Third Arc (Fallen Heart) - 413. Two Rivers Flowing From The Same Black Spring II
The old man's lips pressed into a thin line as he weighed his options, gaze flicking toward the window where the wind outside howled faintly against the old wooden frame. "Then at least let me offer you horses. Strong ones. They know these forests better than most men do."
Angel's gaze softened, appreciative but firm. "I'm afraid we won't need them."
"Even so—" Silvan tried again, a bit more desperate this time. "You're traveling without escort. No soldiers, no guards. Even your shadows don't follow you here."
Rose's lips curved slightly. "We prefer it that way, tonight."
Silvan stared for a long moment, the candlelight dancing across his weathered face. Finally, with a reluctant sigh, he lowered his head slightly. "You two... you really are quite terrifying."
Angel offered a faint chuckle. "I've heard that before."
"Many times," Rose added with a soft smile, her fingers still curled around Angel's arm.
Silvan shook his head as he stood slowly, leaning on his cane. "Foolish as you may be, I won't argue further. But at least allow me the courtesy of walking you to the gate."
Angel inclined his head. "That, I'll accept."
They moved through the manor together, their steps light against the creaky old floorboards. The lamps along the hallway flickered gently as they passed, casting long shadows along the faded rugs. The night outside pressed against the windows like a giant beast watching them leave.
The main door opened with a low groan, the cold wind slicing through like thin knives against the warmth inside. The smell of pine, wet stone, and distant smoke filled their lungs as they stepped into the front courtyard.
The towering forest loomed beyond the estate, its black canopy stretching like twisted arms toward the heavens. The moon hung above them, veiled behind thin clouds that drifted like torn silk.
Silvan walked with them until they reached the gate. There, he stopped.
He looked at both of them, his eyes lingering a little longer on Angel. "Be careful. There are things in these woods that wouldn't dare approach my manor." His voice lowered, almost like a quiet warning. "But they may not fear you the way they fear me."
Angel nodded once, calm as always. "We know."
Silvan sighed again, his breath forming thin white clouds that curled and faded into the cold night air. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the faint scent of pine, damp earth, and something older lurking deeper in the woods.
"Then I'll pray to gods I don't believe in."
Rose offered him a soft, warm smile. "Thank you for everything."
The old man bowed deeply—not to their titles, not to the crowns they wore—but to the two people who had stood before him, burdened by powers neither of them fully understood.
"Good luck, Your Majesties."
With that, Silvan stepped back as Angel and Rose continued forward. Their steps were steady, deliberate, echoing faintly against the cold ground as they moved toward the edge of the estate. No guards followed. No carriages waited. No soldiers flanked their sides. Just the two of them alone beneath the moonlit sky.
They passed through the manor gate in silence.
Then—without warning, without spectacle—it began.
The shadows that clung to the edges of the trees seemed to stir, as though something unseen had gently brushed its hand across the world. The darkness shifted like silk curtains being pulled aside, not violently, but with eerie grace.
The air bent. Not as if folding under some great weight—but as if simply allowing them through.
The moment they crossed the threshold, their figures dissolved into the waiting dark.
Not swallowed. Not consumed.
Simply… absorbed.
The darkness that lived within Angel—the power that had become part of him long ago—wrapped itself around them both like an old companion, pulling them effortlessly into its hidden pathways. The mist swirled once where they had stood, then faded, as though nothing had ever been there at all.
The forest returned to its stillness. The world around it pretended to forget.
And Silvan, standing alone at the gate, watched that emptiness for a long moment before turning back toward his manor, heart heavy. "Dangerous people," he whispered under his breath, voice barely audible. "But perhaps… necessary."
The door closed behind him with a soft echo, leaving only the cold wind and the trees to keep watch.
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