Elsbeth whispers, placing her hands gently on his face.
"I'm alright."
Her eyes are wet, but she offers a fragile smile. She saw only a sliver of his memories the trash dump, the dogs, the Chamber but it is enough. It is too much. She realizes that the world hasn't just been cruel to him; the world has been consuming him, bite by bite, for six hundred years.
The Jester gasps, pulling her closer, his grip desperate.
"I thought the curse stole you too," he sobs, raw and exposed. "You weren't moving."
She swallows the horror of what she saw. She cannot tell him. To speak of his trauma now would be to hand him a knife when he needs a bandage. She simply focuses on the present reality: he is here, he is speaking, and he is safe in this suspended moment.
The Black Book hovers above them, pages still flickering with the unread history Elsbeth couldn't see because the Jester's own will fought to drag her back to the physical world.
She hugs him tight so tightly that it forces the truth into his bones: she will not leave. She is not going anywhere.
She leans close, whispering into his ear, her voice trembling with emotion.
"You should have a name."
He pulls back slightly, terror flashing in his storm-grey eyes. He shakes his head violently. He refuses. He knows he cannot have a name; he knows the curse won't allow the act of possession.
Above them, the Book's pages begin to flick aggressively, the sound like beating wings.
The Jester points up at it, confused.
"Magical book... but empty pages," he whispers, his newfound voice grasping for the right words. "It feels... it feels... it feels like—"
He shakes his head violently, retreating like a dog anticipating a blow. He knows the rules. He knows the Curse allows no possession, no identity.
Snap.
The air around the Jester turns solid.
The sound of the world vanishes for him. He is sealed behind a barrier of silence, watching Elsbeth but unable to hear her. He looks small, lost an innocent child locked out of the room where the adults are deciding his fate.
Elsbeth turns to the Book. The ancient ink bleeds onto the page, boiling and dark.
TO NAME THE FOOL IS TO CLAIM THE FOOL.
TO CLAIM THE FOOL IS TO WAR WITH THE HEAVENS.
ARE YOU WILLING TO TEAR THE SKY APART FOR A MERE JESTER?
Elsbeth reads the words. A fire, hotter than any anger she has ever known, ignites in her chest.
She clenches her hands into fists until her nails pierce the skin.
"The Heavens?" she whispers, the word trembling with rage. Then she screams it. "I will go against everyone for him!"
The Jester watches her scream in silence, his head tilted in confusion.
Elsbeth steps toward the floating book, her voice breaking with the weight of injustice.
"Why is he paying? He is pure! He is innocent!" tears stream down her face, hot and angry. "They punish a kind soul for six centuries? They let him be eaten? They let him be butchered? Is that the work of Gods?"
She points a shaking finger at the frozen, grey sky.
"No wonder evil rules this world! No wonder the good suffer in the dark!!!
She stands tall, a princess in mourning clothes, challenging the infinite.
"If the Gods and the Heavens are this cruel and they will not allow us to stay together... then I am ready to be their enemy."
The Book hovers, silent, absorbing her fury. The dark, boiling ink evaporates.
For a moment, there is nothing.
Then, a light begins to spill from the pages not the harsh white of lightning, but the warm, heavy gold of a late afternoon sun. The presence that fills the space is old. Sad. Infinite.
New words form, etched in gold.
PEACE, DAUGHTER OF LIVERIA.
I AM NOT THE GOD WHO CURSED HIM. NOR AM I THE GOD WHO WAS MOCKED.
I AM THE KEEPER OF TEARS. I AM MERCY.
Elsbeth's breath catches. The anger drains out, leaving her knees weak.
I WATCHED YOU, ELSBETH.
I WATCHED THE WORLD TRY TO SHATTER YOU.
I WATCHED THEM CALL YOU "OMEN" and "CURSED."
I WATCHED YOUR FATHER TURN AWAY FROM YOU.
YET YOU DID NOT BREAK.
YOU STILL BELIEVED IN MERCY, YOU DID NOT HURT ANYONE NOT EVEN BY TONGUE.
The writing pauses, pulsing with a gentle rhythm.
AND I HAVE WATCHED HIM.
I HAVE WATCHED THE FOOL SUFFER FOR SIX HUNDRED YEARS.
I HEARD HIM BEG THE SEA TO DROWN HIM.
I HEARD HIM BEG THE DRAGONS TO BURN HIM.
I HAVE KEPT THE ACCOUNT OF EVERY WOUND HE HAS EVER BEEN GIVEN.
I WAITED.
I WAITED CENTURIES FOR ONE SOUL TO LOOK AT THE MONSTER AND SEE THE MAN.
I WAITED CENTURIES FOR SOMEONE LIKE YOU TO BE BORN.
A THOUSAND AGES PASSED IN SILENCE, AND THEN YOU CAME INTO THE WORLD.
FROM THE FIRST MOMENT, I KNEW.
I KNEW YOU WOULD SEE WHAT OTHERS COULD NOT.
I WATCHED YOU GROW
A GENTLE CHILD IN AN UNKIND COURT,
MERCY WHERE THERE SHOULD HAVE BEEN BITTERNESS.
I CHOSE YOU.
AND I AM GLAD I DID.
I AM GLAD I LET THE BOOK FIND YOU.
Elsbeth looks at the Jester. He is pressing his hand against the invisible barrier, trying to reach her.
NOW, I SHALL GRANT YOU A BOON.
ASK ME, PRINCESS. WHAT IS THE DESIRE OF YOUR HEART?
Elsbeth doesn't hesitate. She doesn't think of her crown, or her freedom, or her life.
"Undo it," she begs. "Please. Undo his curse."
The light dims, as if even Mercy grieves. The response comes slowly, with the weight of a heavy truth.
THAT, I CANNOT DO YET. THE LAWS OF THE FIRST GODS CANNOT BE UNWRITTEN BY MERCY ALONE.
Elsbeth sobs, her hope shattering. But the gold light flares brighter, blindingly intense.
The golden light deepens, thickening like honey poured over the world.
BUT I DID NOT SAY I WAS POWERLESS.
The air trembles. Dust lifts.
Elsbeth feels the weight of something ancient turning its gaze fully upon her.
I CANNOT UNBIND HIS SOUL.
BUT I CAN UNBIND HIS TONGUE.
The Book ripples not pages now, but wings.
AND I CAN ALLOW YOU TO GIVE HIM A NAME.
Elsbeth's breath stops.
The light flares brighter.
THE MOCKERY IS ENDED.
The words are a decree, hammered into the world.
FROM THIS HOUR FORWARD,
HE SHALL SPEAK NO RIDDLES.
HE SHALL SPEAK NO JESTS.
The Book opens fully as if the heavens themselves kneel to this sentence.
HE SHALL SPEAK ONLY WHAT LIVES IN HIS HEART.
Thunder rolls across a sky with no clouds.
AND HE SHALL HAVE A NAME.
Silence follows vast, sacred, terrifying.
Not because nothing is happening
but because everything has just changed.
The barrier shatters not with a crash, but with a sigh, like the sky itself exhaling after centuries of holding its breath.
The world remains frozen
The Jester no longer bound by silence
stumbles forward, trembling.
His tongue feels… light, as if the weight of the world has been lifted from it,
as if every chain and shard that bound his voice has finally dissolved.
Elsbeth throws herself into him,
arms tight, unyielding. Her lips brush his ear, trembling with wonder and love.
"Your name… is LUAN," she whispers.
Soft, sacred, deliberate like the naming of a star, like the first word spoken in a darkened world.
He freezes.
Names are forbidden.
Names are dangerous.
Names carry ownership, power, consequence.
Yet… nothing strikes him down.
No curse, no fire, no agony.
Only truth.
Only the sound of himself.
He breathes it, tentative:
"…LUAN?"
The word hangs in the frozen air,
bright and fragile,
like moonlight spilling over shadowed hills.
"…LUAN,"
he repeats, louder this time,
his voice cracking with disbelief and awe.
Tears burn their way free, spilling over the painted lines of his face,
warm, human, undeniable.
"I—"
he chokes, every syllable a river breaking through centuries of stone,
"Luan is my name."
The universe seems to lean closer, listening.
Frozen birds tilt their wings,
dust swirls in slow, reverent eddies,
and the pages of the Black Book glow faintly,
as if the very ink is sighing with relief.
He collapses into her arms,
a creature unmade and remade,
weeping not as a jester,
not as a toy, but as a man finally reclaimed from the long night of centuries.
Elsbeth cradles him,her tears mingling with his, her voice soft and broken and full of awe:
"Yes… Luan. You have a name.
You exist."
And the world still paused, yet alive
seems to shimmer with recognition.
A single star twinkles in the frozen sky,
then another, then a thousand,
as if the cosmos itself bows to this act of mercy.
A whisper drifts through the golden light of the Black Book:
"At last… a soul has been seen."
Luan lifts his face to hers,
eyes wide, raw, and trembling with wonder.
He is Luan.
And for the first time, he can simply be.