Aldric listened in silence, jaw tight, thoughts racing.
*Alright…*
*This is it.*
They were done here. Draven had chosen his path, and it wasn't one he or Lyriana were meant to walk. Wherever Draven went next, the Church would follow. Staying near him was like standing beside a beacon screaming *come kill us*.
*It's time to part ways,* Aldric thought grimly. *Before we just become another liability.*
He drew a breath—about to speak—
When Lyriana stepped forward.
"There might be another way," she said suddenly.
Aldric's head snapped toward her. "Lyri—"
"There's someone," she continued, not looking at him. "Someone who might be able to remove the brand."
The forest seemed to still.
Draven turned his head slightly, red eyes settling on her.
"Who."
Lyriana met his gaze. "A vampire."
Aldric swore under his breath.
Draven didn't react. He only asked, "Where can I find them?"
"In the **Kingdom of Veylora**," Lyriana said. "In the city of **Noctharis**. It's old. Deep-rooted. There's a vampire there who might have a way to remove the mark."
A pause.
"I'm willing to take you there," she added.
Aldric moved instantly, grabbing her arm and pulling her close, his mouth near her ear.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed. "Are you insane? He's a walking signal flare for the Church. Following him is suicide."
Lyriana didn't flinch.
"I'm going," she said quietly. "Whether you come or not."
Aldric's teeth clenched. "You damn—"
They both froze.
Because Draven and the maid were simply… watching them.
Not intervening.
Not reacting.
Just waiting.
Draven finally spoke, voice flat, impatient.
"If you're done with your bullshit," he said, already turning away, "then let's go."
There was no invitation in his tone.
Only motion.
Aldric stood there for half a heartbeat longer, staring at Draven's back as he disappeared into the trees.
*Damn brat…*
No hesitation. No discussion. Just *move*—as if the world would bend itself to his decision.
Draven was already gone. The maid followed without a word.
Lyriana turned back to Aldric, already stepping after them.
"Are you coming or not?"
Aldric's jaw tightened hard enough to ache.
"What the hell is going through your head?" he muttered, more to himself than her. "Do you have any idea what you're dragging us into?"
She didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
With one last glance at him, Lyriana followed Draven into the forest.
Aldric stood there for a second longer, fists clenched at his sides, then clicked his tongue in frustration.
"Tch… damn it."
He moved.
Leaping after them, vanishing into the trees—knowing full well that whatever waited in Veylora, whatever Noctharis truly was…
…it wasn't going to let any of them walk away clean.
---
Time passed.
The sky dimmed from gray to deep blue, then bled into black as night settled over the forest. The canopy swallowed what little light remained, moonbeams slipping through the leaves in thin, broken strands.
They never stopped moving.
Draven leapt from branch to branch in complete silence, body flowing forward with relentless purpose. His gaze stayed sharp, unflickering, scanning every shadow ahead. In his arms, Elenya and Lucifer were awake now—small red eyes wide and alert.
Elenya wriggled slightly, tiny fingers clutching at the black cat curled against Draven's arm. The creature released a soft, lazy sound, purple eyes half-lidded as it allowed itself to be grabbed.
Draven slowed.
Then stopped.
He landed lightly on a thick branch, not a single leaf stirring beneath his feet.
The maid touched down on a neighboring branch an instant later, composed as ever. Aldric and Lyriana followed, each taking position without a word.
For a moment, only the night remained.
Wind through leaves.
Distant insects.
The steady rhythm of breath.
Draven broke the silence.
"How much longer," he asked quietly, "until we're out of the forest?"
The maid answered without hesitation. "If we continue like this, my lord… **more than a week**."
Draven didn't respond immediately. He stared down at the twins in his arms, jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.
The maid continued carefully. "If we were to fly instead, it would take only a few days."
Aldric clicked his tongue. "I already said that," he muttered. "But apparently no one listens to me."
Draven's voice cut in, calm but firm.
"And if we keep pushing on foot—"
His gaze dropped to Elenya and Lucifer.
"—they won't be able to feed properly for days." His grip tightened slightly. "I won't allow that."
The maid nodded at once. "You are correct, my lord. The young master and miss must feed regularly." She paused, then bowed. "I will search ahead for suitable prey—something safe. Something clean."
Before anyone could reply, she vanished into the darkness, her presence erased as if she had never been there.
Draven didn't comment.
He lowered himself onto the branch, resting his back against the trunk. The night air was cool against his skin, the tree solid and unmoving beneath him.
He looked down at his siblings.
Lucifer lay quiet, eyes tracking movement in the dark with eerie focus. Elenya squirmed slightly, still clutching the cat. It flicked its tail once, then settled again, unbothered.
Draven's gaze drifted to the small black cat curled against Elenya's arm.
Its purple eyes were open—too aware for something freshly born. Watching. Listening.
*So this is what came out of the rock…*
His thoughts moved carefully, like stepping across thin ice.
*After absorbing my… so-called mana.*
Magic stones.
He remembered that much.
He had eaten them. One after another. Things that should have torn him apart from the inside—raw, chaotic mana no living thing was meant to digest.
*So I have mana now… because of that?*
He focused inward.
Nothing.
No flow. No warmth. No surge. No instinctive pull, like the maid described when others used magic. His body felt the same as it always had—solid, heavy, **silent**.
*Then why…*
His eyes narrowed slightly.
*Why do I feel no different at all?*
The cat shifted, lifting its head just enough to meet his gaze. For a brief second, something passed between them—recognition, perhaps. Or mirroring.
Draven looked away.
His thoughts reached backward.
There was a gap.
A clean, terrifying blank where something *should* have been.
He remembered waking.
The pain.
The memories that weren't his.
But before that?
Nothing.
No memory of the battle's end.
No memory of what he had said… or done… or become.
And whatever had spoken to him in that darkness—
*That "me."*
His jaw clenched.
*I don't remember you.*
The only memories that remained sharp—painfully vivid—were hers.
Elira.
Her voice.
Her eyes.
Her blood on the ground.
The saintess.
Memories that shouldn't belong to him, burned into his mind as if carved there by force.
Draven lowered his head slightly, shadow falling over his eyes.
The cat's tail flicked once.
Elenya shifted in her sleep, pressing closer to him. Lucifer made a soft sound, barely more than a breath.
Draven's thoughts stilled.
Whatever he had awakened to…
Whatever he had lost…
Those answers could wait.
For now, he wrapped his arm more securely around his siblings and stared into the darkness of the forest, eyes cold, searching.