Chapter 40: His brother’s game

The prince’s gaze stayed fixed on Raziel, as if trying to pierce through the layers of his carefully built facade.

But Aerion’s decision to believe him wasn’t based on logic, nor the truth of his words, not even the desperate sincerity etched on Raziel’s face.

It was his own nightmares that had pushed him to this desperate leap of faith.

Dreams.

They weren’t the typical vague and fleeting visions that often plague sleep, but vivid nightmares that had tormented him for months.

Night after night, the same chilling scene repeated: a grand throne room, covered in shadows, with the air thick with the smell of rot and the metallic touch of blood.

And there, standing in front of him, dressed in black armor like midnight, was his brother, Prince Ayres. But it wasn’t the carefree and hedonistic Ayres he knew.

This Ayres was a monster.

His eyes shone with a red and malevolent light, his skin stretched tight over sharp features and a cruel smile twisted his lips.

“Little brother,” Ayres’ voice resonated as if two people were speaking at once.

“Always stuck in your role as the just prince, the tragic hero. How boring.”

Aerion, in his dream, tried to move, to scream, but he was paralyzed.

“You have to understand the game mechanics, Aerion,” Ayres continued, taking a step forward, his dark sword materializing in his hand.

“This is the conquest route

, the only one that avoids the bad ending. Zion showed me everything.”

’Zion? What was Zion?’

Ayres’ smile widened, showing teeth that were too sharp.

“Don’t worry, your death will be a good turning point for the plot, you are just an extra in my path, Aerion. An obstacle that gives good experience points.”

SHIING!

The sword moved, a blur of darkness impossible to follow.

He never told anyone.

How to explain that his brother spoke in an unknown language, about “routes” and “bad endings”?

They would lock him in an asylum or, worse, accuse Ayres of heresy out of his sheer paranoia.

So he prayed.

“Zhalyr, if this madness is real, if my brother is being corrupted by something… send me a sign. A key to understand.”

And now, Raziel was in front of him. A novice with impossible knowledge and a speech about an apocalyptic future.

He didn’t speak of “routes” or “NPCs”, but the feeling was the same.

The feeling of someone who had seen the script of a macabre play.

“We have a long road ahead, Novice Celeste. One full of dangers and uncertainty. Are you prepared to walk it?”

Raziel nodded slowly, it’s not like he could refuse anyway.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Aerion’s lips curled into a thin smile, with a glint of steel in his eyes.

“Good, then let’s start.”

He turned towards the door, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

When the door opened, Lucian’s anxious face peeked through the gap; it was obvious he had been gluing his ear to the wood.

Raziel shot him a warning look, but Lucian’s attention was already focused on Prince Aerion.

Father Marius and Odessa were a few steps further back.

Aerion went directly to Father Marius, his voice regaining its authoritative tone.

“The boy needs rest, Father. His mind seems… affected by the trauma of recent events, he is just confused or perhaps delirious. Pay no attention to his ramblings about the future, it is clear he is not well.”

Then he looked at Odessa, hardening his gaze.

“Paladin Odessa, we have done everything we could for now so let the Inquisitors continue with their investigation. We will offer our full cooperation, of course, but I think this matter will be handled better with discretion.”

Odessa nodded dryly because she didn’t like being dismissed, especially by a prince who, in her eyes, had chosen a path unworthy of his position.

Lucian stepped forward, pale with worry.

“Raziel, what did he tell you? What is going to happen?”

Raziel forced a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay, Lucian it was just a… misunderstanding and we will fix it.”

Father Marius put a paternal hand on his shoulder.

“Rest, my son,” he said, with a surprisingly soft voice.

“Clear your mind, Zhalyr’s light will guide you through this darkness.”

Raziel nodded, muttering a polite “thank you”.

But Father Marius’ words offered him no comfort.

He watched as Aerion and Odessa left the classroom, their figures disappearing down the hallway.

Lucian stayed a moment longer, staring at Raziel, a storm of questions forming in his eyes.

But before he could speak, Odessa reappeared at the door, with a furious expression.

“Aerion,” she said, her voice containing a barely disguised fury, “a word alone.”

She didn’t wait for an answer, she simply turned around and walked away down the hall, her boots echoing against the stone floor.

Aerion followed her, his shoulders tense and his gaze fixed straight ahead.

As soon as they were out of earshot of the others, Odessa turned, her voice was a low hiss.

“How dare you give me orders? Do you forget who I am? My rank? My experience?”

Aerion looked her in the eyes, cold as ice.

“This is not the moment for your insubordination, Odessa. This matter is delicate.”

But Odessa wasn’t one to be cast aside easily.

“Delicate?” she spat.

“Those boys are in grave danger, Aerion! You saw the evidence yourself: the dark magic, the heresy. And you pretend that I leave them to the tender mercy of the Inquisition?”

Aerion raised a hand to silence her.

“I have a plan, Odessa, it is one that could still save them,” his voice was firm, but there was a touch of uncertainty in his words.

Odessa studied him, with a skeptical expression.

“And what about the future Raziel described? Do you really believe he is some kind of prophet?”

Aerion’s jaw tightened.

“I don’t know what to believe. But I cannot ignore the possibility that he is telling the truth,” he turned, preparing to leave.

“Watch them, Odessa, discreetly and I will handle the Inquisition…”

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