Then there is nothing else that can be done. This spell can only be cancelled if the intruder leaves the host’s mind.

I suppose I needed to wait for Derick to tire out.

#

How could one tell time in an empty space? I didn’t know, but I could see myself going mad without a way to keep track of time. And so, I decided to make the number of floorboardsI destroyed my time-keeping metric.

Give up. I wanted to say but I couldn’t speak. Perhaps if I accepted a few of Julian’s memories I could at least speak.

#

It didn’t work. I didn’t know how to accept someone’s memories. Simply thinking I accept these memories wasn’t enough. So, what did I have to do?

To accept an individual, you need to empathize with their memories and emotions.

How would I go about empathizing with a human’s dreams?

How would I accept Julian’s feelings of superiority if the me now thinks himself better than the other?

You need to see their emotions; you need to see and accept their memories.

#

One thousand three hundred and one.

One thousand three hundred and two.

One thousand three hundred and three.

If only I got a chance to sleep, just for a moment.

#

Seven thousand six hundred seven.

Seven thousand six hundred eight.

I could give up everything for a chance to sleep–just for a moment…

#

Fifteen thousand and five.

…What did Julian want? Wasn’t it the kingdom and the power which came with it? If I accepted his memories and killed Derick, there would have been no obstacles in my way. (Assuming Derick had dealt with the bald woman.)

In that case, I could’ve retrieved the sceptre, merge the blade with its twin, and become Emperor. Wouldn’t this have fulfilled his wish and let me focus on my wish to revive Rose?

I wouldn’t have been able to revive Rose if I remained stuck in this space after all. As long as I could bring her back to life, I was ready to lose a part of myself.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

After I destroyed Derick’s foothold for the fifteen thousand and sixth, I opened the Mental Dam.

#

Julian’s Memories, Veero’s POV

In front of Julian, three men kneeled. Their foreheads were red and sweat dripped down onto a wooden platform. The sun radiated white hot. A crowd flanked the platform on which the men awaited the King’s verdict.

“Ryan, for the crime of insulting the King you are to be hanged. Henry, for the crime of murder you are to be axed. Krane, for the crime of public defecation on royal grounds you are to be executed.”

I looked up; a white fabric covered us from the sun’s intense heat. A young mage in grey robes made the wind in our surroundings circulate, while another in white robes cooled it.

“No, you can’t!” Like back in the dungeon, I spoke without wanting to.

The king glanced back. “Why is that?” he asked with his cold, snake-like eyes.

This was a memory. I didn’t need to speak. These shivers weren’t mine but Julian’s.

…Time slowed to a stop and the words Why is that repeated once, twice, ect… times.

“I don’t know,” I answered when these words pressed against my mind too hard.

The clouds in the sky drifted back, and the King’s aura disappeared, his attention returning to those on death row.

The king glanced back. “Why is that?” he asked again.

“Because…” What reason did I have to go against him? “Because their crimes aren’t in violation of the Kingdom’s laws.”

The already silent square became mute, and I gained an appreciation for the silence such a large crowd was able to maintain.

The clouds retreated once again.

The king glanced back. “Why is that?” he asked again.

I was tiptoeing around the issue, but in truth, I was more afraid of losing myself. “I don’t know…”

I looked up to see the clouds retreat. But they didn’t move. A black hole appeared in the sky and a giant, pale white hand reached into this world.

Derick.

I partially closed the flow of memories and the world flickered black and came back. The hand absent, the clouds retreated.

#

BLACK

I opened the floodgates back up.

#

The king glanced back. “Why is that?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

The king smiled, “That’s a valid reason, but I am King.” He tapped his chair’s armrest, and a butcher dropped his axe over the first man’s neck. No one was to be hanged. They hadn’t prepared any as the law stated that all criminals be killed with the swift strike of an axe. The King didn’t like to repeat the same words, that’s all. If they died they died.

The criminal's blood soaked the wood and the excess dripped down under the platform and his head rolled off, letting the sun cook the inside of his neck.

The butcher took another step and cut off the second man’s head. My hands shook. With his final step, the axe swung down one last time.

#

“Julian, come up,” ordered the king. He sat on his throne and I kneeled in the hall. In between us stood a griffon’s claw in which a transparent orb sat. On one side my…mother stood. She had feathers over her skin, a beak for a nose, and thin eyes. Next to her two other women stood, in front of them–my half brothers and sister. Only the woman closest to my mother had a faint smile. This woman’s kids were Paul, Borto, and Albert.

I looked back to the appraising tool. It was still transparent.

To my right Richard had an expressionless face, but Diane had a slight smirk.

“Everyone, leave,” ordered the king. No one ever looked at him with hate, envy, or jealousy even though he held everything the others fought over. Why did everyone stare at me and not the King? Was he not the cause of everything?

Everyone shuffled out of the room. But I heard the stutter in their steps. Each had a reason to stay, a scene they wanted to see. A perversion to fulfil.

“Julian… Is this a trick or joke?”

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. His stare overwhelmed me.

He got up and walked down the stairs on which his throne stood.

“Say it’s a farce!” the King spat out.

I raised my head.

Time stopped, then reversed. The king returned to his throne, my mother came back to stand next to him, then the concubines and my half-brothers as well.

“Julian, come up.” Although his words were the same, they cut deeper into me. This sense of powerlessness. It was sharp, cutting, and painful. “Everyone, leave.”

Diane’s smile. The grin on the concubine’s face.

“…Is this a trick or joke?”

Their footsteps resounded behind me; the door closing shut. I concentrated on the noise of their shuffling feet behind the door to forget the King’s pressure. But—

“Tell me!”