Cael looked him in the eyes, searching for any sign of deception, but despite the attitude, there was sincerity in his words.
"An author? What do you mean?"
Cael asked, unsure of the weight behind authorship. What does it entail? What good would it bring?
"I'm not going to lecture you, but I'm sure you already understand that history is written by the victor. But we are different. We can change the course of history to restore what was right. This is the creed of authorship."
Reynald turned back and approached Cael until he was in front of him.
"I'm proposing a cooperation. You need me, and I need you. All I ask is for your trust."
He knelt on one leg, extending his arm to Cael.
However, Cael hesitated. After all that happens, could he really believe him?
"Why should I accept your help? You're a stranger, you toyed with my suffering. You have no right to speak of—"
Before Cael could finish his sentence, Reynald suddenly put a finger on his lips, signaling for silence.
"This place is no longer safe... We must leave now. They're here, and they're watching us."
Cael's eyes narrowed in frustration. He didn't sense anyone else in this room besides the two of them. He looked around but still found no one.
"What are you talking about? Who is here? Who is watching us?"
Reynald sighed and stood up, his expression serious as his gaze fixed on Cael.
"I wish I were kidding. But we are running out of time. If they find us here, all my effort will—"
His words were cut short as a dagger flew through the room, embedding itself in the wooden wall.
Upon impact, the dagger cracked the fabric of memory itself within the space, distorting the space inside his parents' house.
Reynald barely managed to dodge the knife. He quickly pulled Cael up to his feet. Beneath his serious expression, a glimpse of panic rose.
"Pull yourself together! We must depart now!"
His voice was urgent. Cael wanted to ask him more questions, but before he could, Reynald took him by the wrist — leading him out of the room and back into the fourth dimensions. Reynald ran as fast as he could, and Cael could barely keep up with him.
"Cael, listen to me. If you value your life, do as I say. Ahead lies a water pulse known as the Vortex of Time. It will take us somewhere far away from danger. When I said jump, do not hesitate!"
Reynald continued to lead Cael through the dimension, gripping his wrist tightly.
"We are almost there! Keep moving!"
As they got near the vortex, the ground shook violently. And suddenly...
Thunk!
A sword flew from the sky and into the ground, piercing it with a steady shove, standing upright like a marker of resolve. Reynald halted a few meters away from the sword.
"Damn the hell..."
Reynald cursed under his breath. Where did the sword come from? And who was chasing after them?
Then, a figure in a white dress emerged from the sky, landing swiftly on the ground. They approached the sword, pulling it out of the ground with barely any effort.
"Their memories do not welcome you, blasphemer."
The figure pointed the edge of the sword at them. Yet Cael has no idea who this person even is.
Their face was covered by a stone mask, while a faint sound of breathing emanated from it. The mask seemed somewhat familiar to Cael, like a bygone dream.
Reynald let go of Cael's hand, drawing his own sword. It seemed that a battle was inevitable. He took a defensive stance, signaling me to stand back.
"Well... look what the wind brought — the puppet of memoria."
Even as Reynald said that, his voice lacked confidence as if consumed by paranoia. Yet the masked figure was not provoked in the slightest. They remained standing — like a statue of the dead.
"Your presence here will not be tolerated." The masked figure assumed a fighting stance.
Reynald's eyes narrowed as he tried to regain his composure. It seemed that the words cut deep into his gut. The man of trickery — how will he trick his way out of this?
—Penning a new chapter…