Victoria let Ur and Ter's corpses fall heavily onto the stone floor. Once the bodies settled, she slid her sword back into its sheath and rolled her shoulders, easing the lingering strain from battle.
Around her, the Selifehians mourned their fallen brethren. Some wept from genuine grief, their cries echoing through the chamber. Others lamented for a far less noble reason. Ur and Ter had been among the few hunters capable of providing scraps from the royal family's table. These meagre offerings had sustained countless miserable lives within the Valley of Mendiants.
The Fallen Princess swept her gaze across the cavern.
Her companions lay on the altars, bound and stripped of nearly all dignity. Around them, Selifehian princesses rubbed fragrant oils into their skin, preparing them for the ritual that would secure the tribe's future through forced unions.
Victoria said nothing; she walked forward.
Each measured step deepened the silence that had settled over the chamber.
King Knorr watched her approach with growing unease. His own son—the strongest warrior of the Selifehian House—had openly acknowledged her superiority. Worse still, Ur, Ter, and Marr, warriors second only to the prince himself, had all perished by her hand.
As Victoria passed them, both Knorr and Myorr stiffened. Cold sweat trickled down their faces despite their efforts to remain composed.
She stopped before the altars.
The oppressive weight of her presence swept across the chamber like an approaching storm. The Selifehian princesses immediately retreated, hastily covering themselves with their cloaks as though shielding themselves from a predator's gaze.
Victoria examined Aiden and Godric carefully, searching for signs of torture or injury.
Finding none, she spared the Selifehians a fate they would have surely regretted.
"Untie them," she ordered. "Wake them at once."
"We cannot," King Knorr replied, forcing resolve into his trembling voice. "The future of our people depends on these unions. We need their seeds."
Slowly, Victoria turned her head. Her iris shone with a chilling light.
It was a simple motion, yet it carried enough menace to force both king and prince to step backward instinctively.
"Your future is not our concern," she said coldly. "Do as I command or bear the consequences."
Knorr hesitated. Myorr did not.
The prince remembered the vision he had witnessed. The dreadful future that awaited those who stood against the Fallen Princess remained etched into his mind. He had no desire to test whether fate could be altered.
Stepping forward without waiting for his father's approval, he lowered his head.
"Forgive me, Father."
He raised his wand.
"Reviose."
A pale light flickered from its tip. Moments later, Aiden and Godric stirred upon the altars as consciousness gradually returned to them.
"What do you think you are doing, Myorr?" the king shouted.
"Father, trust me. This is for the sake of our survival," the prince replied.
Knorr ground his teeth in frustration, knowing all too well that his son was right.
Slowly but surely, Aiden and Godric began to awaken. Their eyes fluttered open as they surveyed their surroundings in a daze. Then understanding struck.
Both men sprang to their feet atop the altars, instantly assuming defensive stances. Their eyes swept across the chamber before settling on the mangled corpses scattered near the entrance.
For a moment, neither spoke. The gruesome sight left them visibly unsettled.
"Where are we?" they asked in unison.
Victoria folded her arms.
"Are you two being serious right now? You would make excellent buffoons. How did you manage to get yourselves captured so easily?"
Godric let out a long sigh.
"My fault. My spell didn't work the way it was supposed to." He rubbed his forehead in disappointment. Then something else occurred to him. "Wait a moment... why are we half-dressed?"
"Now that you mention it," Aiden said, glancing down at himself, "what exactly happened here?"
"All I know is that the two of you were moments away from being raped," Victoria answered bluntly.
"WHAT!?" The pair recoiled in horror.
Godric immediately began checking his body for signs of foul play.
Aiden, meanwhile, looked utterly shaken—at least until his gaze drifted toward the Selifehian princesses. The moment he saw them, his expression changed.
Their exotic beauty seized his attention so completely that his earlier panic vanished without a trace.
"Hey, gorilla woman," he said, pointing accusingly at Victoria. "Why did you wake me up? That didn't look anything like rape to me. I gave my consent in my sleep. You seriously lack culture."
Godric lowered his face into his palm.
"Even after nearly becoming a breeding stallion, you still find a way to say something idiotic."
Victoria released a weary sigh.
"And I've already told you to stop calling me that."
Aiden ignored her completely.
"So, it wasn't a dream after all..." Tears welled dramatically in his eyes. "That gorilla will pay for robbing me of such a glorious opportunity."
The Fallen Princess looked at him as though reconsidering whether saving him had been worth the effort.
At Victoria's command, the Selifehians returned their belongings and clothing. Once that was done, they gathered the remains of their fallen kin, wrapping the bodies in burial cloths with solemn care.
Afterward, the tribe assembled in orderly rows.
King Knorr, Prince Myorr, and the two princesses, Irshr and Kursh, knelt at the forefront while the others lined up behind them, heads lowered in submission.
Having finally regained their dignity, Aiden and Godric dressed themselves and took their places beside Victoria, facing the Selifehians.
"I wonder where Elysia wandered off to," Victoria thought. "What a pain she is."
A sudden detail pulled her from her thoughts.
Not far from the assembled tribe sat a young Selifehian girl on a woven mat.
Luxurious ornaments adorned her small frame, yet she remained utterly motionless. The cries, fear, and turmoil that had shaken the cavern seemed unable to reach her. She sat as still as a carved statue; her vacant eyes fixed on nothing in particular.
Victoria's gaze sharpened. For the briefest moment, surprise flickered across her face. She had not sensed the child's presence.
Not until now.
"Who is that girl?" she asked. "And why is she sitting apart from the others?"
"She is... my granddaughter," Knorr answered.
The king intended to continue, but Victoria had already vanished.
A gust of wind swept through the cavern.
Before anyone could react, the Fallen Princess was standing in her original place once more, the young girl now resting calmly at her side.
The sudden display sent a wave of panic through the Selifehians.
Voices rose.
"Please don't harm her!" Knorr pleaded, abandoning all royal composure. "She is more important to our people than anyone else."
Victoria ignored the commotion. Her purple eyes studied the child carefully.
"What is so special about her?"
The girl neither resisted nor showed fear. She stared ahead with lifeless eyes.
"She's alive... yet she looks like a corpse." Victoria frowned. "No. Worse than that. It's as though she abandoned life long ago."
"There is no need to fear," Godric said, raising a hand to calm the agitated tribe.
"My companion may have a somewhat violent way of solving problems, but she wouldn't harm a child."
The Selifehians visibly relaxed.
"Besides," he continued, glancing toward the shrouded corpses lying nearby, "considering the price already paid for attacking us, I'd say the matter has been settled."
Victoria slowly turned toward him.
"Me? Violent?" She pointed at herself.
For the first time since entering the cavern, the Fallen Princess looked genuinely confused.
"What a mess," Aiden muttered with a yawn. "Now we're trapped in this cave until morning."
"We have little choice," Victoria replied. " Its pitch-black outside."
"We shall spend the night here and depart at sunrise," Godric said. "After what happened earlier, I doubt any of us are foolish enough to fall asleep again."
A few uncomfortable glances spread through the cavern.
Godric cleared his throat.
"Since we are all destined to share this cave until dawn, staring at one another in silence would be rather awkward. I prefer to learn more about the Selifehians instead."
The king's eyes narrowed.
"And what exactly do you wish to know about us?"
"Your House fascinates me," Godric answered. "Until now, everything I have heard regarding the Selifehians has come from rumors, legends, and records preserved by the Magic Council. Some scholars even question whether your people truly exist."
His gaze swept across the gathered tribe.
"I would like to hear your side of the story. The truth behind the myths. Surely a conversation is preferable to another unnecessary bloodbath."
A bitter smile appeared on Knorr's face. "Indeed, it is."
The king remained silent for a moment before continuing.
"But first, answer me this. If I tell you everything you wish to know, do you swear that you will leave at sunrise without harming any of my people?"
Godric exchanged a glance with Victoria and Aiden before nodding.
"That was already my intention. Still, let us be clear. As long as you answer our questions honestly and refrain from attacking us again, no harm will come to the Selifehians."
The cavern settled into a heavy silence as King Knorr studied the three outsiders in turn, his gaze lingering longest on Victoria. He searched their expressions for any trace of deceit or hesitation, for even the faintest sign that their promise might be hollow.
Yet, as the seconds dragged on, he slowly abandoned the effort. The truth was simple and unyielding: the Selifehians held no leverage in this place. Whether the outsiders chose to honour their word or not mattered little, for there was nothing his people could do to resist them.
Their survival, for better or worse, rested entirely on the goodwill of those who had already proven themselves beyond their strength.
A heavy sigh left the king at last. He straightened his posture, as though gathering what remained of his dignity.
"If that is your pledge, then I shall tell you everything."
He drew a long, steady breath, and under the faint, flickering light that bled across the cavern walls, the old king finally began to recount the history of the Selifehian House.
"At first, we were not a noble house, but merely a small clan gifted with a peculiar ability—the sight of the future.
Yet it was an imperfect gift. Our visions came without warning, fragmented and unclear. To interpret even a single glimpse of fate often took months, sometimes years. Because of this flaw, others turned away from us, deeming our gift useless.
And so, we suffered. We were a people seldom blessed with strength; only on rare occasions did one among us rise to become a powerful mage. Our visions were the only means by which we could earn a living and feed our children, and even that offered no certainty.
For many years, we endured such hardship until, one day, I was born. According to my parents, a wandering stranger—rumoured to hail from a lost civilization in the sky—blessed me at birth and named me Knorr.
In our tongue, the name means grace.
As I grew into adulthood, it became clear that I was different. I bore the meaning of my name. Unlike the others, I could perceive not only fragments of the future in living beings, but also echoes of the past held within objects, simply by touching them.
My parents, along with the clan chief at the time, did not waste a moment on discovering my potential. They turned this gift into purpose… and into profit. I foretold the futures of countless people—rich and poor alike, on matters great and small. With time, fortune followed, and our clan rose from obscurity. I eventually succeeded the chief and transformed our people into what became a kingdom.
As king, I sought to preserve the uniqueness of my gift across generations. To do so, I divided the Selifehian House into two branches: the principal line, the royal family—my own descendants—and the secondary line, composed of those who did not possess the same precision of vision.
Still, there was no division in truth. We lived as one, without discord, and in harmony as a single people.
With our new status, we rose into the highest circles of nobility. In time, I was even granted the honour of meeting the Goddess of Love herself.
We came to foresee natural calamities and strange phenomena that threatened Utopia. For a time, we were celebrated and praised across the land as seers. Those were golden years… until the Triad of Chaos invaded.
No one saw it coming. Not even us.
Utopia was plunged into a war that would later be spoken of as second only to the Doom of the Gods. Noble houses collapsed one after another, and great mage bloodlines were erased from existence. And then, against all expectations, even the Goddess was defeated.
In the year that followed, the Triad spread further chaos, waging war among themselves without regard for anything living or dead."
"The Triad fought each other?" Victoria thought briefly.
The king kept speaking.
"When the war finally ended, the Triad vanished, retreating into regions beyond our knowledge. In the vacuum left by the Goddess's fall, surviving noble houses produced a new order of powerful mages who founded the Magic Council. They swore to rebuild the world and shield it from the tyranny of the Triad.
But that was not all.
They also judged those who had profited from the chaos of the invasion. And in their judgment, our House was placed at the centre of blame—accused of failing to foresee the catastrophe and held responsible for the deaths of thousands across Utopia.
The verdict was unanimous. Grief had consumed the land, and every house had lost someone dear. In such a climate, no one defended us. Someone had to be made an example, and we were chosen.
Thus, we were banished, cursed to remain in the darkness until death claims the last of us.
It has been twenty years since we were forced into this valley—this place travellers now call the Valley of Mendiants.
The curse that was imposed on us originated from one of the Faust clan's most secret spell, counted as one of the greatest dark arts to be practiced. It made us night creatures incapable of walking under sun. At simple contact with solar rays, we are reduced to ashes.
As king, it was my duty to ensure the survival of my people, and I refused to surrender. I searched every spell, every relic, every forbidden art that might lift the curse, but all was in vain.
Before starvation took its full hold, my people were known for their beauty. Travelers who passed through these lands often mingled with them. Though I had always wished for the Selifehian bloodline to remain pure, I did not forbid such unions, believing that perhaps their offspring might break the curse that bound us.
The outcome, however, was nothing but tragedy. Every woman of the secondary branch who bore a foreign child delivered stillborns or died in childbirth. The same fate befell foreign women who carried Selifehian children.
These cruel cycles buried us deeper into despair. In time, not even travellers dared approach our valley. Some even sought vengeance, believing we had caused the deaths of their kin. Yet we were still protected by the Magic Council—not out of mercy, but because they preferred our slow suffering to a swift death.
Though I had permitted my people to mingle with travellers, I had forbidden such practices within the principal branch—my own children. I believed the purity of our gift had to be preserved through blood, untouched by outside lineage.
Yet, it no longer mattered. Whether born of the principal or secondary line, we were all condemned to die within this valley.
I had already abandoned hope when I learned that my eldest daughter, Princess Shrirr, was with child. Against my warnings, she had entered a secret affair with a traveller who promised to return for her… but never did.
I was furious at her defiance, yet even more so at myself. For now, she carried a fate that would lead only to death within a few months.
But fate did not go as expected. Against all odds, she gave birth to a healthy baby girl—and survived.
She named the child Coco.
It was a name I found foreign, unworthy of our royal lineage. However, Shrirr insisted, saying it was a shortened form of her lover's favourite fruit.
I could not understand how she still held affection for a man who had abandoned her. I tried to comprehend it, but in time, I let the question fade. It no longer mattered. What mattered was simpler: I had become a grandfather.
After Coco's birth, Shrirr was never the same. She grew withdrawn, consumed by longing, and spent her nights waiting at the edge of the valley, as though expecting her lover's return. It became her ritual—until one night, she vanished.
By sunrise, she had not returned.
We could not search during the day, for the sun itself was death to us, so we waited for nightfall. When we finally went out to look for her, what we found after hours of searching filled me with both grief and a fragile, impossible hope.
Shrirr's body lay where it had fallen, consumed by the sun's merciless light. Only ashes remained of her.
Yet within those ashes, we heard a cry.
It was Coco.
To our astonishment, she had survived the sun."