Chapter 42 - Psalm of Silence

A quiet room, far from the noise of life. Abandoned, untouched, yet bearing that solitary purity that comes from never being disturbed. Its white furnishings, the crimson table that stood before the bed veiled from head to toe in curtains, the mirrors that reflected the room's utter emptiness.

The door opened slowly, revealing Tarnael, dressed in his usual cloak adorned with dark feathers. He closed the door behind him and let the cloak fall to the floor in a gesture of weariness. Then he let himself collapse backward onto the bed, lying still as his gaze drifted upward. His hair spread across the silk sheets like a cascade of thoughts flowing behind his eyes, everywhere at once. Countless streams, uncertain where they would end.

The meeting with the kings, the plans he had laid upon the table, their execution, the neglect of forming even a single alliance, the façade he was forced to uphold to maintain authority, the relationships he cherished yet strained. Perhaps the entire vineyard he was meant to tend was rotting because of a single, diseased vine. Uanamangura.

He rose from the bed and faced the mirror hanging above the table. Did he even recognize himself anymore?

He walked to the bathroom and turned on the golden faucet of the shower. Stripping off his garments, he surrendered himself to the touch of the cold drops that met his skin. The king closed his eyes, letting the water play its part. He wanted to feel, truly feel, the stream of cold that coursed over him.

In that moment, his hair no longer bore its usual ethereal grace. He ran his hands through it, pulling it back, letting the chill refresh the warmth that had long escaped him. Tarnael opened his eyes. Droplets fell from his lashes as he stared toward the tiled wall of the shower. He wrapped his arms around himself, gripping his triceps tighter and tighter, until finally he released the hold and rubbed his palms together instead.

He turned off the shower and began drying himself with a towel, head to toe. His hair regained its gleam, but Tarnael did not. That glow lingered only as long as the faint warmth from the lamp that was slowly fading away.

He dressed simply in a robe and returned to the room, sitting in the chair before the window. Resting his face in his left hand, he gazed out over the royal courtyard, the angels moving through the gardens, the flowers, the trees, the familiar swans.

He reached into the drawer beneath the window, took out a book, and opened it to the page marked by his ribbon. In that room, Tarnael felt far from everything. And for a while, that was a good thing.

He turned another page.

And elsewhere, Voidanos was doing the very same. Lying upon his own bed, reading a book, but this time, he did not materialize what he was consuming. It was merely a historical volume, one that required no conjured emotion or imagined sensations as he so often indulged in.

"Lunch is ready!" his mother's voice called from the kitchen.

"Coming!" replied Voidanos, closing the book and sliding it neatly onto one of the shelves in his library. He ran toward the kitchen, where he saw the table set with a red checkered cloth. His warm plate of stew, accompanied by a spoon and two slices of bread, released a delicious aroma that awakened his hunger.

"It looks so tasty!" he said, picking up his spoon eagerly.

"Did you forget something?" asked Kaeda, who had just sat down at the table across from her son.

"Oh—right." Voidanos straightened up.

"I thank Kindu Byaddran for this daily bread, Kindu Eledicta for the pure water flowing from Lake Tirna, and Kindu Mayatra for the fire that blesses and warms us each day. Amin," he said, closing his eyes in prayer before the meal.

"Amin," echoed his mother, and the two began to eat.

"Where's dad? At work?" Voidanos asked.

"Where else would he be? Thanks to the Kindu, today happens to be Zamanira," said Kaeda.

"Rest day... So even tutor Magees won't be around today?" Voidanos said rhetorically.

"Have you learned anything from your tutor?" Kaeda asked.

"He's helped me a lot to strengthen what I already knew. Every time he asks me a question, I can just read his mind and give him the answer right away, heheh," said Voidanos, laughing.

"That's cheating, Void. Try answering with your own abilities," said Kaeda gently.

"But those are my abilities," replied Voidanos with a grin.

"What I mean," she explained, "is that you should rely on your wisdom and intelligence, not your powers in the literal sense. If you manage to strengthen your wisdom, your powers will become far more meaningful."

"I get it. You're a nurse, Mom. You're really smart," said Voidanos, smiling.

"I truly appreciate that, my son," Kaeda said, brushing her fingers through his hair affectionately. "But in this world, there are countless things to know. Knowledge has no limits. Every day, every moment, you can learn something new, me, you, even your father. We may all be clever, but what sets us apart is how we use that cleverness. There are people who aren't brilliant, but have kind hearts. Try to be as kind-hearted as you can, my son."

"If I have a big heart," Voidanos said playfully, forming a large glowing heart in his palm, "will people love me more?"

"Hahaha... I didn't mean the literal heart," Kaeda laughed softly. "People will love you if you respect and care for them the same way you'd want them to care for you. Of course, you can't change someone's thoughts or character, but you can change the image they hold of you."

Kaeda continued eating her stew while Voidanos pondered her words.

"To change the image they have of me... But Mom, what do you think of—"

"I'm sorry, dear, but someone's calling me through the sphere," Kaeda said suddenly, rising quickly from the table.

Voidanos watched as his mother hurried toward the communication sphere. He turned back to his bowl of brown stew, staring at his reflection shimmering within it. Amid the cut potatoes, peas, and bubbles of broth, his face appeared faint and distorted. He dipped his spoon in and took a bite.

"It's gotten a bit cold," he muttered, standing up from his chair and walking toward her.

"Mom! The stew's getting cold. Do you want me to heat up your—"

Voidanos stopped mid-sentence. His mother was standing still, the sphere trembling faintly in her hands, her eyes fixed on the wall ahead. She slowly turned toward him, her crimson eyes heavy, glistening with the weight of unshed tears.

"M-My son... your grandfather Martes... has passed away," his mother said, her face carrying a grief too deep for words.

Voidanos's eyes widened at the sudden weight of her words, and hours later, he found himself surrounded on all sides by Dominion, solemn figures dressed from head to toe in indigo garments, before a massive memorial field filled with wooden crosses, each one crowned with a small flickering flame. He looked around, seeing faces he had never met before, though they were of his own blood. Beside him stood his mother and father, each holding one of his hands.

Igorus looked down at his son, then motioned silently to his wife for them to step aside for a moment. Ueda approached the boy to stay with him while they spoke.

"Are you out of your mind? Why would you bring him here?" Igorus hissed under his breath.

"I—I had no other choice," Kaeda stammered, her voice breaking as tears began to gather. "I was so heartbroken that I..."

"You could've lied! Told him you needed to rush to the infirmary, anything! Do you even realize what might happen if he becomes upset?" Igorus' tone was sharp and strained.

"My father is dead, and all you care about is whether our son might get a little upset? What about my grief? Does that mean nothing?" she retorted, her voice trembling with anger.

"That's not what I meant. I'm telling you to think before you act. Use your head, not your heart! Do you understand how hard it'll be to explain this to him? The king and queen themselves ordered that he not leave the house until he's fit to serve in the army. And you've brought him here, of all places, before the memorial of the dead!"

"I didn't think it through, okay?" Kaeda's voice rose. "He's a bright child. He knows when to use his powers and when not to. How can he ever understand life if he's kept away from it? How can he understand death if he never faces it? Don't talk to me about royal decrees when it's my family that lies in that coffin."

"Kaeda!" Igorus called as she turned sharply away from him, walking fast with her arms trembling in anger.

"Don't you dare try to mold our son into what they want him to be. He needs to live, to know pain and sorrow, just as we do. He's not the monster everyone thinks he is," she said, turning back to glare at her husband.

"I—I didn't mean—"

"Yes, you did. You just don't want to say it. You think he's a monster, and everyone should fear him."

A silence fell between them, tense, suffocating. Igorus looked at her with a quiet ache, empathy buried under frustration.

"Don't come home tonight," she said, her voice low and cold, before walking away from him.

Igorus lowered his head, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. Voidanos was watching his mother return to him.

"Where's Dad?" he asked softly.

"Dad's taking a little walk to get some air," Kaeda replied with a deep, shaky breath.

"Are you all right, Kaeda? Do you want some water?" asked Ueda, concerned.

"No, no, I'm fine. Is Luena on her way?"

"Yes. Quite a few Dominions have gathered today for your father. He was loved by everyone, wise, kind, always ready to talk. He often said he wished he could meet Voidanos, but..."

"You don't have to finish that," Kaeda interrupted, holding back a fresh wave of tears.

"Why did Grandpa Martes die?" Voidanos asked.

"Old age, my son. Even though we're divine beings, our lives still have an end, though it comes far later than those of the Zagrosians," Kaeda explained.

Voidanos turned his eyes toward the endless memorial. The rows upon rows of crosses stretched toward the horizon, stirring strange thoughts in his mind. Yet through it all, he heard nothing, only an eerie silence. Unlike the constant murmurs that usually whispered inside his mind, this quiet was heavy, almost alive.

The sky burned a deeper red than usual, as if the sun itself mourned with its fading light. The people moving around him looked like drifting shadows, each with two faint yellow eyes wandering in unknown directions. Every shadow carried voices, some weeping, some praying, some laughing. Only his mother and Ueda appeared clear to him, vivid in a world blurred by grief.

He felt more alien than ever before, estranged by a silence so loud he couldn't understand it.

Soon, they stood within the monastery where the final farewell was being given. Igorus and Kaeda flanked him again, though this time they didn't hold his hands. He glanced at them; both stared ahead toward the altar with blank, weary eyes. Priests dressed in long, dark crimson robes chanted hymns of departure, their voices echoing off the marble walls.

In the center lay the still body of his grandfather. It was the first time Voidanos had seen someone who had truly died. He could see the body, but not the spirit, and that, to him, was strange.

He knew that the souls of the dead traveled across the Three Moons, but who guided them there? Why so far away from the world of the living? He half-expected his grandfather to open his eyes, to speak, to prove that something still lingered. But he didn't.

There was no difference from life, except that it was no longer there. Peace had replaced presence. And for Voidanos, that peace felt almost frightening.

Perhaps he simply hadn't learned yet what it meant to lose someone. Perhaps, had he known his grandfather better, he would have felt what the others did. But instead, he realized his mind worked differently. He said nothing. He just watched, quietly, almost reverently.

When the ceremony ended, the guests began to fly away from the memorial, their wings fading into the red sky.

"Will you take Father's body to the infirmary later?" Ueda asked softly.

"Yes... I suppose I will," Kaeda replied, her tone heavy.

"All right then, sister. I'll see you tomorrow," said Luena, who, along with Ueda, took flight into the distance.

Kaeda watched them leave, her fingers wrapped gently around her son's hand.

"Let's go home, my dear," she whispered.

"Where's Dad?" asked Voidanos.

"Dad went to work," Kaeda said quietly. She unfolded her wings, and together with her son, ascended into the pale sky, flying home through the fading red light.

"HOOOHE!!!"

Eliael jolted awake, his face drenched in sweat from the distress of whatever dream had seized him. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and glanced around the bed where he lay, breathing heavily as he tried to calm himself. His mind clawed through fragments of what had happened in the laboratory before Glauk struck him from behind. Blurred visions of Lazrael flickered before him, but Lazrael seemed different somehow, as if preparing to journey to a place where his fate would be sealed. The images were faint and distant, and no words remained.

Beside the bed sat a jug of water. Eliael grabbed it and drank straight from the spout, ignoring the untouched cup next to it. Rising to his feet, he dressed in his usual brown cloak, its silver clasps gleaming faintly in the morning light. A sharp ache flared in his right shoulder as he fastened it.

"Mmhh... Strange. I hope there's still some cold water in the fountain," he muttered, stepping out of his sparsely furnished room.

In the royal courtyard, he tossed a small coin into the fountain and dipped his hand into the chilled water, dabbing it over his elbow before pausing beside the angelic statues that poured streams of water from their wings.

"Your Majesty," greeted passing angels of noble rank as they strolled through the garden.

Eliael lowered his head politely in return, still rinsing his shoulder. Droplets from his hand trickled down and dampened a small leather notebook tucked into his cloak. He brushed the moisture away with his thumb, feeling the rough, worn texture of its cover, dark, scarred, and heavy with the weight of his thoughts. Inside lay endless pages of calculations and sketches, his life reduced to numbers and notes.

Flipping through the filled pages, he realized there were hardly any blank ones left. Sketches of Bakabali sprawled across them, the idol to which he had devoted his existence. That green fluid he studied every day... it had been poisoning him little by little. Feeding life to his idol, yet draining his own.

Was it truly worth poisoning one's dignity for an uncertain promise of triumph?

"What's wrong, Eliael?" came a voice from beyond the curtain of water.

"Sister... my shoulder aches a little. I just needed some fresh air," Eliael replied, turning to see Kaela in her usual battle armor.

"You do need some air, brother. Staying shut in that dim chamber all the time takes its toll," Kaela said with a soft compassion in her eyes.

"You were there, weren't you?" he asked quietly.

"Someone has to remember our mother," she answered, unconsciously tightening her grip on the helmet in her hands.

Eliael's gaze fell again to the cover of his notebook.

"Make sure you don't stay too long in that room," Kaela warned, spreading her wings in preparation to take off. "I have a bad feeling."

"S–Sister..."

"See you later. I have training to attend," she said before soaring away, leaving the sound of water rippling gently in her wake.

"A bad feeling... I wonder what she meant by that," Eliael murmured, rising from the fountain and heading toward the laboratory.

The heavy door creaked open, revealing Bakabali's chamber, still and dim as always.

"Glauk! Did you clean Bakabali's chamber tube?" Eliael called out into the silence. Normally, Glauk was responsible for the lab's upkeep. But this time, his presence was nowhere to be felt.

"Glauk? GLAUK!?... Where could that fool have gone? Lazrael told me he never leaves the lab. Then where's Lazrael...?" he muttered, stepping closer to Bakabali's container.

Up close, he could see the layer of grime that had gathered over the tube. Dipping a finger into it, he winced in disgust.

"Lord Edin'Borghia... I can't believe this filth. At least the arm's still clean," he sighed, noticing Edinborghia's arm suspended near the tube. He took a cloth and began wiping the grime away. Dust filled the air, making him cough.

"Damn it, Glauk! How long has it been since you cleaned this thing?" he grumbled, scanning the room for any sign of life.

"Maybe he went to the restroom. But how long could he possibly—"

Before he could finish, a sharp pain exploded in his right shoulder, the cold tip of a rapier had pierced through it. His breath caught as his eyes widened in shock. He twisted around, only to see Atbara hanging upside down like a bat from the ceiling.

"Hey," said the vampire with a calm, blood-chilled smile...