SPIRITBINDER: The Boy Without A Mark
Chapter 76: Forgiven

Chapter 76: Forgiven

A month had passed since the death of Morvane’s grandmother and the daring prison escape of Esmael. Despite the passage of time, the rage burning in Morvane’s heart had not diminished. The thought of Esmael wandering free gnawed at him daily.

He stood in the graveyard where his grandmother rested, surrounded by weathered stones and the scent of earth after a recent rain. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees, but the atmosphere remained heavy. He visited this place every day, hoping — desperately hoping — that he might see her spirit. Yet, despite his power to bind and commune with spirits, he had never once seen her.

Sometimes Luna accompanied him, offering quiet companionship, but today he was alone. He traced his fingers across the etched letters on her gravestone, his heart aching with longing.

"Still nothing," he whispered to himself.

The sudden presence behind him was familiar, almost comforting in its subtle energy. Drevon materialized quietly, his face shadowed with concern.

"How are you coping?" Drevon asked, his voice low and measured.

Morvane’s jaw clenched. Instead of answering, he fired back a question. "You’ve been scarce lately. What have you been up to?"

"I’m trying to see the tear in the lower realm," Drevon explained. "Eliad mentioned strange disruptions, and I’m trying to figure out what caused them and their consequences."

Morvane’s gaze darkened with sorrow and frustration. His voice wavered, though his words carried weight. "You should’ve been here with me. That’s your job, right? To teach me how to unlock the full potential of my power. Why are you slacking off when I need you most?"

Drevon blinked, visibly taken aback by the accusation. "Morvane, I know you’re grieving. And I know you want revenge, but this—"

"You don’t understand," Morvane interrupted bitterly. "She’s gone, Drevon. Gone, and I never even got to say goodbye properly. If Esmael hadn’t escaped, maybe I wouldn’t feel this way. Maybe I wouldn’t be haunted by this emptiness."

Drevon remained silent for a moment, as though weighing his next words carefully. "I can’t bring her back, Morvane. But I can help you find peace—and guide you in mastering your power. That much I promise."

Morvane’s voice softened, though pain still clung to it. "I just... I need answers. I need closure."

"And you’ll have it," Drevon said with quiet determination. "But not through rage, Morvane. Trust me—anger will only blind you."

Morvane looked back at his grandmother’s grave. For the first time in weeks, the flames of rage flickered, threatening to extinguish under the weight of sorrow.

"I’ll try," he whispered. "But forgiveness feels impossible right now."

Drevon placed a hand on Morvane’s shoulder. "One step at a time."

From a distance, Medas spotted Morvane standing by his grandmother’s grave. The young man’s figure was rigid, shoulders weighed down by invisible burdens. Medas hesitated for a moment, guilt gnawing at him, before making his way across the damp grass.

When he reached a respectful distance, he stopped. Silence enveloped the graveyard, broken only by the rustle of leaves and distant birdsong.

"Morvane," Medas began, his voice heavy with regret. "I’ve come here... because I need to say something I’ve carried for far too long."

Morvane didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the weathered stone before him.

Medas exhaled deeply, his chest tight with the weight of guilt. "If I hadn’t let my pride control me... If I hadn’t banished you from the kingdom that night, your grandmother might still be alive. You wouldn’t have been away when it happened." His voice cracked, but he forced himself to continue. "This is my fault, and I know no apology can ever be enough."

Still, Morvane remained silent, his expression unreadable.

The weight of Morvane’s silence pressed down on Medas. He clenched his fists, his voice trembling with desperation. "I was wrong, Morvane. I let my ego blind me. I should have seen your loyalty, your strength. Instead, I let foolish pride ruin everything. And now..." His voice faltered. "Now, there’s only regret."

Morvane’s face was impassive, his silence a wall Medas couldn’t breach.

Tears welled in Medas’ eyes as he took a shaky breath. His voice broke as he spoke again, now pleading through sobs. "I would give anything—anything—to change what happened. But I can’t. All I can do is stand here and beg for your forgiveness, even if I don’t deserve it."

His shoulders shook as tears spilled down his face. "Your grandmother was kind to everyone, even me, that is very evident. She didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve this. I failed you."

The sound of Medas’ anguish hung in the air, raw and unfiltered. For a moment, the graveyard seemed to hold its breath.

Morvane’s lips parted, as though he might finally speak—but then he closed them again, his expression still unreadable.

Medas wiped his face, composing himself as best as he could. "I won’t stop trying to make this right, Morvane. Even if you never forgive me."

With that, he turned and began to walk away, his steps heavy with sorrow.

Morvane remained still, the words and emotions swirling around him like an unrelenting storm. His heart, though hardened by grief and anger, was no longer as impenetrable as before.

Morvane stood motionless as Medas’ sobs faded into the wind. His chest felt heavy, a dam on the verge of breaking. And then, without warning, a single tear fell from his eye. It traced a burning path down his cheek, releasing the torrent of emotions he’d kept locked away for too long.

His voice, raw and trembling, shattered the silence. "If I could punch you a million times, I would. But that wouldn’t bring my grandma back."

Medas stopped in his tracks, his shoulders tensing. He turned slowly, surprise and guilt etched across his face.

Morvane’s voice grew steadier, though the pain lingered in every word. "If I used my bad manifestation power and wished for you the worst misfortune imaginable, it wouldn’t bring her back."

The graveyard seemed to darken with the weight of his words.

"If I unleashed my shadow beast on you, tearing you apart piece by piece, it wouldn’t bring her back either." His fists clenched at his sides, trembling with restrained fury. "Nothing will."

Medas flinched, but he didn’t speak, letting Morvane’s grief pour out.

"And if you beg for forgiveness a thousand times, that won’t bring her back either. Even if you’re not the one who killed her..." Morvane’s voice cracked. "I despise you as much as I despise Esmael."

Medas’ breath caught in his throat.

"You are one of the few men I was close to. One of the few I admired." Morvane’s voice wavered, filled with betrayal. "And yet... you and Esmael are the ones who’ve caused me this pain."

The air between them was thick with tension, sorrow, and bitter truths.

Medas’ lips trembled as he tried to find the right words. "Morvane... I—"

"No," Morvane cut him off, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just let me be."

The wind howled through the trees as Medas lowered his head. He wanted to say more, to explain, but he knew there was nothing he could offer that would mend the wounds he’d helped create.

With a heavy heart, Medas turned and walked away, his silhouette fading into the mist.

Morvane stood there alone, his tear-streaked face lifted toward the sky. The ache in his chest remained, but for the first time in weeks, the weight seemed just a little lighter. And though forgiveness seemed far away, he had finally broken his silence.

Morvane tried to wipe his tears with his clenched fist, but his strength betrayed him. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the damp ground. Grief poured out of him, raw and uncontainable. His head bowed, and his cries echoed across the silent cemetery, shattering the stillness.

Medas’ heart ached at the sight. Without thinking, he stepped forward and placed a trembling hand on Morvane’s back. The young man didn’t flinch or pull away—his pain had consumed every defense.

"I’m sorry," Medas whispered. "I’m so sorry."

He knelt beside Morvane, his voice low but earnest. "Our closeness... it was never just about your power or Hiraya or anything political. It was deeper than that. You were like a son to me, Morvane. For the longest time, you were the only person I trusted completely."

Morvane’s sobs softened, though his shoulders still shook. Medas’ own voice wavered as he continued. "When I lost Hiraya, and I thought you killed her... I wanted to kill you. I swore it to myself—I marked it in stone—that when I found out who took her from me, I would end their life without hesitation."

His hand trembled against Morvane’s back. "But when I found out it was you... I don’t know what came over me. I couldn’t bring myself to kill you. I couldn’t even hate you properly. So I did the only thing I thought I could—I banished you. Because I didn’t want to see your face ever again."

Morvane’s breathing hitched, but he said nothing.

Medas’ voice broke further, thick with emotion. "That was the hardest moment of my life. I felt betrayed by the person I trusted most. But then... when I discovered the truth—that I was the one who caused Hiraya’s death..." His voice faltered. "I was the one who killed the love of my life."

Tears streamed down Medas’ face. "I betrayed myself, betrayed Hiraya, betrayed you. I don’t know how to live with that. And now your grandmother..." His words dissolved into a choked sob.

"I feel responsible for everything," Medas whispered through his tears. "I feel like every loss, every pain, leads back to me. I don’t even know how to ask for your forgiveness anymore because I don’t think I deserve it."

He tried to speak more, but the weight of guilt and sorrow overwhelmed him. Tears poured freely down his face, his words lost in anguish.

For a long moment, the only sound was their shared grief echoing through the cemetery. Two broken souls, bound by loss, guilt, and a pain too vast to measure.

Morvane’s cries quieted as his gaze lifted to Medas. The older man knelt beside him, shoulders trembling, his face wet with tears. In that vulnerable moment, Medas no longer seemed like a proud, untouchable figure. He was just a man burdened by loss and guilt, carrying a weight that mirrored Morvane’s own.

A pang of understanding pierced Morvane’s heart. He realized that Medas had been carrying the weight of Hiraya’s death, his own guilt, and now the loss of Morvane’s grandmother. They were both fractured by their shared tragedies.

With a voice still raw but steadier, Morvane spoke. "I don’t know if I can completely heal from this." He paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. "But I know my grandma would want us to forgive each other. When you banished me... she told me we needed to talk and fix everything." His voice softened. "She’d be happy to see me forgive you."

Medas’ breath caught as those words sank in. His lips trembled. "Morvane... I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for everything."

Without hesitation, Morvane reached out, and they embraced. It was an embrace filled with sorrow, regret, and a fragile hope for healing. Medas clung to him, still murmuring apologies between his sobs.

"I’m sorry," Medas choked. "For everything... for Hiraya, for your grandmother, for pushing you away."

Morvane’s grip tightened. "I know."

The weight they both carried didn’t vanish in that moment. The pain and guilt lingered, but something shifted—something lighter, more bearable.

They stayed there for a long time, two grieving souls finding solace in each other’s presence. And though the road to healing would be long, they had taken the first step toward forgiveness.

Suddenly, a guard riding swiftly on horseback approached, his face pale with urgency.

"Your Majesty," he called out breathlessly to Medas. "The palace is in great danger. The left wing is on fire—we don’t know how it started."

Morvane and Medas exchanged a grim look. They didn’t need to speak aloud; both their thoughts pointed to the same name.

Esmael.