By Zephyria Prologue
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Part 1
prologue.exe/starwoven.saga prologue.exe
A massive forest fire is born from a spark as small as a speck of dust.
Flames. Black smoke. The smell of blood.
Screams erupting from everywhere. Everything was a chaotic mess.
〔The Jester begins the eighth rotation.〕
“Silver!”
Black Weasel shouts beside Wolf. The two of them are hanging side by side from a cliff. Below their feet lies nothing but an infinitely plunging darkness.
One of Black Weasel’s arms hangs limp. His shoulder has been dislocated. His large, blood-soaked left hand is the only iron nail keeping that bison-like bulk fixed to the precipice.
Another roar. The smoke thickens. Now, even the screams are fading.
“Silver! Silver!”
Black Weasel shouts repeatedly. Once again, there is no answer. Could Silver be dead?
No. Perhaps, Silver too…
The strength rapidly drains from Wolf’s grip. At this rate, he will fall soon. He no longer even feels fear.
No matter how hard I try, I’ll fall anyway. It wouldn’t matter if the final moment came a little sooner.
Let go of the grip.
Close your eyes.
“Ice Armor Warrior! Wolf! Where are you!”
In the next moment, Wolf looked up. A voice flying in from beyond. It was Silver.
He’s not dead!
“Ice Armor Warrior!”
Silver’s voice grew closer. Suddenly, Wolf was seized by a subtle feeling.
Why?
Why is he remembering that incident of all times?
It was a summer afternoon. In front of the window, enveloped in white sunlight, his mother sat in a chair embroidering. She wore a gray dress with buttons fastened tightly to the neck. It was a look that would earn praise even from the most fastidious court ladies, but in Wolf’s eyes, it appeared somehow cliché, like an old portrait tucked away in a corner of an antique shop.
‘Mom, do you like the Prince that much?’
Wolf spoke abruptly, resting his arms on his mother’s lap.
‘Mom. If the Prince and I both fell into the water, who would you save first?’
At her young son’s question, his mother said nothing, continuing her embroidery. From the deep silence, Wolf fished out an answer.
‘Would you save the Prince first?’
‘He is the Prince, after all.’
Only then did his mother answer, sticking the needle into the embroidery frame. Wolf’s breathing grew ragged. Before he knew it, he had sprung up, glaring at his mother with clenched fists.
‘I’m your son. But you’d save the Prince first? Do you like the Prince more than me, Mom?’
‘It is because I am the Prince’s subject before I am your mother. Of course, I love you more, Wolf.’
〔The Jester’s eighth rotation has ended.〕
Without realizing it, Wolf shouted silently. You’ll save me first, right, Silver?
We’re friends. So please, take my hand first.
Me first.
Silver!
A crack as thin as a thread brings down the castle walls. Extreme malice sometimes originates from the most insignificant of daily lives.
— Mom. If the Prince and I both fell into the water, who would you save first?
1 – Hell Execution Order