By nightfall, they had emerged from the forest and finally spotted a faint glow of lights in the distance.
The village was small, tucked away amidst endless fields. The houses were modest, thatched with straw, the streets narrow, and the scent of freshly cut grass blended with the aroma of baked bread.
As they rode in, Naros glanced around, surprised by the neat yards and well-kept homes.
"Whoa, this is nicer than I expected," he said, clearly having imagined something far worse.
Kael nodded, scanning the surroundings, and steered his horse toward the inn.
The building was simple but spacious enough, with a sturdy wooden sign hanging over the door and warm light spilling from the windows.
Naros sighed in relief, dismounting and stretching his shoulders.
"The only thing I need right now," he groaned, "is a proper bath. I'm still covered in the dust those aristocratic brats kicked up."
Kael nodded, brushing dirt off his sleeve.
"I wouldn't mind one either."
They stepped inside.
The tavern was nearly empty, with only a few locals scattered around rough wooden tables, sipping ale after a long day's work.
The innkeeper — a plump man with a thick mustache and a greasy apron — lazily wiped his hands on a rag and glanced at them.
"Any rooms available?" Naros headed straight for the counter.
The innkeeper eyed them up and down and shrugged.
"Sorry, sirs, but there's only one room left."
Naros rolled his eyes.
"Of course there is. At least it has two beds?"
"Yes, two beds. And if that's acceptable, there's also a separate room for bathing. Though… in barrels."
Kael nodded without hesitation.
"We'll take it."
Naros let out a dramatic sigh but eventually gave in.
"Well, at least it's some kind of luxury." He clapped Kael on the shoulder. "Come on, heaven's heir, time to wash off this cursed day."
The room turned out to be simple, but fairly comfortable. Two beds stood on either side of the window, a small table rested against the wall, and an old but clean rug covered the floor.
Kael stepped inside silently, dropped his travel bag onto the floor, and stretched, easing the stiffness in his shoulders.
Naros, wasting no time, had already grabbed a change of clothes and was heading to the bath.
"If you hear me drowning, don't rush to save me. Maybe I've just had enough of this journey!" he called over his shoulder before disappearing through the door.
Kael just snorted and followed suit.
The water was warm, and for a moment, Kael actually managed to relax, submerging himself fully in the wooden tub.
But his thoughts wouldn't let him rest.
Demon hounds.
What were they doing in Fenlun?
Their armor, hidden beneath those cloaks, clearly wasn't the kind worn by common foot soldiers. It belonged to someone's elite retinue—someone of noble demonic blood.
But whose?
Kael leaned his head back against the rim of the tub, closing his eyes.
Demons didn't just appear in the mortal world for no reason.
Which meant they had a target.
But who—or what—were they after?
And more importantly… why now?
He sighed, emerged from the water, dried his hair, changed into clean clothes, and returned to the room.
Naros was already fast asleep, sprawled across the bed, snoring peacefully.
Kael lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling for a few moments longer, his mind circling around everything that had happened.
But exhaustion quickly won.
He didn't even notice when sleep pulled him under.
Once again, the vortex dragged him down, and in the next instant, he found himself standing in the corridor of Vekto Order.
Only faint magical crystals lit the hall, their soft glow flickering against the walls in sync with the howling storm outside.
Thunder shook the ground, lightning split the night sky, and with each flash, the silhouettes of trees flickered in the windows. The corridors filled with trembling shadows.
Kael turned at the sound of quick footsteps.
A boy with messy dark hair was running barefoot across the cold floor, clutching a pillow tightly to his chest.
He flinched with every crash of thunder, his breath coming in short gasps—but he didn't stop.
Kael recognized him.
Erios.
The boy slipped down the long corridor, his slender feet barely touching the stone floor, and stopped in front of a distant door.
Kael followed, feeling a strange warmth spreading through his chest.
Without hesitation, Erios pushed the door open and darted inside.
Kael stepped in after him.
The room was quiet, with only the muffled rumble of thunder echoing from outside.
Someone stirred on the bed.
The blanket shifted—and from beneath it emerged a tousled head of silvery hair.
Sleepy sapphire eyes blinked up at the uninvited guest, catching the dim glow of a magical crystal.
Lucius.
Lucius smiled silently, lifting the edge of his blanket—an unspoken invitation into a small, warm world where fear had no place.
Erios didn't hesitate. He dove beneath the blanket, pressing himself close to his friend, and as warmth enveloped him, another clap of thunder shook the room, making the windows tremble.
A flash of lightning cut through the darkness, revealing for a heartbeat the frightened expression on Erios's face.
"Thunder…" he whispered, clutching the fabric of Lucius's shirt.
Lucius wrapped his arms around him, pulling the blanket tighter, his voice calm and soothing like a lullaby:
"Yes, I know."
Kael watched them—but something about the moment felt too alive, too real, as if this space belonged only to them: one who was afraid, and one who protected.
Lucius slowly reached a hand out from beneath the blanket, his fingers flicking effortlessly through the air. In that instant, a soft golden glow spread throughout the room.
Kael felt the air shift, warmth blooming as if the space itself had come alive.
Above them, thousands of pink petals drifted into existence, glowing like the first light of morning breaking through a veil of dawn mist.
They moved gently, swaying as if to a melody unheard, spinning and shimmering with a peach-hued glow.
Each petal radiated warmth—not heat, but the kind of comfort that wraps around you like a mother's arms pulling a blanket over your shoulders.
Kael stood frozen in the center of the room, unable to move.
The petals brushed his face, glided over his cheeks, lips, and fingers—and passed straight through him.
This was magic not of power, but of soul.
And it was truly beautiful.
Erios cautiously peeked out from beneath the blanket, his dark eyes following the shimmering petals drifting down from the ceiling.
The room had fallen silent.
Even the thunderclouds beyond the window seemed to hold their breath, as if watching this quiet spell of wonder unfold.
The petals floated gently through the air, their glow reflected in Erios's gaze. Without breaking eye contact, he rose from the bed, stretching out his arms and opening his palms.
Warm petals, like featherlight whispers, landed in his hands, slid between his fingers, and vanished—leaving behind only a trace of comforting heat.
"You always do this when I'm scared."
Lucius chuckled softly, his laughter light as a spring breeze.
In the next heartbeat, he leapt up—and before Erios could react, he jumped onto his back, wrapping his arms around his shoulders with a boyish grin.
Thin but strong arms hugged Erios tightly, and Lucius's soft silver hair brushed against his cheek.
Lucius clung to him with effortless ease, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, pressing his cheek against Erios's shoulder.
"Don't you like it?" His voice was teasing, but the warmth in it was unmistakable.
Erios, unable to hold back a smile, nodded softly.
"I do."
But he hadn't expected Lucius's full weight. He wobbled, took a step back to steady himself—but…
Too late.
Lucius made no attempt to jump off. Instead, he only tightened his grip, and in the next instant, they both tumbled backwards, landing amidst a sea of petals blanketing the floor.
Lucius hit the ground first, pulling Erios down on top of him, who landed with a muffled huff.
For a heartbeat, they lay there in silence.
And then, laughter erupted—bright, ringing, and absolutely contagious.
Lucius spread his arms wide, sending petals into the air, and Erios burst into such a genuine, ringing laugh that even the storm outside no longer seemed frightening.
Kael watched them, unable to suppress a smile.
Petals continued to swirl, drifting down gently, wrapping the two boys in a warm, almost magical blanket.
There was something so real, so vividly alive in this moment that Kael found himself stepping closer without realizing it.
He slowly knelt on the floor, silently observing as Lucius—laughing—flung handfuls of glowing petals into Erios's face.
Erios tried to shield himself, laughing uncontrollably, but Lucius was too fast.
The room echoed with laughter—pure, lighthearted, the kind of laughter only children untouched by grief can share.
Kael felt a strange warmth bloom in his chest, as if something long-forgotten and distant had stirred awake and gently wrapped around his heart.
But then—
A sudden pull.
Like invisible hands yanked him by the shoulders, dragging him back.
The world twisted.
Like ripples across water, the scene distorted, shattering.
And Kael's eyes snapped open.
Darkness.
Darkness. Absolute, impenetrable.
He was back in the inn.
Kael sat up on the bed, exhaling heavily as he ran a hand down his face, trying to shake the lingering sensation burning quietly in his chest. It refused to leave, like the ember of someone else's memory still glowing within him, faint and warm. He could still hear the laughter—bright, carefree, so vivid it felt closer than the dream itself.
He turned his head, glancing at Naros. The latter was sprawled across the bed in utter peace, somehow managing to look like he owned the entire world even in his sleep. His breathing was steady, calm—and Kael found himself quietly envying that serenity.
Unable to stay still, he got to his feet and began pacing slowly around the room, feeling the cool wooden boards beneath his steps. What was that? Why did he see those memories? Why did they feel like his?
His chest tightened again as the image of silver hair and sapphire eyes flickered in his mind—eyes filled with pure, untainted joy.
Kael stood still in the center of the room, lifted his hand, and slowly traced his fingers through the air. Magic responded easily to his call—a swirl of rose-colored petals formed under the ceiling, drifting like the feathers of some unseen bird. They floated down gently, touching the floor like a warm, soft rain, but… something was wrong.
He watched them circle around him—yet felt nothing.
They were too pale, too dull, just ordinary illusions conjured by the mind, not the heart. No warmth. No glow. None of that soft, enveloping comfort he'd felt from the petals in his dream.
Kael frowned, curling his fingers into a fist. A flash of magic—and the illusion shattered, dissolving into nothing. A bitter aftertaste lingered on his tongue, like he'd just tasted something unnatural, something false.
"…Not like that at all," he whispered, sinking back down onto the bed.
With a heavy sigh, Kael pulled the blanket up to his shoulders and stared at the ceiling.
Lucius. Who are you?
The son of Kirion, the High Master? So what?
Why do you keep appearing in my dreams?
Why the hell do I feel it?
Kael clenched his jaw and shut his eyes, forcing himself to sleep.