Chapter 24: 24 Zaphira home

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24: Zaphira home 24: Zaphira home Every step toward home was an act of pure determination: the blood, the rain, and the mud did not stop her.

She knew, somehow, she was carrying someone unique to safety.

Someone dangerous and precious at the same time.

Once they reached the small stone and wood dwelling, perched among the mountains and protected from the wind, the girl’s mother intervened.

The smoking fireplace illuminated the room with a warm, flickering light, contrasting with the darkness and rain still raging outside.

The mother placed Kairan on the bed, wet, bruised, and bleeding.

The silence was broken only by the sound of the rain, the crackling of the fire, and the heavy breathing of the young prince.

With expert, delicate gestures, the two demonesses began to clean his face.

Each touch was calculated, precise, yet full of gentleness, aimed at removing every trace of blood and mud, using linen strips soaked in a simple but effective ointment.

The two then bandaged the wound that ran across the right side of his mouth.

The pain was still raw, the wound was still bleeding, but the care began to take effect.

For Kairan, it was the first time in eight years that someone had cared for him.

And he felt something he had never felt before: a fragile but real relief, along with the sensation of being welcomed with every possible care.

The presence of the two demonesses, their attention, their silent calm, created a temporary truce in the entire world: an oasis of safety and protection in an otherwise cruel and indifferent universe.

Kairan slowly closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion and pain wash over him.

Every breath became calmer, more regular.

For the first time in eight years, he was not alone.

When he awoke, it was the third day.

The rain had recently stopped, but the air was still humid and thick, filled with the acrid scent of wet earth.

The small village seemed suspended in an eerie silence, broken only by the gurgling of the streams formed by the storm.

On the bed, Kairan rested.

Despite his age, his body displayed defined muscles, marked by strength and discipline.

His black hair, weighed down by humidity, fell over his face, almost completely obscuring his blue eyes.

The girl’s mother brushed it aside, tucking it to the sides of his face.

“Finally, I can see your face,” she said with a tired smile.

The girl beside her blushed at the sight of those eyes.

“Thank you,” Kairan murmured.

“My name is Thila,” the woman said.

“And this is my daughter, Zaphira.” “Nice to meet you, Zaphira.

You’re the one who found me.

Thank you, too.” The girl had very pale skin and shiny black hair that fell softly to her shoulders.

Her large, dark eyes betrayed an innate shyness, but also a spark of courage: she had stayed up all night, never sleeping.

“Come here,” said Kairan.

She hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest, but her small steps were determined.

She approached the bed, stopping in front of him, who was watching her attentively.

“Make me a wish,” the prince commanded, his voice calm and authoritative despite his young age.

“Anything you want.” Zaphira lowered her gaze, her cheeks flushed.

“I don’t know if you can…

but if you could get a plant that grows on Dareth Mountain…

it will heal my mother.

I would be forever grateful.

I’ve asked other demons, but none have ever agreed.

I’m too small and weak to go alone.” Her mother, pale and visibly frail, moved suddenly, her voice trembling but resolute.

“What are you thinking, Zaphira?

Asking such a thing of an eight-year-old boy?” Kairan, without moving from the bed, raised a hand with a calm, authoritative gesture, and stopped the woman.

“I will gladly do so,” she declared without hesitation, her voice firm and clear.

“My goal is already Dareth’s Crest, and getting that plant will be no effort.

Consider it the least you’ve done for me.” Zaphira’s eyes lit up, incredulous and full of gratitude.

“Really…

will you do it?” Kairan smiled at her slightly, a warm, reassuring smile, calm and confident.

Zaphira, still nervous, couldn’t contain her curiosity.

“How…

how did you get that wound?” Kairan tilted her head slightly.

“You wouldn’t believe me.” “That’s not true!

Tell me everything!” The little girl’s voice trembled, a mixture of fear, disbelief, and curiosity.

“I fought a dragon,” Kairan confessed, her voice clear, confident, yet laden with the gravity that only those who know war can possess.

A silence fell in the room, heavy, almost tangible.

Zaphira and her mother stood still, struck by the extraordinary nature of those words.

After a few moments, Kairan rose from the bed.

She approached Zaphira and, with a delicate gesture, touched her face.

“Thank you again,” she said.

“I will remember you.” Zaphira blushed deeply.

Unable to tear her gaze away from those mesmerizing blue eyes, with flower petals seemingly blooming within them.

Her heart was pounding wildly.

Kairan pointed toward the door.

“It’s time.

I’m leaving.” The mother, pale and trembling, spoke up.

“Who are you, really?” she asked.

“Tell us your name!” Zaphira added urgently.

“So we’ll never forget it!” He smiled faintly, with the calm of someone who was always in complete control of the situation.

“My name is Kairan.” With that, he stepped out of the house, his footsteps firm and purposeful as he headed toward the Crest of Dareth.

Mother and daughter exchanged an incredulous glance.

“We’ve heard that name before…” Zaphira whispered.

“Haven’t we, Mother?” The woman slowly nodded, her pale skin almost translucent beneath the morning light.

“Yes… but I can’t remember when.” At that very moment, a scream tore through the silence of the village.

“A dragon!

I found a dead dragon!

A gigantic black dragon, as large as our entire village!” The inhabitants poured out of their homes, bewildered and frightened.

The demon who had discovered the carcass recounted in a trembling voice, “I found it outside the village.

It had no head and was covered in wounds, as if an army of thousands of demons had attacked it!” A forgotten memory suddenly resurfaced in Zaphira’s mind.

Her eyes widened.

“Wait… I remember now!

Kairan… Mother, that’s the name of the Demon Prince!

Zaroth’s son—the son of the Demon Emperor.” Overcome with emotion, her mother could no longer remain standing.

Her legs gave way, her body collapsed backward, and she fainted, pale as wax.

Meanwhile, far away beneath the gray sky, a small hooded figure climbed toward the cursed mountain.

Toward the swords that had been waiting for ten thousand years.

Toward the truth that was calling him home.