Chapter 63 The harm that was caused
The bonfire had been reduced to embers when we left the circle. The smell of smoke still lingered in the air, mixed with the bitter taste of the newly revealed truth. Each step we took seemed to distance us not only from that place, but from the comfortable version of history that had sustained the kingdom for generations.
Conrad walked ahead, too rigid, his fists clenched. There wasn't just anger—there was conflict. The kind that can't be resolved with a sword.
Kael followed silently, attentive to everything, but especially to me.
Anor kept a certain distance, as if he knew that any approach could be interpreted as a threat. Still, his presence was constant, almost vigilant.
“If the dark ones have fully awakened,” Kael broke the silence, “then time has ceased to be our ally.”
“They are already choosing new targets,” Anor replied. “Not just leaders. Places of power. Symbols. Everything that sustains memory.”
My chest tightened.
“Then we need to act before they erase what’s left.” I said. “The rift can’t be forcibly closed. It needs to be… remembered.”
Conrad stopped suddenly and turned to me. His golden eyes had given way to the deep brown that always appeared when he was truly present.
“And what does that require of you?” he asked, too carefully.
I didn’t answer immediately.
The mark beneath my skin pulsed, as if demanding truth.
“Everything.” I murmured.
The wind howled through the trees with a distant howl, carrying the scent of the ancient forest. It wasn’t a threat. It was a warning.
Anor tilted his head. “Then we need to go to the first circle. Where the Link was last touched before being shattered.”
Kael frowned. “That place has been erased from the maps.”
“Not from our bodies.” I replied, feeling the direction form within me.
Conrad stepped beside me and intertwined his fingers with mine.
“Then let’s go,” he said. “Before the world forgets completely.”
We continued along that uncertain path. Kael had approached Anor to ask questions, leaving us behind. I held Conrad’s hand tightly, trying to reassure him.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, wanting to know what was going through his mind.
“Did you believe him?”
Conrad seemed more determined to know what was going through my mind.
I lowered my head, sighing.
I hadn’t known Dominique before, only the innocent child he had become.
“You believe him!”
Conrad seemed disappointed as he concluded this and separated our hands.
“I didn’t say that, Conrad,” I said, grabbing his arm, making him stop.
“You barely know him!” Conrad was referring to Anor. "I know my father! My father was always a good King. Concerned about the people, wise and loving. Everything I am today is thanks to him."
Then I saw the depth of the wound that had opened in Conrad upon hearing that side of the story.
The pain in Conrad's eyes hit me harder than any accusation from Anor.
It wasn't just defending his father. It was the fear that everything that had sustained him was cracking beneath his feet.
"I know," I say carefully, keeping my hand on his arm even as he tries to pull away. "And that's precisely why it hurts so much. Because, if it's a lie, we need to prove it. And if it's true… we need to face it."
Conrad takes a deep breath, looking away at the forest ahead. His silence weighs more than any scream.
"Do you think I don't wonder?" He finally speaks, his voice lower. "If every decision he made… if every alliance… was truly aimed at protecting the kingdom."
Aurelion stirs beneath his skin, sensing the conflict. It wasn't anger. It was rupture.
I step forward and cup his face, forcing him to look at me.
“Look at me,” I say firmly. “If your father was wrong, that doesn't erase who you are. Nor the King you've become. You are not his choices.”
Conrad's eyes gleam, gold and brown mingling, unsteady.
“What if I’m following the same path?” he questions. “What if, trying to protect everything… I end up destroying what I don’t understand?”
The question cuts deep because it’s honest.
“Then you’ll have something he never had,” I reply. “The chance to stop.”
The wind blows stronger, making the leaves swirl around us. Ahead, Kael and Anor slow their pace, attentive to the sudden change in the environment. The trail begins to descend, the ground becoming darker, older.
Conrad exhales slowly and takes my hand again. This time, not as protection—as a choice.
“I’ll listen,” he says. “But I won’t condemn without proof.”
I nod.
“That’s all I ask.”
In the distance, between the trees, the ground begins to show almost faded circular markings. The First Circle was no longer far away. As we moved forward, I had the strange certainty that we wouldn't be the only ones to reach it.
The air grew heavier with each step.
The marks on the ground became more frequent, forming broken patterns, as if someone had tried to erase that place by force—and failed. The surrounding trees bent slightly inward, not from natural growth, but as if they had been shaped by a presence too ancient to resist.
Anor was the first to stop.
“The boundary begins here,” he said softly. “After this, the circle decides who enters.”
Kael narrowed his eyes, observing the terrain. “I don’t sense any traps.”
“Because they aren’t,” Anor replied. “They are judgments.”
My chest burned in response.
I took a step forward before anyone could stop me. The ground reacted immediately, a dull pulse piercing the ground and rising up my legs. The faded marks rekindled in silvery hues, connecting to one another until they formed an incomplete pattern.
“The Link recognizes you,” Kael murmured.
But it wasn’t just recognition.
The air around me distorted for a moment, and ancient voices echoed silently—memories, promises, pleas for help that were never heard. My heart raced, and I had to close my eyes to avoid getting lost in them.
Conrad approached, standing firmly beside me. “You are not alone.”
The voices ceased.
The path ahead opened, revealing a partially buried circle of black stone, cracked in the center like a poorly healed scar. The energy emanating from it was unstable, alive.
Then I felt something else.