Fear is death to reason.

A poet would say that.

Or another might go as far as to claim: the frightened man eats himself.

The words were different, but the message was the same.

It meant fear was something to avoid. Something to suppress in order to keep the mind stable, fluid, and alert.

Many would agree with those words, for they carried truth.

But Rea Thornspire would not.

Even though she understood the reasoning behind them, her very being could never acknowledge them — because she was fear.

Not the wild, frantic fear lesser men felt in the face of an ordeal, but a stable, grounded fear that nestled deep inside her like the heartfire of a phoenix — always burning, always feeding.

And that feeling only deepened when she succeeded in her quest and became an Intermediate.

Before, she had a skill that allowed her to see and influence the fears of others. But now… not only had that skill ascended in mastery, she had acquired something new. A simple thing, truth be told, but simplicity did not lessen the horror of it.

Now Rea could use her own fear as fuel to enhance herself. For now, it only allowed her to strengthen her body… but she knew it could do more. Far — far — more.

She could feel it. She only needed time to train.

But more importantly, she needed an abundance of fear to match this new power.

And what a perfect coincidence, she was preparing herself for the test.

The one that would mark her as a Weeping Acolyte.

The test would not be held in the City of Pain but in the City of Sorrow, where the main cathedral of the Church of Sorrow stood.

So here she was, in her grey, lifeless room, wearing a short white skirt that barely reached her knees, coupled with a black bra, kneeling on the floor with her back straight, her ruby eyes locked onto the small mountain of gold piled before her.

She couldn't help but smile slowly, almost shiveringly, at the sight of it.

"Money… money… I love money…" she muttered rhythmically, nearly drooling, her ruby eyes flashing into the shape of golden coins for a fleeting heartbeat.

Rea was that obsessed with money.

Looking at her in that position, one might think she was worshipping the mountain of gold… and they wouldn't be wrong.

What a heresy, to worship metal in a place devoted to the Goddess of Sorrow.

But Rea was that daring.

"But… but it's not enough," she whispered, her voice trembling with greed and frustration. "How can I amass more money? Should I scam the faithful? I'm leaving soon anyway… one last scam."

She was seriously considering it.

If there was one fear Rea Thornspire certainly had… it was the fear of being poor again.

She had tasted far too much luxury, sunk far too deep into the velvet cushions of excess, to ever allow herself to return to the days where she had to count her coins — where her house threatened to collapse with every gust of wind, where even her girlish wants felt impossible.

At that thought…

"Ah… Father…" her expression fell as she remembered him.

She had planned to return to Darklore after becoming an Intermediate. That was the plan she and her father agreed on.

But now she couldn't. She had to urgently leave for the City of Sorrow to take the test.

And the worst part… she didn't know how long it would last.

Even Mother Esmere didn't know. She said it depended not only on the nature of the test but also on the participants.

To say Rea wasn't afraid would be a lie.

But she welcomed it. She was supposed to be fearful. She was the Sorrowful Bird. Sorrow was her crown.

And still…

"I miss him," she said curtly, shifting from her kneeling posture to sit cross-legged on the grey carpeted floor.

She leaned back against the wooden frame of her bed, staring upward, quietly thinking of her father.

She was certain he was struggling now, trying to hold the house together, trying to keep it from collapsing.

He always did that. He always shouldered the house. And he did it without ever complaining.

She loved him for that. She truly did.

He might not have been the perfect father — always busy with work, with duties — but to Rea, he was the only perfect father she could ever ask for.

Because this was a father willing to discard his own happiness, to take the entire burden onto himself, just to ensure that when he passed the reign of the house to her, it would be standing strong with solid foundations — not a crumbling ruin.

That was why she never minded the idea of marrying Kaden for the house.

And that feeling had only deepened after their little talk.

It had been only one conversation… but it lingered with her to this day.

Two men in her life.

Her father.

And Kaden, her fearless fiancé.

And she wanted to see them both, badly.

"Sigh…" Rea sighed, her mood sinking.

No matter what she pretended… at the end of the day, she was just a fifteen-year-old girl about to enter a place where she might lose herself completely.

Because she could feel it. Her dreams about the Goddess grew sharper with each night.

And each time she woke, she felt something missing.

Something wrong, something she couldn't name.

"The fear of losing yourself… of being completely taken over by something you don't understand…"

Maybe that fear… maybe that fear was worse than the fear of death.

Because at least death was an ending. But this? This was worse. You would be replaced. And everything you worked for would become someone else's.

"I cannot accept that!" Rea declared fiercely, her eyes snapping toward her little mountain of gold.

"I cannot let anyone take over my money!"

That was her concern.

And honestly…

It was valid.

So Rea crawled toward her glittering pile, smeared her hands across the coins as if anointing herself, and then lay down upon them, the weight of gold making her feel secure.

Once again, she was certain.

Money made you happy.

And whoever said otherwise…

"They can give me their money, then!"

Yes, Rea was woefully serious.

What a lovely girl.

…

We know about the burden of a mother's love.

But what about a father?

It is no less burdensome, I assure you.

…

Fokay — West, Empire of the Damned

It had been days since Rose told Asael about the only way to see his daughter… and to protect her.

And yet, it felt like years had passed.

He was in agony. He was afraid.

The prison hadn't changed since his last glance. Except now, despair clung to the air, thick and suffocating, and blood-painted fists had pounded the ground enough to leave stains.

Clearly, someone had been hitting it without caring for their body.

That someone was Asael.

Curled in the corner of his cell, body drawn tight, eyes red with exhaustion, trails of dried tears crusting his cheeks.

He had been asking himself the same question ever since that conversation with Rose:

Forsake his freedom for the sake of his daughter? Or cling stubbornly to the most sacred thing a man could hold — his free will?

How could he accept a life in chains? A life where another had the right to command him, to strip his choices?

How could he live knowing his 'master' could do whatever they pleased with him?

To Asael, it was unthinkable.

He was the Prince of Shadows. He was never meant to be chained. Never meant to be bound.

He was shadow — formless, free, ubiquitous.

Yes, he told himself he wouldn't accept it. He repeated it every night.

Until Rose brought him the small runic orb recording of his daughter playing with the servants of Hollow Castle.

That orb rested in his hands now. He played it again for the nth time, a broken smile tugging at his face while tears blurred his vision.

She had grown.

Her red hair glistened like crushed rose petals laced with starlight, and her eyes… pitch-black, deep enough to hold every shadow of the world.

She was small, radiant, her laughter lighting even that cursed hollow place.

She resembled him more than her mother and he felt proud of it.

That was his daughter. His own.

Watching her play with toys, clapping her arms like fluttering birds, her smile so bright it made the servants groan in exhaustion… Asael could only ask himself:

So what if he lost his freedom?

So what if he became a slave?

How could he let her suffer?

He was a damned father. He had brought her into this world without her consent. He would protect her until she could protect herself.

No matter the cost.

"Haha…" he laughed weakly.

"…Time to finally play my role as a father," he muttered, his body trembling at the thought of being bound.

But each time he thought of her, he saw a light within the suffocating dark — and in the end, he always smiled. Somehow eager to see her again.

Ah…

A wise man once said: only a mother's love bears the weight of a second beating heart within her.

True. Mothers are special like that.

But only a father's shoulders can bear the weight of the future of his family.

And that burden never leaves.

He carries it to the grave.

Or even…

To the endless depths of shadows.

—End of Chapter 248—

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