Evening descended upon Eichenwald Castle like a velvet blanket — soft, warm, and full of promise. In the heir’s study, candles burned, their light reflecting off the polished wooden table, the gleaming armor hanging on the wall, and the eyes of the man who had been sitting motionless, staring at one point, for a whole hour.
Randel wasn’t working. The scrolls lay untouched, the quill had dried in the inkwell. He was thinking about her. About her silence. About that name that had made her pale even beneath the mask. About the fact that she was hiding something important, yet refused to tell him. And that hurt more than any blade ever could.
Why didn’t you say anything?
he thought.
Why didn’t you share it with me? I would have understood. I would have helped. I would have…
He didn’t know what he would have done. But he knew he would have done everything. For her. Always.
The door creaked softly.
He raised his head and froze.
Amanda stood on the threshold. But not the Amanda he had seen that morning in the council chamber — cold and unreachable. Nor the one who had sat with him at breakfast in the garden — simple, warm, in a casual dress.
This was someone else.
She wore a gown the color of dark cherry, heavy silk that shimmered in the candlelight, with a deep neckline that bared her shoulders and long sleeves that flowed almost to the floor. Her hair was loose, falling over her shoulders in soft waves. No mask. No armor. Only her face — pale, with red eyes that burned with a strange, uneasy fire.
Randel stared at her, and his breath caught. He had seen her many times — in armor, in the garden, in bed, in the tent after battle. But now… now she was so beautiful that his head spun.
“You…” he began, but the words stuck in his throat.
She stepped into the room. Her movements were smooth and fluid, each one like a dance. She approached him, circled the table, and before he could ask what was happening, she sank to her knees before him. Just like that evening long ago. But then it had been spontaneous, almost childlike. Now it was deliberate. And that stole the breath from his lungs.
“I wanted…” She ran her fingers gently along his cheek. “…to make an impression on you.”
“You always do,” he replied, his voice hoarse.
“No,” she shook her head. “Tonight I want you to remember me. Like this.”
He frowned.
“What do you mean — remember?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned in and kissed him. Slowly. Tenderly. The way people kiss when they want a single moment to last forever.
Randel didn’t understand at first. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, returning the kiss. His hands slid down her back, over the silk of her dress, across her bare shoulders. He could feel her trembling, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her breathing growing ragged.
“What’s happening?” he asked, pulling away from her lips. “Amanda, something’s wrong.”
“Everything’s fine,” she smiled, and there was something in that smile that made his heart clench. “I just… I want to be with you tonight. All night.”
He looked at her, and an uneasy feeling grew in his chest. Something was wrong. Very wrong. But she didn’t let him ask. She kissed him again, and all his thoughts scattered like shadows cast by the candles.
The candles burned low, one by one. They sat on the couch by the fireplace, her head resting on his chest. He stroked her hair, and in that simple gesture was everything — love, worry, hope.
“Tell me something,” she asked softly.
“About what?”
“Anything. About who you were before me. About what you dreamed of. About what you would have done if you weren’t the heir.”
He paused, gathering his thoughts.
“I wanted to be a knight,” he said. “A simple one. Without titles. Without a duchy. Just riding across the lands, helping people, protecting the weak.”
“And now?”
“Now I want to protect you,” he kissed the top of her head. “And our home. Our people. Those who believe in us.”
She lifted her head, looking at him.
“You never wanted to be a duke?”
“I did,” he gave a small, bitter smile. “But not like this. Not in the middle of war. Not when everything is falling apart. I wanted to build. To plant gardens. To open schools. So that my children…” He trailed off.
“So that your children?” she prompted.
“So that my children would never know war,” he finished. “So they could grow up in peace. Laugh. Play. Never fear that an enemy would come tomorrow.”
She looked at him, tears glistening in her eyes.
“They will have that peace,” she said. “I promise.”
He studied her face. There was such certainty in her words that he wanted to believe her.
“You’re strange,” he said softly. “You’re afraid of everything, yet you promise things you can’t control.”
“I can,” she replied. “As long as you’re with me — I can do anything.”
He kissed her. And in that kiss was a promise she knew she could not keep. But he didn’t know. He couldn’t know.
The night stretched on slowly, like thick honey. They talked about nothing, laughed, fell silent, and watched the fire. She memorized every detail — his smile, his voice, his hands, his eyes. She wanted to remember everything. Because she knew — this was their last night.
“You’re tired,” he said when the candles had nearly burned out. “Let’s go to bed.”
“No,” she shook her head. “I don’t want to sleep.”
“Then what do you want?”
She looked at him. In her eyes was something he had seen only once before — in the tent after the battle. Desire. And something more. Something he couldn’t quite understand.
“You,” she whispered. “Only you.”
He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. The candles went out, and only moonlight filtered through the curtains, lighting their way.
She woke to the feeling of someone kissing her shoulder. The sun was only just beginning to rise, and the room was still wrapped in soft twilight.
“It’s early,” she whispered.
“I know,” he replied. “But I wanted to see you wake up.”
She turned to him. His face was calm and happy. He didn’t know. He knew nothing.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you too,” he answered.
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She kissed him. For the last time. Then she rose, slipped on a robe, and walked to the window.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To air out the room,” she replied without turning around. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be back soon.”
He closed his eyes. He fell asleep almost immediately, lulled by warmth and happiness.
Amanda stood by the window, watching the dawn. Her dark cherry gown already lay draped over the chair. She put it on, buttoned it carefully, and smoothed her hair. She looked at herself in the mirror — at the woman she had become, and the woman she had never truly been.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
She approached the bed, leaned down, and kissed him gently on the forehead. He didn’t wake. He only smiled in his sleep, and her heart shattered.
“I’ll come back,” she said softly. “I promise.”
And she left. Silently. Like a shadow. Like a dream fading at dawn.
In the courtyard, the horses were already waiting. Leo and Torglin, clad in invisible armor, held the reins. They didn’t ask if she was doing the right thing. They knew — this was her choice. Her path.
“My lady,” Leo said quietly as she mounted the saddle. “He will search for you.”
“I know,” she replied. “But I have to do this alone. With him… with him I won’t be able to leave. He’ll convince me to stay. Or he’ll go with me. And I can’t risk him. Not now.”
She looked up at the castle windows — at the one where he was still sleeping.
“Let’s go,” she said.
They rode out through the gates just as the sun touched the tops of the towers. Amanda did not look back. She knew that if she did, she would never be able to leave.
Forgive me,
she thought.
Forgive me for not telling you. Forgive me for leaving. Forgive me for…
She didn’t finish the thought. Tears streamed down her cheeks, mingling with the morning dew.
Randel woke when the sun had already climbed high. He reached out, searching for her, and found only cold sheets.
“Amanda?” he called.
Silence.
The news spread through the castle faster than wildfire. Servants ran down the corridors, their faces pale, voices dropping to frantic whispers. The guards at the gates lowered their spears, staring at the empty road where horses had stood that morning. Advisors, who had just been gathering for the next meeting, froze by the doors, unsure whether to enter or wait.
The Keeper was gone.
Not for a walk. Not into the forest. She had left. Vanished. Leaving behind only a small scrap of paper on the heir’s pillow.
Roxana learned first. She always did. A maid who had entered her brother’s chambers with morning coffee ran out with a face as white as a sheet and nearly collided with her in the corridor.
“What?” Roxana grabbed her arm. “What happened?”
“Lady Keeper… she… she’s gone…”
Roxana released the maid and rushed to her brother’s chambers. The door was open. Randel stood in the middle of the room, clutching a piece of paper. His face was like stone, but his hands were trembling.
“What does it say?” Roxana asked, stepping inside.
He didn’t answer. He simply held out the note.
Roxana took it. Read it. Read it again. And felt everything inside her go still.
Forgive me. I have to go.
I stayed on the surface for too long. I allowed myself to forget for too long — who I am and why I came to this world.
My home is not here. My home is where the earth closes over your head. Where the roots of ancient trees plunge into the deepest darkness. Where the walls that hold this world have cracked.
I am the last. The last Keeper. The last one who remembers the oath given at the beginning of time.
Akley left to fulfill his duty. Now it is my turn.
The creatures that are tearing their way up from beneath the earth know no mercy. They know no fear. They know only hunger. And if I do not return to my post, if I do not seal what has been opened… this world will fall. Not in a year. Not in ten. But it will fall.
I cannot allow that to happen. Not because I am a hero. But because I am the Keeper. This is my oath. My life. My death.
Do not look for me. There is no road for the living where I am going.
Forgive me for not telling you. Forgive me for leaving. Forgive me for…
I loved you. All of you. But especially you, Randel. I’m sorry.
Remember me not as a goddess. Remember me as the one who tried.
— Amanda
Roxana lowered the note, her fingers trembling.
“Is this… a lie?” she asked. “Did she make all of this up?”
Randel remained silent. He stood staring out the window, toward the forest that stretched beyond the castle walls. The forest she had once called her home. Her sanctuary. Her lie? Or her truth?
“I don’t know,” he said at last. “I never knew.”
“Randel…”
“She didn’t tell me,” his voice was hollow, lifeless. “She came to me yesterday. We were together. All night. And in the morning… she kissed me on the forehead while I was sleeping. And left.”
He turned to his sister, and Roxana saw his eyes. There were no tears in them. Only emptiness.
“She told me she would come back,” he whispered. “She kissed me and said, ‘I’ll come back.’ Instead… instead she left this.”
“Maybe she will come back,” Roxana said, but her voice lacked conviction.
“Do you believe that?” he asked.
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.
The news that the Keeper had left to seal an ancient threat rising from beneath the earth spread through the castle within the hour. Servants passed it from one to another, their voices filled with horror and awe. The guards at the gates stared toward the forest, half-expecting a golden figure to emerge from the trees. She did not appear.
In the great hall, the generals and advisors had gathered. Their faces were pale. Some whispered, some prayed, some simply sat in silence, staring at nothing.
“Is it true?” asked the old general — the same one who had seen her standing on the cliff. “Creatures from beneath the earth?”
“That is what she wrote,” Tywin replied. He sat in his usual place, leaning on his cane, his face carved from stone. “That it is her duty. That she is the last.”
“But if it is true…” another advisor began.
“If it is true,” Tywin interrupted, “then there is nothing we can do. She has gone where there is no road for us.”
“And if it is a lie?” Kaito Tsubame’s voice cut through the room sharply. “What if she simply ran away?”
Everyone turned to him. His face was pale, but his eyes burned with challenge.
“Why would she run?” asked Ren Jinja. “She had everything. A home. Respect. Love. Why throw it all away?”
“I don’t know,” Kaito replied. “But I know one thing — people don’t leave like this for no reason. If she truly is the Keeper, if there really is some threat… why didn’t she tell us earlier? Why did she wait? Why did she leave in secret?”
No one answered. Because there was no answer.
Roxana didn’t go to the hall. She stood by the window in her chambers, clutching a copy of the letter she had made for herself. She read it again and again, and with each reading, it felt like she was seeing something new.
My home is not here. My home is where the earth closes over your head.
I am the last. The last Keeper.
Akley left to fulfill his duty. Now it is my turn.
The creatures that are tearing their way up from beneath the earth know no mercy.
She had heard that name before. Akley. Randel had told her once. The one who had taught Amanda. The one she had loved. The one who had left. And now she was walking the same path.
This is a lie,
Roxana thought.
It can’t be true. She couldn’t have been hiding something like this. She couldn’t have…
But then she remembered how they said Amanda had stood on the cliff. How she had raised her hand and the enemies had fled. How she had removed her helmet and people had fallen to their knees. How she had said: “I am not what I seem.”
Maybe this is the truth,
Roxana realized.
Maybe she really did come from another world. Not from the forest. From beneath the earth. From the darkness we cannot see. And now she has returned to where she came from.
She crumpled the letter in her fist, and her eyes stung. She didn’t cry. She never had. But right now, she wanted to.
“You promised you would come back,” she whispered. “You promised you would help us find happiness. You promised, you idiot.”
She looked up at the sky, where the clouds were parting to reveal clear blue.
“Come back,” she said. “Or I will come for you myself. Keeper, goddess, liar — it doesn’t matter. You are my sister. And I will not let you go.”
Randel didn’t go to the hall. He didn’t go to his father. He didn’t go to his sister. He sat on the bed in his room, where her scent still lingered on the sheets, clutching the note and staring at it without seeing the words.
I loved you. Especially you.
“If you loved me,” he whispered, “why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you let me go with you? Why…”
He fell silent. The words stuck in his throat.
She had said her duty was to protect this world. That she had to go where the creatures were breaking through. That she was the last. That Akley had left, and now it was her turn.
Akley,
he thought.
The one she loved. The one who taught her. The one who left.
She had told him he was her first love. That she would have done anything for him. And he had left. She had been left alone. And now she was leaving on her own. To a place from which no one returned.
He clenched the note tightly, his knuckles turning white.
“No,” he said. “You’re not leaving. You’re not leaving me. Not like this.”
He stood up. Walked to the wall where his armor hung. He put it on slowly, carefully, as if preparing for battle. And this was a battle — the most important one of his life.
“Randel!” Roxana’s voice rang out from the corridor. She burst into the room, saw him in full armor, and froze. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going after her,” he replied.
“You don’t even know where she went.”
“I’ll find out.”
“She wrote that there is no road for the living where she’s going!”
“Then I’ll become one of the dead,” he said, fastening the last buckle and turning to his sister. “I won’t leave her alone. Not now. Not after everything.”
Roxana looked at him, tears shining in her eyes.
“You’re a fool,” she said. “The biggest fool I’ve ever known.”
“I know,” he smiled, and there was something in that smile that made her heart clench. “But you still love me.”
“I do,” she stepped forward and hugged him tightly. “Go. Find her. Bring her back. And if that idiot starts talking about duty again… tell her her real duty is to be happy. With us.”
He hugged her back.
“Take care of Father,” he said. “Of the duchy. Of everything.”
“I will,” she pulled away. “And you come back. With her.”
“I promise.”
He left the room. He left the castle. Mounted his horse and rode into the forest. Toward the place where she had first appeared. Toward the place where the path to her world might still exist.
Roxana stood by the window, watching his figure disappear among the trees.
“Come back,” she whispered. “Both of you. Or I’ll come for you myself.”
She didn’t know what lay beneath the earth. She didn’t know what kind of creatures were clawing their way upward. But she knew one thing — her brother and her sister were there. And she would wait. As long as it took. Forever.