From afar, to Visil's shock, he saw smoke rising into the sky—thick, dark, and unmistakable. It was coming from the cottage.
He refused to believe it.
With a sharp snap of the reins, he urged his horse forward, faster than before. Kaiser followed his speed while others were left behind.
When they arrived, horror greeted them. Visil could hardly believe what the soldiers were doing to his mother, lying helpless on the ruined field.
The soldiers froze, startled by the sudden arrival of the two riders.
Visil did not hesitate for a moment longer.
He charged straight towards them, eyes locked on the figure lying beneath their grasp. With a swift motion, he leapt from his horse, unsheathing his sword mid-air. Before the soldier atop Miriam's body could react, Visil drove his blade deep into his neck.
The man choked, eyes wide, as blood poured down his armor. He collapsed, still staring at Visil—who now stood trembling with rage.
Visil turned, blade raised toward the remaining soldiers. They faltered.
None of them wore orichalcum helmets. Their faces were exposed.
Kaiser, the young dark magis, dismounted his horse. With a single raised hand, black smoke bled from his fingers—thin tendrils that slithered forward and wrapped around the soldiers' faces, smothering their breath.
They gasped and clawed at their faces, trying to tear the shadows away as they struggled to breathe.
Visil did not hesitate.
One by one, he cut them down.
A young boy, drenched in blood, committing murder in a storm of rage—for the only family that had ever loved him.
Visil stood there afterward, chest heaving, sword trembling in his grip. Rage clung to him like a living thing, yet his face remained eerily still.
Kaiser Wrath said nothing as he watched in silence with his face lacking of emotions.
He was the son of Vicar Wrath and grandson of Kurton Wrath—a lineage of noble dark magis. His features were sharp, destined to grow more striking with age. His dark skin carried a faint, natural sheen, and his short black hair framed eyes of cold grey. Like many magis, there was something otherworldly about him—an ethereal presence that set him apart.
He had befriended Visil after hearing of his survival from the recent assassination attempt, and of how Lord Eomer had always spoken about him.
Despite Kaiser's father's deep disdain for Eomer, the man had spoken highly of Visil—of a future where magis and non-magis might coexist in fragile peace under his rule. Eomer believed Visil could claim the throne.
During their last meeting, Eomer entrusted Visil to Kaiser, as one would entrust a son.
And that made Kaiser curious.
Now, watching Visil stand over the bodies, Kaiser felt a quiet certainty.
This boy would not let this go.
His anger would spread—to his siblings, to those tied to this act.
Especially the second brother. The most dangerous of them all.
Kaiser's father may support Zerethis, the second prince, as emperor, but not out of loyalty. Zerethis was easy to manipulate—a ruler who could be guided toward war, toward destruction.
And for dark magis…that was exactly the kind of future they desired.
But Kaiser did not share the same sentiment. Even so, he despised anything that had to do with his father.
Soon after, the other magis who had been left behind arrived at the scene, gasping at what lay before them.
Visil slowly snapped back to reality. He walked toward Miriam's body and knelt beside her. Placing two fingers against her neck, he searched for a pulse.
There was none.
A small blade remained lodged in her chest. She had lost too much blood… and worse, she was violated.
Visil could not hold it in any longer. A cry tore from him, raw and filled with anguish. Those who heard it felt their hearts tighten. The magis knew how Lord Eomer and Lady Miriam had loved and raised him as their own son.
One of the blue magis who was barefoot upon the ground, began to draw energy from the earth. Within a small radius, the grass withered as a faint blue glow gathered. From it, a narwhal spirit emerged, forming a pool of water above its head before releasing a powerful spray toward the burning house.
The other magis approached Lady Miriam, gently tending to her, while Visil remained kneeling beside her—consumed by grief and frustration.
"Ayumu…" Visil said.
The others turned to him.
"She's not in the house… I'm sure of it. She's in the forest."
One of the white magis stepped forward. "Are you certain, Prince Visil?"
"There is an escape route prepared by Lord—" he paused, correcting himself, "—Father. It connects the house to the forest through an underground tunnel."
His voice faltered. "I… I can't face Ayumu. Not when I have failed her."
Silence fell. Though none spoke, they shared in his grief.
"The capital won't be safe for her. Not all of Epsos… especially for you white magis." He looked toward the two remaining adult white magis—a man and a woman.
"I ask you to take Ayumu away… and return only—when I have become Emperor."
The words stunned them.
It was a bold ambition—one that seemed far beyond reach. And yet, deep within, they believed it. Visil was no ordinary boy. He could become Emperor. He had to.
The white magis straightened and answered firmly, "We will care for Ayumu. We made the same promise to Lord Eomer. We will hold you to your word—that one day, you will become Emperor, and she will stand as your advisor, Prince Visil."
Visil gave a slight nod, his expression still solemn.
The path ahead would not be easy. But he was resolute—driven forward by grief, and by rage.
He turned to Kaiser. "I have a favour to ask of you."
Kaiser looked at him indifferently, his expression as unreadable as ever. Like most dark magis.
"Can you follow them… and make sure they find Ayumu?"
Kaiser had always wondered about this Ayumu. Lord Eomer spoke of her often, and so did Visil. Normally, such stories would not stir any interest in him. His face remained unchanged, emotionless—something that had, at times, saddened Eomer when his tales of his beloved daughter went unacknowledged.
But this time…curiosity stirred within him. An emotion he cant understand yet.
Kaiser did not reply with words. He simply gave a small nod.
Relief washed over Visil's face. "Thank you."
Without another word, the three magsi set off—two adult white magis and one young dark magis. Moving swiftly into the forest in search of Ayumu.
They left Visil behind with the others, tending to Miriam's body and burning the bodies of the dead soldiers.