Newfear

The silence settled over the hall, but it was not a reassuring quiet... it was a weight pressing on the chest, suffocating the breath. Faces were frozen between shock and disbelief, as if time itself had stopped for a moment. Raymond, along with the shadows watching Marquess Leon Cypher, had lost everything in the blink of an eye. There was no sound except for shallow breaths and scattered thoughts drifting through the air, lost between belief and denial.

Then, amidst the charged stillness, metallic footsteps echoed through the hall. Three guards advanced, led by the first with steady steps, followed closely by the other two. The sound of their boots announced something approaching... something unavoidable.

One of the guards murmured to his companion on the left, "Man... how are we going to tell her?"

But the other didn't respond, didn't even try. He simply exhaled silently, as if words were a burden too heavy to bear, then continued walking.

When they arrived, they halted before Marchioness Atris Starkov.

"Your grace..."

The first guard spoke in a hushed voice, yet it carried an unmistakable weight.

Atris lifted her gaze to them in mild confusion, cutting off her conversation with Raymond. She responded in a calm but wary tone, "Yes, guards?"

The first guard took a deep breath, as if bracing himself for something difficult, then said with a tense but firm voice, "Please... you need to come with us. There is something you must see."

Raymond's eyes narrowed in suspicion, while Atris... despite the growing unease within her... showed nothing. She merely exhaled softly before stepping forward with measured steps. "Very well… of course."

The guard gave a slight nod before turning away, followed by his comrades. Atris walked behind them, Raymond trailing after her, and behind them, Sir Darian, silent but alert.

And the moment they crossed the grand doors of the hall… the scent of iron struck them... a dark, metallic stench. Before them stretched corridors drenched in blood, splattered against the walls, seeping into the floors, whispering the story of silent massacres.

A shiver crept down everyone's spines as they stopped before a closed door.

The first guard hesitated for a moment, then exhaled slowly and spoke in a quiet voice, as if announcing an irreversible catastrophe.

"here..."

He pushed the door open gently, as if afraid of waking something slumbering beyond it. It creaked open slowly, revealing a dimly lit room, where a heavy silence lingered... as if the walls held secrets too dreadful to be spoken.

The guard stepped into the center of the room and stopped, waiting for Atris to enter.

With hesitant steps, she crossed the threshold, but something in the air made her slow down. Her breath grew heavier, as if the very air had thickened around her.

Noticing her bewildered gaze, the guard subtly tilted his head to the left without uttering a word.

Atris instinctively turned in that direction... and her eyes landed on something she had not expected.

There, on the bed, lay a body. Covered with a white sheet.

She froze for a moment, her mind rejecting what her eyes were seeing. Her brow lifted slightly, as if expecting the scene before her to be an illusion. But it wasn't.

She turned to the guard, searching for an explanation, but his face was lowered, his features weighed down by grief, as if his eyes dared not meet hers.

Then, Sir Darian entered, stepping beside her. His gaze rested on the body for a moment before he moved... slowly.

Finally, the first guard broke the silence, his voice quiet but carrying a definitive tone, as if delivering an irreversible verdict.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

In that moment… Atris's heart clenched.

Her eyes widened suddenly, and her chest tightened, as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.

"What...?!"

The word escaped her lips in a strangled voice, as if caught in her throat, refusing to emerge. She took a step forward, then another, but her feet felt heavy, as if the ground itself was pulling her back... keeping her from the truth that lay beneath that white sheet.

Her breaths quickened, her gaze locked onto the body, refusing to believe. She looked at the guard again, but there was no escape from the answer, no room for doubt.

With a trembling hand, she hesitated for a moment before grasping the edge of the sheet.

"No..."

The word left her lips as a whisper, a desperate attempt to stop time itself.

Then… she pulled the cover away.

And upon seeing that face, time froze.

She saw nothing of the world around her. She did not hear the guards' uneasy breathing, nor feel the cold air biting into her bones. Everything faded away, leaving only those lifeless features... pale, cold, still as stone... the face of her daughter.

She stared. She did not blink. She did not breathe. Her soul remained suspended between the moment before the truth and the moment after... between the shattered hope and the void left in its wake.

Her lips did not move, yet a silent scream echoed within her, a cry she refused to let escape.

Barbara...

She did not say it, but she felt it tearing her apart from the inside... like an arrow lodged deep in her chest, like pain itself had become a living thing, devouring her without mercy.

The shock threatened to steal her composure, to break down the walls she had built over the years, yet no tears fell from her eyes, no trace of weakness surfaced. No collapse. No breakdown. Only a deadly silence, as if her grief was too vast to be seen, too profound to be spoken.

Slowly, she extended her hand, her fingers brushing against Barbara's cold cheek... searching for warmth that was no longer there.

How small had she been when Atris first held her hand? How many times had she sworn to protect her?

And now, here she stood... above the ashes of that promise, above her daughter's corpse, above the blood she had failed to prevent from spilling.

At that moment, Raymond entered the room, his heavy steps barely able to mask his trembling. His eyes widened, then narrowed, as if refusing to see, refusing to understand. He wanted to speak, to say something... anything... but no words could suffice.

As for Sir Darian, he stood beside him but said nothing. His heart was burdened, as if the weight of this moment was too great to bear, yet he dared not break the silence. Because he knew… there were no words for this pain.

Atris closed her eyes for a moment... just a moment... to bury deep within her all that no one should see.

Then, with the same cold composure they were used to, she lifted the sheet and placed it back over Barbara's face.

She turned slowly and looked at the first guard, her voice steady... without a tremor, without a break.

Atris: "Who did this?"

The first guard lifted his gaze to her, hesitation heavy in his expression, as if the words he was about to speak carried an unbearable weight. For a moment, he nearly faltered, nearly remained silent, but the sharpness in the Countess's eyes forced the truth from him... leaving no room for escape.

He took a deep breath, then spoke in a low voice... sharp as a blade.

"We suspect… Aqua Nightover."

It was as if the room exhaled its final breath. The air froze in place, the walls seemed to close in, and the world itself bowed under the weight of those words. And yet, Atris's expression did not change.

No shock. No anger. No sign of visible surprise. Only that deadly silence... that stillness more terrifying than any other reaction.

It was not merely an absence of sound. It was a void that consumed everything.

Atris. Every eye turned to her, searching for a crack in her composure, any sign that what she had heard had shaken her. But… there was nothing. Only her eyes, deep as an abyss without end.

But on the other side…

Raymond. His eyes widened slowly.... not with ordinary shock, but the kind of realization one tries to deny for as long as possible.

Sir Darian furrowed his brows, his eyelids flickering for a moment, as if his mind refused to comprehend.... or rather, refused to believe that it had truly happened.

The first guard stepped forward, his tone not loud, yet carrying the weight of the nightmare they had witnessed.

"When we arrived… the corridors were drowned in blood."

One sentence, yet it shattered the silence into pieces.

A single sentence, yet it shattered the silence into fragments. It wasn't just a description; it was a vivid image that took shape in everyone's minds.

The hallways, once adorned with royal banners and pristine white marble, had become an open grave.

Corpses lay scattered—some piled upon each other, others beyond recognition.

Blood… not mere stains, but rivers, torrents flowing across the tiles, painting a scene of absolute chaos.

And the scent of iron… mingled with the stench of death, creating an oppressive atmosphere, as if the very air had been tainted by the lives torn from their owners.

"Men fought to defend the palace to their last breath."

Souls collapsed, bodies torn apart by an unrelenting force—but there were no two sides to this battle.

There was no fair fight, no struggle between equal forces.

There was only a massacre… and a single executioner.

Aqua Nightover.

The scene was more than just a bloody battle; it was the embodiment of catastrophe.

One man, amidst a crowd of soldiers, utterly alone.

Yet he was not the hunted—he was the hunter. Every strike, every movement, was calculated with precision, as if death itself obeyed the commands of his hands.

The royal guards did not fall all at once. They fell one by one.

Every scream bore witness to their despair, every corpse was a remnant of a resistance that lasted mere moments, and every drop of blood was a note in a tragic melody, played by a man who should never have been angered.

"Everything pointed to a fierce battle… from only one side."

His final words fell upon the room like an inescapable sentence of death.

The massacre was not a battle—it was an execution.

There was no loser and victor, only the condemned and the executioner.

And Aqua Nightover…

was the executioner.

He paused for a moment, then continued, as if the words themselves weighed heavily on his tongue.

"And then we found the body of Sir Barbara Starkov."

He lowered his head slightly, then slowly raised his hand, holding an arrow wrapped in a bloodstained cloth.

"And this arrow… was embedded in her neck."

At that moment, Atris's hand trembled involuntarily. Her body shuddered for a brief moment, but she did not take a single step. She only stared at her daughter, frozen in deadly stillness.

Raymond, who had not taken his eyes off the arrow, stepped forward with steady steps, his voice calm.

Raymond: "Are you saying… this arrow is what killed her? There were no other wounds?"

The guard looked at him in confusion before shaking his head.

"No… We found no other injuries, except for this arrow."

Raymond exhaled slowly, his expression darkening as he spoke with certainty.

Raymond: "Then… it wasn't him."

The guard hesitated for a moment, confusion flashing across his face.

"Excuse me? I don't understand…"

Raymond turned his face toward him, locking eyes with a piercing gaze.

Raymond: "Aqua doesn't fight with arrows like cowards… He is a swordsman."

Sir Darian intervened, his voice calm but firm.

Darian: "Yes… I agree. I've never seen him use a bow and arrow in his life."

Silence fell over the room, as if the entire space had held its breath.

But Atris… said nothing.

She only stared, a long, unwavering gaze at her daughter lying before her. As if waiting for her to wake up.

The room stilled for a moment, as if the very air had frozen, as if time itself had stopped in fear of what was to be said next. The first guard swallowed hard before speaking in a barely audible voice, as if afraid his words might trigger another earthquake upon the ruins.

"Then… could it be… Nithor Rakalion?"

It was as if lightning had struck her body. Atris jolted violently, turning around slowly... like a beast provoked from its slumber. Her tear-filled eyes reflected the torchlight, shining with a mixture of rage, denial, and fear.

Atris: "W-What…?"

Her voice was hoarse, disbelieving, as if the words carried no meaning to her, as if her mind refused to translate them into tangible reality.

The guard hesitated, swallowing hard, sensing that what he was about to say might ignite flames impossible to extinguish.

"We found him dead… behind the doors of the throne hall…"

Silence seeped into the space once more, but it was not the usual silence. It was a silence where one could almost hear the humming of the air, the heartbeat of the walls, and the screams yet to be unleashed.

Raymond exhaled slowly... not surprised, but the worry he had suppressed all this time had begun to surface on his features.

As for Sir Darian, he closed his eyes for a moment, his brows furrowed tightly, as if suppressing an anger on the verge of eruption.

But Atris…

She suddenly collapsed onto her knees, as if her legs could no longer support her weight. It wasn't just a loss of balance... it was a fall too heavy to be merely physical.

Sir Darian immediately stepped forward, grasping her by the arm, but her hands remained stretched out on the ground, fingers clenched as if trying to grasp something that wasn't there. As if trying to hold onto reality itself before it crumbled around her.

Her tears did not fall gently. They erupted... burning, searing.

Yet she did not wail, did not scream. Instead, she whispered, her voice fragile, shattered... more agonizing than any cry:

Atris: "I should have killed him… I should have killed him…

I... I..."

She repeated it in a broken voice, her words mingling with ragged sobs, as if even the air was betraying her as she tried to speak. Tears streamed down her face, falling unchecked, each drop carrying the weight of sorrow too heavy to bear. Her voice was weak, shattered, each word torn from her soul with force, as if she were desperately trying to hold onto something that was crumbling between her fingers.

Atris: "... I should be in her place..."

Her body trembled, her breath uneven, caught between gasps and silence. It was not just grief... it was the unraveling of something deeper, something fundamental within her. A collapse that went beyond the body, beyond the mind. It was as if the pillars of her existence had cracked, as if the very meaning she had built her life upon had been ripped away, leaving nothing but a hollow, gaping void.

Her fingers dug into the cold floor, searching for stability that no longer existed. The world around her felt distant, blurred, as if she were sinking into a chasm where time and reality no longer mattered. Thoughts clashed within her mind... regret, rage, despair... all intertwining into an unbearable weight pressing down on her chest. She wanted to scream, but even sound had abandoned her.

She was falling. Not in body, but in soul. And there was no bottom to this descent... only the endless abyss of what should have been, but never would be.

Her voice emerged faintly at first, as if the words themselves struggled to escape from her wounded soul. Slowly, with each broken sob, she began to recite the words of House Starkov... words steeped in a legacy of pain and resilience, etched deep into her very blood.

Atris, in a halting, choked whisper: "From the stars... to the earth... we know only steadfastness...

...and we do not bow... to death..."

For a moment, her voice faltered in a pained cry, as tears streamed relentlessly onto the blood-stained pillow beside her. In that instance, sorrow intertwined with a longing for a past when unity symbolized strength. It was as if each word struck her like a blade, reopening old wounds... reminders of a time when turmoil was her constant companion, and death, an inescapable fate.

Atris: "Dear... how did you feel then...I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... My child..."

Atris felt those words echo in her ears, whispering that pain was the price to pay for maintaining resolve, that death was not an end, but a threshold to a new form of endurance. Yet, she could not catch her breath as memories and grief overwhelmed her, until she finally collapsed onto the floor... her broken body succumbing to the weight of her anguish, tears flowing like the unending blood of the earth.

She repeated it unconsciously, endlessly, as if rewriting a fate that never was, as if trying to force time backward with words alone.

But time did not listen.

And all that remained for her… was emptiness.