On the day of her departure, the little princess stood in her room, engrossed in a book she had taken from the royal library, one related to arrays and magic. Her small figure remained focused on the pages as Alice stepped into the room. Before Alice could speak, the princess interrupted, her eyes still on the book.
“Yes, Alice. I know we’re about to leave. Mom and Dad are waiting for me. I’ll take care of myself, eat well, and drink plenty. I won’t start unnecessary fights unless the situation calls for it.”
Alice sighed. “I wish I could follow you to the academy. Then I wouldn’t be so worried.”
From the doorway, a chirpy voice chimed in. “Alice, don’t tell me you’re getting separation anxiety.”
Alice turned to see a young boy leaning casually against the doorframe, the spitting image of his father, complete with the same carefree demeanor.
“Of course I’ll feel anxious. I’ve been with her for ten long years,” Alice replied, crossing her arms.
The boy grinned teasingly as he sauntered toward Princess Athena. “Oh? So you don’t think I can take care of Her Highness?”
Alice placed her hands on her hips, giving him an exasperated look. “Now, now, Julian Morari. When did I say that? Who else could take care of Her Highness better than you?”
Julian winked. “You know me too well, Miss Alice.”
Princess Athena glanced between her best friend and her attendant, Julian, and her personal maid, Alice. Her expression soured. “God, Julian! Are you flirting with Alice? Leave my maid alone.”
Julian smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “Are you perhaps jealous, Your Highness?”
Athena scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Are you for real, Julian?”
At that moment, Agatha entered the room with her visibly worried husband. Though she appeared composed, her heart was heavy with nerves for her daughter. She couldn’t help but remember the days when her little girl would smile and laugh so freely. Those moments seemed so rare now. These days, her daughter didn’t laugh or talk much, but when she did, it was like rain in the middle of a scorching desert—refreshing and precious.
Unlike other girls her age, who adored frilly, pastel dresses, her daughter had always preferred dark pants and tailored suits more suited for boys. While other young girls blushed at the sight of a charming boy, her daughter would frown with disinterest. There wasn’t a noble child in the city who could best her daughter in a fistfight, a fact both impressive and troubling.
As memories of her daughter’s antics flooded her mind, Agatha felt a lump in her throat. Every mischievous smile, every defiant action—these were the moments that defined her daughter, and now, the thought of letting her go made her want to cry. Somehow, she managed to hold herself together, resisting the overwhelming urge to beg her daughter to stay.
“Cupcake, are you done packing? Do you need anything else?” Agatha asked, her voice gentle but tinged with worry.
Athena shook her head. “No, I’m all set.”
Agatha knelt slightly to meet her daughter’s gaze. “Make plenty of friends, okay? And don’t feel pressured to be the best or to follow a path that doesn’t feel right for you. If being a hunter isn’t your cup of tea and you want to pursue something else, that’s okay too. Mom and Dad will always support you, no matter what.”
Athena paused, her expression thoughtful. “Actually, I think I’m good for now. I’ll dabble in everything, here and there. If I find something more interesting, I’ll let you know.”
Agatha smiled, even as her heart ached. “That’s my girl,” she said softly, pulling Athena into a tight hug.
The 'Demon Prince,' feared even among demons, looked as if he were about to burst into tears. Athena couldn't hold back her laughter at the sight of her father's expression.
“Dad, it’s so unsightly to watch you cry like this,” she teased, grinning. “Mom, your husband is such a crybaby.”
Agatha glanced at Alexander with a teasing smile. “Yeah, a big crybaby.”
Alexander looked at his wife and daughter, his face full of mock indignation. “Are you making fun of me because I’m such a sweet and kind-hearted person? Can’t I be sad that my little cupcake is leaving me?”
Julian, standing silently to the side, nearly choked at Alexander’s words. Memories of Alexander's not-so-kind-hearted antics flashed through his mind. ‘Excuse me, who are you talking about? I’m sure it’s not yourself, sir.’
Unaware of Julian’s internal protests, Alexander continued, “Baby, listen. If any boy comes near you, punch him. And if anyone wrongs you—punch them even harder.” He turned to Julian, his tone commanding. “Julian, make sure to take care of my precious baby.”
Julian bowed respectfully. “Yes, Your Highness, I will.”
Alexander knelt before Athena, taking her small hands in his much larger ones. His usually imposing demeanor softened. “Baby, remember what I told you before? Please don’t forget. If anybody asks, just tell them you know nothing.”
Athena immediately understood what her father meant. She knew how worried he was about the events that had unfolded five years ago. Though she hadn’t acted with careful thought back then, her sudden instinct had created a shield that still protected the Empire from demons and monsters.
Back then, whenever she had free time after her studies, she would drag Julian to the library. One day, her Grandpa Bellatrix gifted her a small book on arrays, sparking her curiosity. Determined to learn more, she sneaked into her grandfather’s private library, filled with advanced texts on high-level arrays and their creation.
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She was utterly fascinated. She even bribed Julian with her portion of cookies to keep quiet about her escapades. Through trial and error, she taught herself to create arrays. The barrier array that now protected the Empire was something she had crafted on a whim.
In a beginner's magic guide, she read about accessing mana and infusing it into an array to activate it. Following the instructions, she tried to sense the flow of magic within her. But it felt sealed, locked away deep inside her.
That fateful day, when she noticed a strange figure watching her, an unfamiliar and unsettling sensation crept over her—like a thousand worms crawling under her skin. Acting on instinct, she poked through the seal on her mana and used it to activate the array. She had never imagined her mana would be so potent that it would create a barrier encompassing the entire Empire.
Later, her father came to her, hugged her tightly, and whispered, “Don’t do this again, and don’t tell anyone.” But despite their efforts, rumors spread, and people began to look at her as if she were some sort of freak.
Her nanny Alice, however, had been livid. “People are so ungrateful!” Alice had fumed. “They forget that you’re protecting them, not harming them.”
Her grandfather took action to ensure that news of her abilities never left the Empire, fearing that outsiders might seek to harm her. From that day forward, Athena had refrained from using magic or creating arrays, retreating into a quieter existence.
As she stood before her father now, she could see the worry etched on his face. His words were not just advice but a plea—one born of love and fear for his daughter’s safety.
As the princess prepared to leave, another person was also getting ready, though the atmosphere surrounding him was far from harmonious.
From a young age, Ayden had thought his family was fractured in ways that defied repair. His grandmother was eccentric to the point of madness, his father was a seething ball of resentment, and his mother—his mother was like a wooden doll, lifeless and unresponsive. There were moments when Ayden thought she might break down, like the time his father beat her with a belt for hours. Bloodied and bruised, she showed no reaction. When Ayden himself was beaten because his sister outperformed him in knight training, she remained silent, her vacant eyes staring off as if none of it mattered.
He used to wait for her to step in, to stop his father’s hand, but she never did.
Whenever Uncle Alexander and Aunt Agatha laughed and smiled with his sister, Ayden felt a pang of jealousy so sharp it twisted in his chest. His father never smiled at him like that. His mother never spoke to him with warmth. His father only spoke with bitterness, always ranting about how Uncle Alexander had stolen everything from him—the woman he loved, the honor of being a warrior, and his rightful place in the world.
But Ayden didn’t see it that way. In his eyes, his uncle deserved it all. Uncle Alexander was kind, even if he was intimidating at times, and he had personally taught Ayden swordsmanship. His uncle loved Aunt Agatha, and Aunt Agatha loved him back. Their warmth was real, and Ayden couldn’t help but wish, in his secret heart, that he could have been their son instead.
When Ayden told his mother he was leaving, she didn’t even blink. She just stared at him with those hollow, empty eyes. His grandmother, predictably, had plenty to say, much of it nonsense, like her suggestion that he should “defeat” his sister. Really? My sister’s a monster in combat. Competing with her is pointless, he thought. His father, of course, was no better, launching into yet another tirade about his supposed suffering and the injustice done to him by Uncle Alexander.
Yeah, you’re jealous, and you have a massive inferiority complex, Ayden mocked silently. Maybe start by knowing your limits. Blabbering passionately about imaginary grievances won’t fix anything.
Despite his inner sarcasm, Ayden maintained a calm, serious expression, waiting for the noise to die down. When it finally did, he turned to leave, intending to find his sister. He knew better than anyone how dangerous his father and grandmother could be if they suspected he was friendly with her. Punishment would come swiftly and without mercy. But Ayden had learned to play the game, and he had his ways of handling them now.
As he moved to leave, his father, Zelus, grabbed his wrist with a crushing grip. The pain shot through him, but Ayden kept his face calm.
“Where are you going?” Zelus demanded.
Ayden, masking his discomfort, replied evenly, “Father, didn’t you always say the best way to defeat your enemy is to observe them? What better way to find their weaknesses than by befriending them? Don’t you agree, Grandmother?”
The Empress, her prideful expression swelling, interjected before Zelus could respond. “See, Zelus? Your son is far smarter than you. He understands strategy. Bravo, my dear grandson. Go, infiltrate your enemy’s confidence.”
Ayden suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, instead offering a respectful bow. Internally, he let out a sigh of relief. With the Empress’s approval, he wasted no time and ran off toward his sister.
“Sister, sister! Are you ready?”
Seeing Ayden’s excited face as he dashed toward her, Athena couldn’t help but smile warmly.
Her brother was a pure soul, untouched by the twistedness of their surroundings. He was always sunny and warm, despite the suffering he endured at the hands of their parents and grandmother. Once, Athena had witnessed Zelus brutally beating Ayden. She couldn’t stand it. In secret, she took her revenge by sprinkling itching powder into Zelus’s and the Empress’s tea. Watching them scratch their throats for days was both satisfying and hilarious. When her grandfather, the Emperor, found out about her little act of rebellion, she braced herself for a stern lecture. Instead, he pinched her plump cheeks and laughed heartily, joined by Sir Nicolas.
Athena hated the Empress and her uncle Zelus for their cruelty toward Ayden. To her, he was the most precious and fragile person in her life, someone she would always protect. For Ayden, his sister, uncle, and aunt were the only vibrant colors in a world otherwise painted in shades of gray. He clung to them desperately, even if it meant enduring more beatings.
While the three children were happily chatting and laughing, Agatha’s keen eyes caught sight of an angry red and purple discoloration on Ayden’s wrist. Her heart sank.
“Ayden, honey, who did this to you?” she asked gently, though her voice betrayed her rising anger.
Ayden quickly hid his wrist behind his back. “It’s nothing, Aunt Agatha, just the usual. Nothing to worry about,” he said, forcing a casual tone.
But his words did nothing to ease Agatha’s mind. “Alice, bring the potion for bruises,” she called.
Alice promptly retrieved a small bottle from the nearby table drawer. Agatha knelt beside Ayden, carefully taking his hand in hers as she applied the soothing ointment.
As she worked, Ayden’s emotions welled up, his voice trembling. “Aunt Agatha, may I hug you?”
Her heart broke at the sight of the frail boy, tears brimming in his wide eyes. “Yes, of course, honey. Come here,” she said, opening her arms.
Ayden clung to her, burying his face in her shoulder. Agatha wrapped him in a protective embrace, her heart aching for the child. Resentment bubbled within her toward the people who had inflicted so much pain on this wonderful, angelic boy. How could anyone bear to harm someone so innocent, so pure?
She vowed silently to do everything in her power to shield Ayden from further harm, to ensure he could experience the love and warmth he so desperately deserved.
On the day the three children bid their farewell and began their journey, Agatha's heart was heavy with concern. While the Empire remained protected from demons and monsters, the world beyond its borders was a different story. She couldn’t shake the lingering fear: What if something bad happens to them?
Her fears were not unfounded. As their journey unfolded, her worst nightmares began to take shape.