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Chapter 634: Nothing to Fear

An hour later, Roland understood what had happened during his fifty-two days unconscious.

The church had taken devastating losses. Nearly every soldier of the God’s Punishment Army was dead; half the Judgement Army had fallen on the field. Of the two thousand-odd who fled, most had taken the Pill of Madness and would corrode from accumulated magic power before the season turned. The Pope had vanished. Most of the senior commanders were gone. After this battle, Holy City of Hermes could not threaten Graycastle’s borders again—and when the Months of Demons arrived, it would struggle simply to survive.

The First Army had not emerged unscathed.

Most of the casualties could be traced to the witch Blackveil. Every soldier who met her eyes without a God’s Stone of Retaliation had been afflicted to some degree. Of the more than seven hundred losses, four in five were hers. Roland’s fall had done the rest—watching their king collapse had hollowed out morale in an instant. Iron Axe had been left with no option but to order a withdrawal.

City Hall had held. Barov and the administration had covered the gap between military chaos and civil collapse, and the story that reached the public was that His Majesty had been wounded in battle and required bed rest. Iron Axe and Barov together had handled the funerals for the fallen.

When the account reached its end, Roland found himself thinking about the captured pure witches.

“You said they have no great loyalty to the church?” He turned to Agatha. “And this Isabella—she’d be willing to fight the demons?”

“Vanilla and Margie were never trained by an archbishop. They were selected from a cloister to carry out this specific mission. Nightingale confirmed they weren’t lying.” Agatha clasped her hands. “Isabella is stranger. She seems indifferent to whom she serves, so long as whoever leads is willing to fight the demons. She says she took that disposition from the last Pope.”

“Your opinion?”

“I suggest keeping Isabella, for now.”

“She was raised by the church.” Scroll’s frown deepened. “She’s our enemy. Without her, Zero would never have had the chance to harm His Majesty.”

“As I recall, Wendy was also raised by the church.”

“That’s entirely different. Wendy never used her power to harm anyone.”

“Nor did Isabella—not directly. Her ability acts on God’s Stones. Witches rarely take the initiative to wear them.” Agatha’s voice was patient and precise. “Nightingale confirmed she was telling the truth.”

Roland turned toward the empty side of the bed. A long pause.

“Yeah.” Nightingale’s voice, flat and reluctant.

“Most importantly—her ability,” Agatha continued. “Isabella said every God’s Stone of Retaliation emits a distinctive tremor when it forms a suppression field. She can generate an opposing tremor and cancel it. I suspect this may be the key to understanding Supermagic.” She paused to let the implication land. “If we can map the relationship between the God Stone’s tremors and a witch’s magic power, others may learn to do the same.”

The room went still. Even Ashes said nothing.

Roland understood why. Every witch in this room had grown up under the God Stone’s shadow—arrested by it, imprisoned with it, exiled because of it. To them, it was not a strategic problem. It was the shape of everything that had ever oppressed them.

He stroked his chin. “Creating a tremor to cancel another tremor—that’s wave interference. It would imply that magic power propagates as a wave.” He turned it over, thinking. “Keep her. I’ll see her myself before making any decisions.”


The witches were not the only ones who had been watching over him.

By afternoon, Barov, Iron Axe, and Karl had arrived at the castle in turn. Each face, when it cleared the doorway and found Roland sitting upright, shed the tight, controlled expression of a man who had been holding his anxiety in check for weeks. Barov—who had always maintained a certain ministerial composure—went further than the rest. He crossed the room and embraced Roland, weeping without apparent embarrassment.

Roland understood. Fifty-two days was a long time for a city to wait on a king who might not wake up. The most useful thing he could do now was simply to be visible and calm.

In the evening, a feast was laid in the castle hall—every City Hall official and First Army officer present, the tables extending out into the courtyard. On Roland’s order, carts of hot oatmeal were sent to the main square so that the citizens could mark the occasion as well.

Afterward, he returned to his bedroom and stood in the quiet.

“Nightingale,” he said softly.

No answer.

“Nightingale.” He waited. “I know you’re here.”

Still nothing.

He sighed, turned, and walked two steps toward the door—then reached out and felt her shoulder through the Mist before she could shift away.

She came visible as he caught her, her knees already beginning to bend. He took her weight before she could kneel.

Stronger than I was. He filed the observation away.

He looked at her before she could open her mouth. “I know you feel guilty. It isn’t your fault, and I am safe. Don’t blame yourself. Do you understand?”

“Agatha said the same thing to me. But I still—” Her voice broke off. “Your Majesty?”

He pulled her into his arms.

He had prepared something to say—some careful arrangement of words that would address the problem from the right angle and let her process it properly. But standing there with her, he realized words weren’t what she needed. She needed this. Something that couldn’t be qualified or argued with.

She’d pushed him away without hesitation when Zero struck—stepped directly into the path of the blow, ready to absorb whatever came. That image was still clear in him, the way the truest things always are. What did he owe a woman like that?

Everything I can give.

“Wait for me,” he said quietly.

“Wait for—what?

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Her breath quickened in the small space between them, and that was answer enough.

Sometimes silence landed harder than any words. He felt her relax by degrees—the rigid control letting go, the anxiety bleeding out of her muscles, until she settled against him with something that had no name except relief.

A promise was what she needed. A real one, not hedged, not contingent.

“I’ll wait,” she said at last. Her voice was unsteady.

Her eyes were full of tears, but the shadow had gone out of them.

When she left, he slept immediately and soundly—the best sleep he’d had in weeks.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the white ceiling.

That dream again.

He rubbed the back of his head—still tender—and rolled out of bed. In the living room, the white-haired girl was carrying plates out of the kitchen, moving with the brisk, slightly impatient efficiency of someone who had done it a thousand times.

“Finally awake.” Her frown was light, familiar. “What were you doing yesterday, uncle? Did you lose your mind?”

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