CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN: ECHOES OF BELIEF

The moment I stepped forward, the world around me twisted into something familiar yet suffocating. Shadows curled at my feet, stretching unnaturally, and the air turned thick with decay. The ghouls emerged from the darkness, their forms hazy yet eerily precise—just like before. But something was different.

I clenched the Death Scythe in my grip. It felt heavier than usual, as though it resisted me. The ghouls moved with an unsettling fluidity, their motions too controlled, too deliberate. In the test, they had been mindless creatures, predictable in their savagery. Now, they almost seemed to anticipate my attacks.

Still, doubt was a luxury I couldn't afford. I rushed in, swinging the Scythe in a wide arc, its blade cleaving through the first ghoul's midsection. The creature let out a distorted wail, but instead of dissolving into shadows, it staggered back. My brows furrowed. That wasn't right. It was supposed to vanish.

A second ghoul lunged at me. I barely dodged, feeling its claws scrape across my arm. Pain flared, sharp and real. Too real. My pulse quickened, but I shoved the thought aside and retaliated with a downward slash. The ghoul fell, but again—it didn't fade.

They were learning.

Grinding my teeth, I adjusted my stance. If they were adapting, then so would I. I surged forward, cutting through the horde with relentless precision, but something gnawed at the edges of my mind. The weight of the Scythe, the delay in my movements, the way the ghouls recoiled instead of crumbling—it was all wrong. But the frustration of failure after failure burned hotter. I refused to fail again.

A figure moved at the edge of my vision. Faster than a ghoul. Calculated. I turned just in time to see it closing in on me. Instinct took over—I twisted the Scythe and slashed upward, a clean strike meant to kill. But before the blade could land, something slammed into my jaw.

A fist.

A sickening crack echoed through my skull. My vision blurred, my knees buckling. I barely registered the impact as I hit the ground, my grip on the Scythe loosening.

Then, darkness.

Ken stood over my unconscious form, his fist still clenched. He let out a slow breath, shaking off the sting in his knuckles. Nicole stared at him, her expression torn between relief and unease.

"You hesitated," she murmured.

Ken scoffed, rubbing his jaw. "Of course, I hesitated. The idiot was fighting like his life depended on it. He wasn't holding back."

Nicole glanced down at me. My breathing was steady, but my body was visibly tense, as if still lost in whatever nightmare I was trapped in. She sighed. "We should rest. He's in no shape to push forward."

Ken exhaled sharply but nodded. He hadn't wanted to knock me out, but there had been no other choice.

"Fine," he muttered. "But he better wake up with his head screwed on straight."

A sharp sting on my cheek pulled me back to consciousness. Groaning, I shifted slightly, my body aching like I'd been trampled. My head was heavy, my mind sluggish, like wading through thick fog.

"Here." Nicole's voice was soft, but there was a firm edge to it. I forced my eyes open and found her kneeling beside me, offering a cup of water. I took it without a word, my throat parched as I downed a few gulps. The cool liquid did little to ease the exhaustion weighing me down.

"What happened?" My voice came out rougher than expected.

Nicole hesitated for a brief moment before answering. "You were under Dain's illusion. You thought you were back in the test with the Death Scythe... You attacked Ken and me."

I exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over my face. The memory was disjointed, pieces clicking together in my mind. It felt real. Too real.

"And Dain?" I asked, my tone sharper than intended.

Nicole shook her head, looking frustrated. "We don't know. He disappeared through the chaos you created."

A deep silence settled between us. My jaw tightened. Another failure. Another mistake. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to focus. I needed to find Dain. And I needed to figure out how to keep my mind from betraying me again.

I looked around, noticing Ken was nowhere in sight. "Where's Ken?"

Nicole hesitated again. "He went to scout the area, checking if Dain left any traces."

I let out a slow breath, irritation simmering beneath my skin. "I should've realized it was an illusion," I muttered.

Nicole frowned. "Dain's ability is dangerous. Anyone would've fallen for it."

I shook my head. "That doesn't change the fact that I almost killed you and Ken." The words felt heavy leaving my mouth.

Nicole gave a small chuckle, forcing a lightness into her voice. "Well, Ken and I are still standing, aren't we?" She flashed a quick grin, trying to ease the tension.

I wasn't fooled. I could see the way her fingers tightened slightly around the flask, the way her shoulders were just a little too stiff. She was trying to brush past what happened, trying to make me feel less like a failure.

I exhaled through my nose, not in the mood for forced reassurance. "You don't have to do that," I muttered, eyes flicking to hers.

Nicole's smile faltered for a split second before she shrugged. "Do what?"

"Act like this wasn't a mess," I said flatly. "I lost control. Dain played me, and because of that, he got away."

Her lips pressed together, and for a moment, she didn't say anything. Then she sighed, shaking her head. "I'm not saying it wasn't bad. But dwelling on it won't change what happened. We'll figure out our next move when Ken gets back."

I looked away, jaw tight. I knew she was right. But that didn't make it any less frustrating.

The room fell into silence after that. Nicole didn't push me any further, and I didn't offer anything else. I took another sip of water, the cool liquid doing little to wash away the bitterness sitting at the back of my throat.

The weight of exhaustion pressed down on me, but I forced myself to stay alert. My body ached, my muscles stiff from whatever damage I'd taken under Dain's illusion. My knuckles were bruised—probably from swinging at Ken and Nicole without realizing it.

I hated this feeling.

The door creaked open, and I immediately turned my head. Ken stepped inside, his usual composed expression giving nothing away. His gaze flicked to me, noting that I was awake, and something in his posture shifted slightly.

"You're up," he said, closing the door behind him.

"Clearly," I muttered, pushing the flask back into Nicole's hands before sitting up straighter. My body protested the movement, but I ignored it. "Where'd you go?"

Ken didn't answer right away. He took his time, rolling his shoulders before walking further into the room. "Scouting."

"For Dain?"

Ken's gaze darkened slightly. "He's gone. No trail left behind."

I clenched my jaw. Of course, he was.

Nicole sighed beside me. "That's not surprising. He knew exactly what he was doing."

Ken nodded, crossing his arms. His sharp eyes settled on me. "And you? How much do you remember?"

I met his gaze, reading between the lines. He wasn't just asking about my memory—he was asking if I understood what had happened. If I realized how close I'd come to seriously hurting them.

I let out a slow breath. "Enough."

Ken held my stare for a moment longer before nodding. "Good. Then you know we can't afford another slip-up like that."

His words weren't meant to provoke, but they still scraped against my already raw nerves. I forced down my irritation. "I'll handle it."

Ken studied me, as if trying to gauge how much of that I actually believed. Then he exhaled through his nose, muttering, "You'd better."

Nicole glanced between me and Ken before sighing. "Look, once you've rested up, we should head to the village. Maybe the king can give us a clue on how to find Dain."

I didn't respond right away, but I gave a short nod. There was no point in sitting around doing nothing.

.... ✍️

Dain stormed into the dimly lit storeroom, his boots slamming against the wooden floorboards with each furious step. The candlelight flickered violently as he swung the door shut, his breath ragged with barely contained rage. His hands trembled, not from fear but from the sheer frustration boiling inside him.

In the corner of the room, Prince Elias of Yorehaven sat slumped in a chair, his wrists and ankles bound with thick rope. His once-pristine royal garments were now dirtied and torn, his face pale and hollowed from exhaustion. He barely reacted to Dain's entrance, his gaze unfocused, lost in the horrors he had endured. The illusions had done their job—his mind teetered on the edge of breaking.

Dain dragged a hand through his disheveled hair, exhaling sharply. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, pacing in tight circles. His plan had been simple: take the prince, keep him hidden, and force the king's hand. But now… now things were getting out of control. The mercenaries the king had sent were stronger than he anticipated. And that boy—he fought like a beast, relentless and reckless.

Dain clenched his fists. He had underestimated them. That mistake wouldn't happen again.

He turned his gaze to Elias, his voice cold and sharp. "How much more can you take, boy?"

The prince barely stirred, his lips moving soundlessly. His mind was shattered, twisted by the nightmares Dain had woven into his consciousness. Visions of betrayal, of burning cities, of shadows whispering in his ear. Dain had meant to break the king through his son—but perhaps he had gone too far.

A flicker of doubt crossed his mind, but he crushed it just as quickly. There was no turning back now. The king had to pay.

Dain exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. He needed a new plan. And he needed to be ready when they came for the prince.

And they would come.

Let them.

..... ✍️

The air in the throne room was thick with tension. The grand hall of Yorehaven Castle, though adorned with golden chandeliers and intricate banners, felt suffocating. Soldiers lined the walls, their hands gripping the hilts of their weapons, their gazes locked onto us like predators waiting for an excuse to pounce.

At the far end of the hall, seated atop a high throne, was King Maverick. His deep crimson robes pooled around him, the golden crown atop his graying hair slightly askew. He looked down at us with weary, bloodshot eyes, but there was no mistaking the weight of his authority.

"You've found nothing?" His voice, though calm, carried an edge of impatience.

Nicole took a careful step forward, her tone measured. "Dain Rutherfold escaped during the battle. But we're here to gather more information that might lead us to him."

King Maverick exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. "What else is there to know? He was once my most loyal knight, a man I trusted with my own life. And yet he turned against me, taking my son in the process." His gaze darkened. "He is a traitor, and I want him dead."

I held my tongue, but my fingers curled into a fist. There was something off about the way he spoke about Dain. There was no grief, no real concern for his son—just frustration, as if Dain's betrayal was more of an inconvenience than a personal loss.

Ken, standing beside me, crossed his arms. "We need more than just your anger, Your Majesty. We need a place to start. Dain isn't just running. He's playing a game, and right now, he's ahead."

The king's lips thinned. For a moment, he seemed to consider his options before gesturing to one of his guards. The man stepped forward and handed him a scroll, which Maverick tossed toward us carelessly. Nicole caught it and unrolled it.

"That," the king said, "is a list of Dain's known contacts. People he might have reached out to, places he might be hiding." He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping into something colder. "Find him. Bring my son back. And when you do—kill him."

I stared at him, unblinking. Something was very, very wrong here.

The search had been nothing short of exhausting.

We spent the entire day chasing down leads, questioning every contact on the list King Maverick provided. Some feigned ignorance, others were too afraid to speak, and the rest simply had nothing of value to offer. Hours passed, one fruitless conversation bleeding into the next, until we were left with nothing but frustration.

By nightfall, only one name remained—an elderly man said to have known Dain for years. But when we arrived at his home, we were met with his frail wife at the door, shaking her head apologetically.

"He's asleep," she told us, voice soft with age. "And at his age, once he's down, he won't wake until the morning. You can come back then."

With no other choice, we agreed. The king's men assigned us quarters in the castle for the night, separate rooms in one of the quieter wings. Ken retired almost immediately, muttering something about needing rest before we faced another day of dead ends. Nicole had given me a lingering glance before disappearing into her room.

I tried to sleep. I really did.

But my body wouldn't let me. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind clawed back to the illusion Dain had trapped me in, the way I lost control, the way I nearly—

I exhaled sharply and sat up. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, wasn't doing me any favors. Maybe some air would help clear my head.

Pulling on my boots, I slipped out of the room and into the dimly lit hallway. The castle was quiet, save for the occasional sound of guards on patrol. I wandered through the corridors until I stepped out into one of the castle's terraces, where the cool night air hit me like a soothing balm.

And that's when I saw her.

Nicole stood by the railing, her gaze fixed on the night sky. The moon cast a pale glow over her, illuminating the loose strands of hair that fell over her face. She looked peaceful, lost in thought, but there was something else too—a heaviness in her posture, the kind that mirrored my own restlessness.

Every instinct told me to turn back.

To leave her be.

To keep walking and not engage.

But for some reason, I didn't listen.

Instead, I stepped forward. My voice came out rough, unused for the past few hours. "Hey."

Nicole startled slightly, turning to look at me. Her brows lifted in surprise, as if the idea of me willingly talking to her first was more shocking than anything we'd faced today.

Nicole recovered quickly from her surprise, offering me a small, amused smile. "Well, that's new."

I leaned against the railing, crossing my arms as I stared out at the darkened landscape. "What is?"

"You talking to me first." She tilted her head, studying me. "Usually, I'm the one trying to get you to say something."

I exhaled sharply, somewhere between a sigh and a scoff. "Don't get used to it."

Nicole chuckled, a soft sound that blended with the rustling night breeze. "I won't." But there was something knowing in her tone, as if she wasn't entirely convinced by my warning.

For a while, we just stood there in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, though. If anything, it felt… still. A rare moment where neither of us had to force conversation or pretend we weren't both carrying more weight than we should.

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. She was still watching the sky, her expression thoughtful.

"You can't sleep either?" I found myself asking.

Nicole shook her head. "Too much on my mind."

I huffed. "Same."

She shifted slightly, resting her arms against the railing. "It's been a long day," she murmured. "Chasing leads, hitting dead ends, dealing with—" she hesitated, then shook her head. "Everything."

I knew what she meant. She was talking about me. About what happened when Dain had me under his illusion.

I looked away, jaw tightening. "I don't want to talk about that."

"I wasn't asking you to." Her voice was soft, lacking any trace of the usual teasing she used on me.

Another stretch of silence.

Nicole sighed, tilting her head back to look at the stars again. "You ever think about how small we are?"

I frowned. "What?"

"In the grand scheme of things," she explained. "The world, the sky, everything. We fight, we struggle, we go through hell, but in the end, we're just… small. Like specks of dust."

I stared at her, a little thrown by the sudden shift in topic. "That's depressing."

She laughed under her breath. "It's humbling."

I didn't know what to say to that. So I just looked up, following her gaze. The stars stretched endlessly above us, distant and indifferent to the turmoil we were tangled in.

Maybe she had a point.

Ken woke with a start, a deep sense of unease pressing against his chest. Sleep had been elusive, slipping through his grasp like sand through fingers. With a quiet sigh, he pushed himself up, running a hand through his hair before stepping out into the cool night air. His boots barely made a sound against the stone floor as he wandered, needing movement to settle his thoughts.

That's when he saw us.

Nicole stood by the balcony, bathed in moonlight, her arms resting lightly on the stone railing. I stood beside her, my posture stiff, like I wasn't sure if I belonged there. Ken stopped in his tracks, instinctively stepping back into the shadows, concealing himself behind the wall. He wasn't sure why—maybe it was the rare tension in the air, the kind that wasn't from conflict but something quieter, more fragile. Whatever it was, he didn't want to intrude.

I glanced at Nicole, the glow of the moon reflecting off her soft skin, giving her an almost ethereal look. I wasn't sure why, but something about it made my chest feel tight. She looks… beautiful? I pushed the thought away immediately.

Then, I felt her gaze shift toward me. Almost caught me staring. I turned away fast.

She narrowed her eyes slightly. "What?"

"Nothing," I muttered, keeping my voice even.

Nicole didn't look convinced, but she let it go. The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words.

I clenched my fists at my sides, the weight of what had happened still pressing down on me. Then, before I could talk myself out of it, the word slipped out. "Sorry."

Nicole blinked, clearly surprised. "Did you just… apologize?"

I exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of my neck. "Don't make a big deal out of it."

She tilted her head, studying me like I'd just done something unnatural. "It is a big deal. You don't say sorry."

I shrugged. "Guess there's a first time for everything."

Nicole's expression softened, but there was something guarded in her eyes. "Liam, you weren't in control. You don't have to—"

I cut her off. "I almost killed you. And Ken."

She hesitated before shaking her head. "That wasn't you. It was Dain's illusion. We know that."

I clenched my jaw, looking away. It didn't change the fact that I'd seen my blade swinging toward them, that I'd fought with every intention to kill. That kind of thing didn't just disappear with an excuse.

Ken remained where he was, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He should have stepped in by now, thrown in some sarcastic remark, but for some reason, he stayed silent. Maybe he understood that this was something I had to say on my own.

Nicole sighed, nudging me lightly. "Just… don't let this eat at you, okay?"

I didn't answer. I wasn't sure I could.

Somehow, I managed to speak.

"It's actually disturbing me." My voice was quieter than I expected, but I kept going. "I wasn't born into Shadow Manipulation, but I mastered it with ease."

I didn't know why, but I couldn't seem to stop myself from rambling.

"With the little memories I have of my mom, I remember her teaching me simple manipulations." A small, genuine smile tugged at my lips. It felt strange, almost unfamiliar.

Nicole didn't interrupt. She just listened.

"Everything Seth and Sage Henri taught me—I grasped within days. A week at most." I exhaled sharply, my fingers curling into a fist. "I just don't understand why putting Death Scythe under my command is so hard for me." My jaw tightened as frustration bubbled beneath my skin.

Nicole remained quiet for a moment, then placed a hand over mine.

"Stop trying so hard."

I felt her touch, warm and steady. Unlike before, I didn't immediately pull away. I just… let it stay there.

"Death Scythe is not without consciousness," she continued. "At least, from what I know about it in the archives in my father's chambers."

Her eyes met mine—steady, understanding.

"Listen to it."

Her words settled over me, sinking into the cracks of my frustration. I let out a slow breath, staring at her, wondering if it could really be that simple.

Nicole's fingers curled slightly over mine, her grip gentle but certain.

"I know this is frustrating for you," she said, her voice steady. "But I have no doubt—you'll figure it out. You always do."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "That's a lot of faith to put in someone who just tried to kill you."

She smiled—not out of amusement, but with quiet certainty. "If I didn't believe in you, I wouldn't be here."

I didn't know how to respond to that. A warmth crept up my neck, and for a second, I thought I might blush. I pushed the feeling down, forcing myself to look away.

She let her hand linger for a moment longer before finally pulling away, crossing her arms as she leaned back against the railing. The moonlight cast a soft glow on her face, catching in her eyes as she gazed at the night sky.

"I've seen you fight, Liam. I've seen how relentless you are—how you refuse to break, no matter how bad things get." Her voice softened, but there was no hesitation in it. "You're going to come out of this victorious. I know it."

Something tightened in my chest.

For years, I had been surrounded by people who either feared me, tolerated me, or wanted something from me. But Nicole… she wasn't asking for anything. She wasn't trying to manipulate me. She just believed in me. No ulterior motives. No expectations.

I swallowed hard, staring at the ground. "You sound way too sure of that."

"I am."

Her confidence was unwavering, like it was the simplest truth in the world. And for once, I didn't argue. I just let her words settle, their weight sinking into me in a way I hadn't expected.

It made me… happy.

Happiness. The emotion felt foreign, like an old memory I could barely grasp. It wasn't something I allowed myself to feel—not something I could afford. But now, standing here with her, I felt it. And somehow, that made all the exhaustion in my body catch up to me at once. My limbs felt heavier. My eyelids, too.

Somewhere in the distance, Ken stirred from his hiding place. He had been listening, but he didn't say anything. I heard his quiet footsteps fade as he walked away, leaving us alone.

"I'm going to try to sleep one more time," I said, glancing at her.

"I'll stay here a little longer before heading in." She gave me a small smile. "Goodnight, Liam."

I didn't say anything—just nodded and turned away.

But at the last second, before I disappeared around the corner, I hesitated.

I wanted to say something. Thank you, maybe. But the words stuck in my throat. Instead, I just scoffed, shaking my head as I walked off.

Behind me, Nicole chuckled softly. She knew what I had meant to say. And somehow, that made it enough.

As I walked away, the weight of an unfamiliar feeling settled in my chest—gratitude. It felt strange, like wearing a coat that didn't quite fit, its warmth both unsettling and… not entirely unwelcome.

**********