Just when I thought I might have misjudged him—that maybe there was a shred of genuine humanity beneath that royal veneer—he struck. We were trekking through a narrow pass where the obsidian walls seemed to close in like the jaws of a trap. Folia stopped, his back to me, but his aura flared just enough to make the hair on my arms stand up.
"Celosia," he began, his voice devoid of its usual mocking warmth. This time, he wasn't asking; he was demanding. "I want the truth. What is the source of your power? No ordinary brat defeats the first Hero of the Gods in a century. No street rat steals the Sword of Qelo and lives to tell the tale. You have a secret, and I've run out of patience for riddles."
The pressure was suffocating. I stared at his back, my mind racing. If I stayed silent, he might decide I was more trouble than I was worth. If I lied poorly, he'd see right through it. I had to feed him a truth wrapped in a beautiful, glittering lie.
"Folia... I know it sounds like a myth," I rasped, leaning against the cold stone. "But I possess a form of Absorption Magic. I can take the essence of what I kill and make it mine."
The Prince turned slowly, his eyes boring into mine. "Absorption Magic? A forbidden art. That explains a lot. But then, why haven't you tried to take mine? Or the magic of that Shadow Serpent? You're still clutching its fang in your left hand, aren't you?"
I held up my hand, where the black, curved tooth was still embedded in my palm, the skin around it bruised and weeping. "Because it isn't a game, you royal prick. Every time I absorb something, it puts a catastrophic strain on my body. I've been holding off on the serpent's power because I didn't want to weaken myself further while we're in the middle of a death trap."
Folia crossed his arms, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Prove it. I want to see you absorb the power of that tooth right now. Then, and only then, will I trust you."
He was cornering me. I could see the suspicion flickering in his gaze—he was uncertain, and a confused Prince is a dangerous one. I had no choice. I had to perform.
I gripped the fang and channeled my mana, activating the "Lie" that I was a predator devouring its prey. Immediately, the Shadow Shaping magic within the tooth surged. It didn't just flow; it exploded. The darkness shot into my arm like a bolt of black lightning, merging violently with my existing Shadow Magic.
It was agony. It felt as if the serpent's venom was being pumped directly into my heart, replacing my blood drop by drop with liquid fire. The heat was unbearable, reminiscent of the legends of Darej Ash, the forbidden volcanic wasteland where the sun never sets. My veins turned a sickly, glowing violet beneath my skin, and I collapsed to my knees, gasping for air that felt like ash.
Folia watched the entire process with terrifying intensity. When the glow finally faded and I was left shivering in the dirt, he let out a short, sharp laugh. "I knew it. You are trustworthy, in your own twisted way. Or at least, you're too useful to kill just yet."
I didn't know if he was manipulating me or if he was genuinely naive enough to believe my performance. Either way, I didn't care. I had the power now. I could feel the shadows around me twitching, waiting for my command to take shape.
We moved on.
The search for Ilea became a grueling marathon. We visited five of the seven potential nesting grounds, finding nothing but empty caves and the lingering scent of ozone. Each failure felt like a weight being added to my soul. By the time darkness fell on the fifth day, we were forced to set up a meager camp in a hollowed-out tree trunk.
The night was eerily quiet. I don't know if the monsters of the island were truly gone or if they were simply too terrified to approach Folia. The aura he radiated, even in his sleep, was like a physical barrier—a warning to the world that a god was resting.
The next morning, we pushed toward the sixth coordinate. And there, finally, we found them.
Shadow Hunters.
They were a ragged group of mercenaries, their armor stained with the black blood of the island's denizens. I crept close enough to hear their voices, my heart stopping when I heard the word "hatchling."
"The beast's power is concentrated in the marrow," one of them grunted, sharpening a serrated cleaver. "We kill the dragon tonight. Once we drink the soul-essence, we'll be strong enough to challenge the inner circle."
I didn't think. For the first time in my life, my body moved faster than my mind. Me, the boy who was always the slowest in gym class, the "untalentiert" street rat, became a blur of steel and shadow. I didn't feel the ground beneath my feet. I only felt the need to destroy.
Before they could even register a shadow moving, I was among them. My stolen blade danced, and five heads hit the obsidian sand in perfect unison.
The remaining hunters scrambled for their weapons, but Folia was already there. He didn't use a physical blade. He unleashed Soul Sword Magic, manifesting shimmering, ethereal blades that bypassed armor and flesh to shatter the very spirits of his targets. Within seconds, the camp was silent.
"Ilea..." I whispered, looking toward the dark opening of a nearby ravine. I could feel her. Wait for me. I'm coming.
But the island had one more cruelty to inflict: distance.
The sixth site was a dead end—the hunters had been part of a scouting party, and the main nest was further inland. We realized with a sinking dread that we were still weeks away from the final coordinate.
The journey that followed was a descent into madness.
It took us two full weeks just to cross the Abyssal Ravine, a jagged scar in the earth where the wind screamed like a dying woman. We spent the next three weeks scaling the Glistening Peak, a mountain of sheer ice that reflected our own haggard faces back at us. I had calculated five weeks in total, but the island's terrain was a liar. We had to use every second of the six-week window Folia had mentioned.
Six weeks of freezing rain, tainted rations, and the constant threat of the Night Shadows.
During those long marches, I found myself doing the unthinkable: I began to find Folia... likable. He was always there with a dry remark or a hand to pull me up a cliffside. He acted so "nice," so supportive, that for a moment, I almost forgot who he was.
But then I would see the way he looked at the horizon—the cold, calculating light in his eyes. I realized then that his "kindness" was the ultimate weapon. He wasn't just a warrior; he was a master of targeted manipulation. He was making me rely on him, making me trust him, so that when the time came, he would own me.
He thinks he's playing me. He thinks I'm the cockroach and he's the light.
In the final week of our trek, we reached the mouth of the Great Shadow Nest. The air was thick with the scent of Soul-Fire and old blood.
"We're here," Folia said, his golden eyes reflecting the darkness of the cave. "Ready to get your lizard back, Celosia?"
I gripped the hilt of the Sword of Qelo, my new Shadow-Shaping magic humming in my veins. I'm ready to kill everyone in my way, I thought.
Until next time, when we fight to set Ilea free.