Chpater 8

The road to the refuge seemed longer than it should have been. The convoy climbed the hillside as far as possible, but eventually, we had to cover the last stretch on foot. Every step sent a sharp pain through my leg—the wound wasn't fatal, but it never let me forget its presence. No matter how hard I tried to shut it out, the pain clung to me without mercy.

The ruler walked ahead of me, his steps light, as if he were merely enjoying a pleasant stroll in the fresh air. There was no tension in him, no exhaustion, as if the events of the past hours had never happened. In contrast, I was struggling to catch my breath, desperately trying to keep up. Not a single word passed between us, and as I glanced around, I saw that no one else was talking either. The silence was heavier than the throbbing of my wound.

The refuge wasn't particularly large or striking—just a simple, medium-sized building, barely noticeable among the surrounding hills. As soon as we stepped inside, the general approached me. His voice was matter-of-fact, but somehow, it lacked its usual harshness.

—Go inside. Take a shower, clean your wound — he said. — There's someone in the team with medical training; they'll take a look at it.

He didn't have to tell me twice. As I entered the house, I hesitated for a moment, letting the warmth of the room wash over me. The sound of water echoed dully as I stepped under the shower, finally allowing myself a deep sigh. The pain receded for a brief moment, and my thoughts drifted far away.

Then, a sharp knock shattered the fleeting sense of peace.

— Hurry up! This isn't a spa retreat — a dark-clad figure called out impatiently, though without mockery.

I quickly pulled on my black overalls, tied my hair into a tight bun, and secured my new weapons to my belt. I slipped on my black gloves as well—they always concealed my fingerprints, in case that ever became necessary. One last glance in the mirror: the exhaustion cast small shadows across my face, but I had no time to dwell on it.

When I stepped outside, a small crowd had already gathered. The usual unreadable expressions of the dark-clad figures were different now—subtle shifts revealed that something had shaken them. Some faces were harder, others weary, and in some eyes, I saw something I had never seen before: a quiet grief.

And then I saw him.

My attacker was flanked by two dark-clad guards, but not like a prisoner. They weren't dragging him, nor were they brutal, yet their grip remained firm. His face held no defiance, no resistance—only an inexplicable weariness. The expressions of the two men beside him… well, it was as if they still held onto some shred of hope.

We lined up before the ruler. He stood behind me, motionless, his face as unreadable as ever. The general was at his side, arms crossed, his expression revealing nothing.

Finally, the escort on the right broke the silence.

— Please, hear him out first.

The one on the left added:

— But before that, you need to know—this wasn't an ordinary rebellion. It was far larger and more organized than anything we've seen before. At least ten of our own died. It was closer to a massacre.

The silence was crushing.

Then my attacker spoke.

His voice trembled, but not entirely with uncertainty. He was clearly struggling to gather his thoughts.

— I didn't want this — he began. — I never wanted this…

He swallowed hard, trying to steady his fear.

— They paid me off — he finally admitted. — They deceived me. But… I didn't do it for myself. My family… my children. I wasn't earning enough, and when I asked for help, I didn't get enough. After a while, there was only one way left.

Tears welled in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

— I know what I did was wrong. I know I betrayed everything I swore to protect. But… I was just trying to save my family.

His words hung heavy in the air.

The ruler listened to him, his face betraying nothing. When he finally spoke, his voice was icy.

— Our laws are not stories. Not fables that we rewrite out of pity. The reason does not matter—the outcome is always the same.

A silence followed, sharp as a blade. Then, even colder, he continued:

— And I know you weren't alone. There were more of you. Give me their names. Then, perhaps, you'll have the chance to see your family before your execution.

I froze.

His words were so merciless that my breath caught in my throat. The man kneeling before us, struggling to justify his actions, suddenly seemed even smaller.

I couldn't tell whether the ruler was truly that heartless or if the situation demanded it of him. But in the next moment, I realized that it didn't matter.

Because the outcome was always the same.

The wind whispered through the trees, swirling around us, as if it, too, were listening to what was unfolding. We stood in front of the refuge, the dark-clad figures silent and motionless, as if they already knew what was coming.

The ruler's voice rang out, cold and quiet, yet it settled over us like lead.

— For one year, every dark-clad soldier will lose their pay. Even those with families. Even those who have nothing beyond this service. If you say nothing, we will interrogate all of you, and every single one will lose their stipend.

His words cut into me like a knife. The world around me fell silent for a moment. The dark-clad figures showed nothing—discipline, discipline, discipline, as if they had long buried their emotions. But I saw it. I saw the bitter flash of betrayal in their eyes. I saw that quiet, suppressed desperation they perhaps didn't even allow themselves to feel.

This wasn't just a simple decision. This was a command that could destroy lives.

And I had never been one to let others decide what was right and what wasn't.

I took a slow breath, trying to suppress the storm raging inside me. I knew that every word had consequences. I knew that if I spoke now, I might be a dead person walking. That I might be putting others in danger—Clara and the others, their ranks could be at stake.

Shock rippled through the dark-clad figures. Pain. Fear.

Because this wasn't just a job. It wasn't something one could simply apply for and quit when they wished. This was their life. The only path they had sworn themselves to. And though their pay had always seemed secondary, in reality, it was the only connection some had left to their families—if they had any at all. Many had sacrificed ever seeing their loved ones again. Others lived so that those they left behind believed they served elsewhere, as mere soldiers. And those who had children… the only thing they could still give them was a secure future.

And if that money didn't arrive for a year? What would happen to those children? What would happen to those who had nothing left?

It didn't matter why we chose this life, whether we wasted it, whether we fought or walked different paths. It didn't matter if we were reborn or regained our consciousness. No human, no entity had the right to judge us, to break us.

Especially not the one who claimed to fight for peace.

My eyes burned. Inside, I had already screamed.

My body tensed with rage.

The general looked up.

"Attention!" he barked.

And the dark-clad figures froze as one.

The guards surrounded my attacker, dragging him into the building. Interrogation. Then execution. That was the plan. No one spoke another word.

And that was it.

But something inside me snapped.

The fury that surged through me was so overwhelming that even the very fabric of reality seemed to tremble.

I moved toward the ruler.

Everyone remained motionless. The general. The guards. Even the dark-clad ones watched without a single twitch as my footsteps echoed softly against the floor. But I kept going. With each step, I moved faster. More determined.

And when I reached him, my voice erupted with such force that even the chandelier above us quivered.

"Are you… writing a fairy tale?"

The ruler halted.

His cold, composed face didn't twitch, but I saw the brief flicker in his eyes. He couldn't believe it. He hadn't expected anyone to speak to him this way.

The general spun around, his gaze drilling into me with silent warning. I could almost hear his thoughts: Stop now. If you want to live.

But there was no stopping now.

"I asked you a question!" My voice crackled through the room. "Tell me, are you writing a fairy tale?"

— Oh no… Even villains in fairy tales aren't this cruel.

The words snapped like a whip, sharper, faster.

— Even they aren't this senselessly ruthless, I whispered cynically.

I felt the ruler's patience strain like a bowstring pulled to its limit.

"Who do you think you are?!" he finally thundered. "How dare you speak to me like this? How dare you question my decisions?! And more than that, by what right do you barge in here without any command?!"

He tried to sound calm, but his eyes burned with unshakable dominance, with fury.

"You know," I took a deep breath, stepping around the table that stood between us, locking eyes with him. "I don't respect you."

I smiled. But there was no warmth in it.

By then, I didn't care about anything.

It no longer mattered what would happen to me.

It didn't matter that I stood against rank, power, and respect.

"I order you—" he began, his voice forced into a façade of control.

"Oh, I couldn't care less about your orders."

I took one step toward him. Then another. The cold light of the room cast sharp shadows on my face, but the storm in my eyes devoured it all.

"A man who makes such decisions and still dares to call himself an angel… He shouldn't just forget to imagine a halo above his head. He should go and ask Lucifer for forgiveness for being mistaken for the devil in his place."

The silence was sharper than any sword. The general's eyes flickered, but he didn't speak. He didn't dare.

And I wasn't done.

"Tell me, how many times must you be reborn before you finally understand something about this world?"

I shook my head with contempt.

"Oh, my apologies. You don't even lose your consciousness when you die, do you? You act like this with your entire being, with your complete divine entity."

My voice was as cold as steel.

"And you expect humans—people who have lost everything—not to fall? Not to take paths dictated by their weakness? To somehow master their souls, completely unaware of the truth, while you, who have seen every world, who knows every secret, are incapable of thinking as you should? You, who are not even better than a lost, wandering human?"

I saw the fire in the ruler's eyes. It wasn't fear. It was pure, raw anger.

I didn't stop. I couldn't.

In one swift move, I was standing right before him, so close I could feel the icy burn of his gaze. For a moment, everything around us froze in time.

"I know it hurts."

My voice was a whisper, yet everyone heard it.

"It hurts that people are waking up to the truth. It hurts that they are beginning to see beyond the veil. That they are realizing Heaven, Earth, and Hell are not three separate worlds. They are three different states. And they all exist in the same place."

A quiet laugh escaped my lips.

"You think this world is black and white? You think that's all there is? Humans live, suffer, die, and you sit on your throne, judging them like some superior judge?"

I raised a finger, slowly, stopping just inches from his face.

"Do you even know what money is?"

The air in the room turned to ice.

"Humans live off of it. It's their bread. Their shelter. And when you take it from them, it's not just a decision. It's a sentence. A death sentence."

The ruler opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off immediately.

"Oh, but of course, how could you understand? You don't need it. You don't need anything. You don't even know what it's like to fight for every single day, when every single choice could destroy a life."

I stepped back, spreading my arms, as if throwing down my final card in a game.

"And now what, Your Majesty? Will you kill me?"

My eyes burned. My voice was a challenge.

"Do it. But remember this well: there is no life, no world, no dimension, no conscious or unconscious state where I won't say these words again, and again, and again. I can be human, angel, demon, wandering soul, a flower, or whatever else moves and breathes."

A moment of stunned silence.

Then, I took a step back, smiling—the kind of smile that carried smoke and fire.

"So hold on tight, my king," I tossed the words at him with biting sarcasm, "because whatever you do to me, it's going to be a hell of a ride."

I swallowed, then cast aside every weapon I had left.

"Buckle up."

I met his gaze one last time, deeply, unwaveringly.

The silence was heavier than the words themselves.

As the last words left my mouth, the world seemed to pause for a moment. I held the ruler's gaze, deep and unwavering, even as my anger coursed through me like molten lava. My heart pounded as if each beat echoed off a stone plunging into the depths. But I didn't look away. One last time, I let myself get lost in it.

The room was silent. Everyone stood still, as if even a single breath could shatter the fragile quiet. The general's face was motionless, almost sculpted, but his eyes… Those eyes spoke louder than any words. Tension sat within them—perhaps shock, perhaps something else I couldn't name. The dark-clad figures had their eyes fixed on me, standing motionless, as if even they weren't sure what would happen next.

And the ruler.

I saw that he was unsettled. For the briefest moment, something unreadable flickered across his face—confusion, perhaps anger, or something else he didn't want to reveal. But in the end, he merely turned away and walked out with slow, deliberate steps. He said nothing. He didn't look back. He didn't have to, because even from the line of his back, I could feel the weight of his decision.

Just before he stepped through the door, his gaze met the general's. A wordless message passed between them—an order, an understanding. I couldn't tell.

The general only approached me once the door had closed behind him. He stopped a step away and looked me straight in the eyes. His voice was calm, but beneath the surface, something unspoken vibrated.

— Come to the courtyard. We will soon honor our fallen comrades. That is where we will spend the evening.

For a moment, I thought that was it. That this entire moment would end with a single, simple sentence. But as he turned away, he added something—almost as if it were an afterthought, something of no real importance.

— You will bear the consequences tomorrow.

He didn't say what he meant. But he didn't need to.

I knew.

I knew exactly what it meant. I knew what I had risked, what I had lost in that room. And I knew that this might very well be the last day I would feel the wind on my skin, the scent of the earth in my lungs.

But there was no fear in me. No bitterness.

Only a strange, quiet feeling—liberation.

Night fell, and the wind carried memories with it like whispers.

Among the hills, under the pale light of the stars, we sat with the dark-clad warriors, gathered around a small campfire. The flames painted golden and red shadows across our faces, and only the quiet crackling of the fire broke the silence. The ruler had not been seen since.

No one spoke, but they didn't have to. With a single glance, I could tell—they knew. They all knew.

Deep within me, an old melody stirred. A song I had learned in childhood. A song that now broke the silence as if it had been waiting for this very moment.

Slowly, softly, I began to sing.

If the world looks at me with disdain,

I know my path is true, not in vain.

To be born into this world—a wonder,

To live in it—a gift, a spell we're under.

But to leave it—that is grace,

Letting go, setting the boat to open waves.

Why does man fear his fate so?

What must come, will come, no matter the word.

As the river flows, so life moves on,

Whether we will it or not, it's never gone.

There is no out, no within,

Only light-beds where we spin.

Our own dreams hold us tight,

We do not drown, yet weather the storm's might.

There is heaven, and flowers bloom on graves,

The sun will rise anew, shining on our face.

My voice melted into the night, and the wind carried it forward, as if it, too, knew the melody. The dark-clad warriors listened, at first in silence, but then something shifted between us. Those who had sat still until now seemed, in that moment, to become more human. Someone picked up their belt buckle and began tapping a rhythm against the ground. Another plucked at a piece of wood, as if strumming the strings of an invisible lute.

We had no instruments, yet we played music.

And on that night, in that single stolen moment, as the melody rose to meet the stars, the hardened, battle-worn warriors lost their armor.

It was not a joyful song. But it was not sorrowful, either.

It was simply a song carried by the wind, far beyond the hills, beyond the glow of the fire.

And for the first time in my life, I felt truly free.