Hugo had a secret.
It was something no one in the Spellbound family ever knew.
Long ago, his father — Ronan de' Spellbound — had befriended a dwarf. The two were inseparable, brothers in all but blood, bound by countless adventures and scars shared under starlit skies.
On the day they parted, the dwarf had given Ronan a gift — a small, antique clock.
It wasn't lavish. Just a piece of intricate craftsmanship, gears carved by hand, time frozen in elegance. No name was ever given to it — for there wasn't time for that. But this clock was no ordinary trinket.
It could teleport a person across vast distances — though only once every year.
Ronan cherished the gift deeply. To him, it was a symbol of friendship, of trust forged in battle and laughter. Fearing it might fall into the wrong hands, he sealed it away inside a secret realm.
And then... he vanished — swallowed by the invisible disaster that took so many.
Years later, while exploring that same hidden realm, Hugo stumbled upon the clock once again. The ancient energy within it whispered its purpose to him.
He realized what it could do — and that it could save his son, Ivan.
The demons had already begun their invasion.
The demons came not alone. Wild beasts — senseless and savage — followed their chaos. They killed anything that moved, clawing through land and sky without reason.
There was no safe place left… except perhaps across the Western Continent.
Hugo made his choice.
He cleared his throat.
"Ahem."
The sound echoed through the room, drawing everyone's eyes to him.
"Listen, everyone… I've made up my mind," he said, his tone grave. "I'm sending my son… to a safe place."
The room fell silent. The air felt heavy.
Even the flickering candlelight seemed to hesitate.
Elena's eyes glistened first. Tears welled at the edges, trembling before they fell.
Lina bit her lip hard to keep her composure, while Yuna's hands tightened into trembling fists.
No one spoke. No one dared to.
Because they all knew — if Ivan left now… they might never see him again.
Even Hugo, the man who carried the entire family's burden, felt his heart breaking. But he could not show it. He couldn't afford to.
If he faltered, they would all crumble.
"Everyone, follow me," he said firmly. "To the secret chamber."
He turned, cloak swaying behind him, and walked out. The others followed quietly, each step heavier than the last.
Elena's grip tightened around Ivan's hand as they neared the chamber. Her breath came shallow. Her mind was screaming — No. Not my son.
Ivan looked up at her, puzzled.
"Mom… are you feeling unwell?" he asked softly, his tone innocent yet oddly distant — like a boy trying to imitate human warmth.
Elena forced a smile through her tears.
"It's nothing, dear… I just… feel heartbroken," she whispered.
Ivan tilted his head slightly, confused. His mother's emotions — that sea of warmth and sorrow — always felt like a language he couldn't fully understand.
Yet, seeing her trembling lips, something inside him… stirred.
A faint ache. A spark. A feeling.
They descended into the underground chamber.
A vast, dimly lit space infused with dense spiritual energy — humming with silent power. Ancient formations pulsed faintly on the floor, weaving lines of light that drew the world's energy inward.
Only pureblood Spellbounds were allowed here. Outsiders who entered would be crushed by the weight of the spells guarding it.
Hugo walked to the center and slowly drew the clock from his robe.
Its brass surface shimmered faintly, as though it still carried the warmth of the dwarf who made it.
He set the coordinates with trembling fingers, whispering an old incantation.
When it was done, he turned to Ivan.
"Son," he said, his voice thick. "Take this. It's a teleportation clock — it will send you straight to the Western Continent. Protect it… and protect yourself."
Ivan took it, studying its gears and glow. He turned it in his palm, and for a moment — he hesitated. His chest tightened. His breath hitched.
Something was wrong.
His heart — usually so still — began to throb violently.
A storm brewed inside him.
"Wha… what's happening to me?" he stammered, voice trembling. "Why do I… feel like this?"
Panic flashed across his usually calm face. His eyes widened — confused, afraid.
Elena's body trembled. Then she broke.
"My son!" she screamed, clutching him tightly. "Please… don't leave me! I'll protect you! I'll protect you from everything, just— don't go!"
Her sobs filled the chamber, raw and desperate.
Lina fell to her knees beside her, tears streaming uncontrollably.
Even Hugo — who hadn't shed a tear in decades — felt the dam inside him burst. His tears fell silently, glistening under the dim light, unnoticed.
Only Yuna — the calmest of them all — tried to hold on to reason. She closed her eyes, chanting softly, casting a spell to steady their minds.
A wave of serenity swept through the room, stilling their shaking hearts.
When it faded, Hugo opened his eyes — now resolute.
He placed a hand on Ivan's shoulder.
"Son," he said quietly, "remember our words. Adapt to whatever awaits you there. Survive… and live. That's all I ask."
Ivan looked up, and for the first time in his life, he smiled faintly — a fragile, human smile.
"I will, Father," he said. Then turning to his mother, "Goodbye, Mom. Don't worry about me."
He looked at his sisters. "Lina, Yuna… take care of her for me. And Lina — stop being lazy with your cultivation."
His attempt at teasing brought a bittersweet laugh through Lina's tears.
He bowed deeply to them all — a final gesture of love and respect — and pressed his fingers against the clock.
The air trembled.
A blinding light enveloped him, swirling like a thousand stars.
The chamber filled with the low hum of ancient magic as the clock's gears turned for the first time in a century.
"Wait—!" Elena reached out, but it was too late.
Ivan's body dissolved into light — scattering like golden dust carried by a silent wind.
Then he was gone.
Silence.
Only the faint ticking of the clock echoed in the empty chamber.
Elena collapsed to the cold floor, her tears soaking the stone. Her eyes — once so bright — now looked hollow, as if the world's color had faded away.
Lina knelt beside her, clutching her mother tightly, sobbing.
Yuna stood frozen, fists trembling, her lips pressed shut — fighting the storm inside her.
Hugo stood motionless. His tears had stopped, but his eyes burned with something else — a quiet determination.
He gazed at the lingering shimmer in the air where Ivan had vanished.
"Ronan…" he whispered to the empty space. "Your grandson carries your blood… and your hope. If fate wills it, may the clock lead him to where he must be."
The dim light flickered once — as if the clock itself heard his prayer.
And in the silence that followed, the last echo of Ivan's departure faded into mystery.
No one knew what awaited him on the other side.
But deep within Hugo's heart, a fragile flame refused to die.
A father's hope — that one day, when the world was mended and the skies were clear again — that same clock might bring his son home.