Shadow's Oath

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Chapter 70: The Oath of Shadows

Jedrick was out of breath.

Hadn't they said that Tagda’s shaman had filled the cave with smoke?

Was he already suffocating on that smoke?

Jedrick was exhausted.

If he had been alone, he would have given up long ago.

The only reason he had endured this far was that he didn’t want to show a shameful side of himself to Charlon, who was walking resolutely despite her injured side.

He didn’t want to lose to Damion, who had already fainted once that morning and whose condition was clearly far from normal.

He also endured to support Ram, who was fighting and holding his ground alone against dozens of Geronians.

But now, he could no longer hold on.

“How can you say that so easily?”

Jedrick wanted to laugh bitterly and speak, but all that came out was a sob.

Shame overshadowed his pain, and when the shame faded, the pain returned.

“How can you speak of faith so effortlessly?”

Jedrick held up the medicine bottle.

“I intended to accept it if you refused to take it, to take it myself if you wouldn’t. From the moment my brother handed me this medicine bottle, I had resolved myself to that decision. The only reason I hadn’t taken it yet was that I wanted to wait until this chaos was over and you were all safe. But if you say you’ll take it, what am I supposed to do?”

Ram’s voice carried an apologetic tone.

“I see. I was thoughtless. Then, after we get through this situation…”

“That’s not what I meant!”

Jedrick’s voice echoed sharply against the cave walls.

“You spoke of sharing a bond of souls without hesitation, but that’s your delusion. It’s as hollow as the Southern knights’ vows of loyalty or as frivolous as the Geronians’ constant oaths to their gods.”

“I don’t know the rituals of loyalty oaths or how to swear to a god. I’m a slave. I swore loyalty to Lord Selken. But I betrayed him. I killed his only son with my own hands. I’m a murderer. I’ve been a murderer for a long time. But I’ve never confessed at a sanctuary or asked a god for forgiveness. Even today, in front of Archbishop Aikob, I didn’t truly confess. I killed Commander Claive, but I didn’t ask for forgiveness because I wasn’t sincere. I didn’t stake my soul on it.”

Ram turned to each of them in turn and continued speaking.

“When I spoke of souls earlier, whom did you swear to? Was it the god of your church? The ancient deity of this sanctuary? I swore to myself and to all of you. That’s enough for me.”

Had Ram ever spoken so much before?

Had his expression ever looked so warm?

If he were a clergyman of a southern cathedral, forcing conversion with such words, Jedrick might have followed him.

Damion closed his eyes and said quietly,

“Ram is right. Even within the same order, the procedures for prayer differ, the ways of worship differ, and priests argue over it. The Geronians, too, must have gods with different stories, traditions, and rituals in every village. I was naïve. I thought I could reconcile all of that…”

Damion looked at Jedrick as he continued.

“Even if I acted like a king here, I could never truly be your king. I’d only be an invader. So right now, what matters is us—the four of us. No god from the north, south, or here is watching over us. It’s just us. If we’re honest with each other, and we share that sincerity, that’s a bond of souls.”

Damion took Jedrick’s hand and confessed.

“I was the one who proposed invading the northern Geron lands.”

Jedrick’s eyes widened unconsciously.

“It was Aikob, the chancellor, who pushed it forward, but I was the one who first suggested it. I took advantage of the nobles’ grumbling about the northern territories.”

Damion spoke as if pulling out nails embedded deep in his heart, each word painfully uttered.

“I’ve told you before that I have an older brother—Lamuel, the heir who will become king after our father. He hated me. Father hated me, too, for being indecisive. I wanted to escape—to go somewhere, anywhere, away from the palace, away from the royal capital, Tamperton. Then I heard rumors of increasing Geronian raids and invasions. I suggested to Aikob that we raise an army, invade the north, and conquer it. I said I would rule that land myself. I argued that the Geronians would come to know the word of our god. The archbishop was quickly convinced, and I secured the king’s approval.”

Damion stared at the stream for a moment to gather his breath before continuing.

“But I didn’t know it would be used as a scheme to kill General Terdin. I didn’t know the war would drag on for so long. I didn’t realize how many people would die or how much suffering it would cause. I was young then, and I’m still young now. Jedrick, I’m sorry.”

Jedrick let out a long sigh.

Tears still welled in his eyes, and he was too ashamed to wipe them.

The visible tears made him feel even more ashamed.

“I want to accept your apology, but I’m in no position to do so.”

Damion asked,

“But didn’t you already confess?”

“That wasn’t a confession. It was just an admission of my guilt.”

Jedrick spoke the words he had been trying not to say.

“I wanted my father to die. He knew this war would end in disaster. He knew the other tribes weren’t truly committed to helping us. But because of his pride in the name Mantum, because of his ego, he continued the war. He knew that Hag Olga’s warnings were true, that the other tribal leaders were driving him into war to ensure our destruction. He still led our village into ruin. Even if we defeated Terdin and won the war, other tribes would have betrayed us. We poured everything into this war and would have been devoured by the seven allied villages. We would have become slaves.”

Jedrick thought of a conversation with his father.

‘It feels like walking the wrong path even though you know the right one.’

It hadn’t been easy to speak of his father’s regret-laden self-reproach, which had pierced him so deeply.

“We had to lose the war. Father said so himself. If we had to lose, it was better to lose to Terdin. Losing to him would mean surrender without plunder or death. If we were occupied by the Tagda tribe, the village of Elum would be annihilated. And yet, Father couldn’t stop fighting.”

Tears fell freely now.

Once they started, he couldn’t stop them.

And once he showed them, there was no point in holding back anymore.

“I destroyed my father’s protective talisman.”

“What are you saying?”

Damion asked in astonishment.

Ram was even more shocked.

Jedrick couldn’t tell why Ram reacted so strongly.

“That talisman, which was said to hold the chief’s very life force, always hung at the entrance to Father’s tent. It was a necklace-like charm made of bird feathers, animal bones, human blood, and sacred stones. I swapped it with another charm that looked similar. Even if it was just superstition, even if Hag’s words were true that no magic could protect him, I had to do something. But that very day, Father died. I couldn’t tell anyone about it. That’s why I accepted the position in Elhorn, even though it was little better than being a hostage destined to die. If what I did truly caused his death, someone would have to die painfully under the chief’s curse. When I heard you killed him, Ram, I was almost relieved.”

Jedrick turned to Ram and spoke.

“If the magic had worked, you would’ve died a painful death. But you’re alive and well. That means I didn’t cause his death. The magic was fake.”

Ram’s expression grew heavier.

“Adian Mantum’s final words… I understand them now.”

“Did you hear my father’s last words?”

The one who had wanted so desperately to know Mantum’s last words was Sao.

And yet it was Ram who had heard them.

“Yes. His voice was faint, and I wasn’t fluent in the Geronian tongue at the time, so I wasn’t certain. But hearing your story, I understand. ‘This can’t go on. If it does, we’ll lose.’ That’s what I thought he said. But the last part wasn’t that. It was, ‘This can’t go on. If it does, it’s better that we lose.’”

Jedrick’s father had always been strong, or at least appeared strong in front of others.

The only one to whom he had shown this vulnerability was Jedrick, his second son.

Only to him had he said that losing was the right path.

“I’m sorry, Father.”

Even now, knowing his father’s final words, Jedrick regretted destroying the protective talisman.

If it had to be done, he should have done it directly.

He should have stood before his father, armed with sword and armor, and declared that his death was necessary to save Elum.

He should have faced him head-on.

If his father had accepted it, he would have allowed himself to be killed by a son who had never taken a life before.

If he couldn’t accept it, he would have beheaded his son.

But instead, Jedrick had cowardly removed the talisman.

Feeling wretched once again, Jedrick groaned in despair.

“I’ll do it too…”

Charlon opened her mouth, but her words were interrupted by a brief cough.

Damion raised a hand slightly, as if to stop her.

“If it’s too much, you don’t have to.”

“No, I want to. Compared to the deaths and wars you’ve confessed, it might seem insignificant, but it could be the biggest sin of all. Especially to you, Your Highness.”

Tears were already welling in Charlon’s eyes.

Damion lowered his hand and waited for her to speak.

Jedrick lifted his head, suppressing his urge to retreat into his pain, to listen to her words.

“I ran away—from the lands of Vormont, from my home, my family, and everything.”

Charlon closed her eyes tightly and continued.

“In our region, there’s a superstition that if twins are born, one of them will inevitably be unlucky. So, when my mother gave birth to us, called a fortune-teller. The fortune-teller said one of us would kill the other. So, my mother chose between her son and daughter. She chose the daughter.”

“Chose?”

Damion asked.

Charlon hesitated to speak.

Ram answered for her.

“She tried to kill her daughter, didn’t she?”

Charlon conveyed her gratitude through her gaze and continued.

“People stopped her, and I barely survived. But I never understood why my mother’s gaze was always so threatening, why I felt so uncomfortable whenever she looked at me. After I learned the truth, I became terrified of being alone with her. So, ten years ago, when we lost the Born War, and General Terdin demanded hostages, I was the first to volunteer. I said I’d go.”

Damion asked in shock,

“You were six years old then…?”

“Yes. At that age, I already wanted to get away from my mother. I was afraid she’d kill me someday. But General Terdin…”

When she couldn’t continue, Damion spoke for her.

“…said he didn’t need daughters. Only sons, and only firstborn sons, were worth taking as hostages.”

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“Strictly speaking, Rusef wasn’t even the firstborn,”

Charlon said, keeping her eyes shut as she spoke.

“My mother wanted to get rid of Rusef, too. So that her ‘real firstborn,’ Aduer, could inherit the Vormont name in full.”

Damion’s expression darkened.

“Rusef often said he worried about his younger sister when he was in the capital. I thought it was just him being concerned about family far away, but it turns out he was genuinely worried for her life, wasn’t he?”

“Mother believed Brother Rusef would die at the hands of the enemy. If not that, she thought he might fall for one of Triton’s women and end up marrying her, so she took steps to prevent that. She believed the situation with Rusef would be easily resolved. So she thought all she had to do was get rid of me. That’s why… that’s why I…”

With an expression of anguish far more painful than the confessions of the other three men, Charlon spoke.

“…I tried to use you, Prince.”

Damion asked in bewilderment,

“Use me? How?”

“If you became my husband, my mother wouldn’t be able to touch me. It wasn’t my father who proposed the political marriage. It was me. I suggested it first.”

Charlon burst into tears.

“I didn’t love you, Prince. I acted like I fell in love at first sight, but I was only trying to use you. I used the knights of Born, I used Rusef, and I even tried to use the North. If I became the queen of the North, I wouldn’t have to return to Born…”

Charlon cried like never before.

Tears and mucus tangled her green hair across her face.

She cried so uncontrollably that one might think not even a six-year-old child could sob like that.

She, who had never lost her composure in any setting, spoke with a face in complete disarray.

“I’m sorry, Prince. I’m so sorry.”

Her words were barely intelligible.

Unable to wipe her nose, mucus mixed with saliva threatened to drip down beside her lips.

Jedrick, unable to bear the sight, pressed his sleeve to her face.

“Blow your nose. If you’re like this…”

‘I can’t cry, can I?’

Jedrick thought this to himself but said something else aloud.

“You’re making it hard for the prince.”

Damion, flustered and unsure of what to do, waved his hands and said,

“There’s no need to cry, Charlon. No one falls in love at first sight. I didn’t like this marriage at first, either. Ask Jedrick—before meeting you, I was trying to figure out how to refuse you.”

When Damion looked to Jedrick for support, Jedrick said gravely,

“I can always tell you what you planned to say to reject her.”

“Do you remember that?”

“How could I forget such strong words?”

“Don’t.”

“Understood.”

Damion turned back to Charlon to console her.

“Thank you for telling the truth. But don’t you know? Political marriages are always like this. Just like any other noble’s marriage. But we can start from here, can’t we? Love between a man and a woman might begin with a chance meeting, but it can also start with an arranged one. Don’t worry about your mother. I will protect you.”

Charlon nodded, trying hard to suppress her tears.

Damion looked at the other three and said,

“We’re already deeply intertwined with one another. We owe Hag Olga our thanks. Her throwing us into this mess helped us truly understand each other.”

“Well, I’m not ready to forgive Olga,” @@novelbin@@

Jedrick said.

Damion laughed and replied,

“But we can forgive ourselves, can’t we? No one is without sin. Let’s carry our wrongs. Let’s not forget them. But we can’t keep dredging them up, either.”

Damion took all their hands.

“Now, it feels like our souls are truly connected. We can’t betray one another, we can’t kill one another, and we’ll help each other forever.”

“Will we?”

Suddenly, Ram’s voice broke the somber mood.

“Why do you think not?”

Damion asked.

“Because of what Olga said about Tanu collecting your shadows.”

“Olga is a liar who wanted to trap us. She just used that myth to create a foreboding atmosphere for you!” Damion said firmly.

“I’m sorry, but I feel the same unease,”

Jedrick admitted.

Once they began being honest, it became easier to voice their fears.

“According to Olga’s prophecy, Ramelon will sound the second horn, Akamantum will set the skies ablaze, and march onto the battlefield… She said the first horn has already sounded. There’s talk of the serpent of doom, Malarhatu. And both the Hag and the Hak, who have never communicated, called Ram ‘Tanu.’ It’s not something we can dismiss as coincidence.”

How did Olga know the volcano would erupt?

When she advised Adian Mantum not to march to war, was it her unique method of reading signs that predicted the eruption?

“I have something to say, too…”

Charlon wiped at her eyes and nose with one hand and raised the other.

She waved it in the air, as if groping for something on the ceiling, and spoke.

“I didn’t want to mention it during such an important time, thinking it might just be my imagination. But I’ll speak honestly. There’s something circling around us right now. It’s ominous. I can’t just dismiss it as some superstition tied to this pagan temple.”

Charlon lowered her hand and met the gaze of the three men.

“There’s something here.”

“Charlon, it’s not that I don’t trust your words. But didn’t they say the shamans near the snake pit were using strange smoke and rituals? Couldn’t it be a trick of the eye?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe. But the unease is real.”

Ram agreed with Charlon’s words.

“Even if Hag Olga lied, I’m still afraid of her prophecy. ‘Tanu will claim the shadows of the three.’ Why three? Olga still insists I’m Tanu. She told us to swear not to harm each other and to seek the gods’ guidance to avoid Tanu. But we haven’t found a way to avoid it yet.”

“A way to avoid it… I still don’t want to follow Olga’s words. But that woman told me to use superstition…”

Damion muttered seriously and then pointed at Ram.

“You’re Tanu? That might actually be good.”

“What?”

Not only Ram, but also Jedrick and Charlon stared at Damion in confusion.

Damion spread his arms as if it were obvious.

“Olga said Tanu would claim our shadows, didn’t she? If Ram doesn’t do it, the prophecy doesn’t come true. If Ram is Tanu, he simply needs not to claim our shadows before our fate does. Simple.”

Jedrick felt as if Damion’s words struck him with a sudden realization.

A course of action became clear.

“Yes. Damion is right. Charlon is right. Ram is right! From the beginning, this was our own ritual.”

Jedrick drew his sword and held it to a nearby torch, heating the blade.

Then he carefully grasped the blade and cut his palm, letting blood flow.

“Pass me that cup.”

Ram took a cup from a pouch at her side and handed it over.

Jedrick let his blood drip into the cup—not just a drop, but a substantial amount.

It didn’t matter if it was just a drop.

But if he believed it required more, even his wrist wouldn’t hesitate.

Jedrick handed the bloodied sword to Damion.

Without a word, Damion cut his own palm and let his blood flow into the cup.

With a slight hesitation, he extended the cup to Charlon.

“Don’t give too much.”

“I can’t hold back.”

Charlon cut her palm the same way and added her blood to the cup.

Then she handed it to Ram.

When Ram tried to do the same, Jedrick stopped her.

“You don’t need to. Just drink it.”

“What?”

“This is your oath alone.”

Jedrick exchanged a glance with Damion.

Damion nodded silently and looked at Ram, as did Charlon.

“Your unease is correct, Ram. You can’t protect us while holding onto that fear. Swear on your soul to protect the three of us. If you’re Tanu, make a vow not to claim our shadows before our fate does.”

“Like a knight’s oath of loyalty? I don’t know the procedure. Don’t we need some kind of ritual or ceremonial words?”

Ram looked bewildered.

“An oath of loyalty? I don’t trust the loyalty of knights who abandoned us. So let’s not use that.”

Damion scoffed and continued.

“Shadow suits you better. You were once a servant of Lord Zenri, but you rejected that on your own. You were General Terdin’s shadow, but soon became mine. Maybe it wasn’t even your choice but something that happened naturally. Now, choose for yourself. Can you be the shadow of the three of us?”

Ram answered without hesitation.

“Yes.”

“What tools do we need? Nothing but your voice. No special rituals or words. Only your vow matters. Do it however you wish. If you need a formality, create it yourself.”

At that moment, Jedrick saw in Damion’s words, actions, and expression the figure of a true king.

‘Father wanted to surrender to Terdin. But I will yield to you, Damion. I want you to be our king.’

Ram stared at the cup of blood for a moment, then drank it all in one gulp.

Kneeling on one knee before the three, he lowered her head.

“From now on, I am the shadow of Damion, Jedrick, and Charlon.”

Ram’s vow echoed through the underground of the temples of Raham and Iktaron.

“I swear that before my shadow fades, yours shall not fade first.”

[TL/N: GAHDAMN!!]

[PR/N: THAT’S THE SHADOW’S OATH!!!]

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