-Ocean between Derylini and Aryster – November 7335-
The ship was called the "Hope of the Sea." It was large, built of dark wood, with three masts and brown sails that filled with the cold wind. Zirinos had been standing at the prow since they left, his eyes fixed on the horizon, his gold-and-blood hair shining in the pale morning light.
"Are you worried?" asked Luna, at his side.
"I'm tired."
"Of what?"
"Of ships. Of water. Of waiting. Of not getting what I want."
"The sea is like that. You can't blame it. And life... I don't know. And you, what do you know about it?"
Zirinos did not answer. He only tightened his hand on his sword. The egg, in his backpack, pulsed slowly. Something was wrong. What was it?
---
Something attacked at dusk. That was the strange thing. A great sea monster.
There was no warning. The sea, calm until then, suddenly grew agitated, and an enormous shadow passed beneath the ship, making it shudder. The captain, a gray-bearded man, shouted loudly, very loudly:
"Leviathan!" He shouted as he looked at the sailors. "To arms!"
The sailors ran to the harpoons. The soldiers of Ban prepared their bows. Zirinos drew his sword.
"Luna, stay behind."
"No."
"Stay!"
"I'm not going to run away. I don't want to be a coward just because I'm a girl!"
The Leviathan emerged from the water like a mountain of black scales and yellow eyes. Its mouth, full of teeth, opened to swallow the ship.
"Fire!" ordered the captain.
The harpoons flew. The arrows did too. Most ricocheted off the scales, but some lodged in the creature's flesh. The Leviathan roared – a sharp, deafening sound – and threw three sailors into the sea with a swipe of its tail.
"Reload!" shouted the captain.
Zirinos advanced. His sword, heated by Helena's technique, glowed in the twilight. The first strike hit the monster's head, opening a shallow cut. The Leviathan recoiled, surprised, and attacked again.
The tail struck Zirinos square in the legs.
The sound of the fracture was dry, like wood splitting. Zirinos fell to the deck, the bones of his legs broken in several places. The pain was a white explosion behind his eyes. He tried to get up. He couldn't. His legs, limp, hung at wrong angles.
"Zirinos!" shouted Luna.
He did not answer. He only dragged his torso backward, trying to gain distance. The Leviathan turned toward Luna.
"Run!" shouted Zirinos.
"No!"
The monster's mouth opened. Luna tried to dodge, but the creature was faster. Its teeth sank into her left arm, tearing it from the socket. Blood gushed. Luna's scream pierced the sky. She fell to her knees, her empty shoulder pulsing.
Zirinos saw everything in slow motion: the arm flying, the blood spreading, Luna's body falling. He tried to drag himself to her. His legs would not obey. Only his torso, his arms, his hands.
"Luna..." he whispered.
The Leviathan turned toward him. Its yellow eyes fixed on his.
I'm going to die, he thought. I'm going to die here, in the middle of the sea, without seeing Mira again.
Without saying goodbye.
The creature advanced.
---
Lindériu Derassi appeared on the horizon like an angel in blue and gold armor.
His boat, small and fast, approached the wreckage. The holy warrior leaped onto the deck, sword in hand, his green eyes fixed on the Leviathan.
Zirinos said nothing. He did not thank him. He only dragged his torso to Luna, who was crying softly, blood flowing, her arm lost.
Lindériu faced the monster alone. The fight was brief – the saint used paper drawings, activating them with mana from a stone he wore around his neck. Fire, ice, lightning. The Leviathan retreated, wounded, and tried to flee.
Lindériu did not let it. His sword, shining with divine light, cut off the creature's head.
The Leviathan's body fell into the sea. Its head, onto the deck.
Silence.
Lindériu sheathed his sword. He looked at Zirinos with contempt.
He did not offer him his hand. He only ordered the soldiers to carry Luna to his boat.
"And him?" asked a soldier.
"Leave him there," Lindériu replied. "If he wants to come, let him crawl."
Zirinos did not answer. He did not ask for help. He only closed his eyes.
---
Lindériu's boat docked at the pier of Aryster at dawn.
The cold was cutting, worse than that of Lunos. The snow, hard and sharp, crunched underfoot. The sky, always gray, hid both suns.
Lindériu disembarked first. Behind him, two soldiers carried Luna on a stretcher. Zirinos, with his broken legs, was left on the deck.
"Are you going to take him?" asked a soldier.
"The king does not receive strangers," Lindériu replied, his voice cold. "Especially strangers with a reputation for lying."
"And the girl?"
"The girl is the daughter of Linda Lunos. The king will receive her."
"What do I do with him?"
"Leave him there. He helps those who want to be helped."
Lindériu walked up the street toward the castle. The soldiers followed him, carrying Luna.
Zirinos was left alone on the pier, his legs broken, the cold freezing his wounds.
Lindériu hates me, he thought. And I can't do anything.
---
The old man found him hours later.
Zirinos was shivering, his lips blue, his teeth chattering. Snow covered his body, his legs, his gold-and-blood hair.
"Do you need help?" asked the old man.
"I do."
The old man knelt. He examined Zirinos's legs. The bones, broken in several places, hurt just to look at.
"You can't walk."
"I know."
"Then I'll carry you."
The old man lifted him with effort. Zirinos was heavy, even thin, even wounded.
"Thank you," said Zirinos.
"Don't thank me. Rest."
The old man took him to his house, a stone cabin on the outskirts of the city, where the fire in the hearth warmed the room.
---
The old man's house smelled of leather and dried herbs. Zirinos lay down on a straw mattress, and the old man covered him with blankets.
"What is your name?" asked the old man.
"Zirinos."
"The hero of Endomyar?"
"Apprentice."
"Apprentices don't kill demon lords."
"This one learned fast."
The old man did not answer. He only stoked the fire.
"The people do not like you," he said after a few minutes.
"Why?"
"Because they think the Contraranures attacked the villages and cities of the whole world because of you. Because of Trussum."
"Trussum was only in the continent of Endomyar."
"The people don't know that. The people see what the kings show."
Zirinos closed his eyes.
"Give me water," he asked.
The old man poured him a cup. He drank it in one gulp.
"Tomorrow I will take you to the castle."
"The king will not receive me."
"The king receives heroes."
"The people think I am a liar."
"The people also think the sun is a lamp. Mistakes don't kill."
"They kill. They have killed."
The old man did not answer. He put out the candle.
The room went dark.
---
The dream came without warning.
She was sitting in a dark wooden chair, her hands in her lap, her golden hair falling over her shoulders. Her eyes, also golden, shone in the candlelight.
"Zirinos," she said, her voice sweet. "You came."
"Zerane?"
She looked at him with confusion. She did not answer. She only frowned, as if she did not recognize the name.
Zirinos did not notice. The urge was stronger than thought. He approached. His trembling hands touched her face.
"Zerane..." he whispered. "I thought you had died."
She said nothing. She only looked at him, her golden eyes shining.
He kissed her. She did not resist. Her arms wrapped around him, her hands traced his back, his hair. The kiss was long, wet, warm. She responded with a passion Zirinos had never expected.
Clothes fell. Her body, warm, pressed against his. There was no violence. No hurry. Only the tenderness of a reunion he had thought impossible.
"Zerane," he whispered against her neck.
"Yes," she answered, breathless.
The act was pure, almost beautiful. She gave herself to him as if she had known him for years, as if she loved him. And Zirinos accepted. For a few minutes, he believed the world could be good.
When they finished, they lay together, panting, sweat glistening on their skin.
"Zerane," he said after a long time. "I will never leave you again."
"Zerane?" She looked at him with confusion. "Who is Zerane?"
Zirinos's heart froze.
"What?"
"I don't know anyone by that name." She sat up, her golden hair falling over her shoulders. "My name is Sofia. The saint of Aryster."
The dream did not shatter. Zirinos rose slowly. The dagger, which had not been there, appeared in his hand.
"You are not Zerane?"
"No." She looked at the dagger, her eyes wide. "What are you going to do?"
"What I should have done from the beginning."
"Why? I... I liked it." Her voice trembled. "It was my first time. I liked you. I liked what we did."
Zirinos did not answer. The hand holding the dagger trembled, but did not hesitate.
"You should never have dreamed of me."
"I didn't choose..."
He drove the dagger into her neck.
Blood gushed, hot, dark. Her eyes, golden, fixed on his – not only with pain, but with the betrayal of one who had given her body to someone she loved, even in a dream, and received death in return.
"Why?" she whispered.
"Because you are not Zerane."
The body dissolved into ash.
Sofia woke screaming.
The room was dark. Her body was sweaty. Her breathing was ragged. Her legs ached. Her neck ached. Everything ached.
"No..." she whispered, her hands on her chest. "No..."
The maid, who slept in the next room, entered.
"Saint Sofia? Is everything all right?"
"It was... it was a dream. Just a dream."
"A nightmare?"
"Yes." Sofia covered her face with her hands. "A nightmare."
The maid lit a candle.
"Shall I call the king?"
"No." Sofia took a deep breath. "No."
The maid left. Sofia stayed alone, trembling.
---
Zirinos woke normally.
The old man's room was dark. The fire was low. His broken legs hurt.
"It was a dream," he murmured.
He knew it was not just a dream. He knew Treiza from the history manual. And from the dreams he had before. Lust. The one who liked to play.
But this time it wasn't her who participated, he thought. It was the saint. Sofia.
And I killed her.
He kept the thought. He did not tell the old man.
---
The next morning, the old man carried him in his arms to the king's castle.
The streets of Aryster were wide, made of dark stone, lined with low houses and artisan shops. The people, wrapped in thick furs, looked at Zirinos with contempt.
"The liar!" shouted a woman, throwing a bag of manure at him.
"The false hero!" added a man, with a rotten tomato.
"The Contraranures killed my family because of you!" howled a child.
Tomatoes, bags of manure, garbage rained down on him. Zirinos did not defend himself. He only clenched his fists.
"Be quiet!" he shouted finally. "I didn't kill anyone!"
"You did!" the people answered. "You killed with your lies!"
"Trussum was only in the continent of Endomyar!"
"The continent is where we live!"
"It's not the same thing!"
"Liar!"
The old man quickened his pace. Zirinos fell silent. Words were useless.
---
The castle of King Arésyu rose at the top of the hill, with high towers and walls of ice.
The guards, in blue and gold armor, stopped the old man at the entrance.
"Who are you?" asked one.
"I bring the hero of Endomyar. He needs to see the king."
"The king does not receive strangers."
"The king receives heroes."
"This one is no hero. He is a liar."
The old man hesitated. Zirinos, in his arms, spoke.
"I am the slayer of Trussum. The king will receive me."
"The people say otherwise."
"The people do not know what they say."
The guards exchanged glances.
"Wait here."
The guard entered the castle. The door closed.
Minutes later, it opened again.
"The king grants you an audience. Enter."
The old man entered.
---
The throne hall was enormous, with ice columns and tapestries telling the history of Aryster. King Arésyu, on the ivory throne, watched Zirinos with cold eyes. At his side, Lindériu, in blue and gold armor, kept his hand on his sword. Sofia, the saint, sat on a bench beside the throne, pale, trembling.
"Zirinos," said the king. "The hero of Endomyar."
"Your Majesty," Zirinos replied, with a bow he could barely manage.
"Your fame arrived before you. But your fame is that of a liar."
"I killed Trussum."
"Too late. Many of my people died."
"The people who died were killed by the Contraranures. Not by me, Your Majesty."
"The Contraranures acted in Trussum's name. And you let him live, hero."
"I did not let him live. I killed him."
"Afterwards."
"Wars are not won in days. They are won in months. Even years. Your Majesty should know that better than anyone in this futile hall."
The king did not answer. He only looked at his daughter.
Sofia was trembling. Her golden eyes fixed on Zirinos. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"It was him," she said, her voice trembling. "In the dream."
"What?" asked the king.
"He..." Sofia covered her mouth with her hands. "He raped me. And killed me."
Silence fell over the hall. The guards exchanged glances. Lindériu tightened his hand on his sword.
"Raped you?" repeated the king, his voice icy.
"Yes," Sofia whispered, tears in her eyes. "In the dream. He took my first time. And then he killed me."
"Guards," the king ordered. His voice was now a roar.
"Your Majesty!" Zirinos tried to retreat, but his legs would not obey. "It was a dream!"
"Silence!" The king raised his hand. "The dreams of the chosen and the saints become reality. If she dreamed it, it is because it will happen. Or already has."
"It hasn't happened! She is alive!"
"For now."
"Your Majesty..."
"Guards!"
The guards seized Zirinos. They dragged him to a dirty cell, deep in the castle, where the cold was even more intense and the smell of mold and urine filled the air.
The old man who had brought him was thrown out of the castle.
---
Lindériu visited him in the cell.
The saint was in armor, his sword at his waist, his green eyes cold.
"The king is going to kill you," said Lindériu, his voice neutral.
"I know."
"I can't stop him."
"I know."
"Sofia asked for you not to be killed."
"And you?"
"I think you deserve to die." Lindériu did not look away. "Sofia has a good heart. Better than mine."
Zirinos did not answer.
"Why did you do that?" asked Lindériu.
"It wasn't me. It was Treiza."
"Treiza?"
"A demon lord. Lust. She makes people share dreams."
Lindériu frowned.
"Dreams don't kill."
"They kill. If they are used as weapons."
Lindériu was silent.
"I'll try to convince the king," he said finally. "But I promise nothing."
"I don't need promises."
"You need luck. Luck is not with you."
Lindériu left. The door closed.
Zirinos was left alone in the darkness.
---
Treiza was laughing.
She was sitting in a dark wooden chair, in a room with black walls. Three naked men lay dead on the floor, their bodies still warm.
"The fool," she said, her voice sweet. "He thought he would escape."
She drank wine from a silver goblet.
"The fool," she repeated. "The saint now hates him. The king wants to kill him. The people throw dung at him."
She laughed again.
---
The king gave the order at dusk.
"Zirinos, the false hero," announced the herald, in the castle courtyard, "is condemned to death. For rape and murder. The execution will be immediate."
The people applauded. Stones, tomatoes, bags of manure flew again.
Zirinos was dragged to the center of the courtyard. The guards forced him to his knees. Lindériu, the holy warrior, approached.
"Zirinos," said Lindériu. "You are a monster."
"I know."
"Monsters die."
"I know."
Lindériu raised his sword.
"No!" shouted Sofia, from the top of the stairs. "Don't kill him!"
"Sofia," replied the king. "Go to your room."
"No! He did nothing wrong!"
"He did. In the dream."
"Dreams are not real!"
"They are. The god of dreams told us."
"The god of dreams doesn't exist!"
The king paled.
"Sofia," he repeated. "Go to your room."
"No!"
The king signaled to the guards. Two men climbed the stairs and seized Sofia, dragging her inside the castle.
"Lindériu," the king ordered. "Execute him."
Lindériu looked at Zirinos. His green eyes, cold, fixed on his.
He raised his sword.
Zirinos closed his eyes.