The Oath and the Illusion
“Alright, now look forward once more. It is time to swear before the sacred fire.”
Valdemar drew his hands together and took two measured steps backward. Flames danced calmly in the brazier beside him, casting soft golden light across the marble floor.
“Following the traditions of the World Alliance, the successor of the Forest Kingdom of Solinar will now take the oath. Arkin Seilir, step forward and represent yourself and the participants.”
The moment his name was called, Arkin felt a brief surprise. Yet he straightened his posture at once and stepped forward with purposeful strides. The priest watched him with a satisfied smile.
“As you all know, the World Alliance was founded long ago. It was the great King Chefkin of Solinar who, after settling bloody wars and offering peace and unity, gathered the ten kingdoms and held the first summit on the neutral island of Credo.”
The priest raised his voice slightly. He scanned the crowd, then nodded as he came to Arkin. The prince bowed his head humbly, returning the smile with grace.
“We owe him a great debt. That is why, every time this tournament is held, the successor of Solinar takes the oath as a token of respect. Now, kneel on one knee before the prince of Solinar and offer your respect.”
Arkin followed the instruction, dropping to one knee and bowing his head. A white tunic, simple leather sandals, and a bronze plaque engraved with the rules of conduct lay on a silver tray.
“Receive these. For the next six months, set aside all worldly authority and live in these garments.”
Arkin extended both hands. The items the priest handed him were unexpectedly thin and light, surprising him for a moment, though nothing else felt amiss.
“Next, the purification rite.”
At a gesture from Valdemar, another apprentice priest brought a basin of clear water with olive branches floating on its surface. The high priest plucked a branch, dipped it, and sprinkled holy water over Arkin’s forehead and the items he had received.
“I purify you with the water of the sacred island of Credo. Lay aside your past status and privileges, and welcome a new beginning.”
Finally, before the sacred brazier, it was time for Arkin to recite the oath.
“Arkin, read it loudly.”
The high priest produced a parchment from his sleeve and handed it to him. Arkin rose and, following the instruction, read the vow written in the common tongue in a clear, resounding voice.
“While I remain on the sacred island of Credo, I will fulfill my responsibilities and duties, obey its rules, strive to become an excellent leader guided by the priests, and promise to follow the instructions, engage faithfully in training, and work for the prosperity and peace of the World Alliance.”
His calm yet powerful voice carried across the hall. When Arkin finished, the priest took the parchment and placed a hand on his shoulder, patting his back softly. “I have heard the rumors, Arkin. My expectations of you are great.”
Their eyes met up close. The priest’s pupils swirled with golden shadows within crimson depths—an eerie gaze that seemed to pull him in. A chill ran down Arkin’s spine.
“Then…”
Arkin bowed lightly and stepped back with formal courtesy. The impression vanished as quickly as it had come.
He returned to his place. The priest clasped his hands in satisfaction and began to conclude the ceremony.
“Soon, the priests in charge of the accommodations will guide you. As you might expect, men and women will use separate buildings. Avoid unnecessary contact….”
At another gesture from Valdemar, one young male priest and one female priest in green robes stepped forward.
“Follow them, unpack simply, change your clothes, and gather at the dining hall by the appointed time… Ah, one more thing!”
Valdemar’s voice grew serious, sharpening the uneasy atmosphere.
“I must tell you something else. The island where the successors of the World Alliance have gathered is protected by powerful holy power, forming a barrier.”
He pointed to ten silver pillars that glowed with moonlight.
“The moment you arrived, the barrier was reinforced somewhat strongly because too many people rushed in at once. If you felt unusually good health, or hallucinations, illusions, voices, or any strange symptoms when you first stepped onto the island, they are all temporary. Do not worry.”
What…?
Arkin’s head snapped up as he listened intently. Then… was the situation from moments ago…?
Relief washed over him in waves. Honestly, he had been quietly anxious, wondering whether the unrealistic situation Nefetia claimed might be his fate.
The timing had been terrible: his successor position shaken, and then this sudden meeting with a foreign princess. His mind insisted it was impossible, yet a small, skeptical voice whispered, “What if it’s true?”
But now he knew. Arkin turned toward Nefetia with a triumphant grin and shrugged his shoulders.
See? Temporary symptoms—hallucinations, illusions. I heard you, right?
Even if the distance was not far, Nefetia furrowed her brows and shook her head. Her expression said she could not accept it so easily—eyebrows drawn together, lips pushed out in a pout.
“Impossible.”
Oh dear…
Arkin chuckled and turned back toward the front. It was strange, but this made perfect sense. Solinar and Kepet were at the very edge of the world; what business could they possibly have with each other?
The nagging unease dissolved. A quiet sense of relief filled his chest.
“Nefetia must have thought the same.”
In truth, she had felt the same storm of emotions he had. When Arkin had been most tense, she had felt her own desperation at the same moment she met him.
Either way, it was a relief to know both sides had misunderstood.
Arkin’s face carried a warm, satisfied glow. Fate was not at play. They had simply crossed paths by chance in a world that was very far apart, and the island’s holy power had simply added an unexpected twist.
After the opening ceremony, the hall was briefly unsettled. Arkin approached Nefetia.
He marched right up to her, then spoke in a rather unpleasant tone.
“You heard what Valdemar said, didn’t you?”
“I heard….”
“Let me check.”
Arkin reached out immediately and tapped her wrist lightly, then waved his hand in front of her face.
“At least I feel nothing. How about you?”
Nefetia pressed her lips together tightly, brows furrowed. She still did not want to admit she was his Hetasept. Yet she stood right within reach, and nothing strange had happened at all, as if some invisible life force had fled between them.
“You don’t know? How about this?”
Arkin leaned in until his face was inches from hers. Nefetia’s eyes went wide like a rabbit’s. Why was this different from when he leaned in? She had never felt this before. When she tried to step back, he shook his head. “I must confirm.” Even when he was touching her, she had recoiled, but now he leaned so close that every eyelash was visible and urged her to answer.
“Answer. That feeling is gone, right?”
Instead of answering, Nefetia lowered her gaze. Too close. If she looked up just a little, she would be swallowed by his deep blue-grey eyes.
“Nefetia, answer me.”
Arkin’s voice dropped low.