The Nightmares That Haunt the Crown Prince
Hah. This is getting dizzy.
Petra looked pale and complained of a headache, as if she had absolutely no talent for weaving. Meanwhile, beside her, Elio quietly finished one thread with a flick of his hand. It was astonishing speed. Arachne, who had been scanning the trainees, noticed this prodigy at once and showered him with sincere praise.
Nefetia gazed at her finished cloth with a heavy heart. The blood that had dripped from the wounds where the thread had been cut stained the fabric, and Arachne had merely scolded her. Only fatigue had accumulated, and little progress had been made.
Nefetia ran her blood-stained fingers along the edge of the thread with her tongue and thought deeply. It was difficult to make even a single garment like this. She now understood, a little, why the common people collapsed in exhaustion after a day’s work.
“It hasn’t even started and the blood’s already flowing?”
Stella clicked her tongue in sympathy while staring at Nefetia’s cloth.
“I don’t know. It’s hopeless.”
Pouting, Nefetia muttered to herself and secretly glanced in another direction. The bitter gaze landed on Arkin Seilir’s seat, where he was quietly weaving.
With a clacking of threads, the yarn wove itself smoothly, and the cloth stretched out like it was growing. Every motion was as natural as water flowing. It was exactly like a young and beautiful god playing the lyre.
Since the mud incident, it had been about ten days since she and Arkin had spoken.
Whenever their eyes met, they exchanged awkward nods and quickly passed each other by. Nefetia had not dared to approach him, and Arkin had seemed to be avoiding her.
This was not what she had wanted. Too short a time together, then disappearing exactly as much. It was unbearably painful to be inferior to everyone else.
“The god must never allow Arkin Seilir to break, right?”
Princess Amalfi sighed dramatically from the corner, while Petra, who viewed Arkin as a healthy rival, clicked her tongue.
“If it weren’t for the sweat on his forehead, he wouldn’t even look human. It’ll be hard work following in his footsteps.”
“Exactly.”
Nefetia smiled awkwardly. Everyone else made countless mistakes, but Arkin was so perfect he didn’t even seem human. He completed anything flawlessly.
However, the fact that Arkin, who seemed to have no gaps, had spent his entire life in hellish torment was a truth she only learned later.
Hot.
Arkin groaned and clutched his chest.
Flames shot up from all around. A massive fire devoured the poplar forest and turned the sky blood-red. His breath grew short. The forest of Solinar, where he had spent his entire life, was burning black.
‘No… no…!’
He struggled, but his body would not move. He could only stand helplessly and watch. Black smoke pressed against his lungs, and the acrid smell of burning wood pricked his nose.
Rustle.
The leaves his fingertips touched crumbled like ash and scattered. The leaves that had once been green were now black dust, flying on the wind. Beneath his feet, the dry ground was littered with charred animal corpses. Rabbits, deer, squirrels… the forest’s former friends, full of life, were buried in ashes.
He ran to the water’s edge, but it was the same. The clear stream had dried up completely, its bottom exposed, and the fish lay dead with mouths open on the cracked mud.
“Prince Arkin! Prince Arkin!”
A familiar voice called out. It was Magnus. But the moment Arkin turned, he nearly screamed. Half of Magnus’s face was charred and blistered by the flames.
“Because of you… because of you…!”
Thud. Magnus collapsed forward. Behind him, more corpses appeared. Palace servants, common people, and even… Mother!
Queen Herta lay charred and slumped. The moment Arkin tried to rush to her, someone grabbed his arms roughly.
“Don’t move! Traitor!”
Two sturdy soldiers dragged him to his knees. Arkin resisted desperately, but it was useless. His knees slammed against the hard stone floor, throbbing in pain.
“It’s because of me! It’s because of me!”
At some point, a crowd surrounded him. Their faces were all filled with rage as they pointed and roared.
“You burned Solinar’s forest because of you!”
“It’s because you tried to become king!”
Plop! A rotten apple flew and smashed into his face. Sticky juice ran down his cheek. Then tomatoes, eggs, and mud clods came flying from every direction.
‘No… I… I… didn’t… anything…’
Tears streamed down Arkin’s eyes. It was unfair. He had no idea why this was happening. It felt as if his heart was tearing apart, and he was about to die.
“The seed of disaster!”
“The one who summons wrath!”
The shouts stabbed like knives into his chest. At that moment, the crowd parted and someone stepped forward. Red hair and piercing eyes. The elder of the Arrowwood Tribe.
“Hah.”
The elder looked down at Arkin. His eyes were filled with contempt. He grabbed a handful of Arkin’s hair roughly and jerked his head. And then…
Spit!
A glob of spit landed on Arkin’s face. Saliva trickled down his cheek.
“Hypocrite, trash, liar!”
The moment those words were spoken, even harsher insults poured out. Stones flew, and kicks followed. Arkin curled into a ball, but there was nowhere to escape. He was kicked and crushed under a barrage of curses, groaning only in pain.
“Everyone, we’ve been deceived by the king until now!”
The Arrowwood elder’s voice echoed through the square.
“Do you know what the oracle was when Prince Arkin was born? The content the royal family hid so desperately from you, it’s time you all knew! It’s….”
This was a dream. A dream! He struggled to wake, but his body would not move. Like sinking into a swamp, he only sank deeper.
‘Help me… please… please…’
No one heard Arkin’s plea. The crowd kept stomping and kicking him, spitting on him. The smell of blood vibrated, and broken ribs pierced his lungs. His tongue felt paralyzed. Breath grew short.
Then.
A single golden streak tore through the darkness. The one who burst in was Nefetia. She approached him and gently cupped his cheeks with warm hands, looking at him with worry. Black hair fluttered in the wind with the ash, and her golden eyes blinked slowly.
“Arkin, take my hand.”
She extended her hand. Just like before, the flames that had raged all around were calmed by her power. The pendant hanging from her wrist rang clearly and swayed.
“Come. I’ll save you.”
But Arkin pushed her hand away.
“No, Nefetia. Let me be.”
“Why? Why are you refusing my help?”
“I’ll do it. I’ll overcome it. This is my fight.”
Sadness filled Nefetia’s golden eyes. She no longer approached him but slowly took one step back, then two. Her figure gradually blurred and finally vanished like smoke.
Like she had been waiting, the flames flared up again and threatened him. The violence that had been stopped resumed, and at last a sharp blade stabbed into the prince’s neck.
“Die, Arkin!”
…Hah!
Arkin jolted awake drenched in cold sweat. His heart raced madly, and his whole body trembled. Goosebumps ran down his spine.
“Magnus…!”
Reflexively, Arkin tried to call for his page, but he blinked weakly.
…Here was not Solinar. Magnus had already sailed away.
In the darkness, the rafters of the ceiling finally came into view. He was lying alone in the small white rectangular room of the Credo Island temple.
Arkin barely sat up and leaned against the edge of the bed. His throat felt dry as if scorched, and sweat soaked his forehead and back.
Only now did the situation at the time of falling asleep come to mind. He had probably forgotten to extinguish the fire. Arkin looked at the oil lamp on the table, stood up, and drank water from the leather pouch to cool his throat.
It had definitely been a dream, yet his throat burned as if he had really been in the fire. Even after the water, which tasted sweet, slid down his throat, the thirst lingered for a long time.
Arkin staggered to the small hole pierced in one wall. He took in the cool night air and cooled his fever for a moment. He stared at the pale white moon and the dense forest of Credo Island below it.
Outside was still pitch dark. Dawn was still far away. The stars were densely packed in the sky, shining brightly, as if someone had poured water all over it.
From afar, the sound of waves faintly reached him. Arkin leaned his arms on the window frame and let out a deep sigh.
If he slept like this again, he would surely have the same dream. That certainty frightened him.