“Kal from Melhem must die”
This phrase resonated within him like a death sentence. It seemed like everyone wanted him gone; from Swans to even High-Lords. Life as he knew it came to an end some time ago, but hearing it from who he thought saved him left him stung and stunned. He could only stare in silence deep into her cold grey eyes, devoid of the sympathy she displayed earlier. Or maybe it was sympathy, after all. Having the heart of showing him mercy—sparing him from the bitter taste of delusion. However, now aware of who she was, he knew emotions were not truly part of her. It was only an act. During the Shadow Wars, the people were more afraid of the dark than soldiers.
“Why..? Why me? What did I ever do to you all…” His cracking voice was charged with emotion, but his pride compelled him not to break down in front of his captors. While his watery eyes frowned in anger, his trembling hands betrayed the distress bottled up inside.
“Bad luck. That’s all there is to it.” She sighted then pursued. ”It could have been anyone, really. It just happens to fall on you this time around. If it makes you feel better, know that you’re not alone in this case.”
“What do you mean, bad luck?! How is that even an answer?! Why are you —” As anger took over his mind, Ani's expression went from slightly apologetic to simply threatening. She quickly shut him down, putting her right thumb on his forehead. His mouth, unable to move or produce any coherent sound, forced him to settle for silence.
“I told you to manage your efforts, so let me do the talking. If you understand, nod.”
Taken aback by how easily he was dominated. He took an instant to cool down, reminding himself that he may be lying comfortably in a bed at the moment but was entirely at their mercy. He gently nodded, eyes wide open, exuding a hint of primal fear.
“Kallen, have you dealt with some…snake issues in the past months?”
His eyes opened even wider. Memories flowed into his mind in volumes, bad ones. Cold sweat dripped on his forehead—guilt he preferred to bury deep within.
Then..is everything my fault..?
“Now listen real carefully. First, in the eyes of the world, you died under the rubbles of that tower of yours. We made sure of that. Supposing Naar-Aje were to find you again, you will undoubtedly become that old man’s target until your death.” She removed her finger from the child’s face and then continued. Kallen stayed immobile as if her sort of spell was still active. He was horrified; the ascetic was still alive. “Second, your mark doesn't come from the Tree. This particularity is the one and only reason your life turned out that way. Consider this your ultimate secret—the kind of secret worth selling out everything and everyone, including yourself. For your sake, the less you know, the easier it will be for you to stay alive.”
The weight of what he learned was overwhelming for a thirteen-year-old to process. To support his family, Kal sometimes engaged in extra errands of questionable nature. He knew that not every truth was good for the soul. This time, he instantly knew he was way over his head. This was more than he ever expected. Infinitely worse.
“Finally, besides your family, consider who you used to be dead. From now on, if you want to keep them alive and well, you will follow and execute all our instructions and become an instrument for our cause until you die. Consider this your second life. Harsher and more cruel than what you used to know.”
Kallen stayed silent. Even though Ani wasn’t constraining his speech anymore, he couldn’t resolve himself to emit any answer to what he just heard. Agree or disagreeing were no options. He could only look down and let it sink in. This was the condition any man was reduced to the second they were introduced to the world of nobility—his fate.
A mix of sadness, regret, and rage swelled up in Kallen’s heart. Bad luck was too vicious of an explanation for what happened to him. It just couldn’t justify his dreams, aspirations, friends, and happiness being taken away to work under someone’s thumb until he rots. He didn’t have much, but he deeply cherished the good he managed to grasp, even in the Maze. Once again, real hatred was planted in his heart. Not one stimulated by the mark, not one directed to someone in particular—Kallen hated the world. He hated its unfairness, corruption, how weak it made him feel, and the strong who would maliciously toy with people like him.
“What do I need to do.” Kal looked back up, trying his best to keep his composure, but his eyes couldn't hide his growing defiance.
“Good. Hold onto these feelings as your life depends on them because it does. Hate will often misguide you, but this will keep you going over there. Blind obedience tends to make bad recruits.” A faint smile appeared on Anya’s face.
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“Over there?”
“Once you get back in shape, you’re bound to rally Belistad as well. There, you will join our ranks, and they will mold you into a shadow of Bathory. We need you as a Vessel, a useful one. It all starts from there.”
For once, the idea of becoming a Vessel did not possess the same appeal as before. Those who ruled and built the world he lives in today, those who forged history as he knew it, those at the origin of his misfortune. His dreams of wandering the continent and beyond, studying plants and creatures, fighting for something he believed in, or even answering the call of the Tree meant nothing against the weight of his sibling’s survival and his own.
What downed on him, however, was the idea that even after freeing himself from the shackles of weakness, he would still end up in an even bigger cage. Even though poverty was his previous captor, guiding his life and decisions, he could still see beyond the steel bars a life he could hope to aspire to. There was no such thing now. The prison was wider but opaque. The only thing he could provide moving forward was his own life. The anger spiraling within started cultivating an idea within Kal, typical of a child his age. He may be weak now, but what if, years later, he grew too big for his new cage? Maybe, just maybe, he could break out just before they make an even bigger one.
He decided to hold on to this fragment of hope dearly. Kara and Alm were his priorities above all else, but if a chance to escape together, somewhere far from everything and everyone, were ever to appear, he would take it. He just needed to bear it and sharpen his fangs. Bare it long enough to maw down whoever stood between him and their freedom. After a moment of silence, lost in his chaotic thoughts, he opened his mouth again.
“I understand.” His tone was much more tame and firm, indicating his newfound determination.
“I like how quick you are on the uptake. I guess Maze kids are something else, I am right?”
“...”
Seeing Kallen's unresponsiveness to her backhanded compliment, hands on both knees, she got up from the stool and turned toward the open door. Before crossing the frame, she stops.
“Oh, two more things…”
Kal briefly cut his breath in fear of a new life-changing revelation.
“When you join the shadows, we expect you to be loyal but not blind; they will educate you this away regardless. But if push comes to shove, if you’re forced to choose between us, your saviors, and Bathory …Choose us without hesitation; two innocent lives depend on it.”
“...What do you mean… Aren’t you from…” The kid paused his sentence, feeling he was getting close to dangerous territory. ”...Understood.”
“Quick learner as well…You make me want to keep you close, you know?” After lingering on Kal's impassible expression with a smile, she continued. “Alright, I’ll stop~ But listen carefully now. Consider it a present for being such a good listener.”
Tightening his fist hard enough to hurt, Kallen steeled himself for what she was about to say next.
“The flames, if you somehow find out how to use them on your own…don’t. They are not yours. They belong to something you shouldn’t even concern yourself with right now.” She looked at him momentarily, seemingly gauging whether she should continue speaking. After a moment, she did. “It’s Witchcraft, so don’t even try, understood?”
Witchcraft was the greatest taboo, the forbidden art that almost ended the world twice. Whether it was at the hands of Erserk himself or The Dragon Slayer, chaos spread throughout the entire world, even within the Tree’s roots, plunging civilization into dark ages plagued by the shadow of war and rivers of blood, a return to the fabled era of the Reconquest.
When the Emperor and the Crowned Vessels descended from the Tree to end the madness, they eradicated all traces of the abyssal knowledge. But the population learned to fear it, even until this day. Not a living child could claim they never heard a witch story. He always heard that only the Crowned Houses and their Vizirs held onto the fragments of what remained of Witchcraft. Earring that a relic of the past was nested within him made his skin crawl.
While the people of the Ivory Tower couldn't manage to make him a child of faith, his fear of the arcane was deeply ingrained in his mind. Father Lark, Solman, and all other followers of The Path who helped his mother raise him would instantly send the Swans to purify him, maybe even the Inquisition.
Now, he was even more certain that he was genuinely safe nowhere and could fully trust no one. Any leakage of this knowledge meant death, no matter how righteous and forgiving someone may be. If there was something the entire empire and beyond could agree on, the Dark Ages must remain a thing of the past at any cost. Whatever was burning inside him was truly a curse, a bomb that could explode at any point if ever he were to lose control again. The dark flames must never rise again. Clutching his chest in apprehension, he remained silent.
“Now I hope you understand that sometimes ignorance is bliss. Wait a moment, I’ll come back with a surprise for you.” Ani finally left the room, leaving a disheartened Kallen alone.
He needed to bury everything and leave who he was behind. He needed to be someone else, someone stronger, as even he understood—he couldn't remain a child anymore. He had to mourn his life in Melhem, Salma, Mikhal, the shop, the people of the church, and his other few friends as he was about to be reborn. Only the wish he made while praying during his birthday remained. An indomitable fighter, this was what he needed to be.
“I’m back~”
Anya made herself heard again, but this time, a second pair of footsteps followed. Bloody white cloak, worn down leather armor, burns and cuts that remained as scars on his noble skin and handsome face, the boy’s blood boiled once more when he met his green eyes.
“You again.”
End of Chapter