⚠️Warning:

This chapter contains scenes of attempted murder, use of harmful substances, and violence. Reader discretion is advised.

The assassin was approaching Lord Tharald, who was in a deep sleep. Serelith and Shyamu both froze, unsure of what to do in this situation.

Suddenly, a voice rang in Serelith's mind: "Sometimes, when circumstances are worse than they seem, it's important to stay calm and believe in yourself. Use your brain to solve the problems, because our minds work best when we are calm."

Remembering her grandfather's words, Serelith cleared her mind and noticed a rope behind the pillar. She quickly grabbed it.

"Shyamu, do you have the slingshot?" Serelith asked.

Shyamu nodded in agreement. She explained her plan to him, and together they entered the room. The assassin sensed someone had entered, but fortunately, Serelith and Shyamu managed to remain undetected.

While Serelith hid behind the curtains, Shyamu concealed himself behind a sturdy, imposing bureau. The assassin began to feel that something was wrong. Shyamu took a stone from his pocket and aimed it carefully at the assassin's dagger. His shot was accurate, and the dagger flew from the assassin's hand, clattering to the ground.

Serelith spotted a bottle of termite spray nearby. Seizing the opportunity, she grabbed it and sprayed the chemical directly into the assassin's face, causing irritation in his eyes.

With the assassin momentarily incapacitated, both children seized the chance to subdue him and quickly tied him up using the rope. The noise from the struggle alerted the knights, who rushed towards Lord Tharald's bedchamber.

Upon awakening, Lord Tharald saw both children standing over a masked man they had tied up.

In disbelief, he looked at the children and then at the masked man, assessing the situation.

When the heavy oak door swung open, the knights entered and, with genuine concern, inquired, “My lord, is everything alright?”

Lord Tharald nodded, beckoning them closer with a gesture. “Come here,” he said.

As they approached, Serelith embraced him, trembling with fear.

"Grandfather," she said softly, "I thought I almost lost you."

Tharald comforted her and instructed the knights to take the culprit to the interrogation room.

"Did you catch him?" Tharald asked, wondering how a small child could apprehend such a dangerous person.

"Shyamu and I both caught him," she replied.

"Oh my, little flame is so grown up to catch the killer", Tharald chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned closer to his granddaughter. “Oh, come on! You can’t be serious!

She rolled her eyes, unable to suppress a smile. “Grandpa, you’re the worst!”

“Am I Little flame?” he replied, his laughter filling the room.

"Grandpa, I really did catch that bad man," she said, annoyed.

Shyamu chimed in, "My lord, it was Seri's idea. She planned to catch the culprit."

Tharald patted both children on the shoulders and lightly kissed their foreheads. Shyamu returned to the stables while Tharald accompanied his granddaughter. Serelith lay on the bed as Tharald settled beside her.

"Grandpa, can you stay here until I fall asleep?" Serelith asked.

"Yes, of course I will stay." With my little flame until she falls asleep," Tharald patted her head and lulled her to sleep.

Tharald stepped out of his chamber, the weight of the impending interrogation pressing heavily on his mind. The dimly lit corridor greeted him, where knights stood vigil, their expressions a mix of anticipation and apprehension. As he approached the interrogation room, the air grew thick with tension.

Inside, the room was cloaked in shadows, littered with an array of grim tools designed for extracting confessions from the most stubborn of foes. Bound to a sturdy chair, the assassin awaited his fate, a cold defiance etched on his face.

"My Lord, he refuses to reveal his master," one of the knights reported, frustration lacing his voice.

"Is that so?" Tharald replied, his brow furrowed as he considered their options.

In that moment of uncertainty, the assassin's expression shifted. With a swift motion, he bit down on a concealed poison tablet, his life extinguished almost instantly. The knights stood frozen, disbelief coursing as they grappled with the sudden turn of events.

"This...," one knight murmured, shock echoing through the stark silence.

Tharald, steady yet haunting, commanded, "You may leave now." The knights nodded, retreating from the room, their faces pale. As the door closed behind them, he lingered for a moment longer, a myriad of thoughts swirling in his mind.

"Who could orchestrate such a betrayal?" Tharald's voice was barely a whisper, the question lingering in the air like a shadow, darker than the room itself.

The next day, the mansion buzzed with an electric energy, chaos reigning as whispers of Lord Tharald's miraculous survival rippled through the halls. Servants darted past each other, their eyes wide with disbelief as they exchanged stories of the previous night's terrifying events. Some claimed to have seen assassin's spectral figure wandering the gardens, while others insisted they heard his voice echoing from the shadows. The air was thick with suspense, excitement blending with fear.

Scene 7:

The dining room was silent, save for the soft clinking of cutlery against porcelain. Elric, Marlena, Celene, Serelith, and Lord Tharald sat at the long table, each lost in their thoughts as they quietly ate breakfast. A strange tension lingered in the air, heavy and unmistakable.

Elric, seated directly across from Tharald, kept his gaze fixed on his plate. The news of his father’s survival had unsettled him more than he cared to admit. Forcing a neutral expression, he finally broke the silence.

"Father," he said, his voice smooth and composed, "are you feeling well this morning?"

Tharald looked up from his meal, his eyes steady. "I am," he replied calmly. "Thanks to Serelith. If not for her bravery and quick thinking, I wouldn't be sitting here sharing breakfast with you all."

He turned to Serelith and gave her a warm, proud smile. "You saved my life, little flame. You have my eternal gratitude."

Marlena's spoon paused mid-air. Her expression soured as she cast a cold glance at Serelith, saying nothing. Celene, sitting beside her mother, stared at Serelith with wide, unblinking eyes, disbelief and envy written all over her face.

Elric clenched his jaw tightly, his grip on the fork tightening. Still, he maintained a mask of politeness, pretending to be unaffected.

Tharald noticed it all.

The subtle exchange of glances. The stiff postures. The bitterness in Marlena’s eyes. The forced civility in Elric’s tone. The jealousy flickering across Celene’s face.

A cold realization settled over him. He didn't need a confession—he had seen enough.

They were behind it.

He lifted his cup and sipped his tea slowly, giving nothing away. But in his mind, a storm had begun to brew.

And at that moment, he knew—after he passed away, they wouldn't let Serelith live happily or peacefully.

And he must plan for Serelith's future—before it's too late.