Chapter 69 Exile
When I fully awoke, the world felt... heavier.
Not physically, but as if everything around me had regained a forgotten meaning. The path was still shrouded in low mist, but now it moved respectfully, opening to my passage instead of trying to guide me. The fragment of the moon rested in my palm, silent but attentive—as if listening to my thoughts.
When I stepped outside, I saw a horrific scene.
Lior was decapitated. His torso on one side and the rest of his body on the other. Instead of blood, a black slime soaked the ground. What caught my attention was that, even in death, the hatred etched on his face was still visible.
No sign of the deer. No blood or footprints. Had I imagined it?
I took a deep breath before continuing.
I retraced my steps. I felt a shiver run through my body as I remembered walking that path with an echo of the crevice.
We intended to help him, even without knowing him. Lior, the echo, showed me that I can't trust anyone. Everyone, or anyone at all, could be my enemy from now on.
I begin to hear Conrad's voice muffled, distant. I'm startled and try to look at the sky. But the forest covered the entire path, making it impossible to tell what time of day it was.
But I knew that more than an hour had passed.
Conrad's voice grows louder, and I can sense the desperation present. I start running, even though my body feels weak.
I just needed to see my companion.
I apologized and told him everything was alright.
I see them from afar, but a barrier seemed to prevent them from reaching the trail. I approach, and Conrad notices my presence, shouting louder.
I stop before leaving the trail, trying to understand what that invisible barrier that had formed was. Then I stretch out my hand to touch the barrier.
"No, Maya. It's energy!" Conrad warns.
But I knew it wasn't. At least not for me. As soon as I touch the barrier, it crumbles. As if it had never existed.
Conrad pulls me into a hug, pressing our bodies together. His grip is strong and his breathing uneven.
"I thought I'd lost you forever," Conrad says weakly.
His voice was weak, low. I squeeze his body and kiss his chest.
"Forgive me," I ask, feeling a tear escape, completely affected by his distress.
"I'll never let you go again!" Conrad begins to speak as if reprimanding himself. "I knew I shouldn't have let you go! You'll never do this alone again! You don't have that obligation!"
Conrad spoke exasperatedly, but still kept his arms around me possessively.
"Okay. This won't happen again, I promise," I say sincerely. Now I knew I wasn't a key. That the rift didn't work as we'd thought from the beginning. Those who made the mistake, who caused the rift to open, must close it. I will only be the one who makes it happen.
Conrad breathed deeply against my hair, as if trying to anchor himself to me before the world demanded something from him again. Gradually, the grip ceased to be pure despair and became presence—firm, real.
Kael approached silently. His gaze quickly passed over my neck, my hand closed around the fragment of the Moon, the trail behind me. He didn't ask about Lior. There were things the path answered on its own.
"The barrier didn't react to you," he said thoughtfully. "This confirms what the ancient Elyrion defended."
"That the path recognizes intention," I finished. "Not power. Not blood."
Conrad frowned, still with his arm around my waist. "You're talking as if you saw it."
I nodded slowly.
"I saw it." My voice came out low, but firm. "And I heard it."
I told them. Not everything—not yet—but enough. About Elyrion. About the Rift not being a tear, but a repetition. About the Hall of Oaths.
When I finished, the forest seemed to listen with us. Even the mist was thinner, as if the path itself awaited the next decision.
“The Hall…” Conrad murmured, his jaw tense. “My father swore there. Everyone swore.”
“And they lied.” I added. “Or they chose not to tell everything.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, there was no denial—only conflict.
“If we go there, Maya, it won’t be the same.” He said. “They won’t listen to a companion of the king. Not even a marked hybrid.”
“No.” I agreed. “They’ll have to hear the truth. Whether they want to or not.”
I opened my hand. The fragment of Moon reflected a pale light, projecting onto the ground a symbol that wasn’t a threat—it was a passage. The path ahead began to reorganize itself, losing its wild aspect and assuming an older, almost forgotten outline.
Kael let out a slow breath. “So the path has already chosen.”
Conrad stared at me, serious. “This could pit us against everyone.”
I held his gaze without hesitation. "Not against everyone. Against the silence."
For a moment, I saw the king. Then, I saw only the man who had walked beside me since before the crowns, before the prophecies.
"Then let's go," he said finally. "Before they swear another oath in the name of lies."
We took the first step together.
Behind us, the trail closed gently—not as one who imprisons, but as one who protects.
And ahead, I felt it.
The next place wouldn't require magic from the Rift.
It would require the world to be forced to look in the mirror.
We had advanced only a few steps when the forest changed its mood.
It wasn't an attack—it was urgency.
The trees to the right recoiled with a dry crack, and a man emerged staggering, almost falling to his knees before us. He wore the cloak of the castle messengers, torn at the side, the royal symbol still pinned to his chest. His eyes searched Conrad desperately.
“Your Majesty…” He swallowed hard. “Forgive me for finding you like this, but… she’s your mother.”
I felt the air grow colder.
Conrad stiffened. “What did she do?”
“The Council has been convened.” The messenger’s voice faltered. “Unofficially. She joined forces with some ancient alphas. They said it’s an emergency vote.”
My chest tightened before he could even continue.
“A vote for what?”
The man avoided my gaze. “For Maya’s banishment.”
The name echoed like a blow. The mark on my chest burned, not in pain—in alert.
“She claims her presence unbalances the Bond.” The messenger hurried. “That the Rift responds to her existence. They’re calling it a protective measure.”
Protective. The word sounded false.
Conrad stepped forward, his eyes darkened. “My mother knows exactly what she’s doing.”
“She asked you to return to the castle immediately,” the messenger concluded. “Before the decision is sealed.”
I looked at Conrad. He looked at me.
And in that instant, we knew:
It wasn’t just a political trial.
It was an attempt to erase me—without blood, without guilt, without truth.
And the castle had already chosen the stage.