The Holder of Light

Panic crept over them all like a thick fog suddenly engulfing the daylight. Screams and hurried footsteps filled the air as they realized Gavrilo and Nate had vanished—when just moments ago, both of them had been safely tucked inside Arion's coat pocket. And now, there was no trace, no sign. Not even Arion himself had felt a thing… as if the two had simply evaporated into nothingness.

Their knees dropped to the cobblestone street, as if no longer able to bear the weight of a loss so sudden and strange. Hope shattered into fine splinters. In a near-hysterical sob, Arion—with swollen eyes and a trembling voice—urged the others to return. Their only hope now rested on Archer. Maybe... just maybe he could help. But behind that hope, fear lurked. One name sent shivers down all their spines: Aiden.

Yet even as fear clutched at them, they chose to resist it. They had to go back. They had to tell.

And as they stepped into the courtyard of Wastu—barely setting foot—they were met with an odd sight. Archer and the others were already standing firm, as if they had known they would come. As if they had already read the fate about to fall before them.

Zayyan stood with a warm smile that almost never faded. Archer, upright with a face as cold as the polar ice, stared unblinking at them. And Aiden... his face was hard and sharp, like a wild beast catching the scent of blood in the air. His gaze pierced, pinning them all in place.

Silence crept in, deafening.

Archer finally spoke. Softly, but with a chill that cut to the bone.

"How did the search go?"

No answer. Only glances crashing into each other. They remained silent, mouths sealed as if stitched shut by guilt and fear. There was something far darker than mere loss… and they all knew it.

Sensing something was wrong, Archer stepped forward. His voice now sharper, yet still controlled.

"Your Highness, you're silent? What's the matter?"

The flat tone struck Arion's heart like a death bell. Every hair on his body stood on end. His breath caught. And as the eyes of his companions turned to him—urging him to speak—Arion knew, there was no place left to hide. The grim truth now had to be faced, in front of the coldest shadow they had ever known.

Not Archer. Not Zayyan either. Arion knew very well, those two would never be angry at him. They were always the anchors in the storm, the calm when everything fell apart. Archer would look for a solution, and Zayyan would always stand as a light. But Aiden... he was the fear they could never outrun. Not because of his rage, but because of his silence—cold, sharp, and deadly like a blade hanging above the neck.

That was why Arion remained mute. Not because he didn't want to speak… but because the voice of his fear was louder than the voice of his heart.

Unfortunately, lying before those three figures was the same as challenging something far greater than himself. Archer's gaze—cold but understanding—cut through Arion's face like clear glass. From his eyes alone, Archer already knew… Arion was piecing together an excuse, trying to twist words away from the truth.

Archer didn't get angry. He didn't raise his voice. But his words came like a loud whisper from behind the fog:

"Your Highness, if this is about Aiden… you don't need to hold it in. Just say the truth. Let me deal with him."

Those words stabbed like cold wind against an open wound.

Arion swallowed hard. There was no way back now. Surrounded by three pairs of eyes—warm, sharp, and judging—he drew in a deep breath, holding it in lungs that felt like they were collapsing. In a moment that seemed to slow down, the world seemed to stop turning just to hear one thing: the truth.

Then slowly, he exhaled.

And in that very moment, he began to speak. No pretenses. No protective layers. Just truth, raw and sharp, flowing from his mouth. About the disappearance of Gavrilo and Nate. About how they vanished without a trace. About fear... and about Aiden.

"Nate and Gavrilo… are gone."