A voice, a low rumble like distant thunder, pulled me from the deepest corners of sleep. It was a sound I hadn't heard in so long, yet it was unmistakable. "Riku, wake up. Your invitation is coming soon, and I've told you multiple times you should prepare for it."
My eyes fluttered open, sluggish and heavy. Dust motes danced in the lone shaft of light slicing through the tall window. The scent of aged wood and lavender filled my lungs, heavy and cloying. Five years. Five years since I'd last woken to the familiar patterns of the tapestries on these walls, the ornate carving of the bedpost, the faded silk of the canopy above.
A soft gasp drew my gaze to the woman kneeling by the bed, her brow furrowed, a hand hovering as if unsure whether to touch me. "Riku, are you alright?" Her voice, a melodic whisper, was laced with a tremor I knew well.
Her words echoed in my ears, but my throat felt too tight to answer. My cheeks were cold and wet. Her hand rose, brushing my face gently, and her voice softened, "Why are you crying?" The question twisted in my gut. A lie, years old, sprang to mind, sharp and tempting. But it felt too flimsy, too fragile to cover the earthquake still rattling my bones.
I pressed my knuckles into my eyes, trying to rub away the phantom ash. "I had a dream." My voice cracked, a raw sound. A tremor started deep in my core, shivering up through my limbs. "It felt… so real."
Her eyes, usually bright, softened as she settled onto the mattress beside me. Her gaze didn't leave my face, an anchor in the storm raging inside. "Do you want to tell me?"
The dam broke. The words tumbled out, each one a sharp stone in my throat. I spoke of the endless days, the magic searing my veins, the way my muscles screamed for rest. I spoke of *her*, a silent specter, her final breath a whisper on my ear as she shielded me. My hands clenched, remembering the impossible weight of failure, the bitter taste of ash and defeat. The stake, rough wood against my back. The heat, licking at my skin, pulling the air from my lungs. The frantic dance of shadows, the scent of burning wood and… something else. Flesh. I ended, panting, the details still vivid, etched behind my eyelids.
Suzie drew a slow, shuddering breath, her own face pale, eyes wide with the horror I'd just painted for her. "So," she finally managed, her voice barely a whisper. "What do you want to do?"
My spine stiffened. "I want to run. I won't become a saint. Not after that."
Her lips parted, a silent question. "All because of a dream?"
My gaze met hers, unwavering. "The One Above sends messages. I won't take that chance."
Suzie's eyes lingered on mine, searching, before a grim resolve settled over her features. "Fine. We leave tonight."
She rose, leaving me with the lingering chill of her decision. The moment she was gone, a frenetic energy buzzed through me. I flagged down a passing maid, my voice hushed, requesting parchment and a quill. My hand trembled as I scrawled out pages, each word a desperate attempt to capture the future I now dreaded, a future I would bend to my will. Then, a quick dash to the family treasury. The heavy oak door groaned as I pushed it open, revealing stacks of chests. I scooped up handfuls of cold, glittering gold and platinum, stuffing them into a satchel until my fingers ached. By the time twilight bled across the sky, painting the windows a bruised purple, the bag was heavy at my side, my journal filled with forbidden truths.
Suzie met my gaze by the servants' exit, a shadowy archway that felt more fitting than the grand main doors. "Are you sure about this, Riku?" Her voice was tight, a low murmur.
The memory of the burning stake, the fear of that destiny, hardened my resolve. "I can't live what I saw. I won't."
She pressed a leather satchel into my hands, heavier than my own. "Good. Let's go." Her eyes, though shadowed, held a flicker of something new—excitement, perhaps? Or just the thrill of forbidden action. "I've got some funds for us, and Edward will take us to the nearest town, a few days' ride from Xynthopia."
The coins within my bag clinked with every step, a rattling burden. I focused, a faint shimmer of light gathering in my palm, then expanding to envelop the satchel, silencing the tell-tale jingle. The weight remained, but the sound vanished. Suzie led the way, a dark silhouette against the moonlit path that wound through the servants' quarters, finally emerging into the silent, dew-kissed courtyard.
A burly man stepped out of the shadows, his face half-obscured by the carriage's bulk. "Suzie, it's been so long." His voice was a low rumble.
Suzie cut him off with a flick of her wrist. "Edward, no offense, but can we save the pleasantries for when we're actually on the road?"
A grunt. "Alright, I get it. Hop in." He offered Suzie a hand, hoisting her into the carriage. I climbed in after her, settling into the plush, unfamiliar seats. The carriage jolted forward, the rhythmic clop of hooves growing fainter as the sprawling silhouette of the estate shrank behind us, dissolving into the night. My home for a time. The phrase felt like a lie. This was freedom. And with it, a new purpose bloomed in my chest. The images of my dream flickered behind my eyes: the 'demon queen's' last stand, not a monster but a warrior. The 'humans' in my vision, eyes wide with fear, attacking first, striking down anything unknown. The lines blurred. Villain. Demon. Hero. Who truly wore the masks? If saints were tied to stakes, then perhaps villainy was salvation. I would follow through.
Edward's voice cut through the reverie, sharp and sudden, like a branch snapping. "So, Suzie, how's that life of luxury been treating you?"
"Stressful," Suzie replied, her voice laced with exhaustion. "Rich people have a lot of responsibilities. Always smiling, always pretending, or someone will take advantage."
A heavy yawn escaped me, tasting of dust and exhaustion. "Can you two at least wait until we've had some sleep before dissecting the past?"
Edward's jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath his beard. The carriage lurched to a sudden halt, the abruptness shaking us forward. "Look, kid," he growled, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. "You're not in the palace anymore. We're stopping here for know."
I scoffed, pushing past his broad shoulder and out into the crisp night air.
"Where are you going?" Suzie called.
"For a walk," I replied, already heading for the deep shadows of the woods. "I'll be back soon."
Edward's heavy sigh followed me. "You sure you don't need one of us to… protect you?"
I didn't dignify that with a response. I found a flat, moss-covered rock beneath a gnarled oak and sat, pulling out the worn wooden flute from my satchel. It was a familiar weight, cool against my fingers. I brought it to my lips, and the first clear, mournful notes of my mother's lullaby spilled into the silence. The world faded. Each breath became part of the melody, each tremor in my heart poured into the song. I closed my eyes, letting the music wash over me, a fragile dam against the rising tide of fear and memories.
A gentle hand on my shoulder, a soft shake, pulled me from the depths of the music. "Riku, it's time to go." Suzie's voice was a warm current in the cold night.
My eyelids felt stiff. When I finally opened them, the cold air brought a sting to my cheeks, and I realized they were wet. Suzie's face hovered close, her eyes, wide and luminous in the dim light, reflected a deep, quiet concern that mirrored the ache in my own chest.
I followed her back to the carriage. Edward pushed off the carriage, his arms crossed over his chest. "You're late," he grunted, his gaze sliding over me as if I were merely a delay.
Suzie's eyes narrowed, a challenge in their depths. She took a step towards him. "Edward, are you going to shut up?"
A flicker of surprise, quickly replaced by a fleeting hurt, crossed his face. He simply nodded, turning his back and clambering into the carriage. I slipped into the back, collapsing onto the worn bench. My eyelids felt weighted, a heavy curtain threatening to fall.
Suzie joined me, her presence a quiet warmth. "Riku, do you feel sleepy?"
"Yes," I murmured, already letting my eyes drift shut.
"You know," her voice was a soft hum next to my ear, "I'll always be here for you. You can tell me anything."
I didn't open my eyes. "I know. When I'm ready."
Her hand settled on my head, her fingers gently stroking my hair, a calming rhythm. Then, a low, sweet melody began, a lullaby woven from whispers and care. "I will always be with you," she murmured, the last words fading as sleep finally claimed me