As the door closed behind them, Roland let out a sigh.
"Wow," he murmured to his wife and daughter. "I can't believe he's alive. His body looked as if it had been shredded to pieces, yet only after a few days, he's regained consciousness." He shook his head, astonished. "Though, I fear his mind may be in worse shape than his body."
Eliss glanced back at the closed door, with thoughtful look. Finally, she looked at her parents. "You know, Mom, Dad... I want to go on an adventure with him."
Madam Fliss froze. "What? Why would you want that? You're not going anywhere, Eliss!" She glanced at Roland, as if expecting him to back her up, but he remained silent, his gaze fixed on their daughter with a quiet curiosity.
Instead of protesting, Roland asked. "Why do you want to go?"
Eliss took a breath, hesitating only slightly before speaking. "Because… he can perform miracles." She said with a naive, and innocent tone. She shifted her gaze to the floor, her voice lowering. "And maybe… with someone who can perform miracles, I can finally prove that I'm not worthless. Living here… it feels suffocating."
Fliss's face softened. "You're not worthless, my dear. The past doesn't define you."
But her reassurance, though heartfelt, seemed to drift past Eliss, who continued staring down, a crease forming between her brows. Roland, watching his daughter closely, understood why she felt that.
After a moment, he spoke. "Your mother is right in saying that the past doesn't define you, Eliss." He paused, gathering his thoughts, then added, "But I can also see that you need something beyond these walls, just as much as…" He glanced back at the door to Amukelo's room. "As much as he does."
Eliss met her father's eyes, a glint of hope sparking in her own. Hearing him acknowledge her need, however subtly, made her feel understood.
"I don't understand," Fliss said with worried tone. "This young man has been through horrors. And you… you're still recovering from everything that happened. I just don't see how running off on some adventure is going to help anything."
Roland placed a gentle hand on his wife's shoulder. "I understand your concerns, Fliss. But sometimes… sometimes healing doesn't happen in safety. Sometimes, you have to step into the world, test yourself, and let those trials reveal who you really are." He looked back at his daughter, his face softening even more. "Isn't that right, Eliss?"
Eliss nodded, her eyes determined. "Yes, Father. That's exactly how I feel." She hesitated, choosing her next words carefully. "All my life, I've been surrounded by people who protect me, who sacrificed themselves for me… but I want to be useful, to so that I don't fail next time somethinglike this happens."
Fliss, though still visibly uneasy, opened her mouth to say, "But you are—"
Roland raised a hand, gesturing for her to stop. His silent signal allowed Eliss the space to continue, and she did so.
"And it's more than that," Eliss continued, glancing briefly at the closed door behind which Amukelo lay. "He saved me from that dungeon. Though that was not his goal, he still decided to stay and fight for people he didn't know." Her voice softened, an edge of sadness creeping into her tone. "Yet it seems that for him strangers were only a burden… maybe, I can somehow help him, and be useful to someone for once. I believe that he can… perform miracles."
Fliss looked thoroughly bewildered. She pressed her lips together, casting a worried glance at her husband. "Miracles?" she murmured. "I don't understand, Eliss. You don't even know this young man. You..."
Once again, Roland raised a hand, stopping Fliss before she could say more. "I'll be honest, Eliss," he said. "I'm not entirely sure that you'll be safe with him. I don't know if he has the strength to protect himself right now, let alone someone else. he currently is a man who has lost his will to live, not a man you can rely on."
Eliss didn't waver, her gaze steady. "I understand, Father. But I don't need him to protect me. I am strong enough to defend myself."
Fliss started to speak again, but Roland silenced her with a gentle shake of his head. Finally, he nodded, his face a mixture of resignation and understanding. "Very well, Eliss," he said, his tone softening. "If this is what you believe you need... then I won't stand in your way."
Eliss's eyes lit up. She didn't dare break into a smile, knowing that her mother was still wary.
Roland reached out, placing a steady hand on her shoulder. "Just promise me this," he said with serious tone. "Promise me that you won't get into too much trouble, certainly don't try to fight without a care for your life like he did."
Eliss nodded with gratitude. "I promise, Father. I'll be careful. And… thank you."
With one last nod, Roland placed a reassuring hand on his wife's shoulder, signaling that it was time to go.
The next day, Padrin had intended to visit Amukelo, hoping to find his friend awake and perhaps get a glimpse of how he was faring. But when he entered, he found Amukelo still asleep. The maids had mentioned that he had been waking up at strange hours, only to then come back to sleep shortly after.
Amukelo would wake in the dead of night, drenched in sweat, staring blankly into the darkness for hours before drifting off again just as dawn broke.
Days passed in this strange, fractured pattern, with Padrin never quite able to catch Amukelo awake. But one evening, as dusk settled over the manor, he finally found Amukelo sitting up, his gaze fixed on the sword lying across his lap. The room was dark save for the faint glow from the waning sunset, casting long shadows across Amukelo's face.
Amukelo's fingers traced along the length of the blade, stopping now and then as though trying to grasp something long forgotten. He couldn't quite remember why the sword was so precious to him. All he knew was that it had been the reason for so much of his pain, a tool of his vengeance, and yet somehow, deep within, he felt its value.
Just then, Padrin walked in, pausing in the doorway before letting out a relieved sigh. "Oh, I finally caught you awake." He offered a small smile, though his eyes held a hint of sadness. "Mind if I sit with you for a moment?"
Amukelo nodded silently, his gaze shifting briefly to Padrin before returning to the sword, and they sat in silence for a longer moment.
After a long pause, Amukelo spoke quietly. "Why do you even help me so much?" His eyes remained on the blade, his fingers lightly brushing against its edge. "I mean… you risked your life for me when I never did anything for you. Why?"
Padrin took a deep breath, leaning forward slightly as he began to speak.
"You know, Amukelo," he said, his voice soft yet steady, "I don't know exactly how you feel. I won't pretend to. But I know what it's like to have revenge driving you, to have it burn through every thought, you have." He paused, glancing down as if searching his own memories for words that could help him explain. "Though… I was just a kid when it happened to me."
"When I was just a kid," Padrin said, a faint smile touching his lips, though it was tinged with sadness, "I knew this girl. Her name was Celeste. We grew up together, knew each other from as far back as I can remember. We were best friends... We trained together, spent every day together. She was strong, determined—braver than anyone I knew." His voice softened as he spoke, the memories stirring something deeply buried.
"One time, when we were around twelve, we were traveling with a noble. My parents were doing business with him, hoping to make connections, maybe even gain noble status themselves. It was one of those journeys that could mean the difference between a modest life and something grander."
"We were on a caravan with this noble," Padrin continued, his face growing darker as he relived the events. "The road was rough, the kind that twists and turns, all too easy for accidents to happen. We were all packed in close, trying to make good time, when suddenly… the caravan slipped."
"Things happened fast. There was shouting, people trying to grab whatever they could as the ground gave way. And that noble, he… he had a choice. He was right there, close enough to reach out, close enough to save her." Padrin's hands curled into fists. "But he chose his goods and his belongings over her."