"What will I do after that, though?" he asked himself. "Even if I prove the Eyes are real, even if I somehow defeat them, I still murdered my father. I still killed an innocent man. That doesn't change."
The thoughts spiraled in his mind, each one leading to darker places. He sat down heavily on the corrupted ground, no longer caring about the filth or the wrongness of this place.
And for the first time in years—since he'd been a small child dealing with childhood sorrows—tears began to fall.
Not just a few tears, but real crying. Deep, wracking sobs that shook his entire body. All the grief and fear and confusion and horror that he'd been holding back came pouring out.
"I need to go back," he said between sobs. "I need to fix everything. I need to make this right."
But how? He was trapped in the valley, branded as the Cursed King's reincarnation, hunted by the entire kingdom. There was no way back. No path to redemption.
Unless...
Aster looked around the valley floor and noticed something. The ground near the edges of the execution platform was wet—not with blood, but with water. Rain must have fallen recently, pooling in the depressions and cracks of the corrupted earth.
He moved toward one of the larger puddles and scooped up a handful of mud.
"I need to disguise myself," he said, his tactical mind beginning to work through the problem. "If I can't explain, if I can't prove my innocence, then I need to disappear. Hide. Buy myself time to figure out what really happened."
He began rubbing the mud across his face, coating his skin with the wet earth. It stung as it made contact, and he winced.
"Ouch," he muttered, realizing too late. "Right. This place only gets acid rain. Everything here is corrupted."
But he continued anyway, enduring the burning sensation as he covered his face thoroughly. The mud was dark enough to obscure his features, especially once it dried. No one would recognize him at a casual glance.
Next, he took his expensive jacket—the fine material that marked him as nobility—and examined it. Too distinctive. Too recognizable. Using a shard of broken stone, he cut away a section of the fabric and wrapped it around his head and lower face, creating a makeshift mask.
Finally, he focused on the clothing itself. He'd learned color-changing magic at the academy—it was basic illusion work that most students mastered in their first year. It had taken Aster months to get it right, struggling with the subtle energy manipulation required. But now, finally, that difficult learning paid off.
He concentrated, channeling his magic into the fabric. The rich blue color of his jacket began to shift and change, fading to a dull brown. His pants followed, becoming a nondescript gray. Within minutes, his entire outfit had been transformed from expensive noble's clothing to something a common laborer might wear.
Aster stood and examined his reflection in a puddle of cleaner water. Between the mud covering his face, the wrapped cloth hiding his features, and the changed clothing, he was virtually unrecognizable.
But then he remembered something and reached into his inner pocket.
The Blood Moon Stone was still there, warm against his chest. Its energy pulsed with power—far more power than he'd realized before. In his current state, with his newly awakened demonic abilities, he could sense its true magnitude.
"Maybe this could help," Aster said, pulling out the crystal. It glowed softly in his palm, responding to his touch.
But help with what, exactly? He was still trapped inside the valley. The walls surrounding this cursed place weren't just physical barriers—they were enchanted with powerful magic designed to contain dark entities. Magical detection wards. Energy barriers. Alarm systems.
"The walls have electrical detection," Aster reasoned, examining them from a distance. "They'll scan anything that tries to pass through. And the gates are sealed. There's no way out without triggering every alarm and bringing down an army of guards."
He walked closer to the perimeter wall, studying it. Light shimmered across its surface—the detection field. Anything that touched it would be identified instantly, its magical signature recorded and transmitted to the guards.
"I'd have to go at full speed," Aster muttered. "Faster than the detection system can register. Faster than the light itself can process the information."
That seemed impossible. Nothing moved faster than light. It was a fundamental limit of reality.
Unless...
Aster looked at the Blood Moon Stone in his hand, then at the walls, then back at the stone.
The Blood Moon Stone was a celestial artifact with power over space and time. In the right hands, with the right knowledge, it could bend the rules of reality.
And now Aster had demonic powers flowing through him—powers that enhanced his magical abilities far beyond what he'd been capable of before.
"Maybe I could choose another section," Aster said, walking around the perimeter. "Find a weak point."
But as he circled the valley, he realized the truth: the entire perimeter was equally protected. There were no weak points. The ancient mages who'd designed this prison had been thorough.
He would have to try the impossible.
Aster took a deep breath and returned to the section of wall closest to the capital. If he was going to attempt this, he needed to end up somewhere useful—somewhere he could hide and plan his next move.
He gripped the Blood Moon Stone tightly in one hand and pressed it against his chest, allowing its energy to flow into him. The stone responded immediately, its power merging with his own.
He felt time beginning to slow around him. Not stopping, but stretching. Each second lasting a tiny bit longer. The movements of dust particles in the air became visible as they drifted lazily downward.
Aster focused all his concentration on the wall ahead and the space beyond it. He could sense the detection field now, could see how it worked—pulses of energy that scanned for magical signatures at regular intervals. If he could move in the space between those pulses, faster than they could register...
"Here goes nothing," Aster whispered.
He channeled both the Blood Moon Stone's power and his new demonic abilities, combining them in a way he'd never attempted before. Time slowed further. The world around him became dreamlike, moving at a fraction of its normal speed.
And then he *moved*.
Not running or flying, but something else entirely. Space itself seemed to compress in front of him and expand behind him. He crossed the distance to the wall in an instant that felt both immediate and eternal.
The detection field pulsed. He slipped through in the gap between pulses.
The physical barrier—enchanted stone that would have blocked any normal attempt to pass—might as well have been tissue paper. He was through it before it could register his presence.
And he was accelerating.
The Blood Moon Stone's power was magnifying his momentum beyond his ability to control it. The landscape outside the valley became a blur. Trees, fields, roads—all flashing past faster than his eyes could track.
"Too fast!" Aster shouted, trying to slow himself down. "I can't—"
*CRASH.*
He slammed into something solid—a building. The impact sent him tumbling through walls and furniture in an explosion of splintering wood and shattering stone.
Aster rolled across a floor, his momentum finally bleeding away, and came to rest in a heap of broken debris.
For a long moment, he just lay there, his entire body aching from the impact. Slowly, he pushed himself up to a sitting position and looked around at the destruction he'd caused.
He was inside a house—or what remained of one. The wall he'd crashed through was completely demolished. Furniture was scattered and broken. Dust filled the air.
But as his senses returned, Aster realized something important: the house was abandoned. Old. No one had lived here in years, possibly decades. The furniture was covered in thick dust and cobwebs. The walls showed signs of long neglect.
He'd gotten incredibly lucky. If this had been occupied...
"Perfect for me to stay," Aster said quietly, looking around at the ruined space. "No one will look for me here."
He stood up carefully, testing his limbs. Nothing seemed broken, though he was bruised and battered. The demonic power flowing through him had apparently made him more durable than before.
He moved to one of the less-damaged rooms and peered out through a grimy window. In the distance, he could see the capital—the tall buildings and towers rising against the horizon. Close enough to reach quickly if needed, but far enough to avoid immediate detection.
"This could work," Aster said. "I can use this as a base. Practice controlling these new powers. Figure out what really happened with Dad. Find a way to prove my innocence."
Or, if innocence was impossible, at least find a way to stop whatever greater evil his father had been part of.
Aster sank down against the wall, finally allowing himself to rest. The Blood Moon Stone was still warm in his hand, its energy now dormant but ready to be called upon again.
Outside, the sun was beginning to set. Soon it would be dark, and he could move more freely without risk of being seen.
He had escaped the valley. He had a place to hide. He had power, even if that power terrified him.
Now he just had to figure out what to do with it all.
And how to live with what he'd done.