Through the dark night, a small figure ran, piercing through the darkness. Somehow bearing the pain in his chest, he kept moving forward, struggling to breathe, as if chasing something.
"Haha! Haha!"
A laughter echoed from a distance. Hearing it the figure clenched his teeth, forcing his legs to run faster. As he got closer the laughter got louder. But—
"Argh!" (sob)
The laughter wasn't alone; amidst it, there were sobs—cries of agony.
Before long, the figure now stood at the place the laughter had come from. Swallowing hard and gasping as he tried to catch his breath, he stood there motionless, as if he were a stone statue. His eyes widened in shock, and his lips curled up as tears escaped his eyes.
"An... Aniket! (cough)"
A sorrowful voice called out, spewing blood. It was Chandra.
Seeing his friend approach, the young prince, writhing on the ground in pain from a broken arm, cried out his name.
Meanwhile, not far away, a few men stood, dressed as guards. At their center was one with a fearful expression, seated on a rock. Lingpa!
"Heh… here comes another insect," he muttered, his voice dripping with malice.
Aniket heard the man's voice. He looked ahead, cold sweat dripping down his neck. His face was a mix of fear, shock, and sorrow. Every instinct screamed at him to run, to save himself. But the little boy couldn't ignore the sight of his friend groaning on the ground.
With a determined breath, he steeled his heart and took a slow, uncertain step forward. His gaze fixed on Chandra, flailing in agony before him.
"Crack!"
The sharp sound of a stick cracking caught his attention. He lifted his head slowly, his heart sinking as he saw the man rise from the rock and begin to move toward him.
His breath hitched, and he subconsciously took a step back.
"Thump!"
His feet stopped as he ran into a 'wall.' He turned his head to look behind only to find another man with bloodstains on his clothes.
"Not even going to say hello to your friends? Don't be so heartless," Lingpa mockingly asked, as he closed the distance in between.
He stopped when he reached Chandra. Squatting down, he grabbed him by the hair, his gaze fixed on Aniket.
"Now, it would be easier to talk if I do this," he said, pulling Chandra's head up.
"Aghck!"
A groan escaped Chandra's throat, followed by a cough and blood clots.
Aniket froze, a numb pain clutching his heart as he looked at his friend's face. His breath stopped, and tears streamed down his cheeks. His hands covered his eyes, unable to bear the sight.
Blood oozed from Chandra's mouth, his left eye gone, leaving only a mesh of torn flesh and crimson clots.
"Huh?" Lingpa looked at Aniket with a confused expression. "Did this scare you?" pointing at Chandra's eye he continued.
"It isn't my fault. Your friend...Prince Chandra came at me with a dagger! He was so chivalrous, I had no choice but to defend myself... Well, that was him. What play will you show me?" An evil grin spread across his lips as he let go of Chandra.
Aniket was still lost in shock, terrified.
"(cough) I... Ipsha... these bastards..." Chandra stammered, tears running down his face.
As he heard Ipsha's name, Aniket came to his senses, as finding Ipsha was the reason why both Chandra and Aniket had come to this place. He desperately looked around, praying for her.
Looking around, he saw nothing.
"Are you searching for something?" Lingpa asked, his tone light and teasing.
Aniket ignored him and kept searching. Then, something—someone—caught his attention. Behind the men, near the rock where Lingpa had come from, lay a lifeless body.
Aniket stepped forward, fear gripping him as his breath caught in his throat.
Lingpa watched Aniket's despair as he walked past him, a malicious smirk spreading across his lips.
Meanwhile, as Aniket moved closer, the image of the body became clearer. His breath slowed, and the pain in his heart sharpened, tightening its grip. His body trembled faintly. Just a foot away, the little boy collapsed to his knees.
"No, no, no—" Words escaped his mouth as his hand reached out, soon turning into sobs that choked him.
"I~psha~" His voice trembled, unaware that the people he had just walked past by are eyeing him, grinning like hungry wild beasts, feeding upon his despair.
Meanwhile, in front of him lay his friend, Ipsha—still as a corpse. Her mouth was slightly open, tears trailing from eyes that had forgotten to blink. Her numb body had turned pale, like that of a ghost.
The bright smile she had while buying the flower skirt had faded. Now, that same skirt lay stained with her blood—even though she carried no wound.
The sky, devoid of stars, hid behind dark clouds. Then, a single raindrop fell on Ipsha's open eye—like the heavens themselves were mourning what this night held and the drizzle soon turned into a heavy downpour.
Two hours earlier, just moments before the children returned from Khalingla with King Hi'um—
Steward Dhritiman stood outside, speaking with the guards.
"Tell your captain to start preparing. There isn't much time left before the Harvest Festival. And this time, there's a perfect opportunity—everyone will be at the castle for Prince Chandra's blessing ritual."
"Alright," the guard in front replied with a casual shrug. "Anyway, where did that 'lord' of yours wander off to?" he added with a smirk.
Dhritiman frowned at the guard's disrespectful tone.
[This bastard! Thinking he can look down on me just because he Lingpa's subordinate. If not for my own plans, I would've had his head by now.]
He let out a deep sigh, shaking off the unnecessary thoughts.
"That... doesn't concern you. Just tell Lingpa to be ready. It won't be easy," he said flatly.
Just then, a guard from the main gate approached Dhritiman.
The guard gave a quick bow. "Sir, Lord Hi'um is returning—with the young prince and his friends. He should be at the front gate by now," he reported.
"Alright!" Dhritiman replied. "You can leave." He waved his hand dismissively.
Turning back to the guards, his expression hardened.
"For the next three days, focus solely on the plan. Don't do anything that might put it in danger," he warned, his voice unwavering, expecting not even a single obstacle in his plan.
In the meantime, the carriage carrying King Hi'um and the young prince arrived at the castle entrance. Dhritiman hurried over, telling the guards to leave.
"...."
"You there, guard! Take the children to their rooms," came the voice of King Hi'um.
A pair of eyes watched the young ones from afar as they walked into the castle.