CHAPTER XXI
"Ashes, Prophecies, and the Boy Reborn"
The moment Cael fell… something inside Rira broke.
Her breath caught in her chest, and a silent cry rose in her throat — the kind that doesn't need words to be heard.
Tears welled in her eyes, trembling at the edge of her lashes, but she didn't let them fall.
Not yet.
Then… Flash stepped closer. His voice was so low it was almost carried away by the wind.
"Rira…" he whispered. "Don't cry. He can hear you."
Rira blinked, startled, looking at Flash in confusion. Her lips parted to speak, but someone else beat her to it.
It was Chiko.
And for the first time, I heard his voice… clearly.
Not just a wild noise, not just a chant of "Rira, Rira," like he always did — but actual words.
"What do you mean?" he asked, eyes wide with disbelief.
Flash turned slightly toward him, a deep knowing in his gaze. "He can't die. Not like this. Not yet."
His voice held more than certainty — it held faith. A faith carved from something far more ancient than belief. Something like truth.
"This isn't how his story ends," Flash continued. "His death was prophesied… but not now. Not here. He's not done yet."
I looked at him — searching for some kind of answer, some kind of reason to hold on to the hope he was handing us.
"But… how?" I asked, voice cracking under the weight of grief and confusion.
Flash didn't answer.
He just stepped back.
And then — it began.
The pieces of Cael's body — the fine, powder-like fragments of his shattered form — started to stir.
Like dust rising in reverse.
First, the grains lifted gently into the air, weightless and glowing faintly with a light that didn't belong to this world. Then they began pulling toward one another — dancing, swirling, uniting in patterns too complex for the human eye to follow.
We watched in stunned silence.
The very essence of Cael was rebuilding itself — bone to flesh, light to form.
And then, standing where there had been nothing but silence and death…
A new body formed.
Taller. Stronger. Smoother.
His skin glowed with a pale warmth. His arms were more slender now, but not weak — graceful, fluid, like the movement of wind wrapped in silk. And his hands… they looked soft. Too soft. Too human.
His hair was longer now — falling in waves like midnight rain, framing a face I couldn't yet see.
Because…
His face was hidden beneath that curtain of hair.
I wanted to rush forward. I wanted to see him. I needed to see him — to know that it was still him underneath that new skin.
But something stopped me.
He didn't move.
Not yet.
It was as if even time was holding its breath, waiting for this reborn Cael to open his eyes… to remind the world who he was.
Or to reveal…
That maybe…
He wasn't the same anymore.
Maybe the Cael we knew had died in that explosion.
And this… this was someone else.
Someone born not of prophecy…
…but of power.
Of purpose.
Of something the world had yet to understand.
And in that frozen second, as we all stood there — unsure whether to mourn or to kneel — a single terrifying, beautiful thought passed through my heart:
"He has changed. And so has everything."
"The Forbidden Door and the Voice That Changed"
Cael stood before the second door, the weight of failure heavy on his shoulders. One mistake had already burned him — quite literally. He wasn't ready to risk another with his bare hands.
Not this time.
He stretched out his palm slowly, and with a deep breath, began to summon magic. The air around him shimmered, threads of power weaving from his fingers — invisible to most, but pulsing with intensity that made the hairs on my arms rise.
This wasn't just any spell.
This was Cael's magic.
Ancient. Untamed. Dangerous.
He wasn't touching the door — he was commanding it.
But then—
A sound.
A piercing, horrible sound.
Like the scream of a thousand dying stars.
Like thunder inside your skull.
It was so loud — so violent — that it felt like our very minds were being torn in half.
We all instinctively covered our ears, dropping whatever we were holding, retreating from whatever we were doing. I saw Flash stumble. Chiko flinched. Even Rira, who never blinked under pressure, winced and stepped back.
The voice — cold and all-powerful — rang out from the very walls of the chamber.
> "Magic is forbidden.
Attempting to open the doors by force shall result in your punishment.
You will be cast into the Well of Death."
Then… silence.
No echo. No wind. Just… silence.
Cael slowly lowered his hand, his jaw tightening. He didn't say anything. He didn't scream in frustration. He just stood there — still and cold.
But I knew something in him had changed.
He had gambled with forbidden power… and lost.
And now… he had only one option left.
Chance.
I saw him glance toward the remaining doors, his expression unreadable. And then — almost too casually — he began to count under his breath.
"One… two…"
He stopped.
"…Three."
He walked up to the third door and opened it.
No magic. No tricks.
Just the sound of the stone groaning… as another wrong choice revealed itself.
Suddenly — a new attack.
From the darkness behind the door, a vile hiss echoed, and a strange creature — half-shadow, half-flesh — launched a jet of something thick and green toward Cael.
It wasn't fire.
It wasn't poison.
It was saliva — burning and acidic, sent flying straight toward his heart.
But Cael was faster.
He didn't dodge.
He didn't flinch.
Instead — he raised a flower.
My flower.
I recognized it immediately — the same enchanted bloom I'd once worn in my hair. The same one that held the warmth of my magic. Somehow, he had kept it.
And now…
He had turned it into a shield.
As the creature's spit hit the bloom, it spread across the petal surface like oil — hissing, bubbling — but not breaking through.
The flower glowed gently, its magic holding firm.
Cael let out a strange sound then — not relief.
Laughter.
Dark.
Unsettling.
Twisted.
> "Hahahaha… hahahaha… Celeste…"
"I won't give you a painful death anymore."
"No. I'll let you die… slowly. Quietly. Gently."
The words cut through me like ice.
But what shattered me even more…
Was his voice.
It was no longer his.
Gone was the deep, calm tone I knew.
Gone was the controlled sharpness of a prince.
Now… it was higher.
Feminine.
Almost hauntingly beautiful in its softness — but wrong. So terribly wrong.
It was as if someone else had stolen his throat. Or maybe… something had awakened within him.
I couldn't move.
My feet were frozen, not from the cold of Ice Land — but from the fear wrapping around my spine.
Who was this?
Was it still Cael?
Or had something possessed him?
Had the doors… done this?
Was this the price of challenging fate too soon?
I didn't know.
None of us did.
But one thing was certain —
I was no longer in control of this journey.
I was no longer chasing a prince.
I was trapped in a magical nightmare.
A maze of spells, riddles, voices, and veils.
And now…
Even the person I was trying to save…
Was slipping away from me.
"The Door of Destiny"
Cael stood before yet another door — the fourth one now.
His expression was unreadable. The air around him still shimmered faintly from the last attack, and his body, though healing, carried quiet bruises of both flesh and spirit.
But this time…
This time, when he placed his hand on the door — nothing exploded.
No pins flew.
No monstrous spit came hurling at him.
No traps, no curses.
Just a soft, low hum.
And then — the door creaked open.
Not violently. Not in anger.
Almost… gently.
As though it had been waiting for him.
Cael's eyes narrowed slightly, his muscles tensed, still cautious.
But after a breath — he stepped through.
Without hesitation.
And the moment I saw the door remain open for a second longer, my heart jumped.
"He found it," I whispered. "It's the right one…"
Without wasting another second, the rest of us rushed forward, invisible feet dashing silently through the still-chilled corridor. Rira's hand gripped mine as she pulled me along, and I barely had time to blink before we were inside — through the door that Cael's fate had finally opened.
The room beyond was unlike anything we had seen before.
It wasn't grand, nor glowing with power.
It was quiet. Dim. Sacred.
The kind of place where secrets were whispered — not declared.
A chamber built of ancient stone, with strange symbols etched into the walls. The air felt heavier here — not dangerous, but thick with old magic. Timeless. Watchful.
And in that strange silence, I turned to Flash — my voice low but firm.
"Flash," I asked, "back when the Rakshasa spoke… he said Cael could be wrong three times without consequence. But Cael was attacked after just two. Why?"
Flash looked at me for a long moment — his eyes steady, calm, but laced with something deeper. Regret? Understanding?
Then, in a hushed tone, he replied:
"There was no danger… if Cael had played by the rules."
I blinked. "What do you mean?"
Flash's gaze turned toward the place where Cael had walked ahead, his voice quiet — almost like he didn't want the walls themselves to hear.
"The Rakshasa said there would be no harm for guessing wrong three times — as long as Cael didn't interfere. But Cael…"
He paused.
"…he didn't wait. He looked into that creature's eyes and turned him to dust before the trial had truly begun."
My heart skipped.
"He broke the sequence," Flash continued. "And when you break rules in a world built on magic, even if it's for power or self-defense… the price always comes."
I stared at him, stunned. "So… because he destroyed the guardian, the protection of the 'three guesses' vanished?"
Flash nodded once.
"He opened the doors by force. He tried to use magic to cheat the trial. And then he defied the guardian itself. Those attacks weren't from the doors — they were from the broken order."
I swallowed hard, my mind racing.
"So… all of this… the explosions, the threats, the voice… it all happened because he took destiny into his own hands too soon."
Flash looked at me — not with fear, but with truth.
"He chose a path that wasn't meant to be taken that way. And the world responded."
A long silence followed between us, filled only by the distant hum of the magic still stirring through the chamber.
Finally, I whispered, "That's terrifying."
Flash's eyes didn't waver. "Yes," he said softly. "But it's also Cael. He doesn't wait for fate. He bends it — even when it breaks him."
I looked ahead again, toward the faint outline of his figure disappearing deeper into the hall.
And in that moment, I realized…
This wasn't just about opening doors anymore.
This was about how far one would go — how much one would endure — to break free of the chains even fate tried to bind them with.
Even if it meant rewriting the rules of destiny itself.
To be continued…