The day began like any other. Alex left his office, heading toward the training grounds. Yet, as he passed through the halls, he caught the hushed whispers of soldiers. Their voices spoke of Rudra—rumors that grew darker with each telling. Some even muttered about reporting the matter to higher officials, desperate to prevent the inevitable.
Alex clenched his jaw, forcing his temper into silence. With a smile too carefully crafted to be genuine, he walked past them, never breaking stride.
By evening, a sealed message arrived—an invitation from Richerd. He asked Alex to meet him at the hill behind the capital at sundown.
When the hour came, Alex prepared to leave. His guards offered to escort him, but he refused. Mounting a horse, he rode alone through the capital gates, the twilight stretching long shadows across the land. The air grew colder as he neared the hill, until at last he dismounted by the river, its silver surface trembling beneath the dying light.
From the woods, a shadow emerged.
Alex narrowed his eyes.
"So, you're here already."
Richerd stepped forward, the corner of his mouth curling.
"This place brings back memories, doesn't it? I never thought you'd remember it. For a thick-headed brute like you, recalling such things must be difficult."
Alex's gaze hardened, though a ghost of pain stirred in his eyes.
"How could I forget? This place gave me one of the worst memories of my life."
The memory came unbidden. He saw himself as a child, standing with Richerd as their father trained them until dusk. Later, their father went hunting, leaving Richerd to watch over him. But young Richerd, mischievous at heart, had played a cruel prank—leading Alex into a cave and abandoning him there.
Richerd had not known. That cave was home to a monstrous serpent.
Alone, terrified, Alex had frozen before its venomous fangs. Death had loomed close. But at the last moment, his father arrived, slaying the beast with one strike. The image of the serpent's severed head had carved itself into Alex's soul, and that night he swore to become a soldier like his father.
The memory faded with Richerd's voice.
"Snap out of it, Alex. I didn't bring you here to daydream. I need your help."
Alex's brow furrowed.
"Help? From you? That's rich."
It wasn't hatred Alex felt toward his brother—it was mistrust. Richerd's nature was an enigma he could never quite accept.
Richerd smirked faintly.
"Don't act like that with your elder brother. Just listen. I've gathered information about the memory-erasing spell. But…" His face darkened. "…it comes with a price. The caster risks losing his own memories. If that happens, Alex—you must be ready to control me."
Alex's temper cracked.
"Are you insane? Even if it's only a possibility, you'd risk your own bonds, your own life, for some boy who isn't even blood to you?"
Richerd's mind whispered words his mouth would not. Memories… bonds… what are they without someone dear to me? At first it was curiosity. Then, that curiosity became love. And now, I'd sacrifice everything for him. The boy you speak of—I share a bond with him, just as I share one with you, and with Victoria.
But aloud, he only smiled, masking his truth.
"As I said before, he's part of our family. That's enough for me."
Something in Richerd's smile disarmed Alex. For once, he could not argue. With a reluctant sigh, he nodded.
"Fine. But if you expect me to play along, you'd better ensure this 'possibility' never becomes reality."
Richerd's smile widened.
"Then let's begin."
He disappeared briefly into the bushes, returning with a large sheet of thick white parchment. Spreading it upon the earth, he drew forth a small glass tube from his pocket.
Alex's eyes narrowed.
"Don't tell me… is that—?"
"Yes." Richerd's voice was steady. "It's Rudra's blood. With this, I'll draw the circle."
Kneeling, Richerd painted a crimson sigil upon the sheet. Once it was complete, he looked up.
"Your turn. Cut your hand—let your blood join this circle."
Alex hesitated but obeyed, pressing his blade across his palm and letting the drops fall. Richerd then withdrew two more vials—blood from himself and from Victoria.
Alex frowned.
"What is this? Why mix our blood?"
"It's called creating bonds," Richerd answered. "The circle will react with our blood. It will preserve our memories, while the others are erased. The only one at risk is me. But Rudra's fate will be settled."
Rising to his feet, Richerd spread his arms, voice echoing through the night:
"Oh, goddess of wisdom, keeper of all thoughts and memories—hear me! Make me your vessel. Erase the world's memory of the boy, sparing only those bound to him by heart!"
Light burst from his body, flooding the circle. From it, a tree-like structure rose, blossoming into an enormous white lotus that towered over half the forest.
Alex stared in awe, his breath stolen. This was a world he had never believed existed.
The lotus began to tremble. Its petals unraveled into countless threads of white light, drifting like snow toward the distant city.
Alex stepped back in alarm.
"What in the hell is that?"
"Don't fear," Richerd said weakly. "They are the petals of memory. They'll do the work."
The threads touched the people of the city, pulling memories of Rudra into the great lotus. With each memory absorbed, the flower withered from the base upward, until finally it collapsed into dust.
Alex turned to Richerd, breathless.
"Did… did it work?"
Richerd, drained and pale, swayed on his feet.
"Maybe… let's see the outcome…" His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed unconscious.
The forest fell into unnatural silence. Even the river seemed to hold its breath. Then, the dust began to stir.
Alex's instincts screamed. He dragged Richerd into the bushes just as the ashes whirled together, shaping into the monstrous form of a serpent.
His blood ran cold. It was the same snake from his childhood.
The creature slithered into the clearing, scales black as obsidian, gleaming with venomous sheen. Its ember-red eyes locked onto Alex with hungry malice.
For a moment, his knees threatened to buckle. The boy who had once frozen before this beast stirred within him. But Alex tightened his grip on his sword.
"No more running," he muttered. "Everyone else is pushing past their limits. It's time I pushed past mine."
The serpent coiled, its body thick as a tree trunk, its head rising high above him like a nightmare made flesh.
With a roar, it struck.
Alex rolled aside, the earth splitting as its fangs sank into the soil. Dirt and stone erupted. He slashed upward, steel sparking against scale—but the blade barely scratched its hide.
The serpent recoiled, lashing its tail. The strike hit Alex like a hammer, flinging him into a tree. His ribs screamed with pain, blood spilling from his lips. Still, he stood.
"Come on then," he growled, raising his sword again.
The snake lunged, jaws yawning wide, fangs glistening. Alex feinted left, then darted right, driving his sword deep beneath its jaw where the scales parted.
The serpent shrieked, thrashing wildly, its massive body crashing through trees like fragile twigs. Alex clung to the hilt until he was thrown free, landing hard upon the ground. His torch rolled beside him, flames flickering.
The snake turned, bleeding but relentless. Its ember eyes burned with pure hatred.
Alex staggered, snatching the torch. As the beast lunged once more, he rammed the fire into the wound.
A hiss exploded through the forest, deafening. Smoke poured from the creature's throat as flames devoured it from within. Writhing, coiling, it smashed itself against the earth in agony—then at last collapsed, lifeless.
The clearing reeked of burned venom.
Alex stood, chest heaving, sword dripping black blood. His hands trembled, but his eyes burned steady. He had faced the darkness—and lived.
Shaking, bloodied, he staggered to Richerd's side. For the first time, he understood. He had never cared for bonds, never valued them. But now, cradling his wounded brother, he felt it—the truth Richerd had carried all along. Bonds were worth sacrifice.
Lifting Richerd onto the horse, Alex mounted with him in his arms. Under the fading moonlight, he turned homeward, praying the chaos had ended.
But it was only a fragile illusion—a silver lining before the storm. The clock was still ticking, and Rudra's fate remained unsolved.
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