"What one chisels into the stone becomes eternal, whether beauty or sin."
– Isamu Noguchi
After the mages who summoned shadowmancers died, the shadowmancers remained—gaining consciousness, having families, and forming clans.
Summoned through magic, their true origin had long been a topic for research. Unnaturally created and left forced to adapt—they had little reason to love humankind.
Nyx was not an original summon of Theron. He belonged to a clan. The infamous Dark Assassin Clan—it functioned on assassin requests and sustained with the dark energy obtained by taking lives.
Until he was cast away. Nyx swore his loyalty to Theron—his savior.
And this caged girl, bound in chains and bruised to the brim, she…
Was the daughter of the clan master.
A dark, lifeless body, purple smoke pleating around her, and fogged irises left no doubt—it was Eira.
"550,000 gold", a bid raised among the crowd. A man's voice echoed, seated by the last wall.
"AND HERE WE THOUGHT NO BIDS WOULD BE RAISED. 550,000 GOLD! THE BID HAS BEEN RAISED."
Unexpected. No noble in Haldor could afford this. It was either a guest, or a visitor; most likely someone from the capital.
I could save her—or not.
She had one use—that was enough.
"600,000 gold." Barely a second later, he countered. "650,000."
Lucas gasped. "Y-Your Holiness… are you seriously buying a—a slave?"
"Why waste your money? You could force her into a blood oath," Mira smirked, sarcasm lacing her tone.
"Next would be a sacrifice if you do not sit down." It wasn't the time for her quips.
This needed to end, before the temple noticed my absence. "One million gold."
The hall stunned. This was a battle.
"ONE MILLION GOLD! WHO DARES TO MATCH THIS BID?"
"TWO MILLION." The man stood up. The amount echoed and lingered. Two million was steep, even for me.
I questioned myself briefly. Was this worth it?
Closed my eyes and made the last bid. If I lost now, I'd walk away. But my final shot wouldn't be cheap.
"FIVE MILLION GOLD."
"Five MILLION gold? Could they be royalty?"
"Oh my, this could serve thousands of commoners for years—all for this demon wench?"
By now—they weren't even murmuring.
Even the auctioneer faltered.
"F-FIVE MILLION GOLD! A NEW RECORD! FIVE MILLION ONCE, TWICE…"
He waited, but no one dared raise it higher.
"…SOLD! FIVE MILLION GOLD! CONGRATULATIONS, GENTLEMAN, THIS BEAUTY IS YOURS!"
The crowd buzzed, and the event concluded. I rose, leading Lucas and Mira toward the payment hall.
"Your Holiness! That's a twelve-year-old girl! You can't seriously—" Lucas stammered.
"Quiet," I snapped.
The auctioneer greeted us. "Congratulations, my lord! Shall we form the slave contract now?"
"No." I crouched to meet Eira's gaze. Inside the cramped prison, her dark, foggy eyes turned away.
"I won't seal you," I said softly.
I added, despite her silence, "I trust you won't make me regret that."
She scratched her nails into the iron floor beneath her. And growled—did she think it would scare me? No; she herself was scared.
"Ah—ahaha! As expected from the lord who made history today! Five million for this thing is extremely generous, my lord," the auctioneer said, trying to ease the tension.
"It is."
I turned to the auctioneer. "Have her delivered to the temple in a box."
"A… box? In the temple?"
"Yes. Make sure it arrives within two hours. This seal should do for payment."
He paled but nodded. "As you command, my lord."
…
Snow covered the ground by the time we reached the temple gates. The thought of answering Lucas's questions made me dismiss them before he begun. I waited outside for her to be delivered.
"But what is… that?" I looked near the gates.
The towering statue before me caught my eye immediately.
This temple in Haldor remained my least visited temple across all my lives—as a matter of fact, I met Lucas in the capital in my past lives.
Perhaps fewer number of visits had fogged my memory, but this statue of Eloven…
It was too perfect. Too vivid.
Different from the one in the capital. Or any other temple for that matter—it looked exactly like Eloven.
How I saw her after each death, how… I imagined her when I wrote her.
Nobody here had ever seen Eloven. Maybe Magnus, but—he wouldn't make a statue!
Snow stacked up as I sat in the cold. Two hours passed. Soon, the guards made their rounds.
I rose to inspect it, only to be interrupted by a guard. "Your Holiness? The storm is worsening. You should return to your chambers."
"What's your name?" I asked without turning.
"I-I apologize, Your Holiness. I meant no offense."
"Your name."
"Edward."
"How long have you served here, Edward?"
He hesitated. "As far as I can remember, Your Holiness."
"Since when?"
Startled, "Uhm, more than two decades now. I'm nearing forty. I have given this temple half of my life."
"That's longer than I have."
"I do not compare to Your Holiness. I am a mere guard. But you… you are only second to the goddess."
"Then you must've been here when this statue was made." I pointed towards it.
"Of course… how could I forget?" He faintly smiled.
"You sculpted it for days on end, with injured hands, putting life into this statue."
Lucian… sculpted this? That surprised me. This was never in the story.
"Tell me more."
"What could I tell you? Your devotion is acknowledged by the mightiest of the mighty to even the lowliest of the low, such as me. You have given this nation what nobody else did. You unified all of us—all of our wavering beliefs, to one single truth."
"…"
"Alright, leave. I shall stand here for some more." I sighed.
"As you wish, Your Holiness. Call upon me should you need anything." He bowed and departed.
Thousands of statues of Eloven were made each year—none looked like her. For one clear reason: nobody had ever seen her. And yet, Lucian knew how she looked?
Down to the tiniest detail, it was her. The more I stared, the accuracy only made me more uneasy.
A fear gripped me. Every change in the story had so far been a butterfly effect caused by me. This world had trapped me, but I carried pride—in the end, it was all my creation.
The thought of events occurring against the words I wrote… The fear of losing the only thing I owned—the power and pride of owning the story of each character here—I couldn't afford to lose it.
Before I could lose more of myself behind those thoughts, a carriage pulled in.
I quickly put my robe back on.
She was here, in a box. Two men set it on the cold, snowy floor and left with a nod towards me.
I called for Edward. "Take this to the chamber beneath the chapel."
He hesitated but obeyed. "As you command."
I had a special place in mind where she would be hidden.
One where Lucian hid Lunette's body—Theron's mother.