A carriage rolled into the lord’s manor and Katarina stepped out. Her gaze swept over the surroundings, and her breath hitched as her eyes fell on the corpses scattered across the ground.
With the illusion spell now dispelled, the gory massacre lay bare. Every victim lying on the ground bore the same fatal wound—a spike pierced right through their chest.
None of the spikes had deviated off the mark and struck the heart!
Katarina trembled. This was the heart of the city!
How could something like this happen here?!
The Frontline Knights flanking her quickly drew their sword and raised their shields in a protective stance.
Just then, two figures descended from the sky and landed with urgency. When Sapphira and Nero saw the scene, a heavy apprehension settled in their hearts.
Without hesitation, the three rushed into the manor, their hearts growing colder with each step and every lifeless body they passed. Finally, they reached the sacred hall. Nero froze when his eyes landed on his father’s corpse pinned to the wall. His face contorted with anguish and his eyes became red.
“Father!”
He bellowed and rushed toward the body. Sapphira covered her lips to stifle a gasp at the gruesome sight, her gaze flickering to the spikes lodged in the walls and strewn across the floor.
Katarina’s trembling body remained frozen, her eyes scanning around before finally settling on Sirius. Everything in this hall was lifeless—everything but the lord, who wasn’t accounted for.
Sapphira flew to his room and slammed the door open, only to find the room empty.
“Asher…” she murmured, biting her lip in frustration.
Returning to the hallway leading to the hall, she finally noticed the destruction caused by a violent clash, speaking of a fierce battle, probably between Asher and the scorched corpse.
Clenching her fists, she listened as Nero’s heart-wrenching sobs echoed through the hall while Katarina tried to console him.
The young BloodBlade was shattered. She could feel the depth of his despair. And how was Asher, who had been burdened by the loss of a dear friend and even worse, his soul-bonded companion, supposed to offer any solace?
Right now, finding Asher was the priority.
Every member of his elite King Swordsmen, the pride of the county, lay dead. Even the manor’s servants and maids had been slaughtered.
For a lord, this was a devastating blow. Especially for Asher, who was still reeling from the Silverleaf incident.
Blacksmith Ark White hadn’t touched metal since the day he lost his sons, he was struck so deep that the blacksmith couldn’t find the drive to smith again.
As Sapphira’s footsteps approached, Katarina turned to her. “He’s alive,” she said quietly, “but he doesn’t want to be found.”
Swoosh!
Without a word, Sapphira launched herself out of the lord’s manor and flew so high that she nearly touched the earthen ceiling. From that height, she began tracing force signatures until she located one she recognized—familiar and faint—along the banks of the shimmering stream.
It took her a while to fly there. When she arrived, the fishermen on their boats were stunned and dropped to their knees as they recognized the Crimson Temple’s fairy priestess above them.
But Sapphira’s eyes were fixed on the man by the water. A man covered in a ragged cloak, sitting by the bank, stirring the stream with a thin, long stick.
Though his hood concealed his face, she knew it was him.
A cold, jarring force emanated from Asher, so fierce that Sapphira momentarily felt as though she was facing an enemy.
Yet it was her lord.
“My lord…” she gasped, descending slowly. But Asher didn’t even glance at her.
When she landed, Sapphira dropped to one knee and bowed her head, drawing startled murmurs from the fishermen.
“My lord, are you alright?” she asked, her voice trembling.
For a long moment, Asher remained silent. At last, his lips parted. “By any means… could you resurrect them?”
Sapphira lowered her head further. “My limit is one a year. I’m sorry, my lord.”
Sapphira’s lips shook. She feared how Asher would take this news but his reply shocked her.
“There’s no need to apologize. You didn’t kill them.”
Asher turned to her and smiled, but Sapphira could see that he wasn’t even trying to put in an effort.
The smile was hollow, clearly filled with pain.
If Alex’s death hadn’t broken him, the loss of his pet beast Sirius would definitely shattered his soul.
The pain of Sirius’ death was more than a mental pain—it would linger in the soul.
Only one Ashbourne in history had lost his pet beast in such a painful way, and his name was never heard of.
Not even Asher knew of him, though he now held that man’s weapon!
“My lord, the nobles and officials need you. They should know that you’re alive or they might falter,” Sapphira said, her tone firm despite knowing Asher had his own burdens to deal with but had no choice but to remind him of his position.
Asher rose slowly and looked at his palm. The loss of Sirius had severed his synergy and he might never be able to wield his element again.
Pet beasts were created specifically for their Ashbourne masters by a mysterious entity, who was probably ranked among the Awoken Ones—or perhaps beyond!
Once a pet beast died, especially at a young age, the master’s soul would crack, a fracture that would grow deeper with time.
What it meant was that pet beasts and their lords were one. Once one of them died, it was only a matter of time for the other.
For the pet beast, once their master dies, they live for a while, some decades at most before dying. For the master, they lived their entire lives in pain.
“Let’s go,” Asher said, his voice heavy but resolute.
_____
As Asher entered the lord’s manor, Frontline Legion knights were at every corner. Gathered inside were General Adam, Baroness Katarina, Commander Lambert, and Commander Eritrea.
The moment Eritrea saw him, she dropped all decorum and embraced him tightly, shocking the others!
However, given the circumstances, no one objected. They all felt that Asher needed it.
“Eritrea,” Asher spoke softly, though the warning in his tone was clear. Startled, she stepped back and blinked.
After she left him, he walked further inside the manor and assumed his seat. His eyes drifted to a particular spot where Alex’s body had once lain.
“I see this place has been cleansed of my failures,” he murmured.
“My lord, we should send our forces to the Wildlands and finish what remains of Count William!” Adam proposed.
“Be silent, General Adam,” Katarina interjected sternly. Adam shot her a sharp glance but chose to heed her words and stepped back.
“Regent Kelvin reports that the Count still commands an army of 40,000 strong, still loyal to him,” Sapphira added. “Besides, he is in the treacherous terrain of the Wildlands and has allies.”
“Allies…” Asher repeated, drawing everyone’s attention. “…something we sorely lack. I do understand now that we might have some people in the county who are nothing but spies. This is no longer Ash Town.”
His gaze swept over everyone, lacking its former vigor and emotions.
“The families of the King Swordsmen are bound to worry. Inform them that they sacrificed their lives protecting their lord—who is, for now, unable to attend to his duties indefinitely.”
“What?!” Adam gasped.
“My lord!” Katarina stepped forward, alarmed. Sapphira sighed deeply and slowly lowered her head as though she had somehow seen this coming.
Eritrea’s heart ached; the lord she knew was gone and it hurt her. Lambert’s expression hardened, his thoughts consumed by vengeance for both his lord and his friend, Alex.
“It’s an order,” Asher continued. “Regent Kelvin will rule in my stead while I prepare to bury my friend and beast.”
He then rose to his feet.
“I’ll deliver my final orders there.”
With those words, he left, his steps heavy with the weight of grief and loss.