SPIRITBINDER: The Boy Without A Mark
Chapter 57: New Home

Chapter 57: New Home

Medas turned his back on the elderly woman’s pleas, his robes billowing as he walked toward his carriage. Morvane stood frozen, his face pale, eyes wide with disbelief. The weight of Medas’s words hung heavily in the air, suffocating him more than Drace’s earlier outburst ever could.

"But—" Morvane stammered, his voice cracking under the pressure of both confusion and guilt.

"Silence, boy," his grandmother snapped, her voice trembling, not with anger but desperation. She took a shaky step forward, dropping to her knees on the rough ground. "Your Majesty, please—he’s my grandson! Whatever trouble he’s caused, I beg for mercy. As his grandmother, I take full responsibility. Punish me if you must, but spare him."

Medas stopped, his hand resting on the handle of the carriage door. He glanced over his shoulder, his expression colder than ice. "I don’t want to be the one to tell you," he said, his voice clipped and emotionless. "So I’ll let him."

Without waiting for a response, he stepped into the carriage and slammed the door behind him. The sound echoed like thunder in the quiet village. For a moment, it seemed he would leave without another word, but then the window of the carriage creaked open. His piercing gaze met Morvane’s grandmother’s.

"It is up to you," Medas said, his tone as sharp as a blade, "if you wish to accompany your grandson. But know this—his presence is not welcome in any part of Ketamran. Not now. Not ever."

The window snapped shut, and the carriage lurched forward, its wheels grinding against the gravel path. Dust rose in its wake, blurring the retreating figure of the king who had once treated Morvane with kindness.

Morvane’s grandmother still knelt on the ground, her hands clasped tightly, her voice hoarse as she continued to plead. "Please, Your Majesty! Please reconsider—"

Her words were drowned out by the sound of the carriage’s departure. She turned to Morvane, her face a mixture of heartbreak and frustration. "What have you done, child?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Morvane looked down, his fists clenched at his sides. "I did something," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "I did something that made him angry, I don’t know how will I ever fix this."

His grandmother’s eyes filled with tears. She struggled to her feet, gripping his arm. "We’ll fix this," she said firmly, though her voice wavered. "Whatever it takes, we’ll fix this."

"But how can we?" Morvane whispered, his voice cracking. He looked toward the horizon, where the carriage had disappeared, his heart sinking as the reality of his exile began to settle in.

The silence that followed Medas’s departure was suffocating, broken only by the faint rustling of the wind. Luna, who had been standing quietly by the side, finally stepped forward, her voice soft but resolute.

"The last time I saw you with Medas," she began, her eyes locked onto Morvane, "you were like family. Like father and son. But now... what really happened, Morvane? Why would he do this?"

Morvane lowered his gaze, unable to meet her piercing eyes. His shoulders sagged under the weight of her words. "I don’t think now is the right time to say anything," he mumbled, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "A lot of things have happened."

Luna frowned, her concern deepening. "Morvane..." she whispered, but before she could press further, his grandmother spoke, her voice filled with determination.

"Okay, Morvane," she said firmly. "Let’s go back to the house. I’ll pack my things and gather what we’ll need for the journey."

"No!" Morvane’s response was immediate, his voice sharp and unyielding. He turned to his grandmother, his expression pleading but resolute. "I will not let you come with me. I was the only one outcasted."

His grandmother’s eyes widened in shock, and she shook her head vehemently. "How can you expect me to stay here, knowing what’s happened to you? I won’t leave you to face this alone, Morvane."

"You have to," he insisted, his voice cracking. "This is my punishment, not yours. You belong here, Grandma. This is your home, your life. Don’t throw it all away because of me."

Tears welled in her eyes, but she stood her ground. "What kind of grandmother would I be if I let my only grandson face the world alone? I’ve already lost so much, Morvane. Don’t ask me to lose you too."

Morvane clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he struggled to find the right words. "I won’t let you ruin your life for me," he said quietly but firmly. "This is my burden to bear. Please... stay here. Be safe."

Luna stepped forward again, her voice gentle but laced with urgency. "Morvane, maybe you shouldn’t push her away. She’s only trying to help."

"No, Luna," he said, shaking his head. "I’ve already caused enough pain. I won’t let her suffer because of my mistakes."

His grandmother’s tears finally fell, but she said nothing, her heart torn between her love for her grandson and the reality of their situation.

Morvane stood still for a moment, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on his chest. Without looking back, he muttered softly, "Goodbye, Luna. Goodbye, Grandma."

He paused, his voice trembling slightly as he continued, "Grandma, make sure to eat healthy and rest. Luna... I’ll miss you." His tone grew more somber. "And send my message to Esmael. Tell him to be careful, and... tell him I’m sorry if I was too harsh earlier."

Before either of them could respond, he began walking away.

"Morvane!" his grandmother called, her voice breaking. Luna ran forward, and the two embraced him tightly, one last time. The warmth of their hug made his resolve waver for a fleeting moment, but he quickly steeled himself.

He pulled away gently, turning his back to them. With no belongings, no destination, and only the clothes on his back, he walked into the unknown.

Each step felt heavier than the last as his mind raced. Where should I go? he thought, his heart sinking further with every passing moment.

The sky darkened, and a cold wind swept through the path ahead. Just as doubt began to creep in, a familiar and unwelcome voice broke the silence.

"Well, well, look who’s all alone now," a mocking voice sneered.

Morvane stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing as he looked up. Standing a few steps ahead, leaning casually against a tree, was Drevon. His smug grin stretched wide, and his eyes sparkled with mischief.

"What do you want?" Morvane asked, his tone sharp and laced with irritation.

Drevon chuckled, stepping forward with an air of nonchalance. "Oh, don’t be like that, Morvane. I just came to keep you company." His grin widened. "After all, I know everything about you."

Morvane’s fists clenched, his patience already wearing thin. "Why are you still here?" he demanded. "Why are you always following me?"

Drevon tilted his head, feigning innocence. "Why, isn’t it obvious?" He let out a low, sinister laugh. "I’m your demon. I’m supposed to be with you all the time. Think of me as your shadow... or your curse. Whichever you prefer."

"Great," Morvane muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Just what I need right now."

Drevon stepped closer, his mocking tone turning playful. "You can’t get rid of me, Morvane. I’m here to stay. So why not embrace it? After all, misery loves company."

Morvane shot him a glare but said nothing. Instead, he turned and continued walking, ignoring Drevon’s presence as best as he could.

"Oh, come on," Drevon teased, walking alongside him. "You’re really not going to talk to me? How boring. You know, this journey of yours could get a lot more... exciting if you just let me help."

"Help?" Morvane scoffed. "You don’t help. You ruin everything."

Drevon smirked, unbothered by the accusation. "Maybe. But deep down, you know you need me."

Morvane didn’t respond, his thoughts too tangled to process the demon’s words. All he knew was that the path ahead was uncertain, and with Drevon by his side, it was bound to be far from easy.

Drevon walked alongside Morvane, his grin ever-present. "So," he said, breaking the silence, "where should we go? Have any ideas?"

"I don’t know," Morvane muttered, his voice weary.

Drevon tapped his chin theatrically, his mocking tone never faltering. "Oh, wait! Isn’t Crimson’s kingdom the nearest one from here? Katakwan, right? Seek shelter there—we’re close to him. He’s your master in combat training, after all."

Morvane hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Fine. Let’s go to Katakwan."

The journey to the kingdom was quiet, save for Drevon’s occasional quips and taunts. When they finally arrived, the sight before them was both familiar and unsettling. The Kingdom of Katakwan, known for its grandeur and excess, was still in the process of rebuilding. Scaffolding lined the streets, and workers bustled about, repairing structures that had clearly suffered recent damage.

"It’s like a shadow of what it used to be," Drevon remarked, his tone oddly thoughtful for once.

Morvane ignored him and made his way toward Crimson’s headquarters. The grand hall stood tall, though cracks and patched walls hinted at the kingdom’s struggles. As they approached, they saw Crimson at the center of it all, looking as formidable as ever despite the fatigue etched into his features.

He was busy giving orders, his deep voice commanding respect as he directed workers and advisors alike. His normally sharp eyes were slightly dulled with exhaustion, and his movements, while precise, lacked their usual energy.

Morvane hesitated, unsure if this was the right time to approach him. But Drevon, of course, had no such reservations.

"Come on, don’t just stand there. Go say hi to your master," Drevon said with a smirk, pushing him forward.

Reluctantly, Morvane stepped closer, clearing his throat to get Crimson’s attention. The king turned, his piercing gaze softening slightly when he saw who it was.

"Morvane," Crimson said, his voice steady but tinged with curiosity. "What are you doing here?"

Morvane glanced away, his shoulders slumping. "I... I’ve been exiled from Ketamran," he admitted.

Crimson raised an eyebrow, his tired expression now mixed with concern. "Exiled? Why? What happened?"

For a moment, Morvane considered telling him the truth—the truth about Hiraya’s death and Medas’s reaction to it. But the words caught in his throat. Instead, he said, "I was accused of stealing something from the kingdom."

Crimson’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, there was silence. Then, he crossed his arms, his tone firm. "That doesn’t sound like you. Are you telling me the whole story, Morvane?"

Morvane flinched under his master’s scrutiny but remained silent.

Drevon, ever the opportunist, chimed in. "Oh, he’s leaving out so much, Crimson. But hey, who doesn’t like a little mystery?"

Crimson’s gaze flickered to Drevon briefly before returning to Morvane. "I’m not going to press you for details right now," he said finally. "But you should know, this kingdom is no place for hiding from the truth."

Morvane nodded, relief and guilt washing over him in equal measure. "Thank you, Crimson. I just... I didn’t know where else to go."

Crimson sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You can stay here for now. But know that Katakwan has its own problems. You’ll have to pull your weight."

"I understand," Morvane said quickly.

Crimson nodded, already turning back to his work. "Get some rest. We’ll talk more later."

As Morvane and Drevon left the hall, Drevon couldn’t help but snicker. "You’re lucky Crimson’s soft on you. If it were me, I’d be a little more curious about your so-called theft."

Morvane ignored him, his thoughts too tangled to focus on the demon’s jabs. For now, all he could do was hope that this temporary refuge would give him the clarity he desperately needed.

A week had passed since Morvane sought refuge in Katakwan. Each day felt heavier than the last as he kept himself busy, trying to make himself useful. The guilt of lying to Crimson gnawed at him, but he buried it deep, hoping he could leave the past behind.

One morning, as the sun began to rise, Morvane woke to the sound of knocking on his door. He groggily opened it, finding one of the palace guards standing stiffly.

"Morvane," the guard said curtly. "The king has summoned you to the conference hall."

Morvane’s heart sank. "What for?"

The guard offered no explanation, simply gesturing for him to follow. Morvane hesitated, his mind racing, but eventually complied.

As he approached the conference hall, a sense of unease settled over him. When the doors swung open, his unease turned to dread. Inside stood Crimson and... Medas.

Crimson was seated at the head of the table, his expression unreadable. Medas, on the other hand, was standing, his cold, piercing gaze fixed directly on Morvane.

"You thought you could do this?" Medas’s voice cut through the air, sharp and accusing.

Morvane froze, his throat dry. "Do... what?"

Medas stepped forward, his every movement deliberate and menacing. "You thought you could run here and hide, as if I wouldn’t find you? As if there wouldn’t be consequences?"

Morvane clenched his fists, his mind scrambling for an answer. Before he could speak, Crimson stood, his expression somber.

"I’m sorry, Morvane," Crimson said, his voice steady but heavy with regret. "I still don’t fully understand what happened between you and Medas. But Katakwan needs Ketamran’s help to rebuild. Medas has been pushing me to act, and..." He hesitated, his jaw tightening before finishing, "...and I have no choice but to ask you to leave."

The words hit Morvane like a physical blow. "Crimson... no," he said, his voice trembling. "I have nowhere else to go. Please..."

Crimson’s gaze didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of sadness in his eyes. "I wish it didn’t have to be this way. But my kingdom comes first, Morvane."

"Listen to him," Medas said coldly. "Your lies and betrayal have no place here. Leave, or I’ll make sure you’re not welcome anywhere."

Morvane stood there, stunned, his heart pounding in his chest. He turned to Crimson, searching for any sign of hope, but all he saw was the weight of duty on the king’s shoulders.

"Fine," Morvane said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He turned on his heel, walking away before they could see the tears brimming in his eyes.

As he left the conference hall, Drevon appeared beside him, his expression mocking as usual.

"Thrown out again, huh?" the demon said with a laugh. "You really have a talent for getting kicked out of places."

"Shut up," Morvane muttered, his voice hollow.

"Oh, don’t be like that," Drevon teased. "Look on the bright side—you’re free now. No more kingdoms, no more rules. Just you, me, and the open road. Doesn’t that sound fun?"

Morvane said nothing, his mind racing as he tried to figure out his next move.

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