CH. 63 The Aftermath of Truth
“Three princes walk out of a nightmare… and I’m the emotional support goblin.”
The light dies slowly.
The Resanarum—usually humming, glowing, sparking with ancient power—falls utterly silent as the Trial of Truth collapses into a single beam of fading light.
One by one, the princes emerge.
Not triumphant.
Not proud.
Just… broken open.
The air feels heavy, like something sacred has been spilled.
I sit forward in the front row, hands gripping my knees. I should say something encouraging. Something wise and supportive.
Instead, what comes out is:
“Wow. You all look like overcooked dumplings.”
No one laughs.
Fair enough.
---
Gavin comes out first.
His mask is still on, but it’s cracked straight down the middle, like the truth split it open. His steps are slow, his shoulders wrong—too tight, too stiff.
His hands shake.
I have never in my life seen Prince Gavin shake.
He stops in front of me, breathing hard, refusing to look up.
“Sooo…” I try gently. “Find out you’re actually adopted? Because same. I think. Probably.”
His jaw clenches.
His voice cracks.
Just once.
“That’s not it.”
He walks past me without another word, robe dragging behind him like a wounded shadow.
I bite my lip.
Gavin, the perfect prince, is unraveling.
---
Farro is next.
He stumbles out like someone punched his soul through his ribs.
His eyes—usually warm, mischievous, annoyingly flirtatious—look glassy. Haunted.
He sits on the steps beside me without asking, shoulders slumped, staring at the ground like it offended him personally.
“You okay?” I ask softly.
“No,” he whispers.
His voice sounds small. Too small for him.
“Do you… want a snack?”
He nods weakly.
I give him a raisin biscuit from my pocket.
He eats it like a child who just witnessed the death of all joy.
“Anything else I can do?” I offer.
Farro lets out a long, shuddering breath.
“Can you make me forget?” he murmurs.
My heart cracks a little.
“…No,” I say. “But I can sit here until you’re ready to stand.”
And I do.
He finally stands. Barely.
---
Sorien doesn’t emerge.
Not at first.
The doors of the Truth Chamber stay closed far longer for him than for his brothers.
Long enough that even the Seer’s expression shifts—barely, subtly, as if even he is unsure if Sorien will come back out.
My pulse quickens.
What did he see?
What truth broke him?
When the doors finally groan open, the world seems to hold its breath.
Sorien steps out.
And my heart stutters.
His face is bare.
No mask.
No armor.
No walls.
He looks like someone stripped him down to the bone and left him to figure out how to walk again.
His brothers stare at him.
He doesn’t look at them.
He looks at me.
Not angrily.
Not desperately.
Not even for comfort.
Just… searching.
Like the truth took something from him
and he’s trying to check if I’m still real.
“Sorien?” I whisper.
He stops in front of me.
And for a moment, I think he’s going to speak.
Instead—
He sits.
Right beside me.
Close enough that our shoulders touch.
Close enough that I can feel him shaking.
I swallow.
“Sorien… what happened in there?”
His voice is ragged, hollow, barely a breath.
“I saw… myself.”
The way he says it makes my chest ache.
“…And?” I ask gently.
He closes his eyes.
“And I wasn’t sure I’d come back.”
My breath catches.
Without thinking, I place my hand over his.
He flinches—
—but doesn’t pull away.
The Seer’s staff glows faintly.
The trial is over.
But the truth lingers like a wound that won’t clot.
---
For the first time in forever, Gavin steps toward Sorien first.
Then Farro comes to his other side.
They stand there, the three of them, bruised by their own truths.
Gavin exhales. “We… saw things.”
Farro nods, throat tight. “Things we can’t take back.”
Sorien says nothing.
He doesn’t need to.
Their truths have fused them in a way no trial ever could.
And for a strange moment—
watching them, scarred but standing—
I feel something warm twist in my chest.
Hope.
Or indigestion.
Probably both.
---
Sorien turns to me.
His voice is barely audible.
“Stay.”
I blink. “For what?”
“For… awhile.”
His brothers exchange a glance—surprised, amused, and maybe a little impressed.
I nod.
We sit together until the Seer dismisses us.
Until the world stops spinning.
Until the truths settle into scars.
And even then—
We remain seated.
Side by side.
Quiet.
But not alone.