Chapter 121: Crossing the River

Chapter 121: Crossing the River

Stella suddenly couldn't hear anything. She saw Cornelis's mouth moving, but her ears were filled with a strange ringing that drowned out his words.

It took a long while for the ringing to fade, and Cornelis's voice reached her from very far away, indistinct.

"Lady Stella, are you alright?"

Stella nodded blankly, then shook her head fiercely.

She grabbed Cornelis by the shoulders with such force that even the Chief of the Thieves' Guild winced.

"Prince Aster can't be dead!" Stella screamed hoarsely. "He's my... he's our hope! He's so brave, so skilled in martial arts, and he has the Griffin Legion under his command! White Spring Valley Fortress is as solid as iron—how could he lose? It has to be a false report!"

She looked at Cornelis expectantly, hoping this all-powerful thief would tell her it was all a joke, a misunderstanding. But Cornelis only pried her fingers open one by one.

"The Holy Nation's army will be here soon," he said gravely. "I'll arrange for a carriage right away. Pack your things quickly—we set out today."

With that, he turned and left. Doors along the corridor opened one by one as the lodgers poked their heads out to ask Cornelis what had happened. The flaxen-haired man relayed the grim news the messenger had brought. The corridor immediately fell into chaos.

Stella feebly pushed the door shut and slid down against it to sit on the floor. She didn't even have the strength to stand. She vaguely heard Cornelis telling his sister to nail something shut, but she no longer felt any curiosity.

"Aster... Aster is dead."

The moment she said those words, something inside her snapped.

Aster and Stella—both mean "star." In Starfall City, many boys and girls bore these names, for legend said that long, long ago, stars fell upon the seashore, and so people built their city there.

Aster was a star. Not like the sun, eternally bright, nor like the moon, which lights the traveler's path through the night. Countless stars hung in the night sky, but they never changed through the ages—when you look up at the stars, the stars look back at you.

The little mouse crawled out from under the bed and crept cautiously up to her, looking at her with worried eyes. It gently pawed at Stella's fingers with its tiny paws, as if clumsily trying to comfort her.

That trick had always worked before. No matter how down or sad Stella felt, touching that warm little ball of fluff always cheered her up.

She looked at the mouse, remembering how they'd journeyed together from Starfall City to this place, through countless hardships. Stella had wanted to give up more times than she could count, but whenever she thought of Aster, she always found the strength to carry on.

As long as Aster lived, she still had hope. She had crossed wilds and mountains, dodged pursuers, her heart in her throat, eaten bugs, slept in filthy holes in the ground. She could endure all these hardships because one day, they would pass. When she and Aster were reunited, everything would be fine.

*Stella's star had fallen.*

In that instant, an unparalleled fury ignited within Stella. A blazing fire roared through her veins, making the scar on her face burn.

Alfonso! It's all because of that traitor! He betrayed his kin and his country, inviting wolves into the fold, and that's what killed Aster and her father and mother!

I will kill him! I'll make him taste every suffering I've been through! I'll throw him into an anthill and let the bugs gnaw his bones clean, then cut off his head and hang it in Starfall City's square so everyone can see what happens to a traitor!

And those Saintlanders who helped him, those foreign devils who killed Aster! I'll make sure they never make it back home!

Stella clenched her fists and pounded the floor with all her strength.

"I want revenge! I'll make those who hurt me pay a hundred times, a thousand times over!"

In that instant, time froze.

The chaotic footsteps outside the door stopped, the clamor of voices and horses below disappeared in an instant. The little mouse that had been clumsily pawing at her froze as still as a statue. The world fell as silent as a grave.

Stella walked to the window on instinct. The sky outside had darkened without warning, as if night had come early. But there was no moon or stars in the sky...

No, that wasn't night! A pure darkness had shrouded the sky, seeming to absorb all light. For a moment, Stella felt she was staring straight at the very concept of "darkness" itself—a primal awe and fear awakening in the depths of her soul...

"What... *are* you?"

She asked in a hoarse voice.

In the darkness, a pair of crimson eyes opened.

"Stella of Starfall City, I have heard your wish."

A voice as deep as a tolling bell resonated directly in Stella's mind, shaking the furious soul within her mortal shell.

She remembered the bedtime stories her old nursemaid used to tell her when she was a child—when a person was at the end of their rope, a devil would appear to strike a bargain. The devil could grant anything one desired, and in return, the human would sell their soul.

"Are you a demon?" Stella asked. "If I sell my soul, will you make my wish come true?"

A delighted laugh echoed from that darkness, which touched the very essence of the concept.

"If that's what you want."

Stella was stunned for a moment. Conrad was right, she thought—a person could sell anything they had. Not just the body—even the soul had its price.

If her soul could be balanced fairly on the same scale as her revenge, then this deal seemed perfectly fair to her.

"Then I'll make the trade!" she declared loudly. "As long as you help me get revenge—kill Alfonso and those hateful Saintlanders—then take my soul! Take anything you want!"

Then she closed her eyes, waiting for the presence in the darkness to take her soul. She didn't know what it would feel like—maybe pain, maybe cold, maybe losing some vital emotion and becoming an empty shell.

But she waited and waited, and felt no change, until a faint sigh drifted down from overhead.

"That is not your true wish yet."

Stella's eyes snapped open, glaring furiously at the shapeless, unfathomable presence in the darkness.

"Of course it is! I want revenge—I want to kill everyone who hurt me and my family! I want to take back everything I've lost! How is that not my true wish?!"

She felt looked down on, insulted. Her hatred was real, her grief unmistakable. If Alfonso stood before her right now, she wouldn't hesitate to cut his throat on the spot, even if it meant suffering a thousand years of torment in the fires of hell. She would accept it gladly.

Yet this presence in the darkness dared to tell her that wasn't her true wish... Wasn't her hatred for Alfonso deep enough? Weren't the tortures and deaths she'd devised for her enemies cruel enough?

How much more did she have to lose before her hatred could turn into a true wish? Or maybe...

"Or is it... that my soul isn't worth that much?" Stella asked in desperation.

Another faint sigh, like a gentle breeze, made the candle flame of Stella's soul flicker.

"Think it over," said the presence in the darkness. "When you find your true wish, I'll return."

"Wait!" Stella cried out desperately. "Anything I have, I'll give it all. Just let me... just let me..."

Time started flowing again.

The darkness in the sky vanished in an instant, and warm sunlight fell on Stella's face.

The courtyard was in an uproar—voices clamored, people screamed "The prince is dead! The Holy Nation is coming!" and ran around like headless chickens. Ingrid was nailing something to the inn's door, the pounding of her hammer rattling everyone's eardrums.

The little mouse squeaked, trying to climb up the window frame to get to Stella's hand.

Everything that just happened seemed like a bizarre, absurd dream.

Stella touched her cheek, feeling the uneven scar and the dampness on her skin. She had been crying without even realizing it.

"That was a dream. I must have been so heartbroken that I passed out and had that weird dream," Stella murmured to herself. "But if it were real..."

The little mouse gently nibbled her finger.

"I'll prove to that being that my wish isn't fake in the least."

*

Stella packed her stuff in a hurry. She didn't have much to carry—a few changes of clothes, some survival gear, a nice dagger Cornelis had insisted she take (which fit snugly in her boot), and a roughly sketched map of the Western lands.

Ingrid baked her some hardtack that tasted like chewing on a belt, but supposedly it was super filling and could keep for over six months.

By evening, Cornelis rolled up with a beat-up carriage. Ingrid "disguised" Stella by smearing red and black makeup all over her face. When Stella checked the mirror, she nearly jumped out of her skin: her face was now covered in pockmarks and sores, enough to make anyone sick just by looking at it.

"I'll tell them you're one of my girls with a contagious disease, and I'm taking you to the doctor," Ingrid said casually. "This kind of thing happens all the time; the soldiers won't bat an eye. Now get in the carriage, dear—we can't waste any time."

Back in the day, Stella would never have let Ingrid paint her face like this. She was the most beautiful jewel of the Northern Kingdoms—how could she ever play the ugly duckling? But now that she was already scarred, she didn't mind looking even worse if it meant getting through the checkpoint safely.

Before climbing into the carriage, she pulled a gem from her pocket and handed it to Conrad.

"Thank you," she said. "Sell this and use the cash to look after your Rat Gang."

"I, Conrad of the Rat Gang, help you out of gratitude, not for your money. Don't insult my pride!" Conrad said, though his beady eyes kept sneaking glances at the gem.

"Then think of it as me investing in the Rat Gang," Stella said, pressing the gem into the boy's hand. "In ten years, I can brag to everyone that I was the patron of the most badass gang in Moltalia—the Rat Gang."

Only then did the boy reluctantly (though secretly thrilled) take the gem.

"Goodbye, Stella of Starfall City! Don't you dare die! If you ever get the chance, we'll meet again back home!"

The kids chased the carriage until they couldn't keep up anymore, then stopped, dragging their feet.

Cornelis drove the carriage toward the Evre River. Soon, the "Prince Hofert Bridge" stretching across the big river came into view.

At the bridge entrance, a simple checkpoint had been set up with fences and barricades. The Duke of Cold Mountain's three-mountain banner flew high above. Travelers crossing the bridge lined up single file, patiently waiting for the soldiers to check them.

Cornelis drove the carriage right up to the front of the line, drawing a chorus of complaints and curses from the people waiting.

"Who do you think you are, cutting in line? Get to the back!"

"We're all waiting our turn—why are you at the front?"

Cornelis ignored them completely and spoke to the checkpoint captain in a sycophantic tone: "Sir, we've got a sick passenger in the carriage who needs a doctor ASAP. Can you let us through first?"

He added in a deliberately scary voice: "It's contagious!"

The crowd scrambled back three feet in a flash.

With a thief's nimble fingers, Cornelis slipped a few gold coins into the captain's hand. "The person's at death's door. Please, cut us some slack."

"Well, if they're sick, there's nothing I can do about it." The captain beamed, but still went through the motions of lifting the carriage curtain to take a look. The second he saw the sores on Stella's face, he jumped back like he'd been burned, as if one look could infect him.

"Go on through!" He waved them past.

Cornelis bowed and scraped, thanking him over and over, then drove the carriage across the bridge.

They drove along the road on the west bank for a while, pretending to head toward a small riverside town. A really skilled doctor actually lived there.

Once they were sure the soldiers at the bridge couldn't see them anymore, Cornelis reined the horses to a stop.

"This is as far as I can take you, Lady Stella."

"That's plenty."

Stella slung her pack over her shoulder and hopped down from the carriage. Ingrid handed her a scented handkerchief to wipe off the makeup later.

"So where are you headed next?" Cornelis asked.

"To the west coast—Ganli City or Saltwind Harbor," Stella said. Those were the two big ports she knew about.

Cornelis chuckled: "If anyone else ever asks you that, don't be so honest."

"Why? You guys wouldn't sell me out, would you?" Stella said nervously. "If you wanted to, you'd have done it ages ago. Why wait till now?"

"That's true. But no one can guarantee they'll keep their trap shut under torture."

Stella nodded at him, then pulled out a few gems and handed them to Ingrid in the carriage. That was half of everything she had.

"Thanks," she said in a choked voice, her nose feeling all stuffed up.

Ingrid sorted through them, keeping only a sapphire and a ruby.

"These are enough," she said. "Keep the rest. You seem to need them more than we do."

She waved goodbye to Stella. The carriage faded into the twilight.

Ingrid looked out the window and watched the small figure walk toward the setting sun.

"You think she'll come back?" she asked.

"Better if she doesn't," Cornelis said softly. "Finding a safe, free place to live out her days in the colonies would be nice."

"Poor thing. If my brother died, I'd be a wreck."

"Huh? Aren't you supposed to be dancing and singing, celebrating that you finally took over the thieves' guild?"

The siblings bickered as they drove slowly along the river road toward the town where the doctor lived. They planned to crash there for the night and head back tomorrow.

As for why there was one less person in the carriage, they'd say the patient died and was buried on the spot. The soldiers only made so much a month; they wouldn't dig too deep.

The sun dipped low, and the last rays of light spilled across the choppy waters of the Evre River. Ingrid's sharp eyes caught something glinting on the riverbank.

"Stop the carriage, Cornelis!"

"What, you gotta pee?"

"I think there's someone by the river!"

Cornelis pulled the reins, stood up on the driver's seat, and used his height to peer where his sister was pointing.

Scattered pieces of driftwood lay on the riverbank, washed down from upstream. Lying face down among the debris was a person. The evening light made his wet golden hair shine like molten gold.

He wore a tattered white robe stained with big patches of blood that hadn't faded even after being soaked in the river.

"By the God of Dawn," Cornelis muttered.

*

"God of Dawn," Lyman murmured, opening his eyes in the study.