The Rescue and the Harsh Truth

Several hours had passed. Gareth observed the pale face of the girl lying on the cot, her breathing still labored. The Curse of the Void marked her skin like a death sentence, one that the entire Empire knew and feared.

His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts.

What was he supposed to do with her?

As Duke of Ignaris, his duty was clear: eradicate any trace of the Void. If the priest or any of his knights had discovered the mark before him, the girl would have been executed on the spot, without hesitation. And yet, she was still alive before him.

"My lord…", the female knight beside him spoke in a low voice, pulling him from his thoughts. She, too, was staring at the mark with a tense expression. "What… should we do?"

Gareth closed his eyes for a moment, thinking in silence.

This girl was not a monster. She had not destroyed the village. She was just a child who had barely survived hell itself.

Then, he made his decision. For now, he would protect her.

"You saw nothing…", he ordered firmly. "No one saw anything. Understood?"

The knight swallowed hard but nodded.

"As you command, my lord."

Gareth exhaled heavily, then turned toward the exit.

"For now, we take her to the castle. Until we learn the truth, she remains under my protection."

The words weighed heavily on his tongue, but he held firm. If the Temple discovered her existence, there would be no discussion—they would kill her. No second chances, no mercy, no exceptions.

...

A few days later, the knights' caravan departed from the ruined village. Gareth had ordered them to finish their inspections, recover any useful resources, and bury the remains of the fallen villagers. There was nothing more they could do for that cursed place.

Lyria, still unconscious, was transported in a closed carriage, guarded by two of Gareth's most trusted knights. None of them knew the truth about her mark. To everyone else, she was just a surviving child, and that was how it needed to remain.

The journey to the castle took several days. The duke exchanged few words with his men, his mind still consumed by the weight of his decision.

Had he truly done the right thing?

When they finally arrived at his fortress, Gareth ordered the girl to be placed in one of the most secluded rooms. He assigned one of his most trusted maids to care for her. No one could suspect anything. No one could ask questions.

...

Several days passed. The distant sounds of birds drifted through the window, sunlight streamed inside, and the breeze stirred the curtains. Inside an unfamiliar room, lying on a soft bed wrapped in bandages, Lyria opened her eyes for the first time in days.

Her eyelids fluttered against the soft glow of light. She did not recognize the ceiling above her. Her mind, still groggy, could not process where she was or how she had gotten there.

"She's awake!", a nearby female voice exclaimed.

At the sound, Lyria slowly turned her head. Beside her, a woman dressed in maid's clothing was watching her with a mixture of surprise and relief.

"I'll inform the duke", the maid said quickly before hurrying out of the room.

Lyria barely managed to blink, still struggling to process what the woman had said.

The… Duke?

She tried to move, but her body felt impossibly heavy, as if her limbs weighed twice as much as they should. Her chest ached with every breath, her stomach felt completely empty, and her head pounded.

It wasn't long before she heard approaching footsteps. The door opened, and two figures entered. A tall man with an imposing presence, a scar on his face, followed by an elderly man in white robes who had the air of a healer.

Behind them, the maid from before stepped back into the room.

The man, Gareth, gazed down at her with a stern expression.

"So you've finally woken up…", he said in a deep, firm voice. "I'm glad to see you're still alive."

The old healer stepped forward and leaned toward her, examining her closely. He checked her temperature, felt her pulse, and observed her breathing.

"Her recovery has been faster than expected, my lord. She is weak, but stable", he reported as he stood again. Then, he reached into his bag and handed some medicines to the maid.

Gareth gave a small nod before turning his attention back to Lyria.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions, little one", he said in a firm voice.

Lyria stared at him without responding. Her dark eyes were completely empty, hollow. It was as if her soul had remained in that destroyed village.

The duke frowned slightly. That look—

It was not the gaze of a simple survivor. It was the look of someone who had seen too much.

He turned toward the healer and the maid.

"Leave us."

The elderly man hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded and exited the room along with the maid. The door closed softly behind them.

Silence settled between them, thick and heavy.

Gareth sighed, pulled a chair closer, and sat beside her bed, studying her intently.

"Let's talk, little one… I need you to tell me what you remember", he said, trying to soften his tone.

But once again, Lyria did not react.

She simply stared at him, as if she did not understand his words. As if she were trapped in another world, far away from that room, that castle, that moment.

A pang of something unfamiliar hit Gareth as he watched her. This child had lived through hell. She had lost everything.

And now, it was up to him to decide what to do with her.

The silence between them stretched on. Gareth observed the girl in front of him, her expression vacant, lifeless. She did not seem to comprehend where she was or why.

"I'm going to ask you something…" Gareth finally said, keeping his voice steady. "I want you to tell me what you remember about the village."

Lyria did not respond immediately. Her breathing was shallow.

Finally, after a long pause, her voice emerged—a broken whisper.

"M-Mama…"

Gareth felt a weight settle over his chest. He had dreaded this moment, but he knew he could not avoid it any longer.

"I'm sorry…", he said softly, lowering his gaze. "There were no other survivors. We only found you."

Lyria's world shattered. Her lips trembled, and her body began to shake slightly.

"No…", she murmured. "No, no, that can't be…"

Her eyes filled with tears, but these were not the tears of controlled sorrow—they were the tears of pure, soul-wrenching grief. Her trembling hands clutched at the sheets, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Tell me my mama is okay…", she pleaded between sobs.

But Gareth remained silent.

"Tell me she's… p-please…", her voice cracked. "Tell me…"

But there was no answer. Only silence. A cruel, unrelenting silence.

Lyria felt her heart explode into a thousand pieces. Her mother was gone. She would never return.

¡¡AAAAAAAAAH!!

A scream, filled with agony and despair, tore from her throat.

She clutched her head with both hands, as if trying to rip the pain from her mind, as if trying to wake up from this nightmare. But this was no nightmare. This was reality.

¡¡NOOOOOO!!

Her cries echoed throughout the room, her frail body trembling violently until the sheets were soaked with her tears.

Gareth felt a lump in his throat. He had seen many warriors lose their families, but never had he witnessed the devastation of a child who simply could not comprehend why the world had taken everything from her.

After several long minutes of inconsolable sobbing, Lyria finally weakened, her chest rising and falling unevenly. Gareth waited for her breathing to slow before speaking again.

"There is something else I need to tell you…", he said, as if hesitating to mention it.

Lyria looked up, her eyes red and exhausted.

"Your mother… always told you to hide something, didn't she?", he asked seriously, looking directly into her eyes.

The girl lowered her gaze at his words, falling silent for a moment, then weakly nodded.

"I need you to tell me the truth… Do you know what that mark on your wrist means?"

Lyria lowered her gaze even further, slowly raising her hand to her left wrist, where the cursed mark was hidden beneath her bandages.

"No… I don't know…", she whispered. "Mama always told me to hide it… that I should never show it to anyone…", she said, turning her gaze back to Gareth.

He sighed, resting his elbows on his knees, and sat in silence for a moment.

Should he tell her the truth?

"This girl has already lost everything. If she learns what her curse means, her world will completely collapse", he thought to himself. "But it's better if she knows now, so she understands why she must keep it hidden—so she knows the entire world could become her enemy."

After an internal debate, Gareth slowly opened his mouth to speak.

"That mark on your wrist… it is the Mark of the Void's Curse…", he said, keeping his voice steady. "The entire Empire fears that mark because those who bear it… disappear when the Rifts close. It is said they are fragments of the Abyss itself. The Temple of the Sky has declared those marked as enemies of God."

Lyria felt her stomach twist at his words. Was she… a monster?

"That's not true!", she suddenly shouted, her small hands clenching into fists. "I am not a monster! I didn't do anything wrong!"

"I'm not saying you are", Gareth replied firmly. "But that is how the world will see you if they find out what you are… which is why you must keep your mark hidden. Do you understand?"

Lyria's heart sank into her chest. Her entire world was collapsing around her.

"No! NO! If this mark means that… then… then it was me! I brought the monsters! I killed them all!", she cried in desperation, her eyes darting to her wrist.

Before Gareth could stop her, Lyria tore the bandages from her wrist, lifted her right hand, and, with fury, began scratching and tearing at her skin.

"If this mark makes me a monster, then I'll erase it!", she screamed.

Her nails dug into her flesh with savage force, ripping at the skin, drawing thin streams of blood.

"No, stop!", Gareth exclaimed with concern, grabbing her right arm in an attempt to stop her.

But the girl thrashed, fighting against him with what little energy she had left.

"MAMA!", she screamed with all her might. "I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO DIE! FORGIVE ME!"

Her voice broke between sobs.

"FORGIVE ME! EVERYONE! I'M SORRY! …MAMA!"

She continued to scream in pure anguish.

¡¡AAAAAAAAAAH!!

As she fought, her body finally gave in. The pain, the fear, and the guilt overwhelmed her to the point where she lost consciousness.

Gareth caught her in his arms, feeling how fragile her trembling body was, watching as blood trickled from the wounds she had inflicted upon herself in desperation.

"Was this really the right thing to do?", he wondered.

"…But if she hadn't learned the truth now… even if she survived, she could have been in even greater danger in the future…"

Gareth sank into his thoughts, trying to justify telling her the truth.

He gently laid her back down on the bed and did his best to tend to her wounds. He could not ask anyone else for help—if they saw the mark, she would be in danger once again. The fewer people who knew, the better.

After dressing her wounds and wrapping her wrist in fresh bandages, he sat beside her and watched her in silence. This child had no one left. Her soul was broken, and her world was in ruins.

He lowered his gaze and let out a heavy sigh. For the first time in his life, the Duke of Ignaris did not know what to do.