Sir Varro stared at Khaos like he was something unholy. Not a boy but a threat. A question no one had the answer to. Slowly, he stepped forward and took the sword from Khaos's shaking hand. The blade dripped black blood. The weight of it, the truth of it, spoke louder than anything Khaos could say.
Two more knights emerged from the trees. One of them gagged at the smell. The other turned pale at the sight of the bodies.
"Get Lord Dylan out of here," Varro ordered, voice tight. "He's needs medical attention"
The moment they touched him, Dylan began to cry harder loud enough for everyone to hear.
"He killed them. Cedric… Lena… he killed them…"
The lie took root.
Khaos said nothing. He didn't have the words. Not for the burning in his chest. Not for the way the truth suddenly felt useless.
They didn't ask him what happened.
They didn't even look him in the eye.
By the time they led him back into the village, chains wrapped his wrists. Blood still stained his tunic. And the crowd that gathered at the gates didn't see a child returning from a fight.
They saw a monster dragging a corpse behind his shadow.
Later that night…
Whispers carried like wildfire through Velmira.
"He summoned it."
"It was the curse in his blood."
"The way his father looked same eyes. Same madness."
"Why is he even allowed to live near the barrier?"
"If he can kill one Xylen, what else is he hiding?"
Sir Rothan watched it all from the shadows.
He stood beside the prison hut where they'd locked Khaos, arms folded, jaw tight. The boy sat inside, unmoving, staring at the wall. Still caked in dried blood. Still shaking.
"He didn't do it," Rothan muttered to the other knight on guard.
The man shrugged. "Doesn't matter now. The nobles are calling for his trial."
"A trial?" Rothan's voice dropped low.
The other knight glanced away. "It's not a trial. Not really. It's just a matter of how loud they want the execution to be."
Rothan turned and walked away before he said something he couldn't take back.
The grand sitting room of the Ferrin estate felt colder than ever. The fire crackled in the hearth, but its warmth didn't reach the people in the room. Dylan stood near the center, face pale, eyes sunken. His body ached, not from wounds, but from exhaustion and guilt.
His mother sat in the corner, hands clasped tightly in her lap, her eyes flickering between Dylan and her husband. She looked like she wanted to speak, but didn't dare. His younger sister huddled beside her, wide-eyed and silent.
And then there was Ferrin.
Tall. Regal. Cold. The nobleman's stare could cut deeper than any sword, and it was fixed on Dylan like he was dirt underfoot.
"Start talking," Ferrin said quietly, folding his arms. "All of it. No lies."
Dylan swallowed hard, looking down at his muddied boots. "It was... it was me. I mean... it was us. Cedric, Lena, and me. We " he hesitated. "We thought if we lured a Xylen into the woods, we could kill it. Together. Prove we were strong. Prove we were ready."
His mother let out a shaky gasp. Ferrin didn't even blink.
"You what?" Ferrin asked, his voice calm but edged with steel.
"We bribed one of the knights. Paid him to walk away from his post for a bit," Dylan continued, eyes locked on the floor. "I gave him my silver ring... the one from Grandfather. We left a trail of blood from the forest edge. It was my idea. I thought" he finally looked up, voice cracking, "I thought if we killed one, people would stop looking at me like I was a joke. That you would... you would finally see me."
Ferrin stared at him for a long moment, silent. Then, he turned his back and began pacing slowly across the polished floor.
"So this is what it's come to," he muttered, almost to himself. "You thought dragging a demon into the village was a good way to earn praise? Are you mad, boy?"
Dylan flinched. "It wasn't supposed to get past the trees. We were supposed to fight it near the barrier"
"And two of you died," Ferrin snapped, turning sharply. "Do you know what this could've cost us? Do you? You're lucky the village isn't already at our gates demanding blood!"
Dylan's voice was small. "I didn't mean for anyone to die..."
"But they did," Ferrin said coldly. "Lena. Cedric. Their families will want answers. And you.. you ran, didn't you?"
Dylan's lips parted, but no sound came.
"You ran," Ferrin repeated. "And you let that cursed Khaos boy fight the monster in your place."
"I froze... I.. I didn't know what to do"
"You were born knowing nothing," Ferrin cut in. "You've been a disappointment since the day you drew breath. I told your mother not to coddle you. I told her, he's not like Alaric."
He paused, then pointed to the large portrait on the far wall. A noble knight clad in gold, with flowing dark hair and a proud stance.
"Your brother," Ferrin said, "has served in the Royal Guard since he was seventeen. He's fought raiders in the north, protected nobles from assassination. You? You nearly got yourself killed by playing hero with two children."
"I just wanted to be seen," Dylan whispered. "To make you proud."
"Proud?" Ferrin laughed bitterly. "Of what? Cowardice? Arrogance? You couldn't even finish the job."
Dylan's fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white. "I didn't ask to be compared to Alaric every time I breathe..."
"And yet you keep failing to measure up," Ferrin replied without hesitation. "He made this house proud. You've only stained its name."
Silence hung heavy between them. Ferrin turned away again, walking toward the window, looking out at the fog-shrouded village below.
"You should've died with them," he said quietly. "At least then you wouldn't have to live knowing how badly you failed."
Dylan gasped, taking a step back like the words had struck him across the face.
"But," Ferrin added, "you did make one smart move. Blaming that boy. Khaos. That was clever. The villagers already hate him. His name's already poison. No one will question it."
Dylan didn't respond.
Ferrin turned back to him. "Thanks to you, we've bought ourselves time. The other noble families will grieve their children, yes, but they won't point fingers at us. That's what matters. Not your guilt. Not your feelings."
"I didn't do it to protect the family," Dylan said softly. "I did it because I didn't want to be punished. I was scared. I didn't want you to look at me like this again..."
"I always look at you like this, Dylan," Ferrin said. "Because I see you clearly. A hollow, trembling thing trying to pretend he's a warrior."
His mother finally rose to speak. "Ferrin, please, he's still just a boy"
"No," Ferrin growled. "He stopped being a boy when he dragged a demon into our home. And now, he'll live with the consequences."
Dylan's voice was shaking now. "What consequences?"
Ferrin walked closer, looking down at him. "You're being sent to one of the family's outer holdings. A farm estate in the north. It's quiet. Out of sight. Perhaps there, you'll learn what work means. What silence means. Maybe then you'll grow into something that's not a disgrace."
"I..No. You're sending me away? You're... banishing me?"
"Don't be dramatic. You'll be alive. You'll eat. That's more than you deserve."
Dylan's chest felt like it would cave in. He glanced at his mother she didn't meet his eyes.
Ferrin turned and walked away. "Pack your things. You leave tomorrow."
As the door closed behind him, the silence swallowed the room. Dylan stood there, alone in every way.
He sat on the edge of the hearth, staring into the flames, numb. Minutes passed. Then an hour.
And then the numbness turned into something else. Something sharp. Something burning.
"If I'm a failure," he whispered to the fire, "then I'll make sure they remember what a failure can do."
He stood, shaking. A plan forming in the dark.
this time, he wouldn't just prove himself.
He'd end everything.