Chapter 103
Tarsila stared at the wavering, blood-red gate with glowing crimson eyes. The portal had not yet fully opened. Its giant mouth remained closed, twitching slightly like a beast licking its lips. She could feel it… feeling hungry.
“It seems the sacrifice offered by the human sorcerer was not sufficient,” murmured one of her subordinates, voice dry and scratchy like rusted metal.
Tarsila’s eyes narrowed sharply.
“Perhaps the sorcerer lacked courage—or worse, loyalty,” she growled. “I can feel it. The sacrifice of blood and resentment to maintain the formation was insufficient. The hatred has no depth.”
The gate pulsed softly, refusing to open the world-to-world barrier.
“Then it’s their lack of devotion,” she hissed. “Find the sorcerer once we return and eliminate them.”
Her voice was low but intense, sulfurous breath curling into the cold air. Her glowing eyes narrowed further, burning with fury.
There were few creatures as cunning and treacherous as humans. Tarsila knew this from bitter history. The land beyond this sealed gate once belonged to her kind. Long ago, before the age of gods and kings, her people had ruled that fertile domain.
But humans—weak and many—struck deals with divine beings and moved into the north. They slaughtered, betrayed, and stole. They seized the sacred earth and pushed Tarsila’s kin into this cursed, corrupted land. Now, they were little more than shadows of what they once were.
But Tarsila had not forgotten. No, none of them had.
They lived for one reason only—revenge. Each generation passed down the will of reclamation. And now, after all this time, the moment of judgment had finally arrived.
Tarsila carried the will of Terah, a hero of her people who had vanished into a gate 120 years ago and never returned. She became the living vessel of that unfulfilled purpose. She had spent decades creating monsters and forging warriors strong enough to retake what was once theirs.
But fraud from human sorcerers had always been their downfall. Again and again, sorcerers who allied with them for power betrayed them when it mattered most. They accepted gifts they did not earn, clung to life when death was due, and turned their backs when battle arrived.
“We cannot repeat history,” Tarsila said, her voice an inferno.
“If the gate fails to open this time, it may remain shut for many years,” the subordinate warned.
“Let it!” Tarsila roared. “Who dares return here thinking to challenge us again? Those who enter this place must die here—or live for the sole purpose of dying there. We are the heirs of our fallen glory, and our vow is eternal! Or have you forgotten that, too?”
“N-no, never, my lord!” the subordinate stammered, eyes wide with fear. “I only worry for the young who will remain…”
Tarsila’s voice turned cold, almost amused.
“Sorcerers can be reborn. If we fall, the children will carry our fire. And if we triumph, the children will walk once more upon that sacred soil.” Her words were ironclad. “We do not waver.”
The subordinate bowed deeply. “Forgive me. I allowed fear to poison my thoughts.”
“Then cast it away,” Tarsila declared. “Because the victory is ours!”
Her voice thundered, shaking the corrupted ground beneath them. A slow, cruel smile formed on her lips.
“And take the lives of our soldiers. Offer them generously to the formation as fertilizer. Let their blood and grief feed the spell until the gate tears wide open!”
At her command, her followers dropped to their knees, pressing foreheads to the ashen soil. Tarsila’s words held the weight of law, impossible to disobey.
***
Far away, deep in the northern forest, a young woman clutched a tree root with bleeding hands.
Janice bit her lower lip, trying to steady her breath. Her fingers trembled, veins bulging under the strain. She muttered in her hoarse voice:
“Damn it…”
She wasn’t just being chased by imperial knights. The forest itself was hunting her. A crimson energy tainted the trees, stalking her with quiet wickedness.
Many sorcerers before her had died horrific deaths—betrayed, hunted, broken. Each cycle repeated the same bloody pattern.
Janice knew this intimately. She was no ordinary human. Sorcerers weren’t born—they were chosen by memory.
When she was a child, she had stumbled upon something hidden deep within her family’s basement. No one knew it was there. No one could’ve guessed what it would awaken. It was the legacy of the past—a whispering shard of memories from the sorcerers of long ago.
And with those memories came power. Power she should never have had. Power that let her survive what would’ve otherwise killed her.
And yet… Janice wanted more. So much more.
She wasn’t ready to die. Not here. Not yet.
With a gasp, she yanked a chunk of root from the earth and bit into it. The root was bitter and pulsing with old energy—sacred energy. It belonged to a divine tree, one of the last remaining remnants of the gods.
Even though the temples had fallen into ruin, divine traces remained scattered across the empire. And among them, the sacred trees—Shinmok—still remained.
This was one of them.
Janice had been searching for this exact tree ever since she disappeared from the public eye. The fruit and leaves grew upside down—an unmistakable sign of the sacred kind.
As she leaned against its ancient bark, she could feel it. The red energy that was pursuing her faltered and started to move away.
“They can’t come closer…” she whispered, wide-eyed. “This tree still holds power.”
Janice slid down to the base of the Shinmok, gasping for breath. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she was safe—for now.
She placed her hands on the bark and whispered:
“Please… let me live. Let me see the gate close with my own eyes. I must see it shut.”
It was her mission. Her curse. Her fate.
A sorcerer who failed their promise would die. That was the price of their pact. She had to open the gate when called—but once it was done, once the ritual was complete, she would finally be free.
And she had waited years for this moment—the day she would close it again by her own hand.
Her eyelids fluttered shut. The rhythm of her breathing began to calm. For the first time in days, she felt safe.
***
Meanwhile, back at the castle, Cassius greeted the many guests who had arrived to aid the north. And as Duke, he had much to do—but so did I.
As the Duchess, it was my duty to help arrange shelter for the travelers.
Thankfully, several nobles had volunteered their mansions as temporary housing. Others had helped erect tents on safe ground, far from the quake-damaged zones.
All across the open square, flags fluttered in the wind. The imperial banner soared proudly in the center, surrounded by the symbols of distant territories and baronies.
The sight was breathtaking.
“I’ve never seen anything like this, Duchess,” Selua whispered beside me, tears in her eyes. “So many people… I never thought I’d see this in Istheria.”
I nodded slowly. “Neither did I.”
Selua’s voice trembled. “To be honest… I was afraid we’d lose. I thought the north would be abandoned again. We’ve always been alone, haven’t we? I thought no one would come…”
She sniffled, and I gently patted her shoulder.
“We aren’t alone anymore.”
Just then, one of the aides ran up to us. “Duchess! The tents are all in place. The local women have even started cooking warm meals for the knights.”
“That’s wonderful news. But we’ll still need more help.”
“More volunteers are arriving by the hour,” said Rubella softly. “Fires are lit across the towns, even by the sea. The people of the north won’t let this crisis go unanswered.”
Emotion swelled in my chest. For the first time in a long while, I felt hope blooming again.
“You’ve done so much already, Duchess,” Rubella added.
I shook my head. “There’s still so much left. And what about Theo and Stephanie? Are they alright?”
“They’re with the nanny. Eating well and resting without trouble.”
“Good… I’m grateful for that.”
It felt as though things were finally coming together. But deep down, I knew this was far from over.
Cassius was hunting Janice, and I had a feeling… she held the key to everything.
“Has there been any news on Janice?” I asked quietly.
“We tracked her into the forest,” Selua answered. “But that’s all we know. She vanished again.”
“I need to find her before Cassius does.”
Rubella tilted her head. “Why? What does she have to do with this?”
“She started it,” I said grimly. “Somehow, I’m sure of it.”
“You think she’s tied to the gate?”
“She is,” I whispered. “And if we’re going to stop this, we have to find her.”
“We’ll double our efforts,” Rubella promised.
I turned toward the cursed forest. A dark red fog lingered just above the trees. It was spreading, and fast.
Please, I thought. Let our efforts matter. Let the heavens not forsake us now.
“Duchess!” someone called. “Lady Ellie is asking for you!”
“I’ll be right there!”
With a deep breath, I pushed aside the fear gnawing at my heart. There was still so much to be done—there were so many lives depending on me.
I could only pray that our strength, our desperation, and our unity would be enough to change the fate that loomed before us.
