Chapter 58: [55 – lessons; unknown understandings]

Soren had left as soon as he had finished saying his part, tired and exhausted from the tumbling words that had escaped his lips. Nobody stopped him — they could not, when he hadn't spoken a single lie.

It was stagnant in the room. Even Raphael, who suggested the conversation, was surprised at the emotions that bounced around in the firing speech.

But he was happy. That the bottle whose lid had been firmly tightened finally was wrenched off. The protagonist moved to follow Soren outside. 

"Raphael."

Raphael stopped, turning to stare at Vincent with some pity. The latter looked utterly confused, brows knitted together and lips etched into a frown of pondering frustration. 

"I don't understand." said the man in a low tone, somewhat helplessly.

And this was the first prince's greatest weakness.

He did not posses the ability not the personality to know how to get along with his siblings. But this prince was also one who sacrificed his very identity for the freedom of others. Vincent was not a terrible person, or Raphael would not have befriended him as such.

Neverthless, there were wrongs to be made right, and plenty of learning to do. And Raphael, unfortunately, was much more interested in helping another sibling that was not the first prince.

Raphael spoke slowly. "If you don't understand," he smiled vaguely. "Isn't it time to learn, Vin?"

His words lingered in the air as the door closed, leaving behind four conflicted men. 

"We were in the wrong." said Deimos finally, taking a deep breath. "We always were, and we have no right to stop him from leaving."

"I had no intention of stopping him." muttered Vincent with a scowl. "I never intended to restrict his freedom."

"Well, brother," Deimos stared right at the eldest through tired mint eyes. "As Sir Raphael has said, it's time to learn. Exactly how you've impacted him. How we all did, in terribly devestating ways."

"You weren't much better, Deimos." said Erlen through gritted teeth, though his mind burned and gaze blurred with thoughts of self-blame. 

Atlas sighed, interrupting them all. "At present, it is best we do not argue. Is that understood, brothers?"

"...yes." murmured Erlen obediently, taking a deep breath to cool his head.

Vincent was the first to turn around. "I will deal with the matters at hand first, before we discuss a solution."

"It isn't time for a discussion, I'm certain you understand." said Atlas at the broad, lonely back of his eldest brother. "If you want to understand everything properly, what do you think you should do? We all have our own parts to make amends for."

Deimos slumped where he stood. "You were in a coma, Atlas. There is nothing you must amend."

The other tilted his head in confusion. "When I was younger, I could not give him the love he desired and so needed. Now, with my own eyes I can clearly tell, how he's grown up faster than he should. It's an awfully tragic thing, when a child must grow up sooner than they need to."

Atlas had observed from the side, unable to say anything. Because in truth, he was in the wrong too. The prince was never a social person, prefering the confines of his room wrapped in pure logic and planning, but in doing so, he had neglected Soren.

Unlike Deimos' gentle nature that took in everyone's feelings to a personal extent, Atlas's calmness was in his observation.

Prior to his coma, he hadn't recognized the neglect. It was only after waking up and staring into those unfamiliar icy eyes, devoid of any love and warmth, that he understood.

Lost in their own meandering thoughts, the four separated. 

It was time to properly understand their dysfunctional family if they truly wanted things to change. And in understanding, they too would have to change.

The only question was, would they be able to?

 

---xxx---

 

"How do you feel?"

Soren's steps slowed as the question hung behind him, full of quiet curiosity. His usual answer got stuck in his throat as he contemplated seriously. To Raphael, he didn't want to stay silent. He didn't need to.

"...satisfied." decided Soren, feeling the refreshing cool spreading through his body, like a flame that had been extinguished by sweet, lapping waves of ocean.

All those words, locked and stuffed down his throat, now released into the open world.

Raphael's eyes curved. "That's good."

"Mm."

The prince closed his eyes where he stood, in the middle of the cobblestone streets that radiated chaos and despair. The battle had ended, in the castle behind him, in the tunnels where the King had fallen.

Whistles of wind tangled in his snowy locks as the tattered black robe billowed around him. There was a melancholic peace to his expression.

And Raphael felt strangely unnerved. 

"Ren?"

A blink, and a flutter of lashes. "What?"

Silence. And then Raphael leaned back and smiled, conflicted. "Nothing." For a second, he thought the other might disappear.

"I've been waiting, Renren. Raphy~" a voice called out in its light, humorous tone despite the red that covered his clothes. "What took you so long?"

A gentle laugh floated in the air as Vendra stood in her elegance, smiling. "You're here."

"Damn, you took your time talking." remarked Celine, her rugged hair at some point tidied as she crossed her arms, close to Vendra. The latter glanced at her when she spoke, smiling softly. "Where to now?"

There was a nudge on the crook of his back, and Soren stepped forward. "The Forest of Good and Evil."

"Ah? What for?"

"I'm looking for something." said Soren simply, not expecting the others to follow. The task of concluding this catastrophe had already been successfully completed, and the future would be his own selfish goals.

The prince had no expectations. But before he could continue speaking, the others spoke up first.

"Oh~ I've always wanted to take a look around there, so that'll be exciting. You sure know how to read my mind, Renren~!"

"My, shall we head off soon then? I believe it'll take some time to arrive."

"You aim high, prince. That place is incredibly chaotic, and one of the best places I've wandered around. Let's go."

Raphael chuckled. "What're you waiting for, little prince? Damien and Alvara should also be arriving, soon."

"...yeah."

When they reached the entrance, an expansive carriage awaited them. There were no additional guards, only a single man who nodded politely at them with a firm expression. 

"I am here to bring you to your desired location, your highness."

Soren stared at him. "Which of the princes asked you?"

"It is at their request that I do not state—"

"Which one?"

"I apologize, but I am unable to—"

"Which?"

There seemed to be a trickle of sweat dripping down the forehead of the guard, despite the skies being covered in clouds as the wind streamed in continuous flow. This time, he chose not to say anything. 

Raphael took pity on the man and stepped forward. "I'm afraid that this petty fool won't get on the carriage unless you answer him."

Soren blinked. "......"

The guard swallowed, though his impassive face remained the same. "Understood. It was the fourth prince, Atlas Rosenbaum, your highness."

"Really?"

"...yes, your highness."

Raphael sighed. "Stop making so much trouble, little prince."

He almost scooped Soren up, dragging him slightly into the carriage while the latter languidly allowed himself to be dragged. The prince wasn't really in the mood for arguing, anyway. 

If Raphael had heard, a slap to the head would've been promised. What was the point of causing trouble if you were too lazy to do it properly?

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The others followed in without much trouble, sitting in the seats comfortably. It was pleasant, with soft cushions padding the corners, despite the outside having a clean and simple appearance that was lacking the luxurious flare of royalty.

Soren preferred it that way, however. Standing out had never been something he enjoyed.

"Pardon me, Soren." said Vendra suddenly, her eyes trailing over his outfit. "But would you like to change your attire?"

"Oh." Soren lifted his robe slightly to peek at the clothes he'd forgotten he was wearing — a ripped dress that revealed the white stockings delicately wrapping around his legs, torn and frayed at the edges. 

He glanced over at Raphael, who smiled in that annoying way of his. 

At some point, the protagonist found time to change into his regular clothes while weaving through the battles and even making his way over to the tunnels. 

A true talent, really. 

Vendra smiled and rummaged through the side where she had somehow tucked away a pair of clothing. "Thankfully, I picked it up as I left. I'm assuming this may fit, though do let me know if it doesn't."

Soren accepted it and nodded. "Thank you."

"Of course, Soren."

Brioc laughed. "You may as well just change in the carriage, hm~?"

Raphael quickly interrupted, pressing the clothes that Soren had begun to lift up back down. "Don't give him any strange ideas, alright?"

Brioc shrugged with a wide grin on his face. "It was only a suggestion."

"An unnecessary one."

"So protective~ I'll make a note to stay clear, how about it?" said Brioc teasingly before his eyes flickered out the window, widening in surprise. The carriage was coming to a slow, arriving at the intended destination. "Well, well, look who it is~"

A youth with skin pale as an empty canvas easily painted in the crimson red of battle, stood. Eyes lazily slanted as they stared ahead with their curious emerald gleam, a soft pair of ears peeking from the tuffs of hair that messily brushed his cheeks. 

Beside him, a girl waved, rose-red eyes curved in delight as her cropped black hair tumbled in the wind. Her attire had changed since last, a far cry different from the tattered rags that once draped over her slender frame.

When they stepped out, Soren nodded politely at the driver, who looked surprised, before regaining his straight face. 

A task that must've been quite hard to do, considering his troublesome employers.

Soren decided half-heartedly that if he saw his brothers again, he would put in a croup tip for this man.

Damien strolled up, the sleeveless black shirt suiting him far more than the tidy, formal clothing he had worn before. "Master."

"Damien." said Soren in return.

"Did the information I provided prove useful?"

"Yeah. Thank you."

Damien's smiled faintly. "Thank you for the information, as well, master. Do you think I've found what I was looking for?"

Soren tilted his head seriously. "If you hadn't, you wouldn't come back."

A flash of curiosity flickered across the fox's face, forest eyes probing and scrutinizing. Something had changed in this master of his during the period they'd been apart, and though it wasn't vivid, he noticed it clearly.

Interesting, as always.' thought Damien vaguely.

"Have you found what I requested?"

Celine's head snapped over, golden gaze lit with hopeful excitement. 

"I found everything I sought to find." was the reply, ambiguous as it naturally was. "Whether it is in the condition you'd like or not, what do you think?"

"What does that mean, kid? Don't joke around." said Celine hurriedly, rushing forward with a inked across her face. "What happened?"

"What do you think?"

"What. Happened?" growled Celine again, empathizing each word with steely threats. Not that they fazed Damien in the slightest, when he'd seen many similar looks.

His gaze was indifferent as he said, "Your sister is alive. However, she has yet to wake up."

"Why not?"

"Do you believe I am omniscient, Death Saint?"

"Enough, we'll examine Uriel's condition in a moment." said Raphael with a sigh, hands stuffed in his pockets and he stepped in between them. "Was it difficult finding your way through the forest?"

"No, it wasn't. Not at all."

The teenager's gaze gleamed in memory.

Back then, he expected little from the necromancer that had been tossed his way. Alvara was unique, but at the same time a familiar sight for all he'd seen in the slums. Yet with the odd innocence she carried, he couldn't predict what sort of reaction she'd have to the Forest of the Lost. 

The sight of strewn corpses on the ground and lingering souls that would wander eerily near with their empty, slanted eyes did not faze her.

She instead quietly followed him around, keeping up the death mist around their bodies to trick the maze. Her breath was shallow and haggard, but she persisted nevertheless. For that, Damien respected her.

The Forest of the Lost was a strange place, and within the confines of its ever-twisting maze, getting lost was too easy. 

The atmosphere was heavy, poking at the skin with its itching sense of death. For a long while, time and gotten blurred together as they wandered aimlessly. 

Eventually, it had been Alvara who suddenly moved ahead, turning through the twisting paths with accuracy. When she stopped, before her was the sleeping angel, laid on a bed of thorny vines that crept up the walls of the maze. 

Pale, sunlight hair that loosely hung over the makeshift bed of thorns, twisted and tangled as she remained still. Unmoving, lifeless. 

Uriel's punishment.

An eternal sleep of solitude.

'She isn't dead.' Alvara had been quick to explain, frowning as if she didn't quite understand what she was saying herself. 'But she gives off the feeling... as if there's no way to wake her.'

'What do you think we should do?'

'...let's bring her back. And then we'll see?' There was uncertainty in the tone, but that was to be expected. There were few methods that could be used. 

'Very well.'

The rest was simple. The Forest had little interest in the seemingly 'dead', and therefore ignored the two as they searched for an exit. Bring Uriel back out with them had been more difficult, but not impossible.

"After Uriel is examined, what do you intend to do next. master?" asked Damien suddenly, turning his gaze to the prince.

"Go the Forest of Good and Evil."

"When?"

"As soon as Uriel's safety is confirmed."

Damien nodded as he gestured them to follow him through the winding trees that was a maze in its own right. He walked swiftly in the front, through trailing behind enough so as to not have anyone lose sight of the destination.

"I'll grab some supplies before we leave, okay? Then, we may head off."

And just like that, Damien's appearance had been confirmed.

"I don't really know if I'll do it right, but I'll try my best!"

Alvara's, too.

Soren listened at the side without a word. Originally, he'd intended for an individual trip, and now, there were several others who chose to follow him. Not because of fear or hatred, but simply because they wished to.

Such a thought was foreign and strange to the prince.

But he found that he didn't dislike it. 

Not even a bit.