PRKE 121

CHAPTER 121………………………………………….

Lichia pressed her face against the white cloth and sobbed.

“After being expelled from the Land of Abundance, we had no choice but to carve out a new path forward.”

Life for the exiled people was wretched and miserable.

The grasslands shrank day by day. They had to fend off raids from ferocious beasts and monsters, raise unfamiliar livestock, and endure the scorching sun.

Those who survived the war against the Water People died of starvation.

In the end, those who scattered to survive somehow managed—barely—to live on by merging with the native peoples of the abandoned lands.

“In the process, some shamans forgot the Day of Tragedy. But there was one who could not forget. He led the clan and began executing the traitors among us. However… not all of the guardians were bound to that path.”

As if asking for forgiveness, Lichia folded her hands and bowed her head.

“There were simply too many wretched lives before our eyes. Countless shamans gave their lives to turn this land into a place where humans could live.”

Human will to survive is as mysterious as magic itself. Even in barren lands, they cultivated fruit trees, raised livestock, and prospered.

“When the time came that people could survive without shamans, the older shamans began leaving for the Tower of Shamans.”

“The Tower of Shamans?”

“It can be called the final destination of shamans. From what I was taught by my master, the pinnacle of shamanic arts lies there.”

“……”

“By now, the Tower of Shamans has become something of a symbol. It is said to possibly hold the power to revive the dying, make rivers of gold flow—anything at all.”

As I listened, a question arose.

“Then why didn’t you go there, and instead stayed here?”

Regret flickered across Lichia’s face.

“That is…”

“Ah. Because of the Great Chief?”

“…Yes. I wanted to help him in his struggle over the chieftain’s seat. That is why I did not follow my master.”

Her fingers groped at the cloth covering her eyes.

“After I lost both eyes, I waited. For the Fifth Prince… I saw the glory of a young god in him.”

I raised an eyebrow.

Glory of a god. I had heard that term before. Wasn’t it another name used here to refer to Giovanni?

“I decided to watch his path. I thought there might be something I desired on the road he walks.”

As if recalling memories, Lichia muttered—and then began sobbing again.

“I have long… long awaited a day like today. Spirit of Water…”

It felt strange.

The sons and daughters of Salra who once called themselves guardians of the spirits. They repaid kindness to those who helped them—and brought despair to those who betrayed them.

But to meet someone who still longed for us from a thousand years ago like this… I found myself momentarily at a loss for words.

After a brief hesitation, I placed my fingers on her forehead, where she was dripping blood-tinged tears.

A cool current flowed in.

Unlike before, it was not aggressive.

<O weary shaman. Daughter of Salra, reunited after a thousand years. May your burning heart flow like still water, and your heavy body flow like running water.>

For the first time, it was not a spell calling rain, but a blessing for Lichia.

In the first place, the “Wuon language” had been the language used to recite ancient spirits’ rain-calling words as they were.

In other words, every word I spoke with power became Wuon language.

A gentle, lake-like current of energy wrapped around her exhausted body and mind.

Lichia’s skin began to regain luster. The dirt and dried blood and tears on her face were washed clean, and her rough hair softened. Just that alone made her seem ten years younger.

I carefully removed the cloth covering her eyes.

Scorched, uneven skin revealed itself.

“I cannot fix these eyes.”

I clicked my tongue as I examined them, and Lichia spoke quietly.

“Because they were touched by Salra.”

“In that case…”

I took out a clean handkerchief and gently covered her eyes. Lichia’s lips curved into a faint smile.

Until the crescent moon overhead looked as if it had been pressed down by a fingernail, I spoke with Lichia.

She told me everything she knew.

The most striking of all was undoubtedly the Tower of Shamans.

“There is a rumor among shamans… that if you go to the Tower of Shamans, you can experience the memories of a thousand years ago as vividly as if they were your own.”

That statement lodged itself in my mind.

Lichia said she did not know how it was possible, but I understood.

“So memories are being stored.”

The power of spirits was embedded there.

Urenas’s aquamarine necklace, the spirit that once inhabited Aris’s body, and fragments of other spirits—I had read their memories before.

“Could there be similar fragments in the Tower of Shamans as well?”

Most likely, it contained the memories of a shaman who once led the Sun and Fire people after their exile.

“The Tower of Shamans has no fixed location, and it is not a place one can simply go to by wishing it.”

When I asked about it, Lichia answered with a troubled expression.

The Tower of Shamans only opens to those who are permitted.

“I suppose I’ll be able to go there someday.”

Listening to Lichia made me realize something.

“My memories of them are faint.”

While I could vividly recall how I lived among the Water People—and the moment they devoured me—my memories of the Sun and Fire People were unclear.

I was certain I had been protected by them, but the details were missing. As if that portion had been carved out entirely.

“You said it yourself. You are not complete yet.”

Tairin whispered in my ear.

“You’ve lost an important fragment.”

A missing piece, then.

“Do you have any guesses?”

At that, Urenas immediately came to mind.

Could he be one of the pieces I had lost?

Of course, absorbing him might have made me more complete than I am now…

[This nation will suffer in the future, but I intend to devote the rest of my life to doing my best.]

I don’t know why those words shook me. It wasn’t like Tairin’s intense hatred, and I didn’t feel lingering attachment to the kingdom either.

“Am I just another spirit after all?”

Spirits are flawless beings born of nature. They are not vessels for hatred.

Just like Tairin, who kept saying he hated humans but still cared for them.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Tairin stuck out his tongue in discomfort.

“You’re quite kind.”

“Disgusting.”

“Even compliments cause trouble for you.”

By the time I returned to the palace, it was later than expected.

It wasn’t as if I had that much to talk about with Lichia.

“What kind of rage takes an hour to talk through?”

When I told her about being born as a thief’s child in the kingdom, living as a pickpocket and petty thief, then as a noble family’s adopted daughter, and finally as a fake princess who replaced the real one as a sacrifice—Lichia looked like she was about to smash every royal’s head in.

Remembering her flailing like a startled fish, I shook my head and stepped inside alone—then froze.

“Your Highness?”

Giovanni was sitting motionless on a wooden chair in the hall. I glanced outside. It was late night.

He walked toward me. I tilted my head in confusion.

“Didn’t I tell you I was meeting Lichia today?”

I had been faithfully reporting my plans as he asked.

“Don’t tell me he forgot? No, I definitely said it.”

As I looked at him in confusion, Giovanni spoke.

“You did.”

Then?

“Even so, it was late. I got worried.”

His voice was lower than usual, as if he had been waiting for a long time.

That made me laugh without resistance.

“You’re not a child. What is there to worry about?”

Giovanni looked at me calmly. My laughter gradually faded.

“Even if you’re not a child, I still worry.”

I looked at him quietly. A handsome face with strong desert features. His jet-black eyes, darker than black pearls, held only me.

My chest suddenly felt strange.

A descendant of those who once died for us.

Those who survived by cultivating barren lands.

The Sun and Fire people.

The desert and steppe peoples.

Those the kingdom had dismissed as uncivilized barbarians still remembered us.

Above Giovanni, a thousand years of memories overlapped.

I stepped closer and abruptly hugged his large, solid body.

I felt him stiffen.

“Igraine?”

“Thank you.”

“…?”

After a moment, he placed a hand on my shoulder.

“What happened?”

I shook my head.

“Are you strong, Your Highness?”

“I’ve never considered myself weak.”

His answer was calm, but reassuring. I smiled faintly.

“Don’t die.”

“……”

“And don’t get hurt.”

His stiff body slowly relaxed. A large hand rested on the back of my head.

As he patted my hair, he replied softly,

“I won’t die before I leave you behind.”

My nose stung. My eyes prickled.

Giovanni had never broken a promise.

He was blunt, but he always did what was asked of him.

Those two facts alone soothed me.

The tragedies of the past would not happen again.

I buried my face in his chest and took a deep breath.

His scent—warm, soft, grounding—seeped into me. Faintly nostalgic, comforting.

With my eyes closed, I murmured,

“This time, I’ll make you happy.”

You.

All of you.

The next day, I visited the Great Chief’s residence with Lichia.

Today, Kichef was with us as well. He had cleared his schedule after hearing that I had convinced Lichia, but he still looked unconvinced.

He glanced at Lichia walking ahead and whispered,

“What exactly did you do?”

I shrugged.

“There are ways.”

“Come on, don’t be like that. Just tell me.”