PART III: The Aftermath Of The Massacre
After hours the group began hearing voices closing in on the hole—voices of soldiers telling the common folk to get back as they started screaming into the hole, "Is there anyone alive?"
As Nex and Tazan moved closer to the edge of their shelter and started looking upwards to the massive height they needed to climb, pebbles started falling down as the soldiers got closer to the edge of the hole and dust crept upwards from the rubble beneath the shelter.
Before Nex and Tazan could even reply to the soldiers' questions, the flame wall that had become a small circle in the middle of the hole started shivering, shaking almost with anger.
Nex noticed and pulled back Tazan without being able to move him. Tazan just went back into the safety of the shelter himself, trusting Nex's instincts, and almost as if the wall was waiting for them, as soon as he went back to the shelter, the flame walls exploded, driving them back to their starting positions. More screams echoed from above as the trap claimed new victims.
After the first morning passed, the cries of the infant grew louder and more desperate with each passing hour. The child needed milk, and they were running out of time.
"We need to get out of here," Nex said, his voice steady despite his youth. "Tazan, you're the strongest. Can you climb?"
Tazan examined the walls, his massive frame casting shadows in the dim light. "I can try, but these walls..." He pressed his hand against the surface, and small pieces crumbled away. "They're not meant to hold weight."
"I'll go," Actaeon offered, struggling to his feet. "I'm lighter, and I've climbed worse than this hunting with my parents."
"With a piece of bow in your shoulder?" Nex shook his head. "Tazan, just try. We'll figure something out."
Tazan began his climb, his powerful arms pulling him upward. But after only three steps, his grip failed. He fell hard, landing with a thud that shook the ground.
When he looked at his hands, the flesh had peeled away from holding onto the rough stone, practically skinning his palms. Blood dripped steadily from his wounds.
"I can't get a good grip," he said, frustration clear in his voice. "But I can try again."
"No," Nex said firmly. "We need a different approach." He picked up two of the spears Jian had used to dig their escape hole. "Thank you for your sacrifice," he whispered to the dead ambassador.
"What are you thinking?" Actaeon asked, his archer's instincts recognizing the tactical gleam in Nex's eyes.
"Throw me," Nex said to Tazan. "As high as you can, right next to the wall. I'll use these spears to climb."
Tazan's white eyes widened. "Boy, you could die."
"The infant will die if we don't try."
After a moment of consideration, Tazan nodded. He wrapped his massive hands around Nex's back and legs, lifting him effortlessly.
"Ready?" Tazan asked.
Nex gripped the spears tightly. "Do it."
With a grunt of effort, Tazan launched Nex upward. The prince flew through the air, slamming against the wall and driving both spears deep into the stone. They penetrated just enough for him to hang on.
"Good throw!" Actaeon called up, his voice filled with grudging admiration.
Nex began his climb, each thrust of the spears weakening his grip and cutting his hands. The spears, hastily twisted together by Jian from smaller pieces of steel, bit into his palms with every movement.
After several terrifying moments where he nearly fell, Nex finally reached the top. He expected to find imperial soldiers, knights, maybe even Lucy and his siblings searching for him.
Instead, he found nothing. No one.
The area was completely deserted. Papers blew across empty streets, and as he read one that stuck to a nearby wall, he understood why. The emperor had declared the area a wasteland after the second eruption of the fire wall. Everyone had been evacuated from the next three neighborhoods.
Nex felt truly alone for the first time in his life.
Despite his exhaustion, Nex forced himself to move. The infant needed milk, and his friends needed rescue. The strange smell that had been bothering him finally made sense—it was the smell of charred remains. The empty streets were littered with what looked like human-shaped piles of coal.
The purple fire, he realized, had been designed to burn only human flesh. It had a purpose, a will of its own.
Then he saw them—goats, still alive, bleating softly, their eyes wild, unable to escape despite their struggles. He found a small pouch on one of the coal-black bodies and filled it with goat milk. Then he worked to free the goats, breaking the steel needles that held their chains with rocks and debris.
The massive chain was too heavy for him to carry, so he dragged it, his small body straining with effort. Using the broken steel needles, he secured the chain around a sturdy house, threading the needles through the chain links and into the walls to hold it in place.
Finally, he kicked the other end of the chain into the hole, too exhausted to throw it properly.
Below, Tazan saw the chain drop and immediately understood. He gathered cloth from the dead, wrapping his already-wounded hands in thick layers.
"Actaeon, can you climb on my back?" he asked.
Actaeon grimaced but nodded. "I've had worse hunting injuries. My parents always said pain was just weakness leaving the body."
Tazan helped him wrap the infant securely to Actaeon's back with more cloth. The baby had gone quiet, too weak to cry.
"Hold tight," Tazan said. "This is going to hurt."
The climb took nearly half an hour. Tazan's massive frame carried both Actaeon and the infant, his incredible strength pushing through the pain of his shredded hands. Actaeon gritted his teeth against the agony in his shoulder, but his archer's discipline kept him steady.
When they finally reached the top, they found Nex lying flat on his back, breathing heavily and unable to move.
"Just... need to catch my breath," he gasped.
Actaeon slid off Tazan's back carefully, his green eyes scanning their surroundings with hunter's instincts. "It's like a graveyard up here," he said quietly.
"We need medicine," Tazan said, examining his hands. "And something for the baby."
They found an abandoned pharmacy, its shelves still stocked with herbs and medical supplies. Nex, despite his exhaustion, read through the medical texts until he found treatments for broken bones, burns, and wounds.
Working together, they treated their injuries. Nex applied healing herbs to his and Tazan's wounds, while Tazan held Actaeon's legs steady as they splinted them with wooden sticks and tight bandages.
"Not bad for field medicine," Actaeon said, testing his mobility. "My parents would approve."
After feeding the infant, they rested for half a day, taking turns keeping watch.
"We need to get to Castle Drakmoor," Nex said as they prepared to move again.
His hair dye had completely dried out, unable to hide his distinctive black hair. Both Actaeon and Tazan exchanged glances as they realized who they were traveling with, but neither said a word.
"The castle's our best bet," Actaeon agreed, his tactical mind already planning their route. "Assuming we can get past any blockades."
They traveled slowly, taking frequent rests. Tazan carried the infant most of the time, his massive frame making the burden seem light. Actaeon limped but kept pace, his determination driving him forward.
As the sun rose on the second day, they reached an imperial blockade. The flag of royalty flew atop the checkpoint, and Nex felt a surge of hope.
"I am Prince Nex, son of the Sword Princess!" he called out to the first guard he saw. "Open the blockade and let us through to my home!"
Whispers came from behind a tent, voices too low for him to hear clearly. After a brief discussion, the guards granted them an audience.
The twins appeared—Alexander and Abigail.
But their reaction wasn't what Nex expected. Instead of relief and joy, their eyes filled with guilt. Even Alexander, the hotheaded prince who always insulted him, remained silent and handed him water without argument.
Princess Abigail tended to his injuries personally, her touch gentle but her expression troubled. As she dabbed at Nex's wounds, her hand paused mid-air. Her lips parted to speak—but no words came. Instead, she cleaned in silence, blinking away something unspoken, memories of Lucy's teachings flashed through her mind—how Lucy had shown her to read stories aloud, how those gentle bedtime tales had been the only thing that could calm Alexander's nightmares. The bond Lucy had helped them forge felt like a weight in her chest now.
In the privacy of their tent, Alexander paced restlessly while Abigail sat in troubled silence.
Alexander: "Why isn't he handing him over? He's keeping him around the palace—just in case, isn't he?"
Abigail: "You don't know that. You're just assuming. The emperor doesn't even care about him. I'd bet he's already forgotten Nex exists—that's why he hasn't handed him over."
Alexander: "No. It's Lucy. She's the one stopping him, I know it. Whispering in his ear, promising she'll raise Nex into some harmless little pet. But you saw him in that duel—he almost bested both of us. At eleven."
With each word, his pacing quickened, his voice rising with it.
Abigail: "He didn't almost best us…"
Her voice was barely audible. "He did."
Alexander: "I know that."
He stopped suddenly in the road, eyes flicking to the checkpoint ahead. "All these guards on this roadblock—they're on our payroll, right?"
Abigail: Stiffening. "Are you really suggesting what I think you are?"
Alexander: "Think about it. If we take him with us—and he dies before we reach the palace—no one would ever know."
Abigail: "Are you insane, Alexander? I'm not killing him. He's the emperor's son, neglected or not."
Then, after a beat, quieter: "Besides… I have another idea. Listen carefully.
Momments later stepping out of their tent Abigail went to have a chat with nex.
"What happened at the bazaar?" Abigail asked Nex softly, pushing away her brother's words.
Nex explained everything—the trap, the escape, the survival. Actaeon and Tazan sat in stunned silence, slowly understanding the magnitude of their companion's status.
Alexander stood rigid beside his sister, his jaw clenched as he fought internal battles. Lucy's voice echoed in his memory—how she'd taught him to ride, how she'd told him stories of their mother's twin brother, how she'd warned that twins must never be separated. The irony wasn't lost on him that they were about to separate themselves from everything Lucy had taught them.
The twins provided water for all of them, their hospitality seeming genuine. But beneath the surface, years of resentment and desperate need for their father's attention warred with the morals Lucy had instilled in them.
Abigail's hands trembled slightly as she remembered Lucy's words about their mother's twin: "The moment he died, she felt as if a big part of her died with him." Their late mother had made Lucy promise to keep the twins together, to prevent them from ever feeling that loss. Yet here they were, about to destroy not just their bond with Nex, but everything Lucy had built.
But as Nex drank, he looked over the twins. Abigail's hands were trembling. Alexander, calmer than usual, averted his eyes.
A cold weight settled in Nex's stomach—not from the water, but from the silence. Something was wrong.
As he set the cup down, he opened his mouth to speak… but the dizziness was already spreading.
His limbs grew heavy, and his senses started to fade one by one—first sight, then touch, then smell, and finally hearing.
Just before he lost consciousness completely, he heard Abigail's voice, filled with what sounded like genuine regret:
"I'm sorry, Nex. For the first time in my life, I'm truly sorry."
Alexander's voice followed, his words carrying the weight of someone betraying everything they'd been taught: "Don't think badly of us. It was meant to happen eventually. At least it's us making the choice, but you'll still have your uses."
The implications hit him like a physical blow even as darkness claimed him.