seattlejaycees Chapter 194: A Gift from the Dead
Chapter 194: A Gift from the Dead
For one terrifying second, the phantom afterimage of the blizzard still blinded him—the collapsing cliffside, the masked abomination lunging through the whiteout, and Kyle’s desperate screams echoing from somewhere behind him before the world fell away beneath his feet.
His chest heaved sharply. A sudden, blinding flash of agony exploded through his shattered ribs, turning his vision completely white at the edges. A strangled groan escaped his throat as he instinctively tried to twist his body, only for the cold, merciless bite of iron to halt him midway.
Chains.
The heavy metal rattled harshly, the sound vibrating against the stone slab beneath him.
For several agonizing seconds, Mathias could only stare at her in fractured silence, his pulse hammering against his ears. Then, closing his eyes against the throbbing pain in his skull, he let his head fall heavily back against the stone.
"...How long?" he managed to ask, his voice a hoarse, gravelly scrape.
Emilia answered without a single shred of hesitation.
"Two weeks."
His brow twitched faintly beneath his damp hair.
Two weeks.
The word felt entirely unreal. A hollow void in time.
Mathias let out a dry, breathy chuckle through his nose, though it carried no amusement. "So... I truly look that terrible."
"You look like a corpse that forgot to stay buried," Emilia replied with freezing detachment. "Frankly, it’s irritating."
He ignored the biting remark. His mind was already drifting back, fragments of memory striking him like shards of glass.
The snow. Olivia’s emerald necklace clutched in Kyle’s hand. The monster’s dark blade. Then, the endless black.
Mathias swallowed down the bitter taste of copper before forcing out the question that had already begun to tighten like a noose around his lungs.
"...The Empire. They announced my death, didn’t they?"
Emilia’s prolonged silence was louder than any verbal confirmation.
"Yes."
His jaw tightened until his muscles locked. Of course they had. No man was supposed to survive a descent into that bottomless, cursed ravine. Not even the Duke of Locron.
For a moment, the room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the faint, rhythmic crackling of the torch.
Then, his voice dropped to a quiet, guarded murmur. "...Locron?"
Emilia’s gaze shifted back to his face, unblinking. "They held your formal funeral a few days ago."
Something deep within his chest twisted with a sudden, vicious ache. Mathias stared blankly up at the dark stone ceiling, the images painting themselves behind his eyelids without his permission. The black banners draping the high halls. The knights lined up in rigid, silent mourning. An empty, weighted coffin.
And Olivia.
His throat tightened unexpectedly, a foreign sensation that made him grit his teeth. "...How was she?"
Emilia’s expression remained perfectly unreadable. "She organized the entire ceremony herself. The reports from the castle said she remained entirely composed throughout the service. No breakdown. No public display of grief."
Mathias lowered his eyes, staring into the flickering shadows.
Composed. Of course she was.
A bitter, localized ache settled deep inside his chest. For one fleeting, ugly, and entirely selfish moment, he wished she had cried. Just once. Not because he desired her torment—but because the vivid image of Olivia standing beside his empty casket without shedding a single tear hurt far more than the broken ribs binding him to the stone.
Before the silence could swallow him whole, the heavy wooden door creaked open.
Layla stepped into the chamber, carrying a small iron tray laden with medicine bottles. The moment her eyes fell upon Mathias’s open eyes, she froze, her breath catching.
"You’re conscious?" she whispered, her eyes widening.
Mathias turned his head toward her slowly. "Unfortunately."
A heavy sigh of visible relief escaped Layla’s shoulders as she set the tray aside and hurried to his side. She immediately began inspecting the fresh blood seeping through the thick layers of his bandages. "Don’t move. Your body is barely holding together by a thread as it is."
Mathias barely processed her warnings. His mind was stuck on the surface.
"There is no chaos in Locron?" he demanded abruptly, his tone sharp despite his weakness. "No political movements? No issues?"
Layla blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sudden interrogation. "...No," she answered carefully, her face a mask of serene reassurance. "Everything is stable. Olivia is fine."
The heavy tension coiled within his muscles eased just a fraction before he could mask it.
Fine. She was fine. Alive. Safe behind his walls.
Yet, paradoxically, that exact confirmation left behind a faint, hollow echo in his stomach. Because despite the overwhelming relief flooding his senses... a wretched, dark part of his soul had wanted proof that his demise had shattered her world as deeply as it had his.
He closed his eyes briefly, a wave of profound annoyance at his own pathetic vulnerability washing over him.
"...Wait Clarification," he muttered after a beat, his brows furrowing as a logical discrepancy struck him. "How did the two of you even find me at the bottom of that abyss?"
Layla and Emilia exchanged a swift, silent glance. Then, Layla let out a soft sigh, crossing her arms over her chest.
"We are twins, Mathias," she said simply, as if that cosmic bond alone dictated the laws of life and death. "Did you truly believe I wouldn’t know the exact second your heart stopped beating?"
Mathias stared at her quietly, absorbing the weight of her words.
Layla looked away, a faint frown marring her features. "The moment the blade pierced you, I felt it. It wasn’t death... but it was close enough that my own lungs refused to take in air."
Emilia leaned back against her chair, letting out a sharp scoff. "So she dragged me into a blinding snowstorm, forced a garrison into a cursed ravine, and nearly got us both buried alive because she refused to listen to common sense."
"I was right, wasn’t I?" Layla countered, her voice dropping into a defensive murmur.
"You were completely insane," Emilia corrected coldly.
Mathias’s eyes snapped toward Layla, a sharp spike of pure disbelief cutting through his exhaustion. "Wait... you are the Crown Princess. How could you possibly leave the Capital?"
"I secured the Emperor’s permission," Layla replied, her tone perfectly even, as if negotiating with the ruler of the Empire was a mundane task.
"He knows?" Mathias’s brow furrowed tightly. "He knows I am alive?"
"Yes. He knows."
Mathias let out a low, rough breath, his analytical mind quickly piecing the fragments together. "Let me understand this... if a formal funeral was already held, then my survival here is meant to be an absolute, total secret."
"Precisely."
Layla turned her head slightly, her green eyes shifting toward the other side of the stone slab. "Emilia... can you leave us alone for a moment?"
Emilia’s expression hardened immediately. "But—"
"Emilia," Layla interrupted, her voice dropping into a low, authoritative register that brooked no defiance.
Emilia let out an irritated sigh, throwing her hands up defensively. "Fine, fine. Have it your way." She turned on her heel, her boots clicking sharply against the stone as she exited the chamber, slamming the heavy wooden door behind her.
Once the room fell silent, Layla reached into the folds of her royal attire and pulled out a small, amber medicine vial. Without a word, she stepped closer to the stone slab, reached down, and unlocked the heavy iron cuffs binding his wrists and ankles.
Mathias immediately pulled his hands back, rubbing the raw, reddened skin where the metal had bitten into his flesh. "Why was I even shackled in the first place?"
Instead of answering, Layla poured a single, dark pill from the vial and held it out to him. "Take this. It will help suppress and contain the curse inside you for now."
Mathias stared at the pill in her palm, his gaze turning dark and suspicious. "What...? How do you even know about the curse?" He shook his head, pressing his hand against his aching ribs. "Never mind. We will discuss that later." He took the pill and swallowed it dry.
"Mathias," Layla spoke, her voice dropping into a solemn, heavy whisper that caught his full attention. "The Emperor only assisted Emilia and me in rescuing you because your actions saved Kyle and the rest of the northern vanguard. But... the charges of high treason against you have not been lifted yet. Therefore—"
Mathias let out a harsh, mocking scoff, his jaw tightening in bitter amusement. "Ha... that annoying Emperor. I practically crossed the threshold of death, and it is still not enough to clear my name?"
"No," Layla said flatly, her gaze unblinking. "He explicitly stated that for your name to be cleared, you must tear out the very roots of this rebellion yourself. And you are to start... with your dear old friend, Duke Alister."
-----------------------
Leon returned to her chambers hours later, the heavy silence of the castle clinging to his shadows. He stepped inside and quietly closed the door behind him.
"Did you finally eat?" he asked softly, his eyes scanning the room.
Olivia sat by the dim fireplace, forcing another spoonful down her throat. If it were entirely up to her, she wouldn’t have cared if she starved to death. She would have let the hollow ache in her chest consume her. But now, she was forced to eat against her own will, fighting back the constant, violent waves of morning sickness that threatened to choke her.
Slowly, the forced nourishment brought a fraction of warmth back to her freezing veins. She set the bowl aside and stood up, her body swaying momentarily before she finally managed to catch her balance.
Leon watched her from the doorway, his gaze intense and unblinking. It was as if, by simply standing there and ensuring her survival, he was trying to compensate for the crushing absence of his brother.
"Alright," Olivia said, her voice tight as she adjusted the black lace of her veil. "I did exactly what you asked. I ate. Now, take me to see what Mathias left behind."
"I am a man of my word," Leon replied grimly, gesturing toward the door. "Come with me."
They walked side by side through the winding, silent corridors of the castle, descending deeper into the structural bowels of Locron than Olivia had ever been. Down and down they went, bypassing the main dungeons until they reached a hidden, narrow stone staircase that led into a subterranean vault. She hadn’t even known this place existed beneath her feet.
"Where are we?" Olivia murmured, the freezing, damp air sending a shiver straight down her spine.
"Be patient," Leon whispered.
He stepped in front of a heavy, reinforced iron door that looked completely untouched by time. Pulling a massive brass key from his coat, he turned it in the lock. The screech of the iron door echoing through the darkness was deafening.
But the moment the door swung open, the breath was completely ripped from Olivia’s lungs.
There, in the center of the suffocating, windowless chamber, was a woman. Her long, tangled ash-black hair fell like a shroud over her face, obscuring her features.
Olivia’s eyes traveled down her frame, and a cold dread seized her entire being. The woman was heavily shackled by her wrists and feet—or rather, what was left of them. Her limbs had been severed with absolute, unspeakable brutality.
Olivia wouldn’t have recognized the mangled creature at all, if the woman hadn’t suddenly lifted her head, her voice cracking through the silence like breaking glass.
"Olivia..."
Olivia’s eyes widened in pure, unadulterated horror, the blood draining completely from her face.
"Elvira...?"