SPIRITBINDER: The Boy Without A Mark
Chapter 101: In Peace and in Love

Chapter 101: In Peace and in Love

Months have passed, and Baltalaha has experienced an unprecedented period of peace. The skies are clear, crops flourish, and the once-devastated landscapes of the kingdoms have been fully restored.

People in all territories rejoice, rebuilding their homes and hearts. Yet amidst the flourishing lands, the ominous presence of the seven towering angel statues remains a grim reminder of the chaos they narrowly escaped. Their eerie masked faces loom over each kingdom, unyielding and unfazed by the passage of time.

Despite the newfound peace, the seven rulers remain on edge. The memory of the disaster that befell Kalzawa and other kingdoms as well as the destructive power of the celestial figures keeps them vigilant.

In the grand halls of Ketamran Palace, Medas called for a meeting. The rulers, now bound by cooperation, gathered at a long table adorned with flowers and golden plates.

Crimson leaned back, exhaling. "No disasters for months—it almost feels unreal."

"It’s suspicious, is what it is," Levan said, his gaze hard. "Those statues didn’t appear just to admire the scenery. We’re being watched—I’m sure of it."

Ikana tapped her fingers on the table. "Agreed. Statistically, there’s a high probability that this calm is the eye of the storm. The silence before the chaos."

Vianna, swirling a goblet of fine wine, smirked. "Let’s not ruin the good mood with paranoia. We’re finally in a place of peace. Enjoy it while it lasts."

Dergo crossed his arms, his voice gruff. "I’m with Ikana. We need contingency plans. If those statues come to life again, we better be ready."

Deus, unusually quiet, finally spoke. "I’ve sent my scholars to research any ancient texts about these statues. So far, we’ve found nothing." He paused. "It’s frustrating."

Medas nodded. "Regardless of the mystery, Baltalaha is thriving again. The people are happy, and that’s what matters most. Let’s focus on strengthening our bonds and resources. We’ll deal with the angels when the time comes."

A thoughtful silence settled over the room.

"I never thought I’d say this," Vianna said, raising her glass, "but I’m glad to be working with all of you. In peace and love, let’s toast to the future."

The rulers raised their goblets, their spirits lifting despite the lingering uncertainty.

As the night wore on, they shared stories, laughter echoing through the halls. For the first time in a long while, the weight of their burdens lifted, even if only temporarily.

But in the depths of their minds, they knew—this peace was borrowed time.

"The angel statues are still standing," Vianna began, her purple hair glinting under the chandelier lights. "No activity from them since the harp incident, but that doesn’t mean we’re safe."

"Agreed," Levan said, his tone somber. "And with Morvane’s powers still unstable, he’s a ticking time bomb."

Medas narrowed his eyes. "Are we seriously going to keep treating him like some kind of weapon?"

Dergo, sipping on his wine glass elegantly, leaned forward. "Look, no one’s saying we should harm the kid. But let’s be real—Heaven doesn’t send angel statues for no reason. His existence has to be connected to it."

Crimson’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the table. "He’s just a boy," he said. "We can’t keep him locked up forever. What kind of rulers are we if we imprison one of our own for something he can’t even control?"

Ikana interjected calmly, her analytical mind at work. "The logical approach is to monitor and train him. Suppression won’t work in the long term. He needs guidance."

"And who’s volunteering for that?" Dergo asked with a scoff. "Because I sure as hell ain’t babysitting a magical prodigy with god-like potential."

Silence fell over the room.

Vianna sighed. "We need a plan. A real plan. Keeping him locked up without purpose is only going to make things worse."

Medas stood up, his voice firm. "Then we talk to him. Right now."

The rulers entered Morvane’s room in the heart of Ketamran’s secure grounds. The space was elegant, furnished with a large comfortable bed, plush chairs, and a modern bathroom. But no amount of luxury could mask the truth: this was still a gilded prison. The ceilings and doors bore intricate spell-binding papers, symbols glowing faintly to suppress magic.

"This is livable, yet suffocating," Crimson muttered, his eyes scanning the runic papers.

Morvane sat at the edge of the bed, his face devoid of emotion. His eyes held a glint of defiance but were shadowed by an overwhelming weariness.

"How are you holding up?" Crimson asked gently.

Morvane forced a faint smile. "Alive, I guess."

Vianna stepped forward. "We’re not keeping you here to hurt you, Morvane. It’s for your protection."

"My protection? Or are you protecting Baltalaha from me?" he countered, his voice low but cutting.

An uneasy silence hung between them.

Medas sighed. "I know this isn’t ideal. But we can’t risk letting you roam freely—not until we fully understand what those angel statues mean and why Heaven seems focused on you."

"I didn’t ask for this power," Morvane said, his voice trembling with frustration. "I didn’t want any of this. And now, I’m the problem that needs containment?"

Levan spoke, his voice surprisingly soft. "We don’t see you as the problem. But your powers are unpredictable and dangerous. I’ve seen it firsthand."

"I’m just a kid," Morvane said bitterly. "A kid who lost his grandmother, his friends, and even himself."

The words hung heavily in the room. Vianna’s eyes softened. "We’re trying to find a way to make this right. You may not believe us, but we’re in this together."

Deus, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, spoke up. "We want peace, Morvane. And you are part of that peace. But for now, we need time."

Morvane looked up, his gaze flickering with a spark of defiance. "Then give me something to do. If I’m stuck here, at least let me train. Let me get stronger."

Ikana nodded. "That might not be a bad idea. He needs control, not suppression."

Levan folded his arms. "Fine. But it’ll be under supervision. No risks."

"Deal," Morvane said, his voice firm.

As the conversation settled, the tension in the room eased slightly. They all knew the road ahead was uncertain, but for the first time, there was a glimmer of hope—a fragile but shared determination to find a way forward without destroying what was left of Baltalaha.

For the first time in months, Morvane was allowed out of the secured grounds of Ketamran. The open skies, the gentle breeze, and the absence of suppressive spells filled his heart with relief. He smiled as he walked alongside the rulers toward the dining hall.

"Thank you for this, I appreciate this." Morvane said quietly.

Levan glanced at him. "Don’t make us regret it."

"I won’t," Morvane promised, his voice resolute.

As they settled in the grand dining room, Morvane’s gaze wandered to the large window overlooking Ketamran. His eyes locked on the distant figure of the towering masked angel statue, its presence ominous even in the fading twilight.

"If it truly is a punishment for me... why?" Morvane whispered to himself.

"Did you say something?" Medas asked, narrowing his eyes.

Morvane shook his head. "No, nothing."

But his thoughts were elsewhere, swirling with memories. He remembered Luna—his closest friend who had ascended to Heaven and become an angel. The sight of the masked angel statue triggered a wave of confusion.

"This is exactly how she looked when she ascended," Morvane thought. "Is this all connected?"

The questions weighed heavily on him, but he chose to remain silent.

The dinner began with the clinking of cutlery and the aroma of roasted meat filling the air. It was a simple yet hearty meal, but the tension among the rulers was palpable.

Levan broke the silence. "We need to talk about controlling Morvane’s powers."

Morvane tensed, but he kept his expression neutral.

Levan continued, "First, no more letting your shadow beasts devour spirits. That’s too dangerous."

Morvane nodded reluctantly. "I understand."

"And another thing," Levan added, "you need to stay calm. No chaos. Your powers feed off your emotional state. If you spiral out of control, so will your abilities."

Ikana spoke up, her voice gentle yet firm. "We’re not trying to chain you, Morvane. We’re trying to help you control what’s inside."

"I appreciate it," Morvane said, his tone sincere. "But what if I can’t control it? What if there will be a time I needed to fight and use my power?"

Crimson leaned back, his katana resting against the table. "Then we’ll be there to pull you back. You’re not alone in this."

Deus, chewing on a piece of meat, grunted in agreement. "Yeah. Just don’t blow up any kingdoms, and we’re good."

Despite the lighthearted comment, the weight of the conversation lingered. Morvane felt both hopeful and burdened.

As the dinner wound down, he glanced once more at the window. The masked angel statue stood motionless, but its presence was a reminder of unanswered questions.

"Whatever this is," Morvane thought, "I need to find out. For the kingdoms. For Baltalaha. And for myself."