SHATTERED REALM: FORGOTTEN ECHOES
Chapter 81: Listen...

Chapter 81: Listen...

Aramith didn’t flinch when Deadlock One approached.

"Young Prince," he said, "he meant it. If you try to leave stubbornly, they’ll put you down until it’s safe."

His voice wasn’t threatening, just cold

Aramith stood defiantly. "We’re not prisoners."

"You’re not. Yet. But if you act like you want to be treated like one, we’ll have no choice."

Lia felt something was wrong, very wrong, but Mozrael touched her wrist and shook her head subtly.

Aramith narrowed his eyes. "What exactly got in here? How did someone pass through the barrier without anyone knowing?"

Without pausing, Deadlock replied curtly, "Our job is to remove any threats, not explain them. And you are to stay put, alive, breathing."

There was silence for a moment, then reluctantly, Aramith gave a slow nod.

"...Fine."

But deep inside, something twisted.

Liar... liar... liar...They’re not here to protect. They’re here to cover it up. They’ll kill her... like they planned.

His throat tightened, his hands clenched and unclenched as the whisper wound through his chest like a snake made of smoke.

Deadlock nodded once and stepped away. As he passed the arch, his eyes flicked left to a cloaked shadow along the wall.

The hidden Deadlock shifted his weight and vanished into the columns.

They’d eaten already — barely. No one had much of an appetite.

Lia picked at the grass, braiding little stems together. Mozrael sat hugging her knees, watching the shifting light of the sky with narrowed eyes.

"I don’t know, but what if," he murmured, "this is about the meeting. All those leaders gathered here... It’s the perfect time. A high-value assassination attempt. Maybe more than one."

Aramith sat uncomfortably. His gaze had drifted somewhere far off, his mind even farther.

Henndar. Kesha.

Both were there for the meeting. What if...

They’ll die if you wait. You know this. You feel it.

His jaw clenched.

You must keep them safe.

They’re more powerful than you, his thoughts argued back.

They will not know in time. You have to go.

Mozrael noticed how uneasy Aramith looked.

"I don’t think we should worry much. They will be safe," she tried to ease Aramith’s discomfort, but he didn’t hear her.

She shifted, nudging his shoulder. "You okay?"

Aramith didn’t move. "I... I have to go..."

"What?"

"I mean," Aramith blinked, then forced a quick laugh. "I meant... yeah. No one’s getting away with this."

Mozrael raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t even what she talked about. She couldn’t understand why he would be overthinking it so much.

Lia studied him closely, feeling his every movement. There was a tiny tremble in his shoulders. The kind that he tried hard not to be seen.

"...Everyone’s safe," she said softly, choosing not to push.

But Aramith didn’t respond.

RUN. Save them. You’re the only one who can.

The voice was more persistent now. And worse, he could hear not one, but many. Overlapping whispers like autumn leaves rustling within a gale.

He tried to breathe, to calm himself, but the pressure kept growing.

His temples throbbed.

"I need to go to the washroom," he said suddenly, standing a little too fast.

The world tilted just for a second. He quickly caught himself before anyone noticed, straightening himself as he turned.

One of the soldiers shifted immediately. "No."

"I wasn’t asking," Aramith snapped, his voice lower than intended. "I can inform my father."

The soldier crossed his arms. "Your father will understand. And considering you already tried to run, what if this is another attempt?"

"Are you threatening me again? You know who I am," he tried to use his position as a prince for leverage, but this backfired in the worst way possible.

The soldier smirked. "You? Prince? That may be in name because your father is king, but remember that no one truly accepts you. Of the three of you here, the only person valued, respected, and wanted by the people as truly royal and close to being an heir is Princess Lia. As a damned, you even have a weaker standing than Princess Mozrael. So don’t think you can use that as a-"

"Shut up!" Mozrael couldn’t let them badmouth him like that. Though all he said was true, they all chose to overlook it, living their lives peacefully. A few people like him still harbored their dislike.

Aramith’s glare darkened, but he still kept his cool enough to hold Mozrael. She stood beside him, jaw tightening. Lia, sitting on the floor, clutching her chest. She didn’t know what to do.

The soldier frowned. "You don’t get to command me. And what I’m saying is the truth. You know it very well. Look around you. If any of you would ever be a ruler, it could only be Princess Lia. And you may never know. A member of the Elwicks could be the one chosen to rule next. So, no. I’m not permitting you to leave."

But another of the soldiers held up a hand.

"I’ll escort him," the second said calmly. "He’s just a boy. He’s not a threat to us. And if he tries anything..."

His smile was dry. "He won’t get far."

The first grunted. "Fine, but you should knock him out if he tries anything. Be as brutal as you want."

Mozrael grabbed Aramith’s arm, shaking her head, but Aramith said nothing. Just walked, the second guard falling into step beside him. He couldn’t give a reassuring smile as he wanted to. No, not this time.

And Lia...she didn’t know what to say or do, but she could feel Aramith brimming with anger and confusion. She didn’t know how to explain it, but she could feel something bad was about to happen. She couldn’t even see their faces to tell if Aramith was pretending as well, or if he was really angry.

Mozrael turned to Lia and saw tears rolling down her face. Oh no, she rushed to Lia’s side.

The soldier led him to the washroom in the garden. It was isolated. The chamber was clean and cold. Polished marble, quiet drip of water, and silence. Pure, absolute silence that felt loud.

Aramith stood before the mirror.

He splashed his face once. Twice. Thrice, then stared at himself. His breath hitched.

Liar. Puppet. Sheep. You’ll be manipulated. You’re being manipulated.

The whispers were louder now, not one voice, nor two, but dozens of them, male, female, some raspy, some childlike, others wailing, one even sounded like his own.

He gripped the sink, and a soft laugh echoed in his head, almost as if it were right beside his ears.

He looked up and stared, confused.

One of his eyes had turned completely black, and darkness leaked from the corner like ink dripping underwater.

Behind him, reflected in the mirror, stood a shape. He felt his heart burn. Pure fear gripped him.

A man? No, a shadow. It stood there, long limbs, no face, and a grin that seemed carved from blades. The smoke billowed off it like steam off boiling blood.

Aramith spun, but there was no one, nothing. Just the blank wall stared back at his pale face.

He fell to the floor. "I’m losing my mind." He rubbed his eye, looked down, but there was no darkness flowing from his eye.

He rinsed his face and looked again. Nothing had changed. His eye still dripped with ink, and the figure was closer.

Its grin widened, and it became larger, taller, arms stretching forward like shadows at sunset.

GO!

The scream was not shouted; it was forced into his mind.

Pain sliced through his skull like a blade of fire, and he dropped to the ground.

The soldier at the door heard a dull sound. He waited a moment to be sure.

"Your Highness?" Unlike the other soldiers, he respected Aramith as prince, for his job was to serve. And when he heard nothing from inside, he moved quickly, opening the door.

But he stopped.

Aramith was crouched in the center of the room, darkness pouring from his shoulders, chest, and arms like water made of ash. It writhed around him, chaotic and dangerous.

The boy’s head slowly lifted, and his eyes were ink.

The soldier froze.

"I—what is—what’s going—"

Only a small number of soldiers knew of Aramith’s true attribute, and this young man wasn’t one of them. All he saw was a demon. He’d never seen anything like that, and though he could have escaped, his confusion made him stumble. That was his last.

Tendrils of smoke struck him faster than light.

They flowed into his orifices: nose, mouth, and ears. He gagged and flailed.

Cold, too cold.

His hands clawed at his face as his skin turned pale and slick, skin drooping like melting butter. His knees buckled as his strength drained. The darkness was silent, but the dying soldier heard a low groan in his mind.

Aramith moved like a creature now, not a boy.

In a blink, he was on the soldier, tearing at his chest with his hands.

Blood sprayed the mirror. Gurgled screams filled the air for seconds, then it all went quiet.

A third figure stepped forward from the shadows, the hidden Deadlock- Deadlock five sent to keep an eye on them. He moved fast, chains already out, but before he could reach, Aramith vanished, gone in a wisp of black. The remaining darkness coiled around him, caressing his skin with a sharp, unnatural cold.

It was then his sensitive ears picked up the sound of the darkness. It crackled like splintering wood, but also wet, as though sinew snapped within it. Beneath that, it also sounded like a distant hum, almost like a thousand whispers breathing and wailing backward.

His legs were going numb, but he quickly jumped out of the darkness, which disappeared right after.

The only sound that remained was the quiet drip of water.