Chapter 20: Revenge
"Don't get me wrong—I don't want to kill my mother," she said, clenching her fist. "I just... despise her."
Before Daylan could speak, Medora rushed to say. ''Have you thought about how we'll go after those who killed you without drawing attention? We can't exactly show our faces on this mission, can we?''
Daylan was awkwardly calm, blinking as if trying to shake off his daze.
She stood abruptly. "Let's find something to eat."
Without a moment's hesitation, she pulled Daylan to his feet. But as soon as he stood, a sharp pain exploded in his head. He clutched his skull instinctively, a scream tearing from his throat as he dropped to his knees in agony.
Concerned, Medora dropped beside him, trying to get him to speak—desperate to understand what was happening. But Daylan's vision blurred, and her voice grew more distant with each passing second. It felt like thousands of needles were being driven into his skull, again and again, with relentless precision.
Before he knew it, Daylan collapsed, unconscious. Panic gripped Medora as she shook him, calling his name—but there was no response. Her hands trembled as she used her healing magic, casting it over him in desperation, but it had no effect. Heart racing, she bolted out of the library and returned moments later with Astara. Together, they did everything they could to wake him, but nothing worked. With no other choice, they rushed him to the infirmary.
It was clear he was still alive—his heart continued to beat—but his senses, his consciousness, were far beyond their world.
All Daylan could feel in his unconscious state were memories—fragments of the past flashing through his mind with unsettling clarity. They were Daylan's; that much was clear, but they came in scattered pieces, disjointed and incomplete. It felt as if something deep within him was clawing for a specific truth, something just out of reach.
And as the memories crashed over him, a voice—his own, yet distant and distorted—began to echo through the haze.
Revenge... Revenge!