Chapter 4

Many days had passed since Selene came to Milo's home.

Gideon's condition had gradually improved, and Selene continued preparing his medicines and watching over him whenever necessary. But she herself had never been ill. She had simply been caught in circumstances that had brought her under Milo's roof.

Now that Gideon was recovering, Selene knew she could no longer justify staying.

That morning, she quietly packed her belongings.

There wasn't much.

A few dresses.

Her herbs.

Several small bottles of medicine.

Then she folded it carefully and placed it inside her bag.

She had grown comfortable here.

Perhaps too comfortable.

Milo had become someone she trusted. Someone whose presence she had slowly begun to expect.

But this was still his family's home.

She had no right to remain here simply because she had grown accustomed to him.

She lifted her bag and stepped into the hallway.

Milo happened to be coming from the opposite direction.

He stopped when he saw her.

His eyes immediately fell on the bag. “What's that?”

Selene smiled politely. “I'm leaving.”

His expression changed. “Leaving?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“I haven't decided.”

Milo walked closer.

“You're just going to leave without knowing where you're going?”

“I'll find somewhere.”

“You have nowhere.”

“I've survived with less.”

He stared at her.

“Selene.”

She lowered her eyes.

“Gideon is better now. You no longer need me here.”

“That isn't why you stayed.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you leaving?”

She was quiet for a moment.

“Because I shouldn't stay here forever.”

Milo frowned. “Why not?”

“This is your home.”

“And?”

“And I'm not part of your family.”

Milo opened his mouth, but Selene continued.

“I know you care about me. And I am grateful. More grateful than I can explain.”

She tightened her grip around the strap of her bag.

Milo looked at her bag.

“You've already decided.”

“Yes.”

There was a pause.

Then he asked quietly, “Is there anything I can say that will make you stay?”

Selene's heart tightened.

For several seconds, neither of them moved.

Then Selene walked past him.

She had barely taken a few steps when Milo spoke behind her. “Selene.”

She stopped. His voice was quieter now, but there was a firmness beneath it.

“You can't travel alone.”

She turned slightly toward him. “I've done it before.”

“And you shouldn't have.”

A faint smile touched her lips. “I survived.”

“That isn't the same as being safe.”

Milo stepped closer.

“You're blind. You don't know these roads, you don't know which towns are safe, and you don't know who might recognize you.”

Selene's expression became serious. “I've managed for years.”

“I'm not trying to stop you from leaving.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“That you shouldn't leave alone.”

Selene turned her face toward him.

“I don't want to become your responsibility.”

“You're not.”

“Then why are you making this your concern?”

“Because I care what happens to you.”

The words came so naturally that Milo seemed to realize only afterward what he had said.

Selene remained silent. Milo continued.

“The- the roads aren't safe, especially outside the villages. There are bandits, hunters, and people who would gladly take advantage of someone traveling alone.”

“I can defend myself.”

His answer came immediately.

“I understand that you can defend yourself. I also understand that you shouldn't have to fight your way through every danger just because you refuse to ask for help.”

Selene's lips parted slightly.

Milo walked toward the doorway and looked outside.

“We can arrange a carriage.”

“No.”

Milo gave a small, resigned smile. “Then I'll probably spend the entire day worrying about whether you fell into a ditch.”

Despite herself, Selene laughed softly. “A ditch?”

“You'd be surprised how dangerous they can be.”

She shook her head.

“You're impossible.”

“Probably.”

He stepped aside, leaving the doorway open.

Selene stood there, caught between the road she had chosen and the man who seemed determined to make sure she reached it safely.

Finally, she sighed.

“Fine.”

Milo raised an eyebrow.

“Fine? you're not leaving?”

“You may arrange the carriage.”

A smile slowly dissappeared on his face.

“But only until I reach the next town.”

“Agreed.”

“And you are not coming with me.” Selene smiled. “I knew you would object.”

She walked toward the door.

Behind her, Milo muttered, “Stubborn woman.”

Selene stopped. “I heard that.”

Milo sighed. “Of course you did.”

She smiled beneath the lace blindfold.

Then, for the first time since deciding to leave, she wondered if perhaps saying goodbye to Milo would be much harder than leaving his house.

Deep within a forgotten forest stood the stronghold of the Morcant Order.

The place was dark and gloomy, hidden beneath twisted trees and endless mist. Black stone walls surrounded the fortress, with narrow towers rising into the gray sky. Ancient iron gates guarded its entrance, marked with symbols no one remembered.

Inside, the halls were cold and silent, lit only by dying candles. Old banners hung from the walls, their colors faded by time. The air smelled of damp stone, smoke, and ancient parchment.

It was a place where secrets were kept—and where few who entered ever found their way back.

Deep beneath the Morcant stronghold, far below the silent halls, a man's scream echoed through the underground chamber.

He was on his knees, surrounded by a violent mass of yellowish red Vaelith.

The red energy twisted like living flames, while streaks of yellow burned through it like lightning. It circled his body, tightening around him whenever he tried to resist.

He screamed.

Not from an injury he could name.

From pain beyond understanding.

“MAKE IT STOP!”

The power gave no answer.

It only grew stronger.

It poured into him with a terrible hunger, devouring his strength, his resistance, even his voice. The stone beneath his hands cracked as he struggled against it.

His veins darkened.

His body trembled violently.

The red and yellow force surged through him again.

He screamed until his voice became nothing more than a broken rasp.

Then the power suddenly collapsed inward.

His body shrank beneath the overwhelming force, becoming smaller and thinner until even his features were no longer recognizable.

The chamber fell silent.

Only a faint red-and-yellow glow remained on the floor.

And whatever had once been a man was no longer recognizable as one.

Only the shriveled remains of the man lay on the cold stone floor.

The woman stared at him.

“Vaelith rejects again.”

The man beside her clenched his fists.

“It has been three years.”

His voice carried his frustration. “Three years of searching for a compatible host, and it still rejects every body we give it.”

Red and yellow energy slowly coiled above the ground, twisting like living flames. The crimson glow pulsed with a deep, unnatural rhythm, while streaks of golden light flickered through it like molten lightning.

Vaelith had not vanished.

It simply waited.

The power hovered in the darkness, restless and hungry, as though searching for something it could not yet find.

Another host.

Another body.

Another sacrifice.

And until someone compatible was brought before it, Vaelith would remain there beneath the Morcant stronghold—

waiting.

“We search again,” the woman said.

The man looked at her. “Where?”

She unfolded an old map across the table and pointed to a distant region.

“The Eldermere.”

“The villages there are crowded with wanderers, refugees, and people with no families to claim them,” she continued. “If Vaelith needs another host, we may find one there.”

The man studied the map.

“And if we don't?”

Her finger moved farther north.

“Then we continue to the Wilmort territories.”

He nodded.

“Then we'll begin in Eldermere.”