Eternal Malediction

The group carried on talking, but the lingering past of Tanaka’s relationship stained the air.

They talked for quite a while, discussing random topics from what Mira thought of Kieran when she was a little kid, what Roy and Kieran did after they ran away, and even talking about what Rin and Mella wanted to be in the future.

Time flew by before they even knew it was what they exactly needed: space and time.

As they carried on talking, Mella noticed Mira sleeping against her older brother’s knee, and Kieran was quietly scratching her head as she slept on his knee while he spoke to Lys and Roy.

She giggles and tells Rin, to which he smiles.

Mella then asks Roy a question. “Roy… How did you come up with the name Nova?”

Roy was slightly stunned and looked at Kieran to see if Mira was asleep, and he nodded.

Then he started talking, while looking up above at the bright night sky, and his face lit and dulled from the flame of the fire.

Roy thought before he spoke. “Well, Nova is a name I copied from a very old news article I found when I was a little kid.”

He tilted his head down and looked at Mella and Rin in the face and spoke towards them. “I was just rummaging through a box of newspapers to use as throwaway paper as we were painting the wall of the orphanage I grew up in, and I stumbled upon it.”

Roy lifted his hands and made a square using both of his thumbs and pointer fingers. “At the top of the page was a cool photo of a guy standing in the middle of the sky, wearing a cool jacket that swayed with the wind, and since it was in the 1980s, it was black and white.”

“And it looked like the whole city had its eye on him, watching him and looking at his every movement.”

Roy started smiling at the nostalgia he felt. “I don’t remember what the news article was about, but the way the photographer portrayed him – god damn, it was cool.”

He started laughing at himself as he said, “He was so cool to me that I copied his cloak, but since the picture was from behind him, I couldn’t see his front side, and so to add my own personal charm, I decided to wear the mask with a jewel on it, to represent my version of him, you know.”

Mella was enticed, “REALLY? THAT’S SO COOL!”

Rin joined in, “That sounds similar to the way you were at the tournament.”

Roy admitted, “Yeah, I guess I did copy him that day…”

To Kieran, that was the first time he had ever heard of this part of Roy; he never knew that the cloak he got made personally was inspired by a person of the past, and as he thought about it more, it made more sense that he asked specifically Elowen, from Nova in Veil, to make it for him.

Kieran noticed that the sky was getting very dark, and the road was getting quite hard to see. He started shaking Mira slightly to get her awake and whispered. “It’s time to go." He then got up and said, “Everyone, let's pack up and start heading back to cabins.”

Everyone agreed.

Roy and Kieran put out the fire and the logs back to where they initially were, and Lys, Mira, Mella and Rin packed up everything they bought and headed up towards the road while they waited for Roy and Kieran to finish sorting everything out.

They walked down the road, back to London, as they had to get onto another road which directly walked up to their cabins, and so their 2.5-mile trek began once again; it's only an hour's walk.

An hour… Walk… Damn.

It was only around 10pm, so the bus system was still going as it finishes at around 11pm. They unanimously decided it would be better to take the bus to the closest stop to their cabin, which still leaves them with a 20-minute walk, which was way better than an hour.

The bus ticket was around 25p and 10p for the children, and sadly this came out of Roy’s funds, leaving him with £4.05. He has already spent 50% of his pocket money.

What would Kaelen think of him? Probably disappointed?

Stolen from NovelPhoenix, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Well, who cares? The past is past, and they enjoyed it; anymore thinking about it would leave a sour taste in his mouth, and it wasn’t worth ruining it.

After a while they reached the closest bus stop to their cabin; they thanked the bus driver as they got off and began walking.

Thankfully, they had streetlamps here since it's also one of the main roads leading to London.

As they walked, Mella ran forward as she saw a flower and wanted to pick it; nobody said anything as she was in their sight.

All of a sudden, the flower went straight up in the air, and she fell backwards.

Roy and Kieran instantly ran to her to make sure she was ok.

Then a group of people, mostly men with a few women, walked past Mella, who is now tearing from scratching her head on the gravel pavement.

Roy bent down and picked up Mella, whose eyes and cheeks started going red from crying. He asked, “Are you okay, Mella?”

She nodded in response as tears fell down from her face.

He then looked up to the man, who caused her to fall.

This man looked down with a smug look on his face. He crouched down and looked at Mella right in the eyes with his face half illuminated.

Roy bent down and picked Mella up, her tiny hands clutching his jacket as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her eyes were red, her breathing shaky, her head still stinging from hitting the gravel.

He asked softly, “Are you okay, Mella?”

She nodded, but the tears didn’t stop.

Roy brushed the dirt off her back, then looked up at the man who had knocked her over.

The man stood there with a smug expression, half his face illuminated by the streetlamp, the other half swallowed by shadow. He crouched down, bringing himself eye‑level with Mella.

“I’m sorry, little lady,” he said, voice dripping with false sweetness. “I didn’t see you there.”

Then he added, with a smirk, “Though you did run into me. So… partly your fault too, yeah?”

Roy’s jaw tightened.

Mella looked down, confused and scared.

Roy didn’t want her to carry fear or guilt, so he gently encouraged her, “Mella… just say sorry so we can go.”

She hesitated, then whispered, “Sorry…”

The man flashed another smug smile, clearly pleased with himself.

Kieran arrived beside Roy, eyes immediately scanning Mella to make sure she was okay. Once he saw she was safe in Roy’s arms, he looked up at the man.

The man’s grin widened.

“Ohhh,” he said, eyes flicking past Kieran. “You’ve got two fine women behind you.”

Kieran’s eye twitched. “She’s fourteen,” he said flatly.

The man giggled. “My mistake. Hard to tell these days, you know?”

He snapped his fingers, calling over one of the girls walking with his group. She looked around Mira’s age, but her expression was hollow. Her hair was cut unevenly and dyed a harsh black. One eyebrow was shaved off. Her posture drooped like she was carrying invisible weight.

She stepped beside the man, eyes down.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She didn’t react. She didn’t resist. She just… existed.

“As I was saying,” the man continued, rubbing his cheek against hers, “it’s hard to tell the difference between a young woman and a lady.”

The girl recoiled slightly but didn’t move away. She held herself still, like she’d learned that reacting only made things worse.

His hand slid casually down her side, then across her stomach, inching upward—She stiffened.

He noticed and he stopped.

Then he smirked again.

A faint swirl of prana began to gather around his hand. Dust lifted from the gravel. The air shifted, wind curling unnaturally around his fingers.

He flicked his wrist and a gust of wind blasted toward the group.

Roy tightened his hold on Mella, shielding her as she covered her eyes.

Kieran didn’t flinch. He just stared at the man, expression unreadable.

Lys and Mira grabbed their skirts to keep them from flying up.

The man and his group burst into laughter; it was loud, obnoxious, and echoing down the road. The girl beside him didn’t laugh. She didn’t smile. She didn’t even blink. She just watched the wind pass, her eyes empty.

Roy and Kieran stood still, watching the scene unfold. Kieran stepped forward slightly. “We’re going back to the cabin,” he said, voice low.

The man tilted his head. “Already? I wanted to play with you.”

His group cackled again.

Kieran didn’t respond. He simply turned and began walking, leading the group forward. Mira stayed close behind him. Lys held Rin and Mella’s hands tightly. Malen followed quietly. Roy stayed at the back, carrying Mella, keeping an eye on everyone.

They walked past the gang.

The man watched them go, grin still plastered on his face.

Kieran walked in the same pace at which he took off, his hands clenched into fists, his shoulders stiff, his face blank. But Roy knew him. He’d known him since they were kids. He knew what that blankness meant.

Kieran wasn’t calm.

He was boiling.

Kieran’s anger was never loud and never explosive. It was quiet, like the kind that simmered beneath the skin, the kind that made the air around him feel heavier, the kind that needed to be released, or it would tear him apart from the inside.

Roy watched him carefully.

Kieran looked back through the group, eyes searching.

His gaze met Roy's, and his eyes were bloodshot.

He understood.

Kieran wanted to do something. Something dangerous. Something he’d regret because of the ideals he follows.

Roy lifted Mella onto his head and stepped forward, closing the distance between them.

Kieran’s breathing was even, yet his jaw clenched. His fists tightened until his knuckles turned white.

Roy placed a hand on Kieran’s shoulder.

Kieran didn’t look at him.

Roy squeezed gently, and Kieran finally turned his head, just slightly.

Roy shook his head once, a small, subtle gesture.

But Kieran understood.

This was not the time, not in front of the children, and especially not with Mira around, and Kieran exhaled shakily, the tension in his shoulders loosening just a fraction.

Roy kept his hand on his shoulder until Kieran’s breathing steadied.

The group continued walking down the road, the streetlamps guiding their way back toward the cabins.

The gang’s laughter faded behind them, and the night grew quiet again.

But the air around Kieran still felt heavy like a storm waiting for permission to break.

Roy knew this wasn’t over.