Crown of Thorns

After giving my permission, Evan busily wandered around the inside of the tower, looking at this and that. As I sat against the wall, I chased him only with my eyes. A strange feeling seized me.

Had the inside of the tower always been this low and narrow?

I’ve never felt it to be small before. It was always filled with pitch-black darkness. And I used to regard it as a swamp that seemed to be sucking me into a bottomless pit. It certainly wasn’t a very large space, but it had always used to seem empty. As if it was a void that would devour everything.

But when Evan stood inside it, it just turned into a small, ordinary tower as though it were bending itself to his will. The boy, who was busy moving around to clean up the inside of the tower only yesterday, was so big that he could cross the whole space in only a few steps. Whenever he strode his long legs a few times, he moved from one end of the tower to the other, and just by raising his head, he touched a cobweb that had settled on the ceiling.

The furniture I had brought to take care of the then child Evan was too small for the Evan of today, making the tower feel cramped. Whenever he would turn around or swing his arm, the furniture would interfere with his movements, causing him to have a faint frown on his face.

The books, which had stacked up to the boy’s knees, were easily swept aside by him with one hand. It was a little confusing for me to decide whether the books were originally so small or whether it was Evan’s hands and arms that got so big.

The boy, who used to jump around, sang praises of how amazing the fog made from Darkness was. And now, he had grown into a young man who had created Light by saying that the tower was too dark. I’ve been watching the whole process, but what is this feeling that I’m getting now? Why is it so strange?

He walked back in front of me as if he had lost interest in looking around. Then he crouched down, put his arm on his knee, and looked at me quietly. The posture remained unchanged from childhood, almost pushing me to crack a smile. It was strange. He had changed so much up to this point, but I can’t believe that this trivial action was enough to confirm that he’s indeed the person I knew.

I looked at Evan, who fluttered one arm using his knee as a lever, and then hurriedly turned my head, realizing that his gaze was quite explicit. His eyes were persistently looking at my face. Only then could I recall that Evan had healed my scars. I didn’t know whether I should say thank you or not. But Evan never opened his mouth about it. Maybe it was unintentional healing. Maybe it wasn’t very interesting for him. Interest… Right, perhaps he merely thought, “so this was her real face” in passing, then forgot about it.

“Nyx.”

Why do I feel so strange every time Evan calls my name? It was not the boy’s thin and weak voice; rather, it was a deep and slightly intimidating voice. And it was so strange. I’ve always been watching from the sidelines, but the voice he had used to call only me, not others, felt very different.

“Nyx?”

“What’s wrong?”

I answered as he tilted his head and started to call for me again. As a child, he was a bit of a stickler, not giving up until he was answered, like trying to force eye contact if I didn’t look at him. In the end, I couldn’t win against his stubbornness, so there were a lot of times when I gave up early on.

Evan stretched his arms over his knees and continued, burying his chin in them.

“What have you been up to while I was gone?”

I didn’t expect him to ask any questions, so I didn’t answer. But he only looked persistently at me and rephrased his question.

“Since you sent me out to be a warrior, what have you been doing here alone?”

“Nothing.”

Evan stared with narrowed eyes, either suspicious of my answer or trying to gauge the truth. So I added some words to his benefit.

“Just like it’s been so far.”

Only then did Evan open his eyes wide as if he remembered.

“That’s right. Nyx always did nothing. You seem a little different now, but you still do nothing.”

It seemed that he was not aware of what changed me. He’s the one who woke the dead witch up, and he’s the one who made her move.

Evan muttered, “That was the case at the time,” then turned his eyes my way to ask me again.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“…”

If he had any questions, Evan would always ask without hesitation, so I felt a little uneasy when he asked permission first. It was akin to insinuating that this was an important question for him. Evan said again if my expectations were correct.

“I really want you to answer it.”

“…What is it?”

Instead of answering, he rummaged through his pockets and pulled something out. As soon as I realized what it was, my head was filled with countless thoughts. What do you want to know? How far should I tell you? All the small memories of the object with all their accompanying agony surged up.

“This… What exactly is this?”

Evan still had a faint glow coming from the object on his palm. Perhaps it was because the charm in it reacted to Evan’s power. Or maybe the engravings on the object still haven’t lost their effect.

“The Imperial Palace sorcerer…It’s a kind of an identity token.”

Each aristocrat used to have a family pattern, carrying objects or weapons engraved with them. This thing did not represent a family, but it had more power than that. Because the title of the Imperial Palace sorcerer itself was unique to only one person throughout all history.

Evan looked at me with a slightly subdued look. As depth added to his contemplating red eyes, the atmosphere itself felt completely different. His astute and keen perception was quite sharp.

“I see why you gave this to me.”

The palace sorcerer was of great help to the emperor. There had been only one so far, and the benefits of it have gone beyond description. No matter how long ago it was, no matter how greedy he was about his life and what he had, and no matter what kind of power he had or how much strength he would give, the present emperor could not easily turn a blind eye to it.

It is now nothing more than a mere object forgotten along with the past glory, but for Evan, blessed with Light, it could have been a shield to protect him, and an identity card to assert his own lineage. The Imperial Palace sorcerer was a figure whose entire existence was almost kept secret. The people had no way of knowing about his bloodline. However, this object was buried along with the Imperial Palace sorcerer, who died when the world was swept away by Darkness. And it was of significant interest just because the boy who used his same Light had the object.

Evan probably noticed from the reaction of Yohan, Neriano, and the Son of Heaven on the day he first went to the palace. The meaning of this item. And its strength.

“My question is.”

Evan’s gaze sank a little further. It seemed to dig into the bottom of my heart.

“How have you come into the possession of this item? This is it.”

“…”

“When I think about it, there are more than one or two strange things. Whenever you went anywhere, you used to bring a bunch of amazing and precious things. Among them was that book. I can read that book now. You can see that it’s a very high leveled and detailed divine sorcery book. And it’s not even in the Imperial Palace library.”

So don’t even think about cheating your way out of this. Evan was saying so.

I hoped Evan’s growth would cloud his memories of what was happening with me, but it had been a little frustrating to see that he still remembered it so clearly. My childhood is almost entirely buried in memory. Those memories that I also really don’t want to forget are now so clouded that I can never recall them in detail whenever I want to take a trip down memory lane.

The sound of a pen grazing over a piece of paper, the languid sunshine coming through a crack in the curtain, the wide, fluffy armchair. I liked the smell of books and the people there. I was happy to have a family that loved me. My childhood was so peaceful and beautiful.

I looked up, trying to bury my rising memories deep, just like this old space of mine, which had been forgotten.

“You.”

“…”

“You must have forgotten again. The fact that I was the witch who lived longer than anyone else.”

“What does that…”

“Where the Imperial Palace sorcerer lived, where he was buried. I mean, there’s no way that I didn’t know that.”

Evan looked at me with a little surprise.

“So, this object came from there?”

“Yes.”

Evan opened his lips as if he wanted to say something more. Glancing at his grown-up face, I knew what he wanted to say.

“Did you think I had something to do with the object?”

Evan’s eyes shook almost unnoticeably, indicating that I hit the bull’s eye. I muttered self-deprecatingly, casting my eyes at the object in his hand.

“…I am a witch. Born in the dark, living in the dark.”

Should such beautiful people* have something to do with such dark things? Moreover, something like that of a witch?

It is no different from the crown of the warrior turning into a crown of thorns as soon as it is revealed that he is related to the witch.

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*T/N : meaning those who use the power of Light.