The moment Zephyr stepped into the illusion, the misty surroundings of the trial tower melted away, transforming into a massive, familiar yet coldly oppressive mansion. It was none other than the grand estate of the Zephyr family—the place that held both his childhood memories and the unshakable weight of family politics.
"Here we go again…" Zephyr muttered under his breath. His steps felt heavy as if the stone courtyard was weighing down his feet. He glanced around, his gaze brushing past the well-known structures, each corner of the mansion steeped in the tense silence of endless power struggles.
The courtyard was eerily still, with only the faint whisper of the wind rustling through the stone benches. A familiar chill crept up Zephyr's spine as his heart grew heavier by the second. Suddenly, in the center of the courtyard, he saw her—his mother—sitting alone, her fingers clutching an old, worn-out spiritual artifact. Her expression was distant, filled with sorrow.
"Mother!" Zephyr's voice cracked, but his feet refused to move. It was as if invisible chains had bound him in place, making it impossible to take even one step toward her. He tried to call out, but his throat felt blocked, and only a hoarse rasp escaped his lips.
This scene—too real to be a dream, yet too distant to be the present—was painfully familiar. It was like one of those endless nightmares he had replayed in his mind on countless sleepless nights. After his father's death, the family's internal strife had grown more ruthless, the clan's power slowly slipping into the hands of the scheming side branches. As the rightful heir, Zephyr had been forced to watch helplessly as the balance of power shifted away from him. And his mother, once the proud matriarch of the family, had become a shadow of herself, shunned and mistreated.
"You've come back at last, Zephyr…" His mother's soft, melancholic voice echoed through the stillness, barely louder than a whisper. She turned her weary gaze toward him, her eyes filled with the kind of fatigue only a lifetime of sorrow could bring.
Zephyr's heart clenched. He gritted his teeth, struggling to break free from the invisible shackles that held him, but the harder he tried, the heavier they became. His voice strained with frustration as he growled, "Why? I'm supposed to be the rightful head of this family, yet I stand by as they rip everything from us! This—this should be mine!"
A cold, mocking laugh rang out from the shadows of the courtyard.
"You think you're the head of the family?" The sneering voice of his uncle, Darius Nightbane, slithered through the air as he emerged from the darkness, accompanied by the smirking figures of the side family members. "You? A puppet pretending to play leader? The title of head is nothing more than a name. Did you really think you were in control?"
Every word was like a dagger, stabbing straight into Zephyr's heart. The mocking laughter of the side family members echoed louder, wrapping around him like venomous snakes.
"You—!" Rage boiled within Zephyr. He tried to scream, to lash out, but his voice failed him. An invisible force pressed down on his chest, making it impossible to breathe. His hands trembled as his eyes filled with helpless fury.
This was his greatest nightmare—his deepest fear. All his life, Zephyr had believed that if he worked hard enough, he could one day reclaim the title of family head and protect his mother from suffering. But now, standing here in this illusion, he felt smaller than ever, powerless to change anything.
"Why… Why can't I fix this?" Zephyr's voice cracked, the weight of guilt, frustration, and helplessness crushing him.
His uncle, Oryn, and the other side family members began to fade into shadow, their mocking voices lingering in the air before disappearing entirely, leaving Zephyr standing alone in the courtyard.
"Zephyr, this isn't your fault." His mother's voice once again broke through the silence, this time softer and filled with the warmth he so desperately missed. She walked toward him, her hand gently caressing his cheek, her touch soothing the icy coldness that had gripped him.
"Mother…" Zephyr's voice wavered as he looked at her, his eyes misting over. "I haven't done enough. I couldn't make things right for you."
His mother smiled, her eyes full of understanding. "Zephyr, being the true head of this family has never been about holding power. It's about understanding your own heart." Her words seemed to echo, resonating through the darkness.
Zephyr froze. His mother's words hit him like a wave, leaving him momentarily speechless. He knew there was a deeper meaning behind her advice, but he still couldn't fully grasp it. He had always believed that being the head of the family meant controlling everything, restoring the family's glory, and ensuring his mother's safety. But now, her words made him question everything he thought he wanted.
"Understand my own heart…" Zephyr whispered to himself. His whole life, he had chased after the title of family head, believing it was the key to restoring everything. But his mother's words made him wonder—was that really what he wanted? Was it truly the empty title of head, or was it the peace he sought for both himself and his mother?
As he stood there, lost in thought, the courtyard around him began to blur and fade. The oppressive atmosphere slowly lifted, leaving Zephyr standing in silence, reflecting on the weight of his mother's words.
The illusion shattered completely, and Zephyr found himself back in the tower, his heart heavier yet clearer than before.
"Maybe the true challenge isn't the power I seek, but the peace I need to make with myself," Zephyr muttered softly, staring into the distance.
＊＊＊
Zephyr stood in the middle of the illusion, feeling the weight of the family's betrayal and the suffocating darkness closing in around him. The bitter struggles within the family, the endless plotting, it was like a cloud of smog that he couldn't escape. No matter how hard he tried, his mother continued to suffer under the relentless schemes of the side family, her once-bright smile now a distant memory, replaced by sorrow and pain.
Every time Zephyr attempted to fight back, it felt like he hit a wall. The side family remained firmly in control, and his mother continued to be sidelined, oppressed by those who had taken everything. The helplessness was unbearable, as if unseen chains were tightening around his heart, squeezing the life out of him.
He remembered the day his father passed away—the first time he truly felt the sting of loss and the cold, harsh reality of power struggles. He had been too young to take control, and those who pretended to support him had quietly stripped him of his birthright. His once-honored position became little more than a puppet.
"I have to do something," Zephyr muttered, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. His heart ached with frustration. "I can't let her suffer anymore. I can't let Father's legacy be trampled like this!"
Each time he thought of his mother's pained expression, it felt like someone was tearing his heart apart. He wanted to save her, to give her the peaceful life she deserved, free from the family's toxic power plays. But no matter how much he tried to fight back, the weight of the side family crushed him every time.
The illusion felt too real. He was trapped in an endless loop of failure, watching as every solution he thought he found slipped through his fingers like sand. His chest tightened with every passing second, the pressure suffocating.
"What am I supposed to do?" Zephyr asked himself silently, but the only answer he received was the deafening silence of the dark, empty courtyard.
Cut to the Trial Tower's hall.
"What's taking Zephyr so long? He's been in there forever!" Reika paced back and forth outside the tower, a deep frown etched on her face. "He's usually the first to come out of these things. Did something happen to him?"
Sylas scratched his head, looking around awkwardly. "Maybe he's stuck in some sort of tricky trial? You know how these illusion towers work—it customizes the challenge based on each person's deepest fears. Maybe his trial is just harder?"
"That's what worries me! We've been out here forever. What if he's…stuck or something?" Reika's tone was laced with frustration. "What if he can't get out?"
As they worriedly discussed Zephyr's fate, a cold-looking girl with an air of confidence strolled into the hall. She wore simple green robes, and a slender spirit flute rested in her hand. Despite her graceful appearance, her presence radiated a silent strength.
Reika, never one to stay quiet, stepped forward, curiosity piqued. "Hey, are you here for the trial too?" she asked, though something about the girl's icy demeanor made her hesitate.
The girl nodded, her sharp gaze scanning the room before resting on the tower's entrance. "Are you waiting for someone?"
"Our friend, Zephyr," Sylas explained, adjusting his glasses. "He's been in the illusion for a while now, longer than expected. Any idea what that means?"
The girl remained silent for a moment before replying, her tone steady, "The illusions test the heart. If someone gets trapped by their own obsessions, they might never escape."
"What?!" Reika's eyes widened. "You're kidding, right? What do we do?!"
The girl's eyes flickered with thought before she spoke again, "I might be able to help. My flute can disrupt the illusion and possibly wake him."
"That's amazing! Please, do it!" Reika's worry melted into relief, and the girl's chilly demeanor no longer mattered. "We really appreciate it!"
The girl gave a curt nod and, without further ado, raised the spirit flute to her lips. As the first note drifted through the air, it was soft, like a breeze sweeping through the hall, carrying with it a serene and calming energy.
Back in the illusion…
Zephyr's tense muscles relaxed as the gentle sound of the flute drifted into the illusion. He paused, frowning in confusion. "What… is that sound?"
The oppressive fog that had surrounded him seemed to retreat ever so slightly. His mother's figure reappeared, but this time, her face was not filled with sorrow. Instead, she wore a gentle smile, one that radiated warmth.
"Zephyr," she said softly, her voice like a distant melody, "Being the head of the family isn't about controlling everything. It's about understanding your heart."
Zephyr stood frozen, her words cutting through the chaos in his mind. He stared at her, feeling a storm of emotions swirling inside him. For years, he had fought for control, for power, to secure a better life for his mother. But in doing so, had he missed the point entirely?
"Understanding… my heart?" he whispered, his voice tinged with disbelief.
His mother's voice continued, tender and reassuring, "Only when you truly understand and accept yourself can you find your path. No matter what happens around you, if your heart remains steady, nothing can break you."
Her words illuminated the darkness like a beacon, cutting through the fog in his mind. Zephyr's eyes sharpened with newfound clarity as a wave of strength surged from within him.
The flute's melody echoed once more, its peaceful tune calling him back, leading him out of the dark maze that had trapped him for so long.