Chapter 40: Fragile Hope
Darian led Kael up the grand, winding staircase, the air growing quieter with each step. As they reached the top floor, he stopped before a heavy wooden door adorned with golden trim and intricate carvings of winged beasts and blooming flowers—clearly a door meant for nobility.
Darian stepped forward and opened it without a word.
"Please," he said softly, his voice carrying a note of sadness. "I'll wait here. You may meet her alone."
Kael nodded. "Of course."
He stepped inside. The room was large, yet suffocatingly still. Afternoon light filtered through gauzy curtains, casting golden shadows across plush carpets and pastel-colored walls. In the center of the room stood a child-sized bed with ornate bedposts carved like vines reaching toward the ceiling. Dolls, wooden toys, and storybooks lay scattered across the shelves and floor, untouched for days… maybe longer.
"He really loves his daughter more than anything," Kael murmured to himself, voice low and distant, as if saying it aloud gave it weight.
He walked slowly toward the bed, his boots soundless against the thick carpet. The air in the room was still—oppressively quiet, heavy with the scent of old incense and something bitter, like dried blood and wilted herbs. On the bed, a girl lay motionless, her small form buried beneath a heavy quilt pulled up to her chin. Only her arms and head were visible, fragile and exposed.
Kael stopped a step away from her bedside. Seeing her like this changed his face. The lines around his mouth tightened. His gray eyes, usually cold and unreadable, flickered—something dark and dangerous stirred behind them. There was something terrifying here. Then...
Kael sat gently beside her, careful not to disturb her shallow breathing. She was barely more than skin and bones, her frail body sunken and still. Her lavender hair, dulled and lifeless, spilled across the pillow in messy tangles, clinging to her fevered skin. Her face was marred—not just by curse, but by suffering. Her cheeks were hollow, the corners of her lips dry and cracked. Cuts and bruises trailed along her arms like jagged rivers, painting a grim history in silence. Faint black veins pulsed beneath her skin, coiling around her wrists like shackles forged of rot and despair. Her fingertips had begun to darken, their hue turning ashen, as if the life within her was being drained away, inch by inch.
His thoughts turned jagged, swirling dark and sharp like broken glass. "Her condition… it's far worse than I expected. The Aetherium Core and those so-called rituals? If they do anything at all, it'll be nothing more than buying her a little time—if that. She'll die. A ritual can't dissolve a curse like this. Not this kind of condition. And if I'm not mistaken... then someone placed it on her, intentionally."
His mind froze—and then twisted again.
"And the priest that's been treating her claimed she had a day or two at most... He was wrong. Or worse, he's lying. Doing this for coin. But she won't even make it past the night. She has only a few hours left."
Suddenly, her eyelids fluttered open, slow and trembling like the wings of a dying moth. Dull purple eyes stared up at him—empty, unblinking, lost in a haze of pain and fever. She opened her mouth, trying to speak, but no sound came. Only a pained, broken rasp escaped her cracked lips.
Kael hushed her softly, leaning in close, brushing her hair back from her damp forehead with shaking fingers. "Don't speak," he whispered. "Save your strength."
For a moment, her eyes locked onto his. Blank at first. Then something—just a flicker—passed through them. Her fingers twitched against the sheets.
Kael gently caught her hand, wrapping his around it. Her skin was ice-cold.
"I don't think you know me," he said after a breath. "I'm Kael. Just a passing adventurer, really. Not the important kind."
He looked away, then back at her.
"I heard you wanted to become one too. An adventurer. Thought maybe I'd come see you... make sure you still had the fire."
Another twitch of her fingers. Slower this time. Tired.
Kael held on.
"You don't need to say anything," he added, softer now. "Just... listen for a bit. That's enough."
He sat there a while in silence, letting the moment breathe. The room was still except for the sound of her shallow breathing and the low creak of the wind outside.
"I've seen a lot of people try to be adventurers," he said. "Some make it. Most don't." He hesitated. "But you looked like someone who could. Strong... even now."
Another twitch in her fingers. He held them tighter.
"I'm not good at this kind of talk," he admitted with a short breath. "But listen… if you pull through, and you still want that dream... come find me. The guild's not hard to find. Just ask for Kael, no— the weakest adventurer in velhart."
Her eyes moved slightly. Toward him. There was something behind them now. A glimmer. A thread of life hanging on.
"I'll help you get started," he said. "Won't be easy. But you won't be alone."
He let out a quiet breath, and for a second, he just sat there, holding her hand in both of his. Still cold. Still shaking.
"You just have to stay alive long enough to be annoyed by me. Think you can manage that?"
There was no answer. Just the flicker of her eyelids again. Slower this time.
"And don't worry… you'll get well soon."
His voice broke on the last word. Just slightly. Like a crack in glass no one else could see.
He stood up, too fast, needing space, needing air—needing to believe the lie he'd just spoken. He tried to step forward.
But something stopped him.
He froze mid-step, the shadows around him shifting as if the room itself was holding him back. Slowly, he looked over his shoulder.
Arienne lay still in the pale light. Her chest barely rose, barely fell. Her hands, bruised and blackened, rested motionless at her sides like forgotten things. Lifeless. Fragile.
His gaze drifted to her face—eyes now closed again, lips parted. Too quiet. Too still.
And yet, in his mind, he saw her eyes again.
Open. Desperate. Not pleading for help. No… they were asking for release. For peace. A whisper broke across the inside of his skull.
"No… don't do this. Not now."
He staggered back a step. His breath hitched. The moment cracked at the edges as something pushed against it. Memory. A different room. A different girl. A different time.
Kael clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth as if he could hold back the surge.
"Not now. Not her."
He turned again, forcing his legs to move. But guilt pulled at him, like invisible chains tightening around his ankles.
He turned once more. Looked at Arienne.
Her face blurred with memory. Same frailty. Same eyes. Same impossible silence.
"You're making me remember… her."
The words slipped out of his mouth, barely a breath. They didn't sound like his own.
Then—her eyes opened again.
Faint. Dull. But awake. She stared up at him through the fog of pain, and the moment stretched thin.
Kael's breath caught.
He stared back, frozen, unsure of what he was seeing. Or maybe afraid to know what he was seeing.
Still, slowly, he closed his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said.
A pause.
Then, softer—
"Please… forgive me."
He turned, this time without hesitation.
The door creaked as he stepped out into the corridor. Darian stood there, silent, like a shadow carved from the wood.
Kael said nothing.
Neither did Darian.
They walked together, their footsteps hushed by the old wood beneath them. A silence stretched between them—not heavy, not awkward, just… respectful. Sacred.
The house behind them faded into the background as they reached the gate.
Darian finally spoke.
"…Thank you for bringing the Aetherium Core"
Kael nodded, slowly. Then reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of parchment.
"Give this to your master," he said.
Darian took it. "What is it?"
"It's important." Kael's tone didn't invite more questions.
"I'll give it to him right away."
Kael gave a faint nod. His eyes lingered on the sky above for a second—wide, colorless, empty.
"Thanks and...," he said, turning. "Farewell."
Darian watched him for a moment before turning as well.
Kael walked—quiet and steady—each step deliberate, measured. The soft clink of coins in his pouch was the only sound that followed him, a faint chime in the stillness. Behind him, the silence held its breath, as if watching.
He paused near the edge of the alleyway, where the sun just barely touched the stone beneath his boots. His head tilted slightly, voice low enough to be mistaken for wind.
"…Doesn't look like I can keep hiding much longer if I keep doing things like this."
The words were more for himself than anyone else. Just a murmur, lost in the quiet afternoon air.
After a while, his feet carried him toward the market—drawn by an unspoken pull. The street gradually filled with distant voices, the shuffle of feet, the low hum of merchants deep into their day. He didn't blend in, not really. People didn't notice him—but that was different. That was the kind of unnoticed you earned.
His eyes skimmed the produce. Red bell peppers slick with dew. Bunches of wild green onions, their roots still clinging to soil. Pale garlic bulbs, some split to reveal their silver teeth. Tomatoes not yet ripe, resting beside speckled eggs nestled in straw-lined crates.
He stared at them a while—longer than someone with nothing to buy should.
"Seraphina is working hard," he thought, his gaze falling to the cobblestones beneath his boots. "I should cook something new today. Something decent. Something warm… though she's probably still pissed. Of course she is."
A pause. Then a shrug to himself, almost imperceptible.
"Anyway, who cares."
His hand slipped into his pocket—slow, habitual. He expected the familiar weight of coin, the comfort of yesterday's earnings.
But his fingers met nothing.
His brows drew together, mouth tightening. He checked again, slower this time, as if the coins might reappear if he was just more careful. Still empty.
"Oh… shit." The words barely escaped his lips.
His mind flicked back to last night. The quiet dinner. The way he'd casually tossed the pouch on the table—half in thanks, half in guilt.
"I gave it to her," he muttered to himself. Then, remembering the silence of the morning, the untouched table, the absence of coin. "Didn't see them this morning either…"
"Did she take it? Maybe. She had every reason to. It's not like I've paid for much in the last three years." He paused. "Living off her money... yet she never mocked me for it. But why though? She always tried to mock me about everything else. Was it because... I gave her permission to join the Knights?"
"Well, whatever the reason, I don't care," he thought again, though the words lacked bite this time.
He looked back at the vegetables once more—at the long-stemmed chives, the thick, heavy radishes, the soft, plum-like fruit no one ever seemed to buy. Something special could come of it. Something small. A quiet apology, maybe.
"I should probably start earning my own money... How many more years can I keep living off hers?" he muttered under his breath.
He exhaled slowly. "First, I'll go to the guild. Then... I'll think about it again."
A moment passed before he turned toward the guild's direction, steps heavier now—but certain.
Then, suddenly, his head spun again. His breath hitched. "What the fuck."
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(Chapter Ended)
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A/N: I'm planning to change the novel's title. When I first picked the name, I didn't think too much about it — I just used a dialogue from the end of Volume 01. But now, I feel like it deserves something better. I'm not very good at naming though, so I'll take my time before making the change. Just wanted to let you guys know! Thank you for reading the chapter.
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To be continued...