They had covered nearly forty kilometers in just five hours. And yet, the location that was marked on the map… was still a few kilometers away.
Sam stumbled again, his knees buckling beneath him. His legs shook violently, but he still tried to rise.
Ina turned back.
The lower part of her knees was scraped raw, bloodied by nature itself. Her worn-out boots were caked with thick layers of mud. Her arms hung heavy at her sides. Even her breath came slow and ragged. Her lips were cracked and dry, streaked with dried blood that tinted them a rusty crimson—like some cruel imitation of lipstick.
"I… I can't go on, sis…" Sam's arms trembled as he tried to push himself up again.
Ina gritted her teeth. "We're close. Just a bit more."
It was a lie. They weren't close. The cabin was still far, maybe hours away but she couldn't let him give up.
Not now.
She moved to his side, slipping one arm under his shoulders and lifting.
Sam looked up at her, his voice barely a whisper. "Sis… do you… hate me?"
It was the seventh time he'd fallen.
His eyes searched her face, wide and glassy. He looked like he wanted to cry but he had no more tears to give. Their walk had taken them all out of him.
Ina froze.
She used to hate his parents. Hate the lies. Hate that they hadn't told her the truth, that she wasn't really their daughter.
But after she accidentally saw what his self-proclaimed father had done to that woman… her hatred shifted.
All she'd wanted after that was to keep her little brother safe.
That was why she kept going.
That was why she still followed the map, no matter how far it led them.
"No," she said at last, voice raw. "I don't hate you."
She sank to her knees and wrapped her arms around him.
Sam felt the dampness spreading across his shoulder. He knew she was crying, even if she didn't make a sound. Still he simply held her tighter, offering what little warmth he had left.
Ina didn't let go. Not for a long time.
Something inside her finally loosened just a little. Like a knot in her chest unraveling. When she finally pulled back, she saw her little brother had fallen asleep in her arms, still holding onto her.
She let out a shaky breath.
Carefully, she laid him down on a patch of soft grass and let him rest. Her own body screamed for sleep, every joint aching, every muscle numb. But she couldn't let her guard down. Not now.
She glanced at the map again.
Still a long way to go.
Her heart sank.
Then snap.
Branches cracked somewhere to the left.
She froze.
Bushes rustled nearby, the sound far too heavy for any small animal.
Her instincts flared.
In one fluid motion, she summoned her sword. It wasn't glowing. It didn't hum. Without being used against the Demon King, it was just an ordinary sword.
But right now, it was all she had.
Suddenly, a wild boar burst through the bushes, charging straight at her.
Ina tried to shift into a proper battle stance, but her body was far too numb, battered, and barely holding together. Her arms shook as she raised her sword.
The beast didn't care.
It didn't see a fighter. It saw prey.
Snorting, frothing at the mouth, it rushed with terrifying force.
Ina braced herself and managed to position the blade just in time. Steel met flesh, the impact slowed but not enough.
The force of the boar's charge hurled her backwards like a rag doll.
She slammed into a tree several meters away.
Crack.
Air fled her lungs. Pain flared through her spine. Blood bubbled up her throat and spilled from her lips as she coughed, the metallic taste thick on her tongue.
She groaned, trying to move.
The wild boar wheeled around, snorting, and charged again.
She rolled to the side, barely dodging the tusks, but not the hooves.
Crunch.
A scream tore from her throat as the boar's rear hooves crashed down on her lower leg. Pain exploded sharp, blinding. She couldn't tell if it was broken.
She couldn't hold on as she slowly lost her consciousness.
The boar advanced, foam dripping from its mouth, ready to feast on its fallen prey.
But then it stopped.
Its hooves faltered. Its breath hitched.
Something was wrong.
Its instincts screamed danger. Not from the girl. Not from the sleeping boy. But from something monstrous.
The boar scanned the clearing, confused. There was nothing there.
And yet, it felt like prey.
Its beady eyes shifted to the boy, the one still asleep on the grass. 'Easier meat' it thought.
It charged.
Just as it neared, the pendant around Sam's neck flashed with an intense blue light.
Crack!
A burst of electric energy arced from the pendant. The first bolt missed. The second skimmed the boar's flank, searing hair and hide. The third slammed directly into its chest.
The beast squealed, stumbling backward, smoke rising from its body. Without hesitation, it turned its tail and fled into the forest, crashing through the underbrush.
Hovering nearby, Ghost Sam seethed.
He had been ready to tear the boar apart with his bare hands if only he could.
Seeing Ina crushed, bleeding something primal inside him had snapped. His annger had flared so violently, it had made even the air feel heavy.
But when the pendant activated.
His rage was replaced with curiosity. Was this artifact? magic?
He didn't have time to ponder further.
Two figures emerged from the trees.
A middle-aged man in armor rushed over the moment he saw the collapsed children. He knelt beside them, checking their breathing, his movements were fast as if he trained to do that.
The second figure followed at a slower pace a woman in white, eyes covered by a strip of cloth, dressed in the robes of a nun.
She paused.
And then walked directly toward Ghost Sam.
She stopped inches from him.
Then, gently, her hand reached up her fingers passing through his jaw like mist, yet as if she somehow touching him.
"You carry deep hatred within you, my child," she said softly.
Her voice was calm and sorrowful.
Sam's thoughts stuttered. Her words struck deep.
His fury, still lingering like smoke after a fire, began to dissipate further under her presence.
The nun's hand hovered in the air, searching, blind. She frowned faintly, puzzled.
The armored man turned to her. "Sister, the children are alive but the girl's in terrible shape. Shall we help them?"
The nun blinked, startled from her thoughts. She quickly pulled her hand back, embarrassed.
"Yes. Thank you, Paladin John," she said, regaining her composure. "We'll take them to the church. Quickly."
John nodded, lifting Sam gently in his arms and grabbing also grabbing Ina.
The nun looked back once, scanning the trees with her blindfolded gaze searching for the angry presence she had sensed.
But it was gone.
Disappointed, she sighed.
Ghost Sam remained quiet, walking behind them as they made their way toward the church nestled near the forest's edge watching his younger self and sister being carried to safety.
He didn't know who the nun was. But for now… he had no choice but to trust her.
---
At the church
Ina remained unconscious, her breathing slow and shallow, while the nun tended to her wounds with quiet care. Nearby, Sam woke up in a warm, soft bed. The heavy blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon, and if not for the dryness in his throat, he might've fallen back asleep.
As he sat up sluggishly, the nun entered the room, holding a glass of water.
"Here, child. You are thirsty," she said with a gentle smile.
Sam reached out. His small hands brushed against hers as he took the cup, just a light touch, but something in that moment shifted. The nun stiffened.
She turned to glance at the nearby bed Ina, still injured, wrapped in bandages.
For a brief second, a flickering silhouette appeared above her.
Him? Again?
And just as quickly, the silhouette vanished.
Ghost Sam, seated on the edge of Ina's bed, hadn't noticed the nun's gaze. His eyes were heavy with sorrow as he watched her shallow breathing.
Sam, now finished with the water, followed the nun's stare. His gaze landed on Ina, and he froze.
His sister was pale. Bloody. Her legs bound in stiff wrappings, one still stained a deep crimson.
The sight made something twist inside him.
Meanwhile, outside, Paladin John was chopping wood, stacking logs beside the chapel. He heard a scream from within.
Without hesitation, he rushed back in, axe in hand.
Sam, overcome with panic and fear at the sight of the stranger barging in with a weapon, erupted with energy. His body trembled, dark horns sprouting from his head as raw magic flared around him.
"Stay away!" he shouted, his voice warped by something deeper.
John acted fast.
He raised a hand and chanted an incantation. Golden chains burst from thin air, wrapping around Sam like divine serpents. The power surged suppressing his transformation and draining his core.
"Sister!" John barked, struggling to hold the chains. "What is going on here?!"
The nun didn't answer right away. She stood by Ina's bed, reaching out softly searching.
"Hey… I know you're here," she whispered, not to Sam or John. "Can you stop him?"
Her hands searched through the empty air, as if seeking a lost lover.
But Ghost Sam didn't respond. He didn't move.
"I see… so you can't." Her voice was gentle, but resolute. "Then I will."
She raised her hands and summoned a black flag adorned with a white cross. It unfurled with a flare of divine light.
"In this holy place," she intoned, voice echoing with sacred might, "I alone determine who is an ally and who is the enemy. God, let me pass judgment!"
A golden sphere of light exploded from the flag's center, radiating outwards, encircling the entire church in holy energy.
John collapsed, the golden chains dissipating.
Sam, too, fell unconscious, the horns retracting, his body limp in the nun's arms.
She gently stepped forward, lifting the boy.
But then she felt him once again.
Ghost Sam.
Kneeling beside Ina's bed.
His face buried in his hands. His shoulders trembling. Silent tears slid down his cheeks, dripping onto the sheets.
The nun froze.
For the first time… she truly saw him.
---
Meanwhile, at the Castle
"My king," a messenger bowed before the throne, out of breath, "we found them."
The king leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand.
"Oh? So soon?" he said, voice was smooth and cruel.
"Yes, sire. A boy and a girl. The girl matched the description."
A slow, sinister grin spread across the king's face.
"Good. Bring them to me. Do not kill the girl, I have… ideas for her, as for the boy..... hmmmm.... why not make him food for our dogs."
He licked his lips, the sound echoing through the vast, cold hall like a threat.
The messenger trembled as he knelt before the throne, sweat beading down his temples. Still, he forced himself to speak.
"...M-My king… they're under the protection of the Blind Saint."
The hall fell deathly silent.
The king's smile vanished.
His fingers, resting lazily on the armrest, twitched.
"What did you just say?" His voice, cold and sharp, sliced through the silence.
The messenger swallowed hard. "T-The Blind Saint, sire. The children are in her care at the church."
A nerve twitched at the king's eye. The tension in the room grew thick, suffocating.
"You insolent insect!" the king roared, standing up with a violent jolt. "You dare ruin my mood with her name?!"
He turned to the guards stationed near the throne.
"Make him watch as his family becomes dog food."
"Sire please!" the messenger screamed, falling to the floor. "Mercy! Please, I'm just a messenger!"
But the guards had already seized him.
His cries echoed through the stone hall as he was dragged away, pleading until his voice broke.
The king turned to the window, his knuckles white with rage as he leaned against the frame.
"That blind slut dares to defy me?" he spat. "If she wants to protect them... let her."
"Let's see how she fares when I play dirty."
---
At the church
Paladin John paced near the fireplace, still uneasy.
"Sister," he said, crossing his arms, "how can you say he's not a demon? I saw it with my own eyes. Horns. Power. He transformed."
The nun, still calm, sat beside Sam's unconscious form. She gently took his small hand into hers.
"As I said, Paladin John… he is not a demon."
Her voice was steady. Certain.
John opened his mouth to argue, but hesitated. He had served beside her for years. Her words carried weight not just because of faith, but because she knew things others didn't.
He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "If you say so... I'll trust you. I'll be outside chopping wood if you need me."
With that, he left, closing the door softly behind him.
The chapel returned to silence.
The nun's eyes turned toward the other bed, Ina still unconscious, her breaths faint but stable.
And there, standing beside her... was him.
She didn't need her eyes to see. But thanks to Sam he could feel him.
Ghost Sam.