In the dead of night, I awoke, cold and disoriented, in a room I hadn’t seen in years. My old room in the Kralman mansion. As I struggled to sit up, the weight on my chest suddenly lifted, and a cat jumped to its feet beside the bed. Blinking, I rubbed my eyes, wondering if something was wrong with them—because the cat had wings! Short feathery wings! Had it been sleeping on me?

I rubbed my eyes again, but my body felt sore… The wound! My hand shot to my neck, but instead of a gash, I found only a faint scar.

Impossible—how long had I been asleep?

The creature, stretched lazily in the center of the room while I stared at it. The gem, embedded in its forehead, refracted the moonlight with an even brighter than its eyes.

Only then did I realize it wasn’t a cat, but a fox—small, yellow, and with wings, no less. As it fully roused itself, the fox bristled, startled and confused. In a swift motion, it leapt for the door handle, opened it, and darted down the corridor.

A cold breeze stirred the curtains through the open window, leaving my body feeling cold, sluggish, and heavy. Had that creature come in through there?

I stumbled after it, haphazardly making my way into the corridor.

Walking down the hallway felt strangely nostalgic. The mansion hadn’t changed a bit since I left for the military academy. Ever since I was at the barracks, I’d never felt the need to come home—huh?

Why would I think that? Maybe I was still dizzy from the blood loss or something.

Damn that Alanius, he almost killed me! If I hadn’t stopped myself, my neck would’ve been split wide open. Challenging him was stupid, but… why did I do it again?

The girl! I remembered

Our meeting fell through! I need to somehow get in contact with her again, so I wondered if I were to check the meetup place later today will there be any chance of meeting her.

As I looked for the fox, my eyes could not fail to notice that some of the family portraits were missing from the hallway walls. This wing of the mansion usually had dozens, but I couldn’t quite remember which ones were gone, my memory of my last time here was a bit hazy.

Staring at the empty spaces, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and froze. It was her—the girl I was supposed to meet.

“Why are y—”

Her beautiful face remained emotionless as she said, “Sorry, but you need to see this.” Her eyes flashed with bright yellow light.

Thud-thud. My heart raced.

My consciousness was abruptly sucked into a dark place filled with thunder and rain. Cold fear gripped me as the familiar nightmare began to unfold. I watched, helpless, as a woman was dragged up the stairs by that man, while I stood frozen in place.

The girl? Why did she—?

Desperation took hold, and I lunged forward, trying to stop it, trying to change what I knew was inevitable.

How many times would I have to witness this? Why? Why was it back so soon?

This isn’t right—I can’t... I don’t want to see this, not this pain again...

Fueled by fury and desperation, I threw myself at the image of the man, over and over. My teeth clenched with every futile effort. Stinging pain radiated from my bleeding fingers as I dug at the steps, trying to change the scene… but nothing worked.

The woman was halfway up the stairs, lightning crashing around us. Her fear was my fear, her pain was my pain.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Anger swelled within me, and I shouted into the roaring storm, still and unmoving looking at the monstrous man,

I WON’T LOSE TO YOU.

As if the rain reacted to my voice and poured even harder.

I WON’T DIE. I WON’T DIE TO YOU AGAIN.

The rain now roared trying to deafen my voice.

ENOUGH.

I SAID ENOUGH!

My last ferocious scream seemed to warp the space around me, and in a flash, I was back in the hallway, staring blankly at the wall. The cloaked girl was gone.

For the first time, I had broken free from the dream on my own, but instead of feeling relieved, I was more terrified than ever.

First, I was awake when my consciousness was dragged into that place by that girl—that had never happened before.

Second, and what made my heart race the most, was that just before I escaped, the woman from the dream had clearly moved her head to look at me, her mouth moving as if to say something…

The dream had never changed before—never like this. An ominous feeling washed over me, and despite how heavy my body felt, I started running. I had to do something about this, and fast.

****

I burst into my father’s chamber, nearly knocking the heavy wooden door off its hinges.

“Dad!” I called out, even though I never called him that.

What greeted me was the loud, distressed moans of a woman sprawled out bare on the large desk in the center of the room. Maps and documents were scattered around her body, and the dim light barely filtered through the ornate panorama window behind the desk.

Her moans and squirming continued, as my father—

“Oy, give us a minute here, will ya?” a gruff, aged voice interrupted.

Flustered, I retreated to the cold corridor outside. The large room served both as his bedroom and office, but I hadn’t expected this. The scene left me even more shaken.

Minutes later, the door creaked open. A well-endowed woman, entirely unbothered by my presence, sauntered out, still adjusting her clothes. She gave me a nod and a subtle smirk as she passed.

My thoughts swirled as I stood there, my head growing heavy once more.

“Come,” bellowed the man from inside the room.

I entered the room again, now empty save for the disarray of documents and maps. Seeing no one, I headed toward the bath chamber.

There he was, Valrick, my father, lounging in his tub, clearly hungover. His wild mane of hair was tied up in a low knot, and his large, scarred torso stuck out of the water, the prominent scar on his neck clearly visible. The great sword saint Valrick, the “Chained Sword” of the empire, reduced to a miserable state. He barely moved his eyes.

“What is it, kid? Is your wound okay?” he croaked, his voice rough.

“Father, it’s not about the wound. There’s a witch in the mansion! She cursed me and has been following me around out—”

“Slow down. A witch? Here, in the mansion? Through the barrier?” His eyes narrowed, as if I’d lost my mind.

“It’s the truth! She even somehow brought me into my nightmare—”

“Silence!” Valrick’s face twisted with sudden anger. “I don’t want to hear any more nonsense about witches and curses!”

I couldn’t understand why he reacted so harshly. He rose from the tub, stepping toward me. His large, scarred frame towered over me.

“I’d rather know why you challenged Alanius to a duel in front of the imperial delegate—and nearly got yourself killed in the process.”

“Father, I…” I hesitated. How could I tell him it was because of that witch?

“You’re weak! That’s what you are!” His words hit me like a blow.

“I haven’t lost to another squad captain! I-I’m doing my best not to dishonor Sword Saint Kralman’s name!”

“Squad captain? What about a lesser demon? How do you think you’d fare against one without mana?” His voice boomed. “Stop trying to compare yourself to me, boy! The sooner you accept that you have no business wielding a sword, the better.”

My head lowered.

Like any son, I’d always looked up to my father. The way people revered him only fueled my desire to follow in his footsteps—to become a Sword Saint, a hero, someone others looked up to. But instead, I was a failure.

Valrick placed a hand on my shoulder. “You’ll never be a Sword Saint, my boy, but you need to understand that that’s fine.” His eyes softened with concern. “It’s fine to live a quiet, normal life as the next head of the Kralman family, outside of my shadow. As we’ve discussed many times, after your compulsory military training is over, you should consider what path you’ll take.”

“I’ll consider it, Father…” I replied solemnly. After a moment of silence, I looked him in the eyes. “But what I told you about the witch is true. I’m sure of it.”

His expression softened, and he studied my face.

“Don’t worry I will look into it.” He let out a sigh “Also I was going to recall Roycroft anyway to check that “nightmare” of yours, so no need to worry about that eighter.”

“Thank—”

“But until then, I don’t want to hear a single word about curses, witches and women coming from you! Am I clear?” he asked menacingly.

“Yes, Sir.”

He then roared, “Mauricio!”

The door opened instantly, and Mauricio entered, looking as composed as ever. His glasses rested on his head, nestled in his short hair, and a thin white scar ran horizontally across his cheek.

“Oy, drunkard, you’re naked. Sort yourself out,” he said, tossing Valrick a towel.

“Right, right.”

Mauricio rolled up one sleeve and smacked me on the head. “What’s with all the noise this early? Banging on doors and shouting? You were supposed to be resting. How’s your wound?”

“There was a w—” I cut myself off, not wanting to say it again. “It’s fine, Mauricio…” I snapped. “But next time, ask about my wound before you hit me. You’ve got a heavy hand.”

Mauricio noticed something was bothering me, but I only nodded, hoping it would suffice.

“Oy, Mauricio, tone it down. My head’s splitting,” Valrick grumbled. “Give him my sigil. Write a request for Roycroft, and have him deliver it on his way to the dungeon.”

“Dungeon?”

“Well, after the stunt you pulled, especially in front of the delegate, it wouldn’t look right if you didn’t get some sort of punishment. You’ve spent three days lounging around like a king in the mansion, so let’s say you spend three days in the dungeon now.”

I was speechless as I stared at his cheerful face.

“But remember, you’re doing it for the family honor,” he said, almost mockingly.

“Yes, Father…”

Mauricio finished writing the letter and gently placed it, along with my father’s seal, into my hands. Clearly pleased to see me up, he straightened my clothes and looked me in the eye. “Valens, everything will be alright. Don’t worry—Roycroft and Valrick will take care of everything.”

So he knew.

I grasped his forearm in affirmation, nodding in gratitude as he tapped me twice on the forehead with the purple-stoned ring that hung from a chain around his neck.

“For good luck.”

Mauricio had always been like this—having everything my father lacked. He had practically raised me himself. Though he seemed strict, he was soft at heart.

I left them and went to prepare myself.

“It’s happened again, hasn’t it?” my father asked.

“Yes, it seems so. I will—”

“No need. Find this ‘witch.’ I’ll keep my eyes on Valens. Make sure everything runs smoothly until Roycroft returns.”