Chapter 28
Goodbyes in All Forms (Part 2)
Nameless pondered.
Ever since the mindless puppets find their will and overturned the capital city of Gashu, she did not stop turning the cogs in her small brain.
Why did they leave us be?
Gashu, the Demon King, had been eccentric from the start and let go of his children no matter the path they chose. It was obvious that he did not care whose sides they stood on.
But what about the others?
Most of his trusted generals followed him out the underworld, but demons are honest in nature. From dark lycanthropes to occultist dark elves, all bearing a drop of demon blood. They all had that one flaw.
Only one being stood out from the group. A quiet sheep in a wolves' cave... a human who was despite his arrogance, was eccentric, scholarly and calculating.
Pearce.
In her days hiding Ayu, she'd been worrying day in and day out how to hide the child well and not get caught by the aide. She knew his abilities, that despite the help of the goddess, they'd almost got caught plenty of times.
Right, Nameless thought. It's just like now with the traitor. I should have realized sooner.
"Nameless."
The low rumble of Thermes' voice snapped her back to the present.
She blinked, meeting the warrior's steady gaze across the table. He sat with arms crossed, his expression a blend of concern and curiosity.
"You're a million miles away," he observed.
Nameless tilted her head, giving him one of her signature playful grins. "Am I?" she said lightly, twirling the spoon between her fingers.
Thermes didn't respond right away, but his expression softened just slightly, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "You know, Nameless, people think you hide behind those smiles because you're young. But I've been watching you. You're smarter than you let on. A lot smarter."
The playful grin didn't waver, but her eyes flashed with a glint of pride. "Flattery will get you nowhere, old mister," she teased.
"Then let's skip it." He leaned back, folding his arms. "Who do you trust most in your group?"
The grin faltered for a moment, she twirled the spoon again before letting out a dry chuckle.
"Nine," she said after a pause, tapping the table rhythmically.
"Nine?" Thermes echoed, raising an eyebrow.
"Out of fifty-seven." She met his gaze, the playfulness ebbing away as seriousness took its place. "Nine. That's how many I trust. And even then, trust is relative."
He studied her for a moment, his brow furrowing. "That's... unsettling."
"You asked." She shrugged, taking a sip of water and ignoring her untouched meal. "Is this about the traitor?"
Thermes mouth formed a thin line.
Nameless chuckled again, leaning forward, propping her chin on one hand. "You said I was smart but you're surprised how I know about it?"
"I just didn't think you'd figure out so soon," Thermes admitted, his tone wary. "when?"
"It wasn't hard once Eliron noticed something during your fight with the Winter Whale," she said, glancing at the dragon, who had finally finished his meal.
Thermes's brow furrowed. "Eliron?"
The dragon let out a soft rumble, his deep voice cutting through the room. "During the battle, one of the kids activated magic. Not something overt, but faint—barely a ripple in the flow of power. Finneas was the caster though it wasn't suspicious at the time."
Thermes straightened, his jaw tightening. "That matches what I found," he said slowly. "I found out during the secondary check of magic abilities, I detected traces of dark magic on him—very faint, but unmistakable. And since Finneas isn't a demon..."
Nameless finished his thought with a wry grin. "It means he had pledged loyalty to one."
Thermes nodded grimly. "Exactly. I had my suspicions, but I needed to be sure. What do you think we should do?"
Nameless swallowed, patting her mouth with a napkin before answering. "What do I think?" She tilted her head, her grin turning sly. "I think you should relax, Old Mister. The matter's already handled."
Thermes stiffened. "Handled? What do you mean?"
"Exactly how it sounds. The kid is ruthless after all," Eliron said, his calm voice holding a hint of reassurance. "Finneas is being dealt with."
Thermes frowned, still uneasy. "This is a child we're talking about. Are you telling me you've sent other children to handle this matter?"
Nameless rolled her eyes, but her tone was light. "Oh, Old Mister, don't be so dramatic. The people I gave orders to aren't children—they're survivors. And if it makes you feel better, they've done this sort of thing before."
"We wouldn't have made it out of the Land of Gashu if they were soft..." Eliron added, lowering his gaze. He was reminded once again how slow he was compared to the others.
Is it the blood of humans? The dragon thought, The blood of the so-called weakest species, and yet tenacious than most.
Thermes shook his head, still conflicted, brows lowered dramatically. "I don't like it. It doesn't sit right with me, letting kids—"
"You think too much, Old Mister," Nameless interrupted, hopping up from her seat. "If I worried about everything like you do, we'd never get anything done. You'll see soon enough. Trust me."
Eliron sighed, watching her leave the room with an exaggerated swing in her step, then turned to the gloomy old man. His blue eyes darting left and right as if thinking.
"She's confident, at least," Thermes muttered.
"She has to be," Eliron replied softly. "Even I, a dragon, could barely help back in Gashu. But her plans worked then, and they'll work now. You'll see."
Thermes nodded reluctantly, his unease not entirely eased but his respect for Nameless growing all the same.
~~
By the time Nameless and Eliron reached the inn, the air was thick with unease. The moment they stepped through the door, a familiar voice called out.
"Nameless!" Royce's voice was urgent, carrying a weight that made both of them pause.
Heads turned toward them. Aria's tear-streaked face came into view, her red-rimmed eyes a clear indication she had been crying. Around the inn stood fifteen sentry guards—their group's entire escort.
The tension in the room was palpable.
Nameless blinked at the scene, tilting her head curiously. "What's wrong?" she asked, her tone light but her gaze sharp.
Royce stepped forward, his expression twisted with conflict. "It's Finneas. He's missing."
The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.
Aria, her breath hitching, stood and approached Nameless. Her distress was evident, but there was frustration in her steps as well. She stopped short in front of Nameless, hands trembling slightly.
"Where was he last seen? And how long ago?"
Nameless's orange eyes narrowed. She didn't wait for an answer, turning sharply as if ready to leave and find him herself.
"Wait," Aria called out, grabbing Nameless by the arm.
The sentry guard knelt before her, bowing her head in shame. "I'm sorry... I felt something was off, but I let him go. I should've stopped him."
Nameless stilled, her expression unreadable. "What happened?"
Aria's voice wavered as she explained. "He was looking for you. He thought he could find you on his own, but when you weren't around, he just... left. The last anyone saw of him, he was heading toward the port through the alleyways. After that, nothing."
"Nothing?" Nameless echoed, her voice soft but dangerous.
A woman in the corner hesitated before speaking up. Eyla, the shopkeeper they had met earlier, wrung her hands nervously. "Children go missing by the port all the time," she admitted. "If he went there around noon... the sailors would've already set off. By then, no one could've looked out for him."
The other local bystanders nodded on their own.
"I remember the port had kept heavy waves at bay..."
"Could the child been swept away?"
"Possibly... how unfortunate."
Karson sighed heavily from where he stood, his arms crossed as he leaned against a pillar. "We've already checked the surrounding waters," he said grimly. "There's nothing. No trace of him, not even a sign he made it past the docks."
The innkeeper, Lucas, chimed in with a weary tone. "If he's anywhere near the waters of Efascht, then..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "This sea isn't forgiving. Between the currents and the dangerous creatures, it'd be hard for anyone, let alone a child."
"And there's the Winter Whale," Dynil added, his voice low. "It was sighted in Neyla. If it had circled Winshen before settling on Neyla, then..."
Nameless listened in silence, her gaze distant.
Without another word, she turned and walked toward an empty corner of the room. Eliron followed her, his calm presence grounding the tension that lingered in the space.
"I'm sorry..." Nameless sighed and looked back at Dynil, "But can I ask the sentry chief to handle it?"
The sentry chief nodded, their eyes met in understanding.
Despite their best efforts, there was no sign of Finneas— not in the waters, not on land, not beneath the snow, or hidden within the twisting alleys of Efascht.
But there was no time to grieve.
The next morning came swiftly, bringing with it the weight of impending goodbyes. The remaining children gathered in the lobby of the inn, their faces marked by confusion and sadness.
Nameless stood before them, her presence commanding despite her small frame.
"I won't be going with you," she said, her tone firm and final. The room erupted with murmurs, but she raised a hand to silence them. "I'll stay here. There are things I need to take care of."
She didn't elaborate, nor did she allow questions.
Behind her unreadable face, she kept her true intentions hidden, the weight of her decision known only to her and a select few.
"Saintess..."
The soft voice came from the doorway. Nameless glanced up from her seat in the corner of her room, sunlight spilling through the frost-lined window.
A small group of children lingered there, their faces hesitant but warm.
Nameless tilted her head and smiled faintly, setting aside the half-read book in her lap. "What is it?"
The children shuffled inside, their steps light against the wooden floor. With the sentry guards preparing to receive representatives from the Heroes' Association, the inn had grown quieter. The absence of the watchful warriors made the children bolder, their words unrestrained.
"Why do you look sad?" one of them asked, their voice laced with genuine curiosity.
Nameless chuckled softly, the sound light yet hollow.
She leaned her chin on her palm, her golden eyes shimmering with a mixture of mirth and melancholy. "Sad?" she echoed, teasing. "I don't know what you mean."
The children exchanged glances, their frowns deepening. They weren't so easily fooled. Nameless, despite her carefree demeanor, carried a heaviness they didn't fully understand.
She was their saintess— the one who had given them a chance at freedom.
But deep down, they knew she would disappear one day, leaving behind only the fleeting memories of her goodness.
"W-We learned a new phrase from Aria," one of them spoke up, breaking the silence.
Nameless's smile softened at the mention of the sentry guard.
"Oh? What was it?"
She waited patiently, her gaze steady as the children gathered their courage.
"Thank you," they said in unison, their small voices ringing out like a gentle chorus.
Nameless blinked, momentarily taken aback.
She gazed at them, her expression unreadable, before letting out a quiet laugh. "Is that so?" she murmured, her tone light yet laced with something deeper.
The children hesitated, as though wanting to say more, but the call from downstairs interrupted them.
"Everyone, time to leave!"
The sentry guard's voice rang out, authoritative yet kind. The children stiffened before nodding reluctantly. They turned to Nameless, hesitant to leave her behind.
Nameless raised a hand and waved, her playful smile returning. "Go on. Don't keep them waiting."
The children lingered for a moment longer before finally filing out of the room, their footsteps fading down the stairs.
She glanced toward the window, her gaze faraway as she followed their silhouettes. The weight of the day hung heavy around her, but she let it rest where it was.
As the quiet settled once more, Nameless leaned back in her chair, the stillness pressing against her.
It wasn't uncomfortable, but it felt... empty.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the solitude of her room.