Chapter 2
“Milady! Milady!”
Her head felt like it was about to split open.
When she slowly lifted her heavy eyelids, she saw Anton, sniffling and sobbing.
That crybaby. Just how much had he bawled for his nose to swell up to the size of a fist?
Staria slowly reached back to touch the spot where she had been struck. She felt the tight bandages wrapped around the wound. From the missing sleeve on Anton’s shirt, it seemed he had torn it off to dress her injury.
She was trying to piece together her scattered memories when a chilling scream rang out.
Drawn as if bewitched, Staria got up and ran toward the village square. The pain from her wound worsened, as if it had torn open, but she couldn’t stop.
Anton, following behind, grabbed her wrist, but she shook him off and kept running.
“…My God.”
What lay before her eyes… was hell.
“Kyaaaaah!”
“Father! I’m scared! S-someone help us!”
“R-run! …Ugh.”
The village was being trampled by unknown assailants. Houses burned down to ash, and with each swing of their swords and spears, the metallic tang of blood filled the air.
People who had been joyfully celebrating the festival barely an hour ago now lay sprawled on the ground as corpses.
“Uurgh—”
Standing on the dirt now stained dark red, Staria gagged.
The sound of her retching drew the attention of a man on a black horse. Luckily, Anton pulled her down into the bushes before their eyes could meet.
The man wiped away the blood splattered across his face, then grinned—like a man gone mad with the joy of slaughter. And right beside him… stood Nancy.
“Nancy! Was it you who opened the gate for him?”
The village elder’s voice thundered with rage, and Nancy smiled in affirmation.
“How could you?”
“I couldn’t do it alone, so I had some help.”
“Wretched girl! You’ve brought a curse into your own family!”
“Let’s be clear. My only sister died five years ago—what family do I have? Everyone treated me as ‘poor Nancy,’ ‘pitiful Nancy,’ some object of half-hearted sympathy. Well, look. In the end, it’s you who turned out pitiful.”
“Do you not know why our ancestors hid themselves here?! The power we possess is both a blessing and a curse. It must never belong to a single individual!”
“No. This man is fully worthy of it.”
“You foolish child! When the hunt is over, the hunting dogs are always boiled… kuh!”
The elder couldn’t finish his sentence.
Following their leader’s orders, one of the knights drove a sword deep into his abdomen.
Staria wished this was all just a dream—
a nightmare that would vanish come morning.
But for a mere ten-year-old, the scene before her was far too cruel to endure. She slowly closed and opened her eyes, hoping the world would be back to normal.
Yet the world remained stained in red—and worse, death’s shadow loomed ever closer.
At some point, a knight holding a spear had approached right in front of her. His eyes were hollow, devoid of anything. Even with an axe embedded in his calf, he showed no sign of feeling pain.
I need to move…
But her legs were frozen.
At that moment, an arrow whistled through the air and pierced the knight’s heart, dropping him instantly.
“Are you all right?”
It was the face she had longed to see.
The moment she saw Cassandra standing there with her bow, Staria burst into tears.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Mother! I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. This happened because of me! I…”
If only she had stayed home.
If only she hadn’t gone to the watchtower.
If only she had suspected Nancy’s strange behavior and called for the adults…
Countless regrets tormented her.
“Daughter, look at me.”
With great effort, Staria raised her head to meet Cassandra’s gaze. The tears that had been welling spilled down her cheeks.
“You’ve done nothing wrong. Not a single thing.”
With no time to properly comfort her sobbing daughter, Cassandra reached for the quiver at her thigh, pulling out three arrows. She set them all on the bowstring at once and loosed them at the charging knights. One’s head burst apart, and she seized its riderless horse to halt its momentum.
“Quick, get on.”
Anton obeyed and leapt onto the saddle. Thanks to the riding lessons Cassandra had once drilled into him, keeping balance on a bucking horse wasn’t too difficult.
Unfastening the necklace from her own neck, Cassandra tied it firmly around Staria’s.
“Go down this road and head due south. Eventually, you’ll reach a river shrouded in mist. No matter how deep or cold the water is, you must cross it. Once you do, you’ll be at the edge of the Gulas Forest.”
“And there?”
“Yes. That’s where ‘he’ is. When you meet ‘him,’ show him this necklace. He’ll protect you.”
“…”
“If you lose your way, look to the night sky. The stars will guide you.”
Her mother’s words felt too much like a final farewell. Staria clung to her waist, her fists white-knuckled. She couldn’t let go—if she did, it felt like they would never meet again.
“What about you? You’re coming with us, right?”
“I’ll deal with them and follow. Go on ahead.”
“Please, let’s go together!”
“From the day you came into my life, there hasn’t been a moment I wasn’t happy. I love you, my star.”
She kissed her daughter’s forehead, then lifted her up and handed her to Anton.
“I leave her in your care.”
“Yes.”
Though short and simple, that answer was enough for her.
“Go.”
Cassandra turned, bow drawn taut, and at that signal, the horse carrying the two of them kicked off the ground and galloped away.
She didn’t know how long they had been riding.
At some point, the sun that had risen in the east set in the west and rose again.
Her backside, sore at first, had long since gone numb.
Anton gripped the slackening reins again and glanced at the girl seated before him.
The young lady, who had been screaming and sobbing to wait for her mother, had gone silent.
She was clever—clever enough to have realized that Lady Cassandra might never come.
“Have I ever told you how I met Lady Cassandra?”
At the mention of her mother, the small shoulders slumped like a corpse gave a tiny twitch.
“When I was just about your age, my drunkard father sold me into slavery for three segel. About the price of two glasses of rum.”
At the time, he had almost felt relieved—at least as a slave, he thought, he wouldn’t starve as long as he worked.
But even after working until his fingernails came off, all he got was moldy bread and watery soup. By day, he endured vile curses and the sting of whips tearing flesh from his back; by night, he was dragged into the master’s chambers to suffer every humiliation.
Slaves were property, so they couldn’t even end their own lives without permission.
He hadn’t run away to live—he’d run away to die.
Fleeing pursuit, he wandered into the desert, walking aimlessly for days until he collapsed. Lying there, looking up at the blindingly bright sky, he’d cursed the gods for singling him out for such cruelty.
And then, like a mirage, she had appeared—Cassandra. She had paid an unthinkable price to bring him into her village, one that never accepted outsiders, and made him one of them.
“The day I followed Lady Cassandra home, there you were in a cradle. You grabbed my finger and smiled at me.”
Even though he had been covered in filth inside and out, the baby had smiled as if none of that mattered. She had been his salvation.
The vow he had made that day, with his very soul, he could finally fulfill today.
Because the ground was shaking.
“…Anton?”
“Don’t worry.”
He reassured the anxious young lady and spurred the horse faster.
Behind them, hoofbeats thundered in relentless pursuit. In the open plain, there was nowhere to hide, so the only option was to keep running.
“Anton! The river! We’re almost there!”
The scent of water mist reached their noses—just as something slammed into his right shoulder. He nearly cried out in pain. Back in his slave days, this kind of injury would’ve been nothing, but perhaps he had been living too comfortably lately.
He shielded Staria protectively, as if not even a single hair on her head could be harmed.
It didn’t pierce through—just lodged into the muscle.
That meant it wasn’t a long-range weapon like an arrow, but something shorter—likely a dagger.
Glancing back, he could now see the enemy’s faces. Their leader raised another weapon high into the air.
“Milady! Take the reins!”
He placed the reins in her small hands just as a sharp blade slammed into his side.
The horse carrying them burst into the mist, and the sound of splashing water filled their ears.
They had reached the river.
“Promise me—promise me you’ll survive, no matter what it takes.”
“Don’t say that. Please. If you’re gone too, I…”
Of course, the clever girl had realized this was goodbye.
Not wanting to be remembered as a crybaby, he smiled brightly.
“You’ll live, won’t you?”
“…”
“Promise me.”
“…Yes.”
“I promise too—I won’t give up easily. So keep your eyes forward and go.”
Hugging Staria so tightly it nearly crushed her, Anton leapt from the galloping horse.
Sword in hand, he faced the oncoming enemies head-on, his gaze unshaken, as if declaring that not a single one of them would pass.
She had nearly drowned several times, but eventually, she reached the shore.
The moment her feet touched solid ground, Staria’s head drooped.
Survivor’s guilt.
The despair of never seeing her loved ones again.
She bit her lip to keep from breaking down, but there was no way a ten-year-old girl, suddenly dropped into a strange place alone, could hold back the sorrow closing in on her.
Drops of water—whether tears or river water, she couldn’t tell—fell to the ground, darkening the soil.
It was unfair. It was unbearable.
She wanted to cry her heart out, but she held back. If she cried, it would be like admitting that her mother and Anton were gone. They were alive—they had to be. So she couldn’t cry.
She was swallowing her sobs when—
“Who are you?”
“Hhic.”
At the chilling voice, Staria slowly raised her head, a hiccup escaping her lips.
A large, dark shadow approached.
The beast resembled a white tiger, but without a horn on its forehead. Its eyes were blue, but it wasn’t one-eyed—instead, both were a brilliant sapphire. Its pure silver fur was unmarred by any stray hairs.
It didn’t match the description her mother had given, yet she knew instantly—this was “him.”
“Hhic… Are you… Dracalla Damon Haska?”
“That a lowly human would know my true name… State your identity.”
Even with his beautiful outward appearance, the cruelty in his first impression made her face go pale.
“H-hello… my husband?”
Hands trembling, Staria lifted the necklace to show him.
“I… am your bride.”
