Chapter 41 - Tell (Patreon)

Christopher and I left Beginner’s Rest. The square behind us still glowed faintly with torchlight, its shadows dancing on timber walls and w

Christopher and I left Beginner’s Rest. The square behind us still glowed faintly with torchlight, its shadows dancing on timber walls and weathered stone. The mingling voices of villagers and guests rolled like a distant tide, half celebration, half suspicion. The air was thick with woodsmoke and salt, as if the hearths and sea both wanted to leave their mark. I assigned the Trailblazers, Gai, and Lex to organize a small, trusted team to monitor our new guests continuously. Then I told Gabby to locate my parents in the crowd, instruct them to stay discreet, hidden, and behave as if they didn't know me until our visitors had gone.

I didn’t follow up on what I told them. The weight of Edwin’s words still pressed down on me, and it felt best to let the silence settle, to give everyone time to breathe before stirring it back up again.

Except Christopher. I dragged him along because he, more than anyone, needed to hear what was boiling in my head.

We’d made it about halfway to my house, just at the edge of the village, before Christopher spoke. The sun was setting. Purples and oranges bled into one another, spilling across the horizon like spilled ink on glass, signaling the coming darkness over the vast blue. The ocean wind carried the taste of brine and kelp, curling around our faces like a reminder of how fragile the borders of home really were. Lanterns blinked to life on porches, fireflies drifting in sympathy.

“We going to talk about your speech?” asked Christopher. Concern threaded his voice. His eyes searched mine with a guarded unease.

“Why? Think I got indoctrinated only a few hours into talking with my people?” I forced a laugh, flimsy armor against the tension.

“You are calling them your people,” he muttered.

“Just like humans are your people. There’s a connection that’s hard to shake, no matter how accepting you are of others,” I said softly. “But it doesn’t mean I trust them. What they told me was… enlightening. Thousands of years of war, slavery, and territorial battles. They didn’t even sugarcoat their mistakes. The Dryads and Primordials—those who lived the longest—spoke of history like they carried entire libraries inside their skulls. Entire seasons, entire wars, bound in their voices.”

“Dryads and Primordials?” asked Christopher.

“It’s what they call their different kinds of devils. Dryads are Forest Devils. I’m a Primordial."

“Oh.” He absorbed that. “Then ‘devil’ must really be a slur.”

“It’s meant to sting.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

Silence fell. The gravel crunch beneath our boots was the only sound, mingling with the chorus of crickets and the distant roll of waves.

“So I guess I’m some kind of royalty now,” I admitted, my voice almost lost to the breeze. I brushed my hand close enough that our fingers almost touched. “You’ve lived with a title. Any advice?”

“That’s how you’re going to ask?” Christopher chuckled. “I am the best person for that. Little hurt that’s all you wanted from me, though.”

“I’ve been lonely,” I confessed. “Everyone but Gai’s been keeping their distance, which—fine. But I’ve missed this. Just walking, just talking.”

Christopher scratched the back of his neck. “I figured you wanted space… after your eye. It’s what I would’ve wanted.”

“It was much appreciated,” I admitted, nudging him with my shoulder. “Wait until you see the giant hole in my house.”

“O-Oh?”

“Blew apart half the forest behind it, too.” I pushed my chest out, pretending to be proud. “Do you think I’m not taking this Primordial thing seriously?”

“Meaning?”

“A part of me wonders if I should stay at Beginner’s Rest and watch them every second. But wouldn’t that just make them more suspicious? If I act normal, Edwin might lower his guard. I don’t know.” I laughed bitterly. “I’m too emotional. Overthink everything. React first, logic later. Makes me smart and stupid at the same time.”

Christopher placed a hand over my mouth. “Stop tearing yourself down.”

I licked his palm until he pulled it away. “But it’s true.”

“Most people just make the best choices they can. Wrong or right, failure’s part of it,” he said. His arm slipped around my shoulder, fingers combing into my hair. “We’re probably messing up right now, and that’s fine.”

I gritted my teeth. “Yay.” Then a spark jolted through me. “Wait.”

Mana ignited inside me, light spilling from my marks and eye. The glow shimmered like molten veins beneath my skin, and the air around me trembled. I tugged at the winds around Sandy Branch. Every current bent to my call, carrying whispers of buildings, people, shifting leaves, the crackle of distant firepits. The village unfolded like a living map in my mind, a breathing tapestry of stone, timber, and heartbeat. But there—a ripple, a snag. As if someone had tried to part the stream and smooth it over. Trees leaned uneasily, their branches rattling, and dust coiled in frantic spirals at my feet.

I pressed harder until the anomaly flattened, then let the currents go. My chest eased, though a slick of sweat cooled on my temple. I rejoined Christopher, draping his arm back where it had been. “All good.”

“What was that?” Christopher asked, baffled.

“Area sweep. Wind carries more than smells. If Edwin planted a tail, they’d be in my net. We’re clear.”

Christopher pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right. Idiot move on my part.”

“This time? You saying you’re the idiot all the other times too?”

“Don’t do this to me, Yen.”

I grinned. “No, answer it.”

He refused, which only made me laugh. But Edwin’s shadow still lingered at the back of my thoughts.

“What am I supposed to do about him?” I asked. “He showed me what I didn’t expect. Now I don’t know if he’s genuine or playing me.”

Christopher considered. “He shared the truth—just not all of it. That’s manipulation. Nobles used to do it all the time. Give people a path where the conclusion feels like their idea.”

“Feels like lying.”

“It is. But it’s the game.”

I pouted. “Would be easier to just chop off their heads.”

“If you could do it,” he said, half serious. “But—”

“Paradise would send more, it could mean war, I’m weaker without an eye, we know next to nothing, et cetera, et cetera,” I cut him off. “I’ve thought it through.”

Christopher sighed. “Even so, if they wanted you gone, they wouldn’t have invoked your lineage. That’s power they gave away.”

“I know. They want something. Legitimacy, maybe. They won’t draw blades unless they have no choice.”

“Exactly. They passed up chances to turn hostile. That says something. But it doesn’t mean we’re seeing everything.”

“Would be nice if I could just read his mind.”

“Yeah…”

We drifted past Sandy Branch, into fields where torches gave way to stars. The path wound under trees heavy with moss, each breeze carrying the scent of soil, crushed grass, and wildflowers. Grass bowed around us like dark blades in the moonlight, whispering against our legs. Fireflies glimmered like embers shaken from some distant forge. Somewhere far off, a nightjar trilled, and the last voices of the village sank into silence.

“This is exhausting,” I muttered. “Would’ve been simpler if they’d just tried to kill us.”

“Would it?”

“No.”

Christopher eyed me. “Don’t believe you.”

“Heh.”

He poked my cheek, dragging me back to the present. “Named the spear yet?”

“Oh… no.” He handed me Baron Thorpe’s spear—the arcwork that birthed copies under mana. “Didn’t have time. Or an idea. Naming’s not my thing.” I fished for my codex. “You want it back?”

He stopped me. “It’s yours. You need it more. It saved us from Faragore. That’s proof enough.”

“See, I’d argue you need it more,” I teased. “So take it back.”

“Nah.”

“I’ll jam it up your ass if you don’t.”

He smirked, fighting laughter. “Never gave you a gift before. Guess this is what it feels like.”

“Gifts make me uncomfortable.”

“Perfect. I’m getting you more.”

“Please, no,” I whimpered, hamming it up.

“Too late.” He tapped his temple. “Already got forty-two planned.”

“Forty…”

“Forty-two.”

Silence carried us the rest of the way, soft but heavy. Neither of us spoke, just walked, the night stretching endless above us.

“Everything will be okay,” I whispered.

“It will be,” Christopher said, certain.

“Really? My eye’s gone. I’m the only shield this town has, and it’s paper-thin. I can’t kill a Dread monster. I don’t know enough about devils or history. Even the powers of this world stop making sense the older I get. And it’s all falling on me at once.”

His hand cupped my cheek. His gaze softened. “One thing at a time, Yen.”

“And the whole imprinting thing with Nigel? That’s bull. What am I, an animal? And—”

He silenced me with a kiss.

My eyes fluttered shut. I let the weight slip away, just for that moment.

When he pulled back, he glanced past me. “How about we… Yen, there really is a hole in your house.”

I turned. Sure enough, the gaping wound still yawned across the back wall.

“Was gonna put a door there,” I muttered, dragging my palm down my face. “Okay! Plan time!”

“Plan time,” Christopher echoed.

“My parents are safe. Edwin thinks they’re dead. I was vague about who matters to me, though they’ll figure some of it out. And you? You’re a prince. They’ll focus on you soon enough, especially if Camden rumors about the mark reached them.”

Christopher winced. “We’ll need to fix that.”

“Yeah. But this could be an opportunity.” My voice steadied. “I need to be as genuine as I can.”

“To learn more.”

“And because… maybe I can do more than survive. Maybe I can build something here. Peace. Real peace. Devils and Fey side by side. Integration, not annihilation.”

Christopher gave me a long look. “That’s… noble.”

My eyes narrowed. “You don’t think I can.”

“I don’t think anyone can. But if anyone has a shot—it’s you.”

•••

Edwin and Elaine watched from the yard as Yen and Christopher entered Yen’s house. The night air was cool, carrying the faint scent of salt and damp earth. Crickets chirped from the tall grass at the edge of the road, and the sound of distant waves crashed softly against the shoreline. The flickering lanterns along the street threw long shadows across cobblestones, making the two Primordials appear as if they were phantoms carved from the dark. Christopher and Yen shut the door to the house. Suddenly, Edwin and Elaine’s view of them was blocked.

“She nearly caught us,” remarked Elaine. “She’s more powerful than she lets on.”

“She has a white eye and two bands on each finger,” replied Edwin. His gaze was locked on Yen’s house. “It shouldn’t be surprising.”

Edwin and Elaine had slipped out of Beginner’s Rest as soon as they reached the top floor, escaping through the roof long before Yen or anyone else had assigned qualified “guards” to watch the place. From the rooftops they observed her, noting each person she spoke to—the same ones Edwin had already suspected upon entering the city—and overheard everything she said. Afterwards, they separated: Yen departed with the blonde male, while the others spread out around Beginner’s Rest to keep watch. The rooftops creaked softly under their steps, but the night swallowed any sound before it could travel.

Of course, when Yen left with the blonde male, Edwin and Elaine immediately followed. She was their reason for coming to the country, after all. While she might have been comfortable enough leaving them alone, they did not share that feeling.

“She has a family she kept from us, she has emotions, that man with her was the Prince, she’s leery of us, yet she wants to manipulate us,” said Elaine, summing up everything they overheard. “Adorable that she thinks she can do that in her current state.”

“It’s because she’s in love with that human,” muttered Edwin, staring at the house. “It would explain why she’d go so far for the Prince. Enough to degrade herself.” He paused. “But it would be better to confirm for certain before acting.”

Elaine stared at Edwin, baffled. “She entered her house with the man, my Lord.”

“It is strong evidence, indeed, but it’s better to confirm,” he replied. “We should watch her interactions with the others. I’ve seen our kind in love before.” He looked sideways at Elaine, his eyes reflecting a far-off past. “They tend to become irrational and obsessive. And their paramour, if they feel the same initially, usually responds in kind.” He looked back at the house. “Their feelings seemed too tame to me. But I could be wrong.”

“You could never be wrong, my Lord, You–”

“Anyone can be wrong,” dismissed Edwin.

“...”

“The only concern I have is whether it will be easier to manipulate her now in this emotional state, or to kill the subject of her feelings, revert her back to her original state, and negotiate from there,” he mused. He didn’t move, blink, or waver as he continued to stare, deep in thought, at Yen’s home. Laughter from inside drifted into his and Elaine’s ears, muffled by wooden walls yet sharp in the quiet of the night.

“Is it wrong to have feelings?” wondered Elaine, her eyes softening and her words weak with sympathy.

Edwin narrowed his gaze at Elaine. He had long suspected that Elaine had developed emotions toward him during the trip to the Human Continent. What he wasn’t sure of was whether she was just starting to feel them or if she had already gone all the way. But her words and actions lately—the jealousy, questions, and worries—had been warning signs for months.

There were only two ways to revert Elaine back to her original self, if she truly had feelings. Killing the object of her desires was the first option. But since it was Edwin himself, he dismissed that idea. The other option was to kill Elaine before she did something terrible, or worse, suffered a mana reflux and turned into a demon. It had already made her less sharp than he would have liked. She was a far cry from the intelligent assassin he had once deemed useful back in Paradise. It made him wonder when, not if, he should choose the second option.

Not yet, Edwin decided, looking at Elaine. She still had her uses. But perhaps he could soften her intentions.

Edwin shifted his view away from the house and stood directly in front of Elaine, blocking her gaze from anything but him. She stared up at him, wide-eyed with reverence. The night wind stirred her hair, carrying the scent of smoke and seaweed between them.

“Yen is in a very dangerous state right now,” began Edwin, though his words were directed at Elaine. “We have no idea how long she’s been like this. Could have been months or years. Because of our horns and their ability to draw mana from the environment, it’s easy for us to suffer from overdraw, which can corrupt us and eat away at our psyche.” He tapped his horns. “It’s why we are born emotionally dulled, for the most part. It’s protection so that the influx of mana cannot corrupt our minds.” He dropped his hand and cast it out as if to swat a bug. “But when we love, we lose that natural defense. Our emotions blossom far stronger than any other creature, and our intelligence drops precipitously as we become overwhelmed with the influx of mana blended with external feelings and stimuli. Each time our horns drink in mana in that state, we lose ourselves without the barrier.”

Elaine’s eyes widened, and sweat dampened her brow. For a while, she had noticed herself becoming irrational, questioning whether she now had feelings. She had heard stories about what they did but had never heard it expressed so bluntly before. It scared her. She feared she might lose herself if she truly had feelings. And yet, her mind, free from self-restraint and focused on the world, brought her peace with reality for the first time in her life.

Edwin craned his neck back to Yen’s home. “Who knows when she’ll succumb. She knew how her horns worked, so she must have faced dangerous situations where intense mana draw was necessary. Based on how she moves, she lost her eye recently. It’s likely she experienced it then, if not many times before. She must have a strong will, or she is barely holding it together. But she also acts foolish, in strange ways. She probably doesn’t even realize how much her mental state has deteriorated.”

“Is tragedy inevitable?” Elaine found herself asking.

“Yes. In time, she’ll lose her mind or turn into a demon,” said Edwin without hesitation. “We’ll have to kill whoever she’s attached to.” Soft sounds drifted from Yen’s home. It made Edwin grimace. “Even if it is a Prince.” He began walking away.

Elaine listlessly followed. Quietly, they entered Sandy Branch. The streets were narrow, lined with crooked houses whose shutters rattled in the wind. Once they came into view, they took to the rooftops, where Edwin stopped and motioned for Elaine to sit beside him. He settled on the tiles, his gaze drifting toward his ship and the moonlit water. The harbor below gleamed faintly with reflected silver, waves lapping gently against hulls. For a fleeting moment, the sight tugged at an old memory—the glow of lanterns on sails vanishing into the dark horizon.

Elaine stared at Edwin, resolute, willing to do anything he asked. “If you wish, I can go back there right now and correct the situation.”

Edwin contemplated the idea. He had no doubt that Elaine could kill the human Prince, but she would likely die soon after at Yen’s hands. While he didn’t have a specific gauge of her abilities, she was most certainly strong, and potentially hiding other aspects of her strength—just as Edwin was.

Yet, he found the plan distasteful and negligent.

“Violence as a starting point is ill-advised in most situations,” said Edwin. He had been alive for over a century. In his youth, a steady blood flow was a sign of progress. Yet he always found himself cleaning up messes decades later when he acted without restraint. There were times to draw blood, yes, but only when there were no longer reasonable options to obtain what he desired.”

Elaine didn’t speak, but she was young, barely half a century old. Most of her life had been spent spilling blood. Edwin’s words were foreign to her, but she didn’t want to degrade his experience. His years tripled hers and carried far more distinction. She bit back her pride and kept her mind open.

“Yen said she wishes to remain open to us, even going as far as to consider herself an envoy between Paradise and the Humans,” said Edwin. He considered the possibility. “It may not be a bad idea to use her that way.”

“I thought you wished to adopt her?” asked Elaine.

“Mere words. My true objective was to find her,” said Edwin. The past swam across his eyes, and he grimaced for a single second. “Or rather, Melania. But that possibility has been gone for weeks now.” His voice cracked ever so slightly. “Next steps are unclear, admittedly.”

The name hung in his mind like an echo. Melania. Even thinking it drew a faint ache through his chest, a reminder of nights by the sea, her laughter carrying like wind across the tide. He remembered how she had looked at him once, and how that gaze had shifted to another—Myros Creed. The thought carved at his composure. He swallowed it, but the ghost of it remained.

Edwin let the many possible futures drift through his mind. He considered bringing Yen back to Paradise, either by force or on her own terms. He thought about leaving her in Sandy Branch, either by fulfilling her desires or using her to further his own goals. He pondered who would need to die for him to reach his objectives, knowing that at least one human would have to die to save Yen.

“I don’t know enough about her to make a decision,” said Edwin after a while. He stood up, dropped down from the roof, and began strolling down a darkened street. “Neither does she know enough about us to make a decision herself. It would be better to foster trust before anything is done by either party.”

“Practical,” admitted Elaine as she dropped down beside him. Her light frame barely made a noise against the cobblestones. A stray cat darted between barrels as they passed. “We shall–”

“Only I’m required for this part,” said Edwin. “I’m the closest thing she’d have to family. It’s better we talk alone than allow others to interfere.” He continued to walk with Elaine trailing behind him. “We’ll adapt as she becomes more comfortable. It shouldn’t be difficult. Ruled by emotions, it will be easier to develop an attachment.”

“Should we not remove the source of her emotions first?”

“A decision to be made after tomorrow,” decided Edwin. “But a likely action in the near future.”

“Yes, my–”

A group of adventurers rounded a corner carrying torches. They were laughing, clearly drunk, as they stumbled through the streets. Their torches sputtered in the wind, dripping sparks that hissed against damp stone. Dressed in varying levels of light armor, the five of them were carrying on without a care in the world only a short distance from Edwin and Elaine.

“They weren’t that scary!” cried one of them, slurring his words. He had a half-drunk bottle of whiskey in his hand. It sloshed in his shaky grip. “Barely any of them! Eye colors aren’t that much! We could deal with them if we had to.”

“Yeah, why we so scared of them?!” wondered another. “Even if they’re devils, their mana levels gonna be the same as any other devil.”

“They sure got presence though,” said a third. “Felt the authority dripping off them.”

“You know, besides those horns, they’re fucking beautiful, ain’t they?” said the first one. He pointed his whiskey bottle at his companion. “The white-haired one looks like a pretty woman, and the red-haired one looks like a squealer.”

“Even the other devils he brought with them were something,” said the fourth. His gaze was lazily pointed upward. “Any of yah ever seen a Sea or a Sky devil before?”

“Seen a Sea devil out in the Broken Bits, but never a Sky devil,” said the fifth member of the group. He seemed the most sober of the five. “Every devil off that ship has an air about them. Can’t put my finger on it. Eye color or not, it’s best to be cautious of the unknown.”

“Scared?!” chided the first man with the whiskey. “Bet the five of us could raid the inn and kill most of them before they even know what’s happened. Bet the horns sell for a lot, yeah?”

“Feel the same way about Yen?” wondered the third with a knowing smile.

“Fuck no!” shouted the first. “She beat off a Dread Tier monster by herself! Lost her eye, but shit, that thing could kill everyone in the village. I’d never fight her. Couldn’t pay me enough coins!”

Four of the men laughed, but the fifth, the sober one, merely sighed.

Then they bumped into Edwin and Elaine. Their torchlight illuminated the Primordials. Edwin and Elaine stared blankly into the mercenaries’ eyes, cold and powerful.

“Shit,” muttered the second of the five.

Elaine rushed forward, startling the men. Wind channeled around her left hand like a rippling current. She sprinted with her hand outstretched along each of the men’s throats. The twisting wind ripped open their flesh, exposed their necks, and drew blood.

Each one plunged their hands to their wounds, desperate to breathe, as they fell. Their gurgles were faint as blood flowed across the cobblestones. The torch they carried clattered to the ground, scattering sparks. The first man’s whiskey bottle shattered. Dark liquor mixed with blood, swirling into a murky pool. The smell of alcohol and iron filled the alley.

Elaine smiled, satisfied with the corpses.

Then a hand grasped her throat.

Edwin lifted her off the ground with one hand. His fingers pressed into her neck, making it nearly impossible to breathe. Her feet scraped against stone, kicking up dust.

“Why did you do that?” asked Edwin calmly. “Now there are bodies.”

“S-S-Sorry…” managed Elaine. “Dis…respected…you…”

“So?” Edwin’s face didn’t crack. He wasn’t angry, disappointed, or afraid. “Do the chirping of birds bother you, too? Do you kill them when they annoy you?”

“N-N-N–”

“Of course you don’t. That would be foolish. Yet these little birds chirped their nonsense, and you killed them for it.” He dropped Elaine to the ground, where she coughed painfully, struggling to breathe. “Clean this up. Don’t return until your error is fixed.”

“R-Right away, m-my Lord,” said Elaine, still gasping. But she stood to her feet anyway, showing respect.

“Good.” He turned his back to her without another word. With a single jump, he found himself on the roof, his mind spinning with possibilities.

Quietly, he moved across the rooftops back to Beginner’s Rest. The roofs groaned faintly under his weight, the sea wind tugging at his coat.

Images of Yen flashed in his head. Her words, her demeanor, her actions. Melania overlaid them. They looked similar, had the same voice, and they were both so strong. He hated how easily the resemblance pulled at him.

“I shouldn’t have helped you leave,” muttered Edwin. The words bled with more than irritation—they carried the ache of memory. It was the first time in many years something had broken through his emotional barrier, not since Melania.

Suddenly, Edwin’s heart pulsed.

He stopped. Instinctively, his hand went to his chest.

“What?” He wiped sweat from his brow. “Why?”

But the coldness overcame him again just as quickly. The emotions leeched into nothingness. Edwin stood straight, sweating still, but very much in control.

Echoes of the past rang in his ears. Melania’s voice, the pain and hope in her words as he watched her sail away with that human Myros, returned to him for the first time in many years. For a brief instant, the memory carried the smell of salt, the sight of sails fading into fog, and the sound of waves against wood.

Edwin bit his tongue, annoyed. “Disgusting.”