night. I knocked softly—twice.
After a few seconds, the door opened.
Elyra froze the moment she saw me.
Her brows knit together instantly. "Raven," she said sharply, her eyes scanning me from head to toe. "What happened to you?"
I forced a small smile. "Good evening, Master. Sorry to interrupt whatever you were doing… but may I stay here for a few days?"
Her expression softened, concern overtaking shock. "Of course. Come in—quickly."
I stepped inside, the door closing behind me.
"Sorry again for bothering you," I said.
Elyra placed a hand on my shoulder, her touch steady and familiar. "You're always welcome here. You can think of this place as your second home."
"Thank you," I said, and this time, my smile was genuine.
Then her voice hardened.
"Now," she said, turning to face me fully, "tell me what happened. What are all these injuries?"
"Can I take a bath first?" I asked. "And change out of these clothes?"
She nodded immediately. "There's warm water ready. Go. I'll bring you clean clothes. After that… you're telling me everything."
I nodded and headed for the bathroom.
Standing under warm water after such a long, brutal day felt unreal. The heat soaked into my muscles, washing away dried blood, grime, and the lingering smell of monsters. Red and black swirled down the drain, and for the first time since the dungeon, I felt like I could breathe.
When I finished and changed into the clothes Elyra had prepared, I went to the living room.
She was already seated, holding a steaming cup.
"Come sit," she said gently. "I made you something warm. It'll help you relax."
I sat beside her on the couch and accepted the cup. "Thank you."
"Look at me, Raven," Elyra said.
I turned toward her.
"Stay still," she added calmly.
She opened a small case on the table, took out medicine, and brushed my damp hair away from my forehead. Her fingers were careful as she cleaned the wound above my eye. It stung, but I didn't flinch. She applied a bandage neatly and stepped back.
"Now lift your shirt. Let me treat the rest."
"I can do it myself," I said with a small smile, leaning forward to grab the medicine case.
A sharp pain shot through my side.
I clenched my teeth, a hiss slipping out before I could stop it.
Elyra tapped the top of my head lightly. "Didn't I tell you not to move? That wound is fresh. One wrong motion and it'll start bleeding again. Now lean back and let me help you."
"…Okay," I said quietly.
She worked in silence, methodical and precise, wrapping my injuries with practiced ease. When she finished, she sat back and studied me for a long moment.
"Now," Elyra said firmly, "tell me what happened. In detail. And without a single lie."
I stared down into the cup in my hands, watching the steam rise.
And wondered where to even begin.
I placed the cup down on the table, the soft clink sounding louder than it should have in the quiet room.
"I was helping some old friends from the Hunters' Guild," I began, keeping my voice steady. "We were clearing dungeons. Everything was going fine… until today."
Elyra didn't interrupt. She just listened, her eyes fixed on me, sharp and patient.
"You must have heard about the black gate that appeared near the northern border," I continued.
She nodded. "I did. I heard it while I was training soldiers. The king sent troops to secure the area. They said someone was trapped inside the dungeon."
She paused, studying my face more closely, then raised an eyebrow.
"…That someone was you, wasn't it?"
I nodded, offering a faint smile. "Yeah. It was me."
Elyra leaned back slightly, arms crossed, waiting.
"It wasn't a black gate at first," I said. "It was red when we entered. But the monsters inside were far stronger than expected. My team couldn't handle them—several were badly injured. I couldn't fight at full strength with them there, so we decided to retreat."
I swallowed once before continuing.
"Everyone made it out… except me. When I tried to leave, the gate rejected me. It simply wouldn't let me pass."
Elyra frowned. "It refused you? Is that even possible? Did you figure out why?"
I shook my head. "No. I still don't know the reason."
I stared down at my bandaged hands.
"I didn't have any other choice," I said quietly. "If the dungeon boss died, the dungeon would collapse. That was my only way out."
So I told her—briefly.
How I fought through waves of monsters alone.
How the dungeon twisted as time passed.
How the boss was far stronger than anything I had faced before.
How the battle dragged on until my body was screaming and my mind felt distant, like it was wrapped in fog.
"I killed the boss," I said simply. "And the dungeon collapsed. That's how I escaped."
Silence filled the room.
Elyra didn't speak for a long moment. Her gaze was unreadable, calculating—like a blade resting just before it's drawn.
"…You survived a red dungeon alone," she finally said. "One that turned into something far worse. And you walked out alive."
I met her eyes. "Barely."
She exhaled slowly, then reached out and placed a hand on my shoulder—not as a master, but as someone grounding me in place.
"You did well," she said. "Even if you don't believe that yourself."
I didn't answer.
Because the truth was—I had told her almost everything.
Just not the parts that would change how she looked at me.
Elyra studied me for a moment, her sharp eyes never leaving my face.
"So," she said at last, "how did your team—and everyone waiting outside—react when you walked out of a black gate alive… after defeating a dungeon boss alone?"
I smiled lightly.
"I lied to them."
Her brow furrowed. "You lied? What do you mean you lied?"
I shrugged. "I didn't tell them anything I told you. I said the monsters inside turned on the boss—swarmed him, trying to kill him. The boss slaughtered them all, but he was badly wounded. He bled out and died. I said I was hiding the entire time, waiting until everything ended… and then I left the dungeon."
Elyra stared at me in silence for a long moment.
Then she sighed—and flicked my forehead.
"Do you honestly think they'll believe such a ridiculous lie?"
I grabbed my forehead, half-laughing. "Ow. That hurt. And yes, they have to believe it. I was alone in that dungeon. No one can prove otherwise."
She crossed her arms. "And how did they react when you told them this story? Did they actually believe you?"
I took a sip of my coffee before answering.
"I don't know. I left before they could ask too many questions. Captain Sam asked to meet me tomorrow, but I told her I was exhausted and needed a few days of rest. Honestly… I don't think she believed me."
Elyra exhaled slowly, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.
"The important thing," she said, stepping closer and resting a hand on my shoulder, "is that you're alive and not seriously injured."
She gave my shoulder a gentle pat. "You must be exhausted. Get some rest tonight. We'll talk about this properly tomorrow and figure out what to do."
I nodded.
"You can use the room on the second floor, next to mine," she added. "I cleaned it a bit and set up a bed. It's yours now. You can stay here as long as you need."
I looked at her and smiled—this time softer, more genuine.
"Thank you. For your kindness."
She smiled back. "There's no need to thank me. You can think of this place as your second home."
I clenched my fist briefly, then forced a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes.
"I don't even know what to say. You've always been so kind to me."
Elyra laughed, stood up, and walked over to me. She ruffled my hair lightly.
"You don't need to say anything," she said, gently pushing me toward the stairs. "Now go. Rest."
I turned back to her at the stairs.
"Good night."
"Good night," she replied.
I headed up to my new room, my steps slow and heavy, the lie still sitting in my chest—quiet, fragile, and waiting to crack.
When I stepped into the room Elyra had prepared for me, I froze for a moment.
It was bigger than my room at the orphanage.
The bed was wider and neatly made. A small table stood near the window with a single chair beside it, and a modest wardrobe rested against the wall—just enough for one person. Moonlight spilled in through the window overlooking the back courtyard, bathing the room in a soft silver glow.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, lowered my head, and covered my face with both hands. A long, heavy sigh escaped my chest.
Morivain appeared in front of me.
She glanced around the room, unimpressed but not dismissive.
"This room isn't bad," she said.
Then her gaze returned to me. She floated closer, stopped right in front of me, and lifted my face so I had no choice but to look at her.
"Why are you angry?" she asked.
I met her eyes and answered quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.
"She's a good person… and I don't deserve her kindness. If she knew the truth about me—or all my lies—she would definitely hate me."
Morivain stared at me, her face completely expressionless.
"And does it matter if she hates you or not?" she said flatly. "Wasn't your only goal to become strong? Nothing else mattered before. What changed now?"
I gently pushed her hand away.
"My goal hasn't changed," I said. "But I can't ignore the feelings of people who are good to me."
She let out a short, mocking laugh.
"You've become soft since hanging out with all these people," she sneered. "And what's with that fake smile you wear all the time? If you don't want to smile, then don't. No matter how much you smile, it won't hide the frightening features of your face."
I didn't answer.
I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes, exhaustion finally weighing down on me.
Morivain hovered directly above me, clearly annoyed. She grabbed my face again, forcing me to look at her.
"With a smirk," she said, "are you ignoring me now?"
I opened my eyes and looked at her. I didn't push her hand away this time, even though her touch burned faintly against my skin.
"I'm not ignoring you," I said calmly. "I'm just tired. I want to sleep for a bit."
She hummed softly and stared at me in silence for a few seconds.
Then she spoke again, her voice lower, almost thoughtful.
"Try not to get too attached to those people. As you already know… they're temporary. You have a very long path ahead of you."
And with that, she disappeared, retreating back inside me.
I remained there, staring at the ceiling for a long time, her words echoing in my mind.
They're temporary.
Despite how exhausted I was, sleep refused to come—at least not until very late into the night.
Darkness stretched in every direction.
An endless, hollow space—no walls, no ground, no sky. Just nothing.
I turned slowly, my heartbeat echoing far too loudly in the emptiness. I couldn't see anything… but then I heard it. A voice. Distant at first, blurred and broken, growing clearer with every passing second as it crept closer.
I knew that voice.
My chest tightened.
Sam emerged from the darkness, walking toward me. She was holding Liz in her arms. Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably, her expression twisted with rage and grief.
"You're a murderer," Sam said, her voice shaking with fury. "You killed my daughter, and now you live your life as if nothing happened. She kept walking towards me , "I wish you the worst fate imaginable. I hope you suffer for the rest of your life."
I staggered backward, my feet heavy, my voice barely audible.
"No… no, this isn't real. This is just a dream."
Sam knelt down and gently laid Liz on the ground between us. She pointed at her.
Liz's skin was pale—unnaturally so. Her lips were tinted blue, lifeless.
"This is very real," Sam snapped. "You killed her, and now you try to deny it."
I dropped to my knees beside Liz, my hands trembling as I reached out to touch her hair.
Before I could, Sam slapped my hand away.
"Don't touch my daughter with those bloodstained hands," she shouted. "You have no right to touch her. You're a killer."
Tears spilled from my eyes. My voice broke as I whispered,
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry."
Suddenly, Liz's eyes opened.
She looked straight at me.
"Why did you kill me, Auntie ?" she asked softly, sadness filling her voice. "Why did you do this to me? I hate you, Auntie . You're a murderer. I really hate you."
My world shattered.
"I'm sorry," I cried, again and again. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"
A voice cut through the darkness.
"Raven."
I gasped awake.
My body was drenched in sweat. My chest felt tight, as if invisible hands were crushing my lungs. I couldn't breathe. Panic surged through me as I sucked in air desperately, my throat burning.
"I'm sorry," I whispered over and over. "I'm sorry…"
"Raven," Elyra said urgently. "Look at me. Breathe slowly."
She was sitting beside my bed, one hand on my shoulder, her eyes filled with concern.
I tried to follow her voice, forcing myself to inhale and exhale slowly. It was difficult at first—painful—but after a few minutes, my breathing gradually steadied.
Elyra handed me a glass of water.
"Drink slowly."
I did, my hands shaking. When I was done, I placed the glass on the table beside the bed.
She looked at me carefully.
"Raven… are you alright?"
I stared at her silently, my mind still struggling to separate the nightmare from reality.
She took my hand gently.
"Raven, can you hear me? What happened?"
I pulled my hand away softly and stood up from the bed. Forcing a small smile onto my face, I said,
"I'm fine. Why are you here? Did you need something?"
Elyra stepped closer, her brow furrowed.
"I made breakfast and came to wake you. I called your name several times, but you didn't respond. When I entered your room, you wouldn't wake up no matter how much I called you. You kept repeating 'I'm sorry' over and over."
She studied my face.
"Are you really okay?"
I let out a quiet laugh.
"Don't worry. I'm fine. It was just a nightmare."
She watched me for a long moment, then sighed.
"I'll bring you a clean shirt. Change your clothes and come down to the living room. I need to change your bandages—it looks like you're bleeding again."
She left the room.
I turned toward the mirror.
I looked awful.
My shirt clung to my body, soaked with sweat. The wound at my side had reopened slightly, staining the white fabric with a dark red blotch. My hair was damp, sticking to my face and neck.
I pushed my hair back, though a few strands refused to stay away.
Morivain's voice echoed inside my mind.
"It seems the nightmares have returned after weeks of silence."
I didn't respond.
"They probably resurfaced because of what happened in the dungeon," she continued. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," I said quietly.
I turned away from the mirror and left the room.
I went down to the first floor slowly.
Elyra was already there, sitting on a wooden chair by the kitchen table. One elbow rested on the surface, her fingers lightly touching a small open box filled with fresh bandages. A clean shirt was folded neatly beside it.
When she noticed me, she lifted her hand and pointed to the chair across from her.
"Come. Sit here."
I walked toward her and sat down. My movements felt heavy, as if my body hadn't fully woken up yet.
She studied me in silence for a moment, her sharp eyes taking in every detail.
"You look terrible," she said bluntly.
A few seconds passed before she spoke again.
"Raven… may I ask you a question?"
I nodded without saying a word.
"Who are Sam and Liz?"
The world froze.
My body went rigid, my eyes widening before I could stop myself. My heart began to race violently against my ribs.
"H-how do you know those names?" I asked, my voice trembling despite my effort to control it. I clenched my teeth, a sharp flash of anger sparking in my chest. Did she tell her?
"Who told you those names?" I snapped.
Morivain's voice echoed calmly in my mind.
"Calm down, Raven. You were murmuring in your sleep this morning. She must have heard you."
Elyra looked at me with sadness in her eyes.
"You were saying those names while you slept," she said softly. "Over and over. 'I'm sorry, Sam… Liz…' again and again."
She reached out and placed a hand gently on my shoulder.
"Raven, you know you can tell me anything. I won't judge you. I truly care about you. Ever since you were little, I knew you were hiding something—but I didn't push. I wanted you to tell me when you were ready."
Her grip tightened just a little.
"But seeing you like this… it worries me."
I forced a small smile, one that didn't reach my eyes.
"What are you talking about, Master? I'm really fine. It was probably just a nightmare. I don't even remember what it was about."
Elyra shook her head slowly.
"I've known you since you were a child. I know when you're lying. And I know when you're hurting—when you're angry or in pain."
She met my gaze directly.
"I can see sadness and rage in your eyes right now. And you know I'm always on your side."
Morivain laughed quietly inside my mind.
"Well? How are you getting out of this one?"
What should I do? I asked her silently. Please help me. I don't want to lie to her… but I can't tell her everything. Not yet.
Morivain hummed thoughtfully.
"Then don't lie."
What do you mean?
"Tell her a small part of the truth."
Elyra was still watching me, waiting patiently.
I exhaled slowly.
"…Alright. I'll tell you."
She leaned forward slightly, her attention fully focused on me.
I lowered my head, staring at my hands resting in my lap.
"The truth is…" I said quietly, "…I'm being hunted by monsters."
Elyra frowned.
"What do you mean by that?"
I looked up at her.
"As you heard… monsters are targeting me. Wherever I go, they follow. They won't stop until they kill me."
She raised her hand quickly.
"Wait—wait. Let me understand this. You're saying monsters are specifically after you? How do you know that? Who told you?"
"A dungeon boss," I replied. "He said no matter where I run, they'll come after me."
I paused, then continued.
"I didn't believe him at first. But then I remembered what's been happening. Two days ago, when we were closing a red gate, every monster inside ignored the rest of the team and came straight for me."
Elyra's expression darkened.
"And weeks ago," I went on, "when Hollowborn attacked the city… it came for me. And that's why the black gate wouldn't let me leave."
Silence fell between us.
Elyra leaned back slightly, deep in thought, piecing everything together.
Do you think she'll believe this? I asked Morivain.
"She will," Morivain replied. "Because you told her the truth—even if it wasn't the whole truth."
After a long pause, Elyra spoke.
"I understand what you're saying. But what I don't understand is why. Who gave the monsters orders to target you?"
I shrugged.
"I honestly don't know."
She nodded slowly.
"We'll have to find out what's behind this. But where do we even begin?"
She looked at me again.
"What will you do now?"
My voice hardened with resolve.
"I need to become stronger. And I want your help, Master."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"My help? Of course. Just tell me how."
"I want you to train me again. Like before," I said firmly.
"I want to enter dungeons without weapons. I want strong ones—red or black gates only. Can you find them for me? Please. I need to get stronger."
She studied my face for a long moment, then sighed.
"I have some contacts in the guild. I'll try to locate gates that haven't drawn attention yet. But it won't be easy. It'll take time."
I nodded.
"That's fine. I can wait."
"But," Elyra added, raising a finger, "on one condition."
I looked at her.
"You will not enter dungeons alone. I'll go with you. I won't interfere in your training—but I'll be there. I won't compromise on that."
I smiled, this time genuinely.
"Deal."
She exhaled, then tapped the table.
"Now take off your shirt and let me change your bandages."
"Stay still," Elyra said firmly. "Let me clean the wound properly. Don't move."
I huffed quietly. "We've been talking about me for hours. Let's talk about you for once."
She didn't look up from her work. "About me?"
"Yes. Your new work. Training soldiers," I continued. "Are you having trouble adjusting to the changes in your life?"
She hummed thoughtfully, fingers steady as she cleaned the edge of my wound.
"The change wasn't as big as I expected," she said. "I spend a few hours a day training recruits. That's all."
She paused for half a second, then added more softly,
"But I should thank you. You're the reason I left the shell I'd hidden in for so long. You pushed me to meet people again, to step back into the world. So… thank you."
I frowned slightly. "You don't need to thank me. I didn't do anything. I just suggested it. You were the one who chose to return to the world."
Elyra laughed quietly.
"Just accept the thanks and don't argue with me."
We were still talking when a knock echoed through the house.
I glanced toward the door. "Give me the bandages. I can finish this myself."
She nodded once and stood. "Don't rush."
As she walked away to open the door, I worked quickly, securing the bandage around my waist with practiced movements. A few moments later, I heard Elyra's voice from the entrance.
"Please, come in."
I tightened the last wrap just as footsteps approached. When I lifted my head, Kara and Princess Lyria stood in the doorway, both staring at me in silence. Lyria was wrapped in a cloak, her hood pulled low in disguise, but I recognized her immediately.
Elyra stepped in behind them.
"Raven, your friends came to check on you."
I grabbed the clean shirt and pulled it on quickly.
"Please, come in," Elyra repeated, gesturing toward the room.
Kara exhaled in relief the moment she saw me standing.
"Morning Raven ," she said. "You look terrible ."
Lyria walked closer, her eyes scanning me with open concern.
"You look tired " she murmured.
I offered a small smile. " I'm fine, I told you I'd survive, didn't I?"
She didn't smile back.
Elyra crossed her arms lightly and looked between us, already understanding more than she said aloud.
"You can sit. She won't collapse," she said calmly, then glanced at me. "Not yet, at least."
For a brief moment, standing there in Elyra's home—with warmth, quiet light, and people who cared—I felt something rare.
Stillness.
But deep down, I knew this was only a pause.
Not an ending.