The Priest's Revelation
“Mahati…?”
The dying spark reignited, the stranger's eyes blazed with sudden life. His gaze locked onto Nefetia as he stepped closer. His frame was skeletal, every bone jutting painfully, skin ashen and withered from years in darkness, clad in rags that reeked of mildew, old sweat, and something far more acrid. A scent that clung to the soul like betrayal.
“No. It can't be. It has to be someone else.”
Before Nefetia could speak, the man squeezed his eyes shut tight, as if to deny what his heart already whispered. He swayed, self-loathing etching deep lines into his hollow cheeks, and only then did Nefetia find her voice.
“He was my mother.”
“Princess of Kepet, you say? And I… Prince Arkin of Solinar.”
The words were meant for the silver leaf brooch pinned to Arkin's tunic. Arkin, already on edge, sharpened his stare until the air itself seemed to freeze.
“Why do you so casually name the ruler of Kepet?”
An unexpected smile curved the man's cracked lips, thin and weary.
“We… were special friends, you see.”
He laughed bitterly, eyes dropping to the ground, and the weight of that single word—*friends*—felt heavier than any lie the world had thrown at them.
“It was only a season. One season, yet it carved memories that would last a lifetime.”
A single season. Arkin’s brow furrowed at the casual phrase, as if it could never describe the storm of emotion he felt stirring beneath the surface.
“So how did two such noble-blooded souls find themselves here?”
Once he learned Nefetia was the princess, his voice gentled, suspicion easing like frost on glass.
“I was in the middle of a training exercise. Then… a path opened.”
Nefetia’s simple answer only deepened his confusion; he tilted his head, brows knitting.
“A path opened? That’s impossible…”
Still muttering, the man shook his head, then clicked his tongue and spun away.
“Yes… the time has finally come.”
He walked slowly toward the cave wall. Without thinking, Arkin and Nefetia followed, drawn deeper into the darkness.
He stopped, gazing upward at the towering rock face. Every inch was smeared with charcoal-black streaks—days, weeks, months, years. The faint scratches told of a life spent counting every sunrise and sunset in this tomb. His thin fingers brushed the marks with trembling reverence.
“Then tell me… is the training competition proceeding smoothly? The assigned priest is Seneca, yes? I know him well.”
“…”
Arkin kept his guard up, scanning the stranger once more. Ash-gray strands threaded through his unkempt hair—probably Seneca’s age, yet here he lived like an animal. What secret had the man been keeping?
“Who exactly are you? A priest of this island?”
Cool blue eyes pierced the gloom, searching for secrets the man had long buried. Only when Arkin spoke did Roman answer.
“Ah, I see I neglected introductions. My name is Roman. Former Chief Priest of Credo Island.”
“What are you doing here? Did you choose the path of seclusion, or were you… trapped?”
“…Both.”
Roman’s gaze drifted into empty space, voice flat.
“That is the only honest answer I can give.”
“What does that even mean?”
Roman fell silent, as if the words had been dragged from him by force. Emotions—anger, regret, betrayal, sorrow—flashed across his gaunt face like lightning.
Finally he whispered, voice cracking, “I… was Valdemar’s only accomplice.”
The name Valdemar hung in the air between them like a curse. A flicker of something dark crossed Nefetia and Arkin’s faces. After a long pause, Roman began his tale.
“He surely thought me dead. Years ago, on the path from the temple, Valdemar shoved me over the cliff.”
“What?”
Arkin and Nefetia froze, horror paling their cheeks. Roman continued, voice steady now.
“I knew he envied me, but I never dreamed he would stoop to murder. Even though he was a priest who served the gods, his heart was… small.”
A shaky breath escaped him. His fingertips trembled.
“In the end… the gods’ love saved me. I plummeted toward the jagged rocks, but my body twisted at the last second, slipping into the water instead of shattering on stone. I lost consciousness for a moment when the surface struck me, but at least my flesh remained whole.”
“Oh my…”
Nefetia exhaled a heavy sigh.
“When I woke, I simply gave myself to the current. I held my breath until my lungs burned, swallowing the pain of torn flesh, until the water grew strong enough to carry me. Then I fought with every ounce of strength I had left. Valdemar had never realized the son of a fisherman might be able to swim like the devil himself.”
“And that brought you here?”
“Exactly, Your Highness. I sealed a barrier around the deepest part of Credo’s forest, certain Valdemar would never find me. And my guess… proved true.”
Roman’s voice dropped to a warning hush.
“Listen closely. He is dangerous. In this training competition, he will harm the trainees without hesitation.”
“Harm them? Why?”
“Because of his ambition.”
Roman spoke of the prophecy he and Valdemar had received years earlier at the temple—the one that foretold the arrival of “the master of Credo Island.” The moment the words left his lips, he understood why Valdemar had reacted with such frenzy.
“Now that the island knows the prophecy is true, only I remain. I am certain Valdemar will strike during this very competition.”
At that instant, Arkin and Nefetia exchanged a single, heavy glance.
*Bad news.*
What if Draconis and Serena were already in league with Valdemar? Would they forge a temporary alliance for some greater purpose? The thought chilled their blood.
“So I…”
Roman drew a shaky breath and continued.
“From the moment the training competition began, I poured every drop of Holy Power into the island. I feared he might attempt forbidden magic. I expanded the barrier across the entire island, nerves stretched taut, ready for war. But then…”
His expression twisted in scholarly confusion, as though he still could not believe what he had witnessed.
“Days ago, without any effort on my part, the island itself began spewing power. Holy Power surged, blooming flowers, ripening fruit, trees that had withered overnight regrowing to full height. It was overwhelming. Primordial.”
“…”
Arkin’s eyes drifted upward, as if the sky itself might answer. Roman had spoken of *that moment*—the exact time when he and Nefetia had first glimpsed Heta-sep’s power awakening inside them.
“Roman… that means—”
Nefetia spoke before she could stop herself.
“Arkin and I are… the children of Heta-sep…”
“Shh!”
Arkin clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with panic. Nefetia flushed crimson and fell silent, but the clue had already slipped past her lips. Roman’s gaze sharpened.
“What did you just say?”
He studied the two youths carefully. The princess of Kepet and the prince of Solinar merely shifted their eyes, saying neither yes nor no.
“…”
An awkward silence stretched between them. Roman’s eyes moved slowly downward, drawn to a loose thread on the floor. The transparent filament still shimmered faintly with residual light.
“How exactly did you two enter here?”
His voice trembled. His expression grew rigid as he glanced toward the vine-choked entrance.
“Just… during a training exercise, a path opened.”
The moment Nefetia spoke, Roman’s pupils jittered like a struck bell.
“Princess. Just… opened?”
He swallowed hard.
“You were not blocked by vines, nor did you stumble. You received no attack whatsoever?”
The desperation in his tone was unmistakable.
“Not a single thing disturbed us. Not even an attack…”
Arkin paused, then answered honestly.
“It felt like the path itself was *offering* us entrance. As if it were pushing us forward.”
“…”
The skeletal man scrubbed his face roughly, then let out a dry, broken laugh.
“I should have suspected something from the beginning. A princess who looks exactly like Mahati appearing out of nowhere… I simply couldn’t believe it.”
Layers upon layers of protection had been placed around this safe sanctuary. Who could have guessed the door would open so easily? That Credo Island itself had unlocked its own bolts and delivered them these two?
Roman’s eyes brimmed with sudden, overwhelming realization. The long-unanswered question had finally found its answer.
“Your Highness, and Princess… please listen carefully to every word I say from now on…”