The Flower Is Finished

Xanders' POV

We had spent several days living among the Vampire and Werewolf clans. Guards took turns watching over us, and even after hearing those harsh words thrown at me, I still didn't understand—why didn't they just destroy me? That way, I wouldn't have to endure this pain that made me want to explode from the inside.

"Do you see the children playing outside?"

I leaned on the balcony, gazing at the sight below. The children running and laughing together stirred something soft within me—a strange warmth I hadn't felt in a long time.

"I remember you used to be so timid," Verrel said. "Even I was a coward too. But when people bullied you, you always stayed silent—while I fought back."

He was right. I had always been a coward, afraid of troubling Grandma Wilona. So when others mistreated me, I chose to stay quiet.

"Do you think we're on the right side?" I asked, staring straight ahead. Verrel didn't answer immediately.

"I think right and wrong depend on which side you're looking from," he finally said.

"When the bullies see you as nothing but a joke, and you see it as a wound that never heals, then… which side would you stand on?"

"I'm just a low-born Elf," he murmured. "My father may own a few lands, but we're still commoners. I don't have much power, and even if I did, I probably couldn't control it."

"You're my friend, Verrel," I said quietly. "And I'll stay by your side, even when you struggle to control what's inside you."

He smiled faintly. "Then let's try to face whatever comes next—good or bad. We've already done our best."

After saying that, Verrel left the balcony. I stayed, still gazing outward. His words echoed in my mind—they were true. Everything depends on how we choose to see it.

Days passed, and we gradually recovered. Eventually, we decided to return to the castle and report our mission. Many of our soldiers had fallen, and we could no longer rely on the Vampire or Werewolf clans.

"Is everyone ready?" asked Captain Arfan, already on his horse. He glanced back at his men, who responded in unison,

"We're ready, Captain!"

One by one, the troops began to move. I looked toward the great gate, where the leaders of the Werewolves and Vampires stood watching us depart.

Verrel's tears streamed down his face, but I felt nothing. Inside that grand castle, all I sensed was the thick hatred radiating from their hearts.

That damned Ancient Flame had been awakened—and only now did I realize it had been watching me all along.

It took several days to reach the castle. We camped along the way, pitching tents to rest and survive the long journey. When we finally reached the city road, the guards were already waiting by the gates.

"Lord Arven! You've returned safely," one of them said, bowing. Arven gave a faint smile and nodded before the gates were opened wide for us.

"You should all rest for now," he told the troops. "I'll summon you later to discuss what comes next."

After that, Verrel and I slipped away from the noise. We went straight to the rooms that Lord Arven had prepared for us.

Our room was simple, meant for two. Verrel still looked weak, so I helped him lie down on the bed.

"Xanders… are you alright?" he asked softly.

"There's something strange about the king," I muttered. "I can't tell what it is, but something feels off."

Verrel nodded weakly. "You're right. But we shouldn't make assumptions… not about something this important."

"Have you learned to control yourself yet?" I asked, turning toward him.

He shook his head. "They never taught me that. All they taught was how to survive."

"I see. Tomorrow, I'll ask Lord Arven to find you a proper teacher—to make you a skilled healer."

Verrel scoffed, loud enough for me to hear clearly. "I don't want to be a healer. I want to be your partner—someone you can rely on."

I sighed and shook my head. If he stayed by my side too long, his life would be at risk. Worse, I might be the one who ended it.

"No," I said firmly. "You should learn to be a great healer. That way, you could treat Grandma Wilona or anyone else who needs help."

I tried to remind him that the Elves were a sacred race—gifted with the ability to heal wounds quickly. If Verrel honed that gift, he would earn recognition, even if he wasn't of noble blood.

"I understand what you mean," he whispered, "but I can't accept it. I just want to stay with you for as long as I can."

I opened my mouth to reply, but he shook his head and pulled the blanket over himself.

"My choice is my choice. Please respect it. And stop bringing this up."

I stayed silent after that. It was a shame, really. Verrel's healing power could have made him one of the greatest healers among the Elves.

The room was large enough to house several people, but I preferred it empty. I was too volatile—too dangerous to be around anyone else.

Night passed quickly. By morning, I was summoned to face King Albert.

He sat gracefully on his throne, Lord Arven standing tall beside him.

"Welcome back, Xanders," the king said, his voice edged with sarcasm. I ignored his tone.

"Respect to His Majesty," I said, bowing. "May the gods protect you."

The king gave a faint, mocking smile.

"So," he began, "how did you fight the demons? Was it as you imagined?"

I stayed silent. He wouldn't understand, even if I tried to explain.

"Impressive," he said after a pause. "But it seems your blade still needs sharpening."

I understood the hidden meaning behind his words and nodded slightly.

"Yes," I said calmly, "I must sharpen my sword… before it slices through the enemy's hea—"

Before I could finish, the king suddenly threw a sword at me. It grazed the floor, narrowly missing my foot.

"King Albert!" Lord Arven shouted, his voice echoing across the hall.

"Seize him!" the king roared, pointing directly at me.

Within seconds, the guards grabbed my arms and dragged me toward the dungeon.

"Your Majesty, please—calm yourself!" I faintly heard Lord Arven's voice behind me.

But I was too stunned to respond.

Why… after all that I said… did the king suddenly throw a sword at me?