Rudaheim.
"By the time the eighteenth year of the war had dawned, the Demon Realm had been nearly reduced to ruins, yet our soldiers kept fighting. Even the once lush and beautiful forests of the Realm of Harmony looked haunted and lifeless," Andras said.
"Humans and demons were crossing into each other's realms out of desperation. Humans wanted drinking water. Demons wanted food. But all that ever spilled was blood. It was during this period that a group of human barbarians attacked the cave. My great ancestor fought against them and protected the refugees with his life on the line."
He continued. "Soon…a shift was seen in the war. A young demon, smart and strong, marched on the frontlines and fought the human barbarians. His strength and elegance was unmatched. It was as if he single-handedly tilted the scales. It was at this time when my ancestor supposedly met this warrior who arrived to rescue the refugees."
Slavien asked, "By warrior you mean…?"
Andras nodded. "That's what my great-uncle claims. My ancestor had met the great demon warrior - the great, revered Varkhail."
"The Varkhail rescued the refugees…?" Zerath asked.
"Yes, my lord. My great-uncle says with great pride that my ancestor fought alongside the Varkhail to drive the human barbarians out."
Andras himself wasn't entirely sure of the claims, yet he couldn't help the swell of pride rise in his chest.
Fenrik snorted. "Wasn't he a chef? He could fight in a battle?"
He glared. "Do not underestimate us! We can get pretty fierce when we want to. Our knives are so sharp one wouldn't even notice getting sliced."
"Ooohhh so fiesty~"
Their chatter fell upon Zerath's ears, but he remained thoughtful in his own mindspace.
If the slaves were rescued, then didn't his ancestor learn of the truth back then as to what was really happening?
Fenrik yawned. "Then it was all a happy ending?"
Andras was displeased about that lazy yawn, but he carried on. "That's largely where my great-uncle's story ends. It was around that time, maybe a few months later, that the two realms finally agreed to a peace treaty. Word had spread about a mysterious demon knight who brought the Human Realm to its knees. Also, how my ancestor fought with the Varkhail. And so…"
His nose grew longer with pride. "The then Demon Realm's King was extremely pleased by his valor and hired him as the royal palace's chef."
Fenrik gasped. "Really!? So it's in your blood to serve the royal family?"
"Well…"
"But then how did your family end up living in a small town like Nethermoor?"
"I'm not sure. My great-uncle surmises my ancestor retired somewhere quiet in the hills once he grew old. Perhaps, the next generations continued living there until all this time."
"And now here you are, following in the same footsteps and serving in the royal palace," he raised a brow.
"Well…"
Andras didn't dare compare himself with his ancestor, nevertheless, he felt proud of the similarities.
"That underground refuge camp," Zerath weighed his words, "What happened to it? I'm curious why it's called the gate to Hell."
"The Twilight Sanctum took charge of it as far as my great-uncle knows. Many innocent souls had died there out of starvation and the human barbarians' violence. The then King assigned the responsibility to the Sanctum to seal the cave for the departed souls to rest in peace.
As for its name, some of my townsfolk claim they've heard ghost whispers and cries whenever they wander to that part of the forest. The rumors eventually took a very dark form - the demons who died in that era of war still wandered there and that their souls still were chained to the cave, wanting vengeance."
Azarael shuddered.
Slavien said, "That's unsettling. Does my lord believe in ghosts?"
Zerath paused, then smiled. "I'm not sure about ghosts, but I do believe good and bad deeds come back to us in one way or the other. Perhaps there was still some kindness left in the world that brought the revered Varkhail…to lead us out of that deadly war."
—
A veil-born…
The conversation about Melissa's family's ancestor was already a borderline subject that would definitely twist people's eyebrows. To openly discuss a veil-born's existence would offend a whole lot of arrogant people that could result in the detachment of her head from her body.
As if right on cue, Vivia caught Sierra cast a discreet sweep of the hall, as if confirming no unwanted presences were nearby. Judith was still at very much ease but for some reason, her fingers tapped on her waist in a quiet rhythm, still carrying a nonchalant expression.
Is that a dagger she's hiding in there?
The gestures were subtle, nearly unnoticeable, yet they unmistakably confirmed how genuinely Sierra and Judith cared about Melissa. She had automatically assumed a sense of cut-throat rivalry between the families. Yet watching the silent, unannounced camaraderie between them was hard to put into words.
They're indeed good friends…
A wave of nostalgia hit her as her dear friend and rival, Audreya, crossed her mind. A tremor greeted her lashes. She hadn't risked meeting her since the tea party, but she missed her dearly - though she didn't want to admit it.
Maybe I should look for her now. I also need to talk to her about Raffert and what she's planning to do next.
Her gaze found Melissa again, her own eyes grim beneath her veil.
"What's the matter, Lady Melissa?"
She clasped her hands in response. "It was that letter that brought doom upon Lady Autumn. The prophecy came true."
Her eyes widened. "The one that predicted her death?"
"Yes. Unfortunately, that letter meant for her sister fell in the wrong hands. Ones who couldn't bear to see the existence of such a sinful child. The purity was lost. The birth of one impure child would only cascade more impurity in the world. The search for her and her husband had never ceased, but the knowledge of their child's existence expedited this search. They found them one day…only to execute them."
"They…" The words couldn't come through for Vivia as if a needle pinched her throat shut. "Did they…"
Melissa understood that without her having to complete the question.
"By God's grace, the child had already escaped. She wasn't there when they found them. But my ancestor and her husband…they died taking their last breaths facing each other. There was no trial. No hearing. Only death."
Vivia caught a tear slip out of Melissa's eye.
"Was she ever found?"
Her chest tightened, as though not knowing the answer might provide her with comfort. Ignorance is bliss.
"No, she was never found. Lady Autumn had said so."
She blinked. "Said what?"
"That they would never find her."
Melissa lifted her eyes, her eyes locked unflinchingly at Vivia.
"She gave one final prophecy before she breathed her last. That the existence they wanted to erase would never be fruitful. That child would return one day for vengeance. That child would serve to end this war once and for all."