Anya walked toward the City Hall, the stone cold beneath her boots doing nothing to settle the feverish chaos in her chest. This is it, she thought, the heavy wooden doors looming. The firing squad. How could she possibly explain that she, a seasoned Guardian, was led by a three-year-old child into the Cursed Lands? She had submitted the report—the blunt, unbelievable truth. They’ll tear it apart. They’ll look at me and see a reckless fool, or worse, a liar. She let out a soundless breath, a bitter, weak smile touching her lips. Even I wouldn't believe half of what happened if someone else told me. All that was left was to tell the truth, accept the consequences, and hope Antheros remembered who she truly was.

  Her primary fear was Antheros. Before Antheros had married Valerian, they were close friends, and the thought of having disappointed her Queen made her heart ache.

  The moment Anya entered the hall, all conversation ceased. The council members sat in silent judgment, assessing her for any sign of dishonesty, though they knew she rarely, if ever, lied. The report detailing the hunt had been shocking: Azuma, the three-year-old Prince, had laid out a brilliant strategy, and Anya had honestly omitted his miscalculation regarding the number of cobras—a mistake no one could have anticipated.

  Antheros and Valerian exchanged heavy, weary glances as they finished processing the document. The evidence was irrefutable—Azuma had orchestrated every single step. And, to their dismay, everyone knew Anya’s greatest weakness was her inability to refuse the young Prince.

  As they deliberated on the appropriate punishment, Vikram suddenly slammed his fist onto the table, the sharp crack cutting through the silence.

  “Reckless doesn't even begin to cover it, Anya!” Vikram’s voice was venomous, laced with fury. “You let a child convince you to enter the Cursed Lands? How are you fit to be a Guardian?” He leaned forward, rage filling his eyes. “And this report! What the hell did you put our young master through? This cannot stand!”

  His voice rose to a yell. “This has happened too many times in history! We cannot put our city’s safety in the hands of a woman who blindly follows a child’s whims! What if an enemy disguised themselves as a child and asked for a favor? Would you let them in? Answer me, Anya!”

  He turned to the council, his eyes cold and calculating. “I vote to deem Anya incompetent and a threat to our city. She should be stripped of her rank and powers immediately.”

  Antheros and Valerian’s gazes snapped to him, their eyes cold and sharp. While they couldn't dismiss the logic of his security concern, the malicious joy on Vikram's face was sickening.

  Antheros took a slow, measured breath. “Vikram, that’s enough.” Her voice, though quiet, was like a blade. “You know what she has done for us. Have you forgotten? If not for her, we would never have found the hunting ground. We would have died long ago.” She narrowed her eyes. “She has risked her life scouting for food countless times. We owe her our survival.”

  Valerian nodded, supporting his Queen. “That said, Anya, you must learn restraint. As a Guardian, you need to know when to say no to him.” He sighed. “Now, tell me about the demons. Can they be trusted?”

  Anya met his gaze firmly. “Yes. They saved the prince’s life more than once.”

  Valerian frowned. “And what deal did you agree to?”

  Anya took a breath. “We must double their current food supply... and continue providing that amount every week.”

  A heavy, stunned silence descended upon the council. The demand was far steeper than anyone had imagined, and now, with two powerful demons knowing their location, they could not renege on the deal.

  Dhruba finally leaned back, running a hand over his face. “How is that even possible to sustain?”

  Anya’s lips curved into a faint, defiant smile. “You’ll have to ask Azuma.”

  Valerian walked toward the prison house, his heart heavy and churning. He intended to ask a torrent of questions, but anger—the fear born of nearly losing his son—boiled beneath the surface. I’m going to slap him, he resolved, walking faster. That will show him how serious this is. But even as he thought it, he knew he lacked the resolve to hurt his child.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  When he arrived at the cell, he didn't see the punishment he intended to deliver; he saw shock. Azuma was trying to stand, swaying precariously over a dark, wet pool on the stone floor.

  Valerian’s breath hitched in his throat, and his blood ran cold. An enemy attack! His mind instantly leaped to the demons—had they used the deal as a ruse to infiltrate the city? He feared the chaos they could unleash. But a flicker of reason cut through the panic. If they wanted Azuma dead, they would have struck in the Cursed Lands. A more chilling thought then dawned: Oh no, they waited until they got inside the city. Since my son promised such a huge amount of food, they must have believed we had massive reserves and planned to infiltrate and take the city down from inside! The thought sent a jolt of fresh panic through him.

  He immediately knelt and gathered Azuma up, checking frantically for serious wounds on his frail body. Seeing no deep cuts or gashes, he sighed in shaky relief, but his vigilance remained absolute.

  “Azuma, are you alright? What happened? Who attacked you?” he demanded, his voice tight with panic.

  Azuma, his head throbbing, took a minute to collect himself amidst the barrage of questions. “Don’t panic, Father. Nothing happened. No one attacked me”

  Valerian frowned, his relief turning to a fierce pain as he looked at the blood-soaked floor. “Then why are you in this state?” This was the first time he had seen his son bleeding, and a profound, aching resentment for the danger Azuma courted settled in his chest.

  Azuma settled back down, coughed roughly, and spat out a final bit of mucus and blood onto the floor. “I… I used my divine energy,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper.

  “The same energy you used on Vikram?” Valerian asked, instantly recalling the chilling event.

  “Yes,” Azuma admitted, dropping his head. “But the application was different. I… I kind of overused it a bit. This is the backlash, Father. It’s a slight side effect, truly.”

  Valerian stared at the pool of blood, tears welling in his eyes despite his attempts to stop them. “This… you call this a slight side effect?”

  Azuma was stunned into silence, having never seen his father cry before. He panicked internally, unsure how to comfort him.

  Valerian wiped his eyes, taking a deep, ragged breath. He had avoided this for three years, but the sight of his son's blood made hesitation impossible. “Azuma,” he said, his voice now surprisingly steady, “I have to ask you something.” Azuma nodded slowly.

  “Who are you?”

  The question was a physical blow to Azuma’s heart. He was an impostor, a soul that had replaced their dead son. He hesitated, remorse heavy in his chest. “Honestly, I… don’t know. All I know is that I am not the owner of this body,” he said, looking at his small hands with deep sorrow. “I don’t know why I reincarnated. But I know this, Fath—”

  “You are my son,” Valerian interrupted, his voice firm and absolute. “You are Azuma. It doesn’t matter if you are a reincarnate or not. Your body was given by my first son, the one who was created out of our love for each other. And you,” he jabbed a finger gently toward Azuma’s chest, “you are born or reincarnated because the ten of us gave our soul essence to you. One even gave a life. So never tell me you are not my son.” He lowered his head, tears dripping onto the cold stone floor, mixing with Azuma’s blood. The moment of truth hung there, paralyzing him. If he says no, if he says he feels nothing… then all the pain, the exile, Antheros’s sacrifice—it was all for a stranger. The possibility hollowed his chest. He forced the agonizing words out, his voice barely a raw whisper. “Azuma… tell me. Are you… are you not feeling our love? Don’t you feel a connection with me, and Mom, and the people around us? Is that why you push us away? Don’t you feel at home with us?”

  Azuma scrambled to his feet. “No, Father!” he cried out in a rush. “I feel love! A connection with all of you. It doesn’t matter what life I had before. In this form, you are my dad, and she is my mom, and this is my family!” Tears streamed down his own face. “It’s not that I don’t feel love and affection from you or the people surrounding us, but…” Azuma clenched his fists, struggling for the words.

  “Then why?” Valerian asked gently.

  Azuma closed his eyes, his entire body trembling as he finally released a ragged sob. His hands clenched into tight fists, the knuckles white. “It’s because of your unconditional love…” his voice cracked, raw with self-hatred. “I can’t… I don’t know if I deserve it. Look at us, Father. You were exiled to this cursed land. Mom lost her life essence. It’s all my fault. I am the reason you are suffering now. I am a curse… to you, Father.”

  SLAP!

  A sharp, ringing slap echoed through the cold cell. Azuma’s head snapped to the side, his eyes wide and vacant, a single tear frozen on his cheek as he looked up, dazed and shocked, at his father.

  “What nonsense are you talking about?” Valerian shouted, his voice shaking with furious anguish. “You are not a curse, Azuma! You are our gift! Our pride! Our love! You are the reason we exist! If you hadn’t come to us, your mother most likely would have died trying to resurrect our baby,” he said, his memory flashing to the agonizing ritual. “And me? I would be dead on the inside too. You are the light that kept us going. Yes, these people are having a bad time, but I am still here. Your mother, though weakened, is still here. And these people...” A firm resolve appeared in Valerian's eyes. "...these people will live the happiest lives in this land, and I will change their destiny.”

  He stepped forward, falling to his knees, pulling Azuma into a desperate, crushing embrace. “We are having a bad time, but we are happy together. And this new life wouldn’t have happened if it were not for you. Don’t you ever say that you are a curse, Azuma. You are our blessing, the answer to a desperate prayer.”