Reincarnated As The Villainess's Best Friend

His words hit me like a blow to the face. The more I thought I was getting closer to an answer that could help me, the more complicated the whole story became.

"Keeping her alive?" I echoed his words, raising my voice a little higher, "How do you mean?"

The king remained motionless. I couldn't see his face, but his stooped posture told me he was lost in thought. When he finally turned to look at me, his eyes were heavy and sullen, hiding the weight of the memories I had forced him to recollect.

"Come with me," he said, heading down another passageway. This one had no windows, and the only source of light came from a burning torch at the end of the passage way. If I didn't know any better, I'd have forgotten it was just past noon,.

Finally, we came to a door, guarded by a short elf with light hair, clad in battle armor. He made a slight nod to the king and pulled out a bunch of keys from his belt.

The door creaked open, leading into a wide circular study, filled with shelves that rose from the marble floor, almost touching the pointed glass ceiling above. Each shelf rested close to the wall, and each was stacked from top to bottom with books.

It reminded me of Miss Fumiko's study, but a better comparison would be the Royal Archives at the academy's library. However, the books in here were ten times more than the archives and each had been carefully sorted in order of place of origin.

King Jirel moved through the center of the hall, his white robe gracing the floor behind him. He walked over to one of the shelves and pulled out a large book which he handed to me before placing himself on a seat in the middle of the room.

I stared at the thick book in my palm, before opening it. As soon as I read the lines on its first page, I already knew what it was.

"Marcus Borain's compilation of forbidden spells," I said. "This belongs to the archives of the Grand Mage."

"A copy was made as a gift," the king replied, "from the third Grand Mage to my grandfather. It has been in my family ever since."

I skimmed through its pages, which contained dozens of spells; spells that were never meant to be used, due to the dangerous nature of the spell, the ridiculous amount of mana it required, as well as the adverse effects it had on the wielder.

I paused at the centre of the book. One of the pages in it had been half-torn.

"Was the Shadow Queen... born from a forbidden spell?"

King Jirel paused for a moment, eyes widening. Then he made a slight nod.

"How?... Why?"

The king gestured to another seat, on the opposite side of the desk in front of him. I moved towards it, hesitating for a moment before placing myself in it.

As soon as I did, King Jirel cleared his throat.

"I have been placed under oath," he began, "never to share this story with anyone else. But I believe I can share it with you."

"With me?"

The king nodded. He closed his eyes briefly, before opening them again.

"The one who placed me under oath is your father... Thane Stormborn."

My breath caught in my throat. I swallowed to force it down.

"My father? He knows about this?"

King Jirel shifted in his seat. "I am not surprised that he didn't tell you. He swore never to reveal it to anyone, even at the hour of his death."

Suddenly, the dots in my mind began to connect.

I had always wondered why Rin's father always felt distant, even in Rin's earliest memories.

Now I knew, that the secrets he kept, were far more dangerous than anyone could know.

"Reveal... what?" I asked, lowering my voice.

The King leaned back on his chair, staring off into nothing. He took in a deep breath and began a long tale, which I pictured in my mind.

"It was at the end of the Great Noble War, two decades ago, when your father and I stumbled upon what was going to be the secret that defined the rest of our lives..."

*****

(Flashback: As King Jirel begins his tale, Rin visualizes it in his mind)

*****

The two galloping horses came to a gradual halt at the end of the cliff, overlooking the plains of Rengor in the Vanderlands. The evening winds graced the riders, thick with the putrid stench of spilled blood and rotting corpses.

"My god!" Prince Jirel exclaimed, clutching fast to the reins of his horse.

The large castle lay in the valley ahead of them, its walls completely broken down, a plume of smoke rising from within. Despite the distance between them, both riders could see the countless piles of bodies strewn across the entire valley.

"Hurry," the second rider exclaimed, his dark violet hair billowing in the wind. "Let's save as many survivors as we can."

The two riders kicked their horses on the sides, and the beautiful beasts trotted down the hill, the evening sun behind them. Within moments, they reached the outer walls of the castle.

As they drew closer to the gate, the scattered corpses became more visible. Fallen soldiers lay on each side of the road, their bodies perforated with spears, swords, or arrows.

After bringing his horse to a halt, Prince Jirel jumped off and ran over to one of the bodies, his saddlebag dangling as he coursed through the brown grass.

He bent low, placing a finger over one of the bodies, then another, then another. Then, he sighed.

"They're all dead," he said, his heart wrenching. "We're too late"

"No we're not," the second rider said, his face determined. "We were only a day behind the United Noble Army. There must be survivors."

In one deft move, he jumped off his horse as well, his long sword hung at his belt.

"Can anyone hear me?!" He bellowed, his voice reverberating.

All remained still for a moment. Then, a faint whimper reached Jirel's ears.

"Help... me..."

Without hesitation, he darted in the direction of the voice.

It was a Virillian soldier, whose green vest was tainted with a dark red.

Jirel knelt before the wounded soldier, reaching for a bottle in his bag. In it was a small white liquid, which shimmered faintly in the evening light.

"Drink," he said, placing the bottle over the soldier's lips and pouring a few drops into his mouth. The soldier made a silent gulp, forcing the golden liquid down his throat.

Placing a hand over the soldier's chest, Jirel pulled out an arrow, then he quickly poured a few more drops of the liquid over the soldier's chest.

"You'll heal in a few hours," he said, in a warm tone. Then, he stood up and darted over to his companion.

"Thane, I've healed one..."

"Shush.." Thane whispered, raising a finger to his lips. "Do you hear that?"

Jirel paused, straining to hear what his friend was hearing. He always hated it when Thane acted like this.

"I don't hear anything," he muttered.

Suddenly, Thane mounted his horse, charging straight into the castle.

"Stormborn, you idiot!"

Jirel mounted his horse as well, chasing after his companion.

The two strode into the castle, jumping over burning carts and lifeless bodies, until Thane came to a sharp halt at the foot of one of the towers in the castle. Like a man possessed, he hopped off the horse and made a mad dash into the castle.

Jirel came to a halt as well, making sure to strap the horses to a post nearby, before darting into the castle.

"Wait!" he yelled, ascending a flight of spiral stairs.

He could hear it... Yes, he could hear it clearly now; the sorrowful wail of a woman, echoing throughout the tower.

He quickened his pace, and within moments, he caught up to Thane, who stood frozen at the top of the tower.

"Don't run off like that, you..." Jirel broke off, dumbfounded by what his eyes fell upon.

At the opposite end of the wall, was a light-skinned woman with long, dark hair, sitting in a pool of blood, the hilt of a dagger sticking out of her abdomen. Her face was completely drained of colour, and her gaze was blank and lifeless.

In her arms, was a newly born infant, covered in blood, its cord still attached to its mother.

"Holy Mother..." Jirel muttered, not realizing when the words escaped his lips. "It's Queen Lana."

At the sound, the bleeding woman twitched, but remained still afterward.

Overcoming his daze, Thane moved closer to the infant, his eyes glued to its chest.

"Poor thing got hit by the dagger as well," he said, kneeling on one foot beside the bleeding mother. He stretched his arm forward, reaching for the baby.

Suddenly, the mother jolted awake, grabbing Thane's arm with a cold stare. Recognizing him, her gaze softened, and she let out a low – almost inaudible – whimper.

"Save her... Save Lucy... Please..."