Chapter 29: The Severed and the Saved
Chapter 29: The Severed and the Saved
The Underworld's twilight sky shimmered gently above the sanctuary—a hidden pocket of healing carved into a forested vale of the Agares Territory. Here, beneath the illusion of perpetual dusk, mana-infused mist curled over the ground, soothing wounded bodies and war-torn spirits alike.
Volundr stood alone at the edge of the healing grounds. The rescued lay scattered among white tents and stone wards, tended by Agares healers and trusted support staff.
A pale breeze rustled the trees, and the boy who had walked through fire and faithlessness watched the aftermath unfold.
Each child bore a different scar, but they all shared the same silence—the kind that followed a lifetime of screams.
Return
Claudius gently lowered one of the younger boys onto a rune-inscribed cot. The child stirred but didn't wake. His breathing was stable now.
The silver-haired girl with the metal prosthetic—identified as Lena—was already beginning her body's slow process of magical integration, with Lirien personally overseeing the graftwork.
Volundr moved through the camp, silent, eyes sharp. He didn't stop until he reached a small stone circle beneath a willow tree where Caelum sat, back pressed against the bark, gaze far too awake for someone so young.
"Drink," Volundr said, offering a clay cup of energy-infused water.
Caelum took it without speaking. He drank. His hands were steady.
"You don't sleep," Volundr observed.
"I've never had a reason to."
Volundr didn't press. He simply sat beside the boy, watching the leaves dance.
Division of Care
The next morning, Volundr met with Lord and Lady Gremory via secure sigil projection. Rias was there too, peeking from the edge of the frame—young, bright-eyed, but quiet with thought.
"I'm grateful," Lord Gremory said.
"Children… born into horror like that… They deserve better."
"They'll have it," Volundr replied.
Together, they reviewed profiles. Yuuto Kiba. Lena. Tomas. Anya.
Volundr spoke their names softly, as if releasing them from chains. He chose these four for the Gremory household—not just for healing, but for future potential. Rias watched carefully.
"Why these four?" she asked.
Volundr turned slightly, voice calm.
"Because your house can nurture strength without losing sight of the heart. And they'll help you become the kind of King worth following."
Rias blinked. "You… think I'll be a good King?"
"I think you will become one. If you remember who you are when no one is watching."
There was silence. Then Rias nodded. Slowly. Determined.
A Choice Made
Later, under a canopy of red star-flowers, Volundr approached Caelum again.
"The others leave tomorrow," he said.
"They'll be safe with Rias."
Caelum didn't respond right away. He stared into the forest.
"They need that kind of safety," he finally murmured.
"And you?"
Caelum's hands clenched. "You're the first person who didn't look through me. Who didn't see a number or a weapon. Just… me."
Volundr said nothing.
"If I leave," Caelum whispered, "I'll lose the one person who looked at me and saw me."
The wind shifted.
A single sakura petal drifted between them, out of season but not out of place.
"I don't want to lose that," Caelum said.
"You won't," Volundr answered.
"Then let me stay. Let me fight. Let me grow."
Volundr looked into the boy's eyes—still cracked with trauma but burning with potential.
He extended his hand.
Caelum took it.
In that moment, neither was lord or soldier. Just two souls, bound by understanding.
"Then stay," Volundr said. "As long as you walk the path—not as a tool, but as my equal in time."
The vow passed unspoken, sealed in breath and heart.
The severed had found their way.
And one of them—finally—had chosen to be saved.