Morning had arrived beneath a sky completely covered in clouds. The sun was nowhere to be seen. The air was cold, carrying the sharp chill of the mountains. Forests stretched along the edges of the rocky land, and beside them, a group of riders moved forward on horseback. They were all people of the Southern Land, riding swiftly through the quiet terrain.
Meanwhile, it was breakfast time.
Ellia, Sir Black, Tabitha, and Rigal were seated together at the table. Servants moved silently around them. One servant stepped forward and poured wine into Rigal's goblet.
Ellia watched him and said coldly,
"If you keep drinking this much wine, you'll die just like your father."
Tabitha immediately replied, her tone sharp and bitter.
"And why not? The hunger for wine runs in our blood. And if you truly wish to speak of death—then remember this: if you had not gone there that day, none of you would be sitting here today."
Her eyes burned as she continued,
"I remember everything from that day—every word, every action. I can never forget it. And if your uncle Victor Haunt had not stood by you that night, he might still be here today, sitting with us at this very breakfast table."
Ellia's voice rose with heat as she spoke, filled with anger and regret.
Rigal said nothing. He only held his goblet tightly, tapping his finger against it again and again, the sound echoing his inner tension.
Sir Black finally spoke, his voice low but filled with restrained rage.
"The problem isn't that you went there. The problem is that we all lost too much that day. Victor… the magic bound to that girl's blood… and the throne dispute you forced upon us."
His voice grew louder as the anger surfaced.
Rigal slammed his goblet down lightly and said,
"Can someone please end this conversation? Can we, for once, have breakfast like a normal family?"
Without another word, Tabitha stood up and walked out of the room.
The scene shifted.
A vast chamber lay ahead, dark and heavy with silence. A massive gate stood closed until two servants pushed it open. Inside the room stood Ellia, Sir Black, Rigal, and Tabitha. With them were two women.
One woman was dressed entirely in black and stood beside a coffin.
The other was a young woman wearing a white dress. In her hand, she held a red ring.
Slowly, with trembling hands, the young woman placed the red ring inside the coffin.
Moments later, the ring burst into flame.
Ellia ordered the three women and the young girl to leave the chamber at once. When they were gone, silence returned to the room. Ellia stepped closer to the burning ring and slowly placed her hand into the flames. Without flinching, she began to chant:
"Lord, we love death.
We love revenge."
It was a spell—ancient and forbidden.
She lifted the ring from the fire and placed it into Tabitha's hand. Then Ellia moved forward and opened the coffin.
Inside lay Lyna's body.
She was unconscious, silent, as if in a deep sleep. Suddenly, her body stirred. Lyna gasped sharply, drawing a long breath—as though she had been deprived of air for a very long time.
At that same moment, her mind drifted elsewhere.
She found herself sitting inside an old, broken house. Beside her sat her mother—Certlen. But Certlen was dead. Her body rested stiffly on a chair, a knife still clutched in her hand. The wound on her neck made it clear—someone had slit her throat.
In Lyna's own hands was a long, sharp black stone. The moment she looked at it, the stone slowly began to turn red.
When Lyna lifted her eyes and saw her mother's lifeless body, tears streamed down her face. She began to cry uncontrollably.
Suddenly, she was pulled back into the real world.
Lyna woke up screaming. Her hands were bound tightly. She was no longer in that broken house—she was now in the same chamber where Ellia and the others stood, watching her.
Ellia stepped forward calmly and said,
"Do not be surprised, my dear. You are only where you should have been from the moment you were born. It was your arrogant father who hid you from all of us."
Lyna looked at her through tears and shouted,
"Who are you? How do you know me? And my father is not arrogant!"
Her voice trembled—filled with pain, fear, and tears.
Ellia moved closer. Taking one of Lyna's fingers, she pierced it gently and let a single drop of blood fall into the ring.
But nothing happened.
The ring remained silent.
It then shows Melton and his friends sleeping inside the tent. Late in the night, two men were standing outside, speaking in low, hushed voices. Melton's eyes slowly opened. He stayed still, listening carefully, trying to understand who they were and what they were talking about.
"Do you know," one man whispered to the other, "Richard Bolten has agreed to sell his own daughter?"
The second man replied quietly, "Yes. They are going to the castle today itself. I don't know why Lord Hodril wants young girls and sheep skins."
The first man laughed softly and said, "It seems the queen of Hodril can no longer satisfy the king. That's why he is searching elsewhere."
Hearing this, Melton remained silent, his face tense in the darkness.
Just then, Goitan spoke in a half-sleeping voice, "You're awake, Melton? Since you're already up, go and check the horses—see if they're fine or if they need food."
Without saying a word, Melton stepped out of the tent. He went to where the horses were tied, gently stroking them with his hands and feeding them. By then, morning had already arrived. The sunlight was bright and clear.
Nearby, a group of girls passed by—some carrying silk cloths in their hands, others holding long wooden bamboo poles. One of them said, "Armia hasn't been seen since morning. She always comes first to feed her father's horse."
Another girl replied, "I don't know… maybe she's still in her tent. She was saying she has to go to the castle today with her father for some work."
A third girl sighed and said, "Brff… Lord Bolten is terrible. Poor Armia has to suffer so much. Why does he need to take her? He could take some other man. In the end, she's just a girl."
Melton heard everything. A deep unease settled in his chest. Sensing that something was very wrong, he immediately left the place.
Meanwhile, in Wesron Fell, Aeron and his wife were riding side by side on their horses, accompanied by several soldiers. Vasley's brother and Trior Thath were also with them. Together, they had begun their journey toward North Fell—toward Hodril House.
Aeron's heart was heavy with worry. Before starting the journey, he had already sent a letter to Branth, urging him to send his daughter Lyna to North Fell as soon as possible. But when Branth read the letter, he was filled with rage—because his daughter had already disappeared from his castle, and there was still no trace of Varior Thath.
A cold mountain rose ahead, its slopes covered with pale grass swaying under the harsh wind. The weather was freezing. Lyna lay unconscious on the ground, dressed in a white strapless garment. A wound marked her forehead, and her clothes were dirty and torn. Certlen arrived quietly and gently touched Lyna's hair. With effort, she lifted her and carried her inside a small house—the very same house Lyna had seen in her vision.
Certlen's hands were trembling with fear. A clay glass slipped from her grip and shattered on the floor. At that very moment, a knock echoed on the door. Certlen froze, then slowly walked closer and asked in a tense voice,
"Who is it?"
"I won't harm you. Open the door," an unknown man replied calmly.
"Tell me your name first," Certlen demanded.
"If I tell you my name, things might get worse," the man said slowly.
Certlen's fear turned into anger.
"If things stay this way, they will obviously get worse anyway. Now tell me—who are you, and what do you want?"
The scene then shifted.
Lyna's real body was shown—bound inside a chamber deep within the Southern Land's castle. Her hands were restrained. Tabitha stood beside her, holding a ring in her hand. With her eyes closed, Tabitha tightly gripped Lyna's hand and began performing black magic, using Lyna as a bridge to control her mind.
Meanwhile, Melton rode his horse toward the hills near the village, letting the animal graze. There, he saw the same girl—the one he had helped earlier while catching the lamb. She was carrying a basket on her back, filled with vegetables. Melton stood quietly, watching her.
Suddenly, his horse leaned forward and began eating carrots from her basket. Melton quickly pulled the reins and said,
"Hey—don't do that!"
"It's alright," the girl said softly.
Melton felt embarrassed. "I'm sorry… please forgive me."
"Why are you apologizing?" she replied calmly. "It's just one carrot. Let it go."
Melton smiled faintly, then picked up another carrot and placed it back into her basket.
She looked at him and said, "Thank you. What's your name?"
"My name is Melton… Melton Richard," he replied.
She smiled in surprise. "Oh… my father's name is Richard too. Richard Bolten."
Hearing that, Melton froze in shock.
"And… your name?" he asked carefully.
"Armia," she answered. "Armia Richard."
Melton hesitated for a moment, then asked quietly,
"Can I ask you something?"
"Yes… why not?" Armia replied.
"I heard that you're going to Hodril House today," Melton said.
"Yes—but how do you know that?" Armia asked, her voice slightly shaky.
Melton looked at her carefully. "I heard something else as well. Tell me… is it true?"
Both of them fell silent, stunned by the weight of the moment. After a pause, Armia spoke softly,
"I'm getting late. We'll talk later… or maybe some other time."
Melton stepped forward. "How will we talk later if what I heard is true—if your own father is selling you to Hodril House… to Lord Hodril?"
Tears filled Armia's eyes. Without saying another word, she turned and walked away. Melton stood there, holding his horse's reins, watching her disappear into the distance—unable to move, unable to speak.
Meanwhile, in North Fell, Twin Hodril sat proudly in the great hall beside his wife, Horan Hodril. Addressing the gathered people, he announced in a loud, confident voice,
"By tonight, all the kings of the allied realms will arrive—including King Aeron Klingers. Along with them, both good and bad news will spread across all of North Fell. Therefore, tonight there will be a grand feast at my castle. Let everyone enjoy it."
He spoke with pride.
Horan smiled faintly and glanced toward Marian. Marian noticed the look and calmly turned her eyes away, beginning to clap instead. Soon the entire hall erupted into applause and excited chatter.
"Tonight will be glorious!"
"This will be unforgettable!"
"North Fell will truly shine today!"
The voices echoed through the hall as anticipation filled the air.
Evening had fallen. Melton and his friends were inside their camp, enjoying ghost stories and laughter. Melton, however, remained silent and distant. Suddenly, he stepped out of the tent.
Richie called after him,
"Where are you going, brother? At least eat before you leave."
Melton walked toward the tent of the tribal chief, Richard Bolten. From a distance, he watched quietly. Richard's horse was already prepared, and beside it stood a carriage belonging to Hodril House. Moments later, Armia stepped out of the tent. She noticed Melton watching her and walked toward him.
"I know you already know everything," she said calmly. "By tomorrow, the entire tribe will know as well—and no one will be able to do anything about it. You should ignore this… just like everyone else."
"Why should I ignore it?" Melton replied angrily. "Have times become so cruel that even daughters are now sold?"
"This is my father's decision," Armia said softly. "And I can't change it. Just know this—it's not only my father's fault. There are many people in this world trapped in wrongdoing."
With those words, she turned and walked back toward her tent.
Melton immediately returned to his friends and said firmly,
"We need to leave this place tonight."
Richie looked confused. "But weren't we supposed to stay a few more days?"
"No," Melton replied. "This isn't about staying anymore. Something far worse is happening among our own people. We're going back—to Hodril House."
The scene shifted.
Lyna's soul was shown inside a small house, standing beside her mother. Her eyes slowly opened. Her mother rushed to her side and held her gently.
"I'm here, my child. You're safe. Nothing has happened to you."
"I don't understand," Lyna whispered through tears. "Are you really here… or are you just another vision?"
"We last met in that place where I was running," Lyna continued, her voice breaking. "You found me there… and then I woke up here."
She began to cry. Her mother pulledher into an embrace, holding her tightly and calming her down.
Suddenly, there was another knock on the door.
A familiar voice called out,
"Lyna… are you awake? Certlen, open the door."
Certlen storms toward the door in a fit of rage, gripping a half-foot wooden baton in her hand. She yanks the door open—and freezes. Standing before her is a man from Haunt House, a warrior of Victor's ranks, dressed in battle-worn armor stained with dust and old blood. In one hand he holds a small book bound in dark leather; in the other, a short dagger. In a single swift motion, he presses the blade close to her neck and forces his way inside. Certlen does not scream or resist—she stands firm, staring him down as he shuts the door behind them.
Nearby, Lyna, weak and barely conscious, begins crying out for her mother. The warrior leans closer and silences her in a low, controlled voice.
Night falls. Darkness spreads across the land, and the cold deepens along the road. Inside a carriage belonging to Hodril House, Armia sits beside her father as their journey continues. Not far behind them, Melton and his friends follow quietly, keeping their distance.
Meanwhile, in Hodril House, Aeron Klingers arrives with his companions. Twin Hodril sits upon the throne when the great gates open. Aeron enters alongside Vasley. Twin rises at once, approaches Aeron, and respectfully guides Vasley to a seat beside the throne before offering Aeron the throne itself. Music fills the hall, flames burn brightly on all sides, and the gathered people watch in silence.
Beside Aeron stands a young warrior—the champion of the Wesron Fell tournament. Aeron signals Twin to come closer and asks sharply,
"Where is my daughter, Lyna?"
Twin falters, confusion on his face.
"My lord… how would I know where Lyna is?"
Aeron rises suddenly, shock and anger written across his face. Vasley stands as well.
"My lord, what is happening?" she asks.
"I sent word to Medown House," Aeron says coldly, "that my daughter was to be delivered safely to North Fell. She should have arrived before me."
Twin bows his head.
"My lord, do not worry. I will send word to Medown House at once."
Meanwhile, in Haunt House, Tabitha opens her eyes. Lyna's body still lies motionless, trapped in a deep unconsciousness. Her hand has darkened unnaturally, and the ring Tabitha once wore now glows crimson. Leaving the chamber, Tabitha walks down the stone steps to the dungeon, where Varior is held captive. Standing before him, she says quietly,
"At last, the ring you gave me is showing its power. But like a wild force, it has begun obeying its first call."
Varior, wounded and barely able to stand, laughs weakly.
"I was never its master," he replies. "That ring has no master. It follows only its own will."
A single candle burns nearby. Tabitha brings the flame close, letting the heat remind him of pain. Varior cries out, struggling against his chains. Grabbing his hair, she pulls his face close to hers and whispers,
"Death will not come easily for you. Not yet. If it does, the ring will be useless."
Meanwhile, Melton continued his journey, secretly following Armia. As they rode, Hydrie finally spoke, his voice low with curiosity.
"Brother… will you tell us why we are following that man?"
Richie laughed softly and nudged Hydrie.
"I think Melton's heart has gotten a little too attached to that girl," he said jokingly.
Melton didn't smile. His eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead.
"Just stay with me," he replied calmly. "The truth of North Fell will reveal itself soon. We're almost there."
The scene then shifted.
Lyna's soul was shown in the strange world where she stood beside her mother. Suddenly, another presence appeared—Victor. His voice was calm, yet heavy with truth.
"I know, Lyna," Victor said gently, "you must be wondering how I am here… and how you yourself came to this place."
He stepped closer, his eyes filled with warning.
"But I also know that your presence here is not without danger. The Southern Land has marked your family as its true target—they wish to erase your bloodline completely. Where you are now is not the living world, nor fully the world of the dead. It is a separate realm, a place where you will meet those who have already left their own world behind."
Lyna's breath trembled.
"Does that mean… I am dead too? Is that why I'm here?" she asked fearfully.
Victor shook his head.
"No. That is not the truth. You are here because you must be. And the reason you are trapped in this place is my niece—Tabitha."
Certlen's eyes burned with anger.
"What does she want from my child?" she demanded.
Victor sighed deeply.
"I came only to warn you. You must leave this place—and once you do, you must follow every word written in this book."
With that, Victor stepped forward and placed the dark-bound book into Lyna's hands.
"Your path forward depends on it."
Then the scene shows Marian standing near the balcony of Hodril House. Her hair is loose, and she is wearing a long black dress. One of her hands rests on the balcony railing as she gazes into the night. After a moment, she turns away and walks toward her bed.
On the bed lies a man—young, bearded, and handsome, a warrior from Wesron Fell. His body bears the marks of strength, and he watches Marian silently as she approaches. Marian comes closer and opens her dress before him. The warrior moves toward her, and Marian's hand slides across his back. They pull each other into a tight embrace and begin to kiss.
At that very moment, Marian secretly begins her black magic. Through her mind, she reaches out to a sparrow sleeping on a tree near the balcony. Her consciousness enters the bird's mind, and the sparrow suddenly wakes, taking flight into the sky.
Sensing something wrong, the man abruptly pushes Marian away and shouts,
"Witch! What were you doing? I knew it—you belong to Haunt House!"
But Marian pulls him back toward her, kisses him once more—and suddenly strikes him in the back with a dagger. Blood spills from his mouth as he collapses. Some of the blood splashes onto Marian's lips and fingers. Calmly, she tastes the blood from her finger, her eyes cold and unshaken.
Meanwhile, the sparrow flying through the sky suddenly bursts apart, turning into scattered feathers that dissolve into the wind. One single feather drifts far away, carried by fate, until it reaches Haunt House. It enters a silent chamber where Tabitha is asleep. Beside her, on a desk, lies a ring.
The feather falls onto the ring. Instantly, the golden ring begins to glow with a strange light—then, without warning, both the light and the feather vanish into nothingness.