SPIRITBINDER: The Boy Without A Mark
Chapter 60: Return to Ketamran

Chapter 60: Return to Ketamran

The road to Ketamran stretched long and winding, flanked by dense forests and fields painted gold by the setting sun. Vianna and Morvane walked side by side, their steps unhurried but purposeful. Though the journey was heavy with the weight of past and future uncertainties, the air between them remained surprisingly light.

Morvane adjusted the hood of his cloak, ensuring his face remained shadowed. His disguise—a simple cloak and a thin mask etched with runic designs—was enough to obscure his identity but not enough to calm his nerves.

"You’re quiet," Vianna noted, breaking the silence.

"Not by choice," Morvane replied, his voice tight. "It’s strange returning here after... everything. Every corner of this kingdom carries memories—good ones and bad."

Vianna studied him for a moment, her sharp eyes catching the tension in his frame. "You’ll be fine, Morvane. No one will recognize you."

He turned to her with a half-smile. "That’s the idea."

Vianna raised an eyebrow, curious. "Why go through all this effort to hide? You’re not ashamed, are you?"

"No," Morvane replied quickly. "But there’s no sense in poking the hornet’s nest. If Medas—" he paused, the name bitter on his tongue, "—if he learns I’ve come back, it won’t end well for anyone."

Vianna didn’t press further, sensing the deep well of emotion he was trying to keep at bay.

They fell into a comfortable rhythm as the day gave way to night, the stars above casting faint silver light on their path. They spoke of lighter things—of Vianna’s strange adventures in the forests, of the peculiar creatures she had met, and of the old stories Morvane’s grandmother used to tell him as a child.

The closer they got to Ketamran, however, the more restless Morvane became.

By the time the towering walls of the kingdom appeared on the horizon, his pace quickened. He clenched his fists as they passed beneath the main gates, his sharp eyes scanning every shadow and corner.

"Excited to see her?" Vianna asked, noticing his energy shift.

He nodded, but before he could answer, his steps faltered. His gaze had caught something—a parchment pinned to a post. As he approached it, the color drained from his face.

It was a wanted notice. His face, unmistakable even through the artist’s crude lines, stared back at him.

"By decree of King Medas," the notice read, "Morvane, the traitor, is hereby banished from Ketamran. Any who offer him aid will face punishment by the crown."

Vianna stepped up beside him, her face hardening as she read the words. "I see Medas doesn’t do anything halfway."

Morvane tore his eyes away from the notice, his jaw tight. "This is how far his hatred goes. It’s not enough to exile me—he wants to erase me."

Vianna laid a hand on his arm. "He can post all the notices he wants. You’re here now. And we’re going to see your grandmother."

He nodded, letting her words ground him. Together, they left the post behind and continued toward the village, though the image of the notice burned in Morvane’s mind.

The village lay on the outskirts of Ketamran, a peaceful haven untouched by the chaos of the kingdom. Morvane’s steps quickened as they entered the familiar streets, his eyes scanning the small, humble homes until they landed on one particular cottage.

"Here," he whispered, more to himself than to Vianna.

Before Vianna could say anything, Morvane broke into a run, his cloak billowing behind him. He reached the door and knocked twice before pushing it open, his breath caught in his throat.

"Grandma?"

The frail yet sturdy figure of his grandmother appeared in the doorway, her silver hair tied back, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"Morvane?" she whispered, as though afraid to trust her own sight.

"It’s me," he said, his voice trembling.

In an instant, she pulled him into her arms, holding him as though she might never let go. He clung to her just as tightly, burying his face in her shoulder.

Vianna stepped inside quietly, watching the reunion with a soft smile.

After a long moment, Morvane’s grandmother pulled back, her hands cupping his face. "I never thought I’d see you again," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

"Neither did I," he admitted. "But I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere."

His grandmother turned her attention to Vianna, her eyes warm with gratitude. "Thank you," she said, her voice steady despite her tears. "Thank you for keeping him safe. You have no idea what this means to me."

Vianna nodded, feeling an unfamiliar warmth rise in her chest. "He’s stronger than he thinks. I didn’t do much."

"Nonsense," his grandmother replied, her grip on Morvane’s hand tightening. "You’ve given him shelter, and for that, I owe you everything."

Morvane glanced at Vianna, his expression soft. For the first time in what felt like years, he felt at peace.

The night deepened, and the quiet hum of the village faded into stillness. The warmth of the reunion lingered in the small cottage, a sharp contrast to the cold winds outside. Morvane sat at the wooden table, his hand wrapped around a steaming mug of tea his grandmother had prepared.

He looked around the familiar room, his gaze lingering on the small trinkets and memories that had once been his sanctuary. He didn’t want the night to end.

Vianna stood by the window, her sharp eyes scanning the darkness beyond. She turned back to the room and cleared her throat. "We should leave soon," she said, her voice calm but firm. "The night’s getting deep."

Morvane glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "Just a little longer," he said softly.

Vianna opened her mouth to reply, but Morvane’s grandmother spoke first.

"She’s right, Morvane," the old woman said, her tone carrying a note of urgency. She sat down beside him, her hand resting on his arm. "There have been... visitors in the village. Strangers, acting like ordinary travelers but asking too many questions. Guards, perhaps, sent in disguise to see if you might return."

Morvane’s jaw tightened. "Medas sent them?"

His grandmother nodded gravely. "Likely. You’ve been gone a long time, but he hasn’t forgotten you. If they find out you’re here—"

"They won’t," Morvane interrupted, his voice tense. "I’ve been careful."

Vianna crossed her arms, her gaze steady. "Careful or not, staying here puts everyone at risk. We can’t linger."

Morvane looked at his grandmother, a deep conflict written on his face. "I just got here," he said quietly. "I don’t want to leave yet. Not tonight."

The old woman’s face softened, and she squeezed his hand. "I understand, my boy. But you must think of the bigger picture. You’re meant for more than this village. You always have been."

Before anyone could say more, the door creaked open, and a figure stepped inside. A young woman with golden-brown hair tied back loosely, her green eyes bright despite the dim light. She froze when she saw Morvane sitting at the table.

"Luna," Morvane said, a faint smile breaking through his tension.

Luna’s eyes widened in shock. "Morvane?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You... you’re really here?"

"I am."

She stepped closer, shaking her head in disbelief. "I come here all the time to visit Grandma, but I never thought I’d see you again. I..." Her voice softened, and a warm smile spread across her face. "I’m glad you came back."

Morvane stood, his emotions swirling. "It’s good to see you too, Luna. It’s been... too long."

Vianna leaned against the wall, her arms still crossed as she watched the interaction. Though she remained quiet, she couldn’t help but notice how the weight in Morvane’s shoulders seemed to lift in Luna’s presence.

As Morvane and Vianna turned to leave, Luna hesitated, her gaze fixed on Vianna. Then, as if piecing together a puzzle, she blurted out, "Wait. Aren’t you the ruler of Nirvath?"

Vianna turned, her expression neutral but her posture straightening slightly. "Yes, I am."

Luna blinked in awe, her tone shifting from surprise to curiosity. "What are you doing here? In a village like ours?"

Vianna glanced briefly at Morvane before replying. "Let’s just say Morvane has a way of dragging people into unexpected places."

Luna smiled faintly but quickly grew serious. "Since you’re here... maybe you can help with something." She glanced at Morvane, then back to Vianna. "It’s about Esmael."

At the mention of the name, Morvane’s expression hardened. "Esmael?"

Luna nodded. "He hasn’t come back since... since his mother died. After the fire that night, no one even offered to rebuild their house. It’s still there, just ruins."

Morvane’s stomach twisted with guilt. He knew Esmael’s family had suffered, but he hadn’t realized the extent of the neglect. "The fire," he repeated, his voice heavy. "It destroyed more than their home, didn’t it?"

Luna nodded again, her voice soft. "It took everything. And now no one talks about them. It’s like they’ve been erased."

"Where is he?" Morvane asked, a sudden determination in his voice.

Luna shrugged. "No one knows. He just disappeared."

Morvane’s eyes narrowed as an idea took shape in his mind. He turned to Vianna and Luna, his tone firm. "I’m going to the ruins."

Luna frowned. "Why? There’s nothing left there."

"Maybe not for you," Morvane said. "But if his mother died there, her spirit might still linger. And if it does, I can talk to it."

Luna’s eyes widened in shock, but Vianna merely nodded, as though this was just another part of their strange journey.

"Then let’s go," Vianna said.

Luna hesitated for a moment but eventually followed.

The ruins of Esmael’s house were dark and cold, the air thick with the scent of charred wood that had never fully faded. The sight was somber—blackened beams jutted out from the rubble like skeletal remains, and the ground was littered with ashes and debris that no one had bothered to clear away.

Morvane stepped closer, his chest tightening as memories of Esmael and his family surfaced. He remembered the laughter that used to echo here, the warmth of their hearth. Now, only silence remained.

"This is awful," Luna whispered, her voice barely audible.

Vianna stood still, her expression unreadable. She scanned the ruins, ever watchful, but said nothing.

Morvane walked slowly into the heart of the ruins, his steps careful. As he reached what remained of the central room, a faint shimmer caught his eye. He stopped, his breath hitching.

"Morvane?" Luna asked, stepping closer.

But he didn’t answer. His focus was on the shimmering form taking shape before him. A woman, ethereal and glowing faintly, her features soft but unmistakable. It was Esmael’s mother.

"Morvane," the spirit said, her voice like a whisper carried on the wind.

"Lady Valenne," he said softly, his chest tightening.

Vianna and Luna exchanged confused glances. To them, the room was empty, and Morvane appeared to be talking to the air.

The spirit smiled gently. "You’ve come back."

"I have," Morvane said. "But... why are you still here? Why haven’t you moved on?"

The spirit’s smile faded slightly, her expression growing wistful. "My son. Esmael. He’s lost. He thinks I’m angry with him, but I’m not. Even though he caused the fire, even though it took my life... I could never hate him."

Morvane’s throat tightened. "He needs to hear that."

"Yes," the spirit said. "Tell him for me. Tell him that he is not to blame. And that he must forgive himself."

Morvane nodded, his resolve strengthening. "I’ll find him. I’ll tell him."

As he spoke, a rustling sound came from the shadows near the edge of the ruins. Morvane turned sharply, his eyes scanning the darkness.

A figure stepped out from behind a tree, the moonlight casting faint light on his face. It was Esmael.

"What are you doing here?" Esmael’s voice was low and sharp, tinged with bitterness.

Luna gasped softly, and Vianna’s hand drifted toward the hilt of her blade, but Morvane raised a hand to stop her.

"Esmael," Morvane said, his tone calm but heavy with emotion. "How are you?"

Esmael’s eyes narrowed, his posture tense. "Why do you care?"

Morvane took a tentative step forward. "Because I do. Because I’ve been gone too long, and I know I was harsh to you back then. But I want to fix them."

Esmael didn’t respond, his gaze cold and unreadable.

Luna stepped forward cautiously, her voice soft. "Esmael, please. We’re here to help."

But Esmael didn’t look at her. His focus remained on Morvane, his silence speaking volumes.

Morvane swallowed hard, his mind racing as he searched for the right words. "Your mother... she left a message for you."

Esmael’s hollow gaze darkened, his fists clenching as he stepped closer. "You think you can come here and talk about fixing things?" His voice rose, filled with venom. "You don’t get it, Morvane. You can’t fix what’s already broken. This world shattered me, and now I’ll show you just how cruel it can be."

Before anyone could react, Esmael raised his hand, and a surge of fire erupted from his palm, illuminating the ruins with a fierce glow. "If you want to play the hero, then fight me! Let’s see if you can survive the world you abandoned me to!" His voice cracked with fury as he launched the flames toward Morvane, his rage igniting the night.