The night… holds not a single star.
And the air… feels like the last breath of a dying creature.
I follow the maid in silence, my feet sliding across mud soaked with the memories of the Lower City.
The blood that once drenched me in the palace is still on my skin… but it has dried.
It's no longer blood. It's a mark.
Its scent hasn't faded.
It has become something that lives in my skin.
That lives in me.
"This place…"
My voice finally comes out—hoarse. Exhausted.
"Is it part of the kingdom?"
She replies without looking at me:
"It's what's left of it."
We walk through a narrow alley.
The walls lean inward, as if trying to swallow us.
The air is heavier, like the city itself is exhaling its last breath.
Distant sounds rise:
Screams, laughter, slaps, vulgar words… and things I don't want to understand.
Grave Alley—
not a poetic name, but a literal one.
Some walls have names etched into them. Others… bones.
A hand emerges from a window edge, then quickly pulls back.
Eyes spy on me. Examine me.
Here, blood isn't washed…
It's sold.
Kyna stops abruptly.
"Move!"
A voice calls from the darkness.
A boy—no older than fifteen—runs past us, full of fear.
He stumbles and falls at my feet.
He looks up…
His face is split open.
Blood drips from his eye.
Behind him—three men in torn leather jackets, holding clubs and knives.
"Catch him! The bastard carries tainted blood!!"
One of them leaps toward us, raising his blade.
And me?
I just watch.
For some reason I don't understand,
I don't move.
Not yet.
Something inside me shifts.
I feel heat.
Not from the outside…
But from my blood.
The boy touches me—his bloodied hand grabbing mine—
And in an instant…
A sharp sound explodes in my head.
My heart thunders once—
and the old wound in my chest bursts open.
But instead of ordinary blood,
a deep crimson thread spills out—
Alive. Furious.
A spear of blood shoots from my body—
and pierces the man's chest.
He collapses.
Silently.
The second man screams.
The third backs away.
But I see it—
He's not just running in fear…
He's running because of what he saw.
In that moment—
I wasn't a boy.
I wasn't human.
I was something the world forgot how to handle.
I don't move.
The blood gathers around me,
rising, coiling—
like the rings of a serpent.
It doesn't explode…
It breathes.
Kyna appears behind me.
She says calmly:
"It responds to your emotions… not your commands."
I turn to her, panting.
I look at my hand…
Still trembling,
as if it doesn't trust what it just did.
"Is… is this normal?"
She shakes her head.
"The blood? No.
But you…
you're not normal."
The boy looks up at me.
His swollen eye glistens.
"Are you… a sorcerer?"
I don't answer.
Kyna speaks for me:
"He's not a sorcerer.
Not a prince anymore, either.
He's something new."
I say:
"What's your name?"
"Raiz."
"And what brought you to this hell?"
"I escaped.
From a cursed Mark-Seeker who wanted my blood.
He said it could be used to craft healing spells…
or poisons.
Didn't matter to him."
He looks at me like he still doesn't believe I saved him.
Or maybe he doesn't know if he's actually safe.
Raiz stands, straightens his ragged clothes, and says nervously:
"I know a safe place.
An old house…
Everyone's afraid of it.
If you want shelter, even for a night…
Let me take you."
I turn to Kyna.
She says nothing.
But her eyes—
for the first time—
don't challenge me.
They give me the choice.
So I nod at Raiz.
**
We walk in silence.
Grave Alley gives way to an abandoned street—
no lights.
Wider walls… but deeper quiet.
Everything whispers.
No one speaks.
In every corner, a murder.
In every crack, dried blood.
Here, justice doesn't exist—
Only deals.
We arrive at a crumbling stone house.
The windows are sealed.
The door… looks forgotten by time.
Raiz opens it… slowly.
"Welcome… to the House of Silence."
We step inside.
The smell—
like someone died here and was never buried.
Dust floats in the air like ghosts.
Dozens of black birds line the beams above—
Watching us in silence.
One of them shifts its wing slowly…
Then stills again.
This room doesn't pulse with life—
But with what comes before life.
And in its center sits an old woman.
Blind.
Her eyes are wrapped in a gray veil,
Yet she looks straight at me.
Her face is carved with time—
like a novel written in wrinkles.
But her lips rise in a strange smile.
Not one of welcome—
but of long-awaited arrival.
She whispers:
"You've finally come, Lord of Blood.
I've been waiting…
since your heart stopped in the palace."
**
A chill crawls through my bones.
As if everything I've lived so far…
was only the prologue.
End of Chapter Three.