They thundered down the stairs. Their steps echoed loudly on the wooden boards.
Velis's panicked shouting reached them before they entered the hall. It was a scream of confusion and helplessness.
The moment they entered the room, the scene before froze them in their place.
Nathene was on the ground. Kneeling. Clutching his eyes. Tears streamed through his fingers as his body trembled uncontrollably.
It was as if he were praying, with great earnestness. But there was something wrong with the posture.
With a shock, Mihel noticed his mother was awake.
She stood rigid, staring at her husband as if afraid that moving might shatter what little remained of his mind. It was quite clear Nathene was not in his senses.
When Meria heard footsteps, her gaze snapped to Mihel. She rushed forward and pulled him into a tight embrace. She gently caressed his forehead, ruffling his black hair.
"Oh, Mimi… I'm so sorry," she whispered, tears slowly going down her cheek. "I'm so sorry we frightened you." She croaked out.
Mihel's eyes were still focused on the scene behind his mother. He couldn't take his eyes away from his father.
"M-mother…" His voice trembled. "What happened to Father? Why is he….Has he gone mad?"
Meria's strength finally gave out. She slowly trudged over to her cot and sat heavily on the edge of the bed, hands shaking.
Velis seemed to calm herself down before sitting beside Meria, stroking her back.
"What we attempted before," Meria said softly, "was to glimpse the final memories of the dead. A technique taught to us by Father Mirysis. Our Circle is only Uncommon…we were unable to complete it…we did it too soon."
Her voice cracked, as she stared at her husband.
"What we saw was not a man. It was some kind of demon. Black and red twisted together…. swallowing everything. It radiated an all-consuming hatred. And what we saw…cold eyes looking down on us as we tried to see its face." Her breathing went ragged as she explained.
Tears spilled freely now.
"In the end, Nathene tried to bear the mental burden alone. He shifted it all onto himself." She sobbed. "It was more than his mind could endure."
Mihel stared at his father, watching the broken movements, the shallow gasps.
The faint sobbing.
Suddenly, Nathene lurched upright.
His eyes darted wildly across the room.
"Master…? Master!" he cried, laughter spilling from his throat. "I HAVE COME…. HAHAHA…"
The sound cut off as he coughed, blood spilling from his mouth.
His body collapsed again, writhing in silent agony.
No one spoke. No one could, seeing the condition of Nathene.
Finally, Meria lifted her head and looked at Mihel and Riche.
"Do not let this shackle your future, forget this incident." she said firmly, though her voice shook. "You must leave in the morning, just as you decided. Go to your Skola, Cilluh will guide you. I want both of you gone by sunrise."
Mihel swallowed hard. "M-mother… what about Father? Will he stay like this?"
She glanced at Nathene.
"I will take him to Father Mirysis," she said. "He will find a way, he will know. By the Lady's grace."
The night ended in silence.
All of them slept where they sat, exhaustion dragging them down. This time Mihel slept without dreams haunting him.
At 6:45 eos, Riche shook him awake.
"Come on, Mi," he whispered. "Let's leave before they notice. I can't handle a teary farewell."
"But… we won't see them for a long time."
Riche exhaled. "That's exactly why. Trust me. Go home, grab your sword. We'll meet at the forest's edge."
'Is he right about this…' Mihel wondered before reluctantly nodding and slipping out of the Malant household. Without stopping, he ran back to his own.
At the gate of his home, he stopped.
Mihel looked at the house, at the place where so many of his memories had been forged. The walls made of cheap stone, paint peeling in multiple places. The roof missing many of the wooden tiles.
After a moment, he tore a strip from his cloak and tucked it beneath the lamp by the door.
'What am I even doing…'
It wasn't a proper goodbye.
'But it was something.'
He stepped inside.
The small house that had raised him closed around his senses, and the memories came all at once.
His first clumsy swings with a wooden sword. Digging a hole in the corner of the yard with Riche, convinced they would uncover hidden treasure. Laughter, scraped knees, evenings filled with warmth.
Nathene and Meria had him late in their life. To make up for the years they'd lost, they had poured all the love and energy they had into him.
Love. Care. Patience. Mihel grew up lacking none.
Mihel climbed the stairs and entered his room, stopping before his sword.
Chamynos Fios.
It hung neatly in its sheath. He lifted it from the hook and slung it across his back.
Then he grabbed a small bag, stuffing it with notebooks, pens, clothes, and whatever else he might need.
'I need to take something else,' he thought.
'Something to remind me. Of this place. Of my roots.'
He went to his parents' room.
On the bed sat a small box.
Mihel warily opened it and found a bracelet, with a thin metal strip etched with a single name.
'Westrow.'
Beneath it lay a folded note.
'Dear Mihel,
We are so proud of you for receiving your Destiny. A life of thrill and wonder awaits you. This is a small gift so you never forget us, no matter where you travel. But we know you will visit whenever you can.
Stay safe, by the grace of the Lady.
Love, your parents.'
His chest tightened. Suddenly, he was unable to breathe
They had meant to give it to him two days ago.
'Before I became… different.'
Tears welled in his eyes, but he wiped them away. He fastened the bracelet around his wrist and stepped back outside.
Mihel faced the house one last time.
"I'll come back," he whispered, partially imagining he was talking to his parents. "Stronger. Having done things you can be proud of."
Then he turned and ran toward the forest.
Riche was waiting.
Mundo and Mitad hung at his sides, his brown fur coat pulled tight against the morning chill. A bag rested on his back. He waved as he saw Mihel approaching.
"So that's all your stuff?" Riche asked. "You ready?"
Mihel nodded. "Of course. Let's go see what the world has in store for us."
They followed the forest's edge to their Skola standing between Skaria and Wahum.
Riche scratched his chin. "One thought just hit me today….How do we make Arivy to buy stuff later on?"
Mihel burst out laughing, despite his gloomy mood.
"What?" Riche frowned. "I'm serious."
"It's just…" Mihel shook his head. "We're setting off with no plan at all. At least Mentor Cilluh might point us in the right path. Or we'll be clueless for a long time."
Riche smiled. "Fair enough. First one to stop running carries the other's weapons tomorrow."
He bolted.
"Hey!"
Mihel chased after him.
They ran all the way to the Skola.
Several familiar faces were already gathered there, other bright prospects from their class.
'Guess we weren't the only ones who didn't choose a Church,' Mihel thought, as he panted, having reached just before Riche.
A voice spoke from behind them.
"So, the two stars of our Skola chose the Exousia as well?"
They turned to see their close friend Frese Magdel.
Riche grinned and walked over. Mihel followed.
"The Churches drill their ideals into you," Riche said. "The military seemed like the only real choice."
Frese hummed, then turned to Mihel. "And you? You still look gloomy. Getting your Destiny is supposed to be fun and exciting, you know?."
She tapped his forehead lightly.
Mihel glanced at her fingers, then smiled.
"The gods didn't find me worthy."
She blinked, then laughed. "If the gods don't find you worthy, then what hope do the rest of us have?"
Somebody called her name and she turned to see her friends waving at her.
"Go on then. Mentor's waiting in his room. Stay in touch, alright? Praise the Blade." Frese said before walking to them.
"You too, Frese," Riche said. "See you around."
She turned back to look at them and waved.
They entered the Skola building and approached the Mentor's chamber.
As they stepped inside, both bowed deeply.
Mentor Cilluh sat behind his desk, papers piled high around him.