CHAPTER 109: THE MAN WHO WORE MY LEIF’S FACE

[Leif’s POV — Forest Clearing, FroJnholm Wilds—Night Deepens]

The light didn’t fade all at once.

It fractured—slowly, painfully—like shards of day bleeding into night. The sword’s glow dimmed by degrees, threads of gold folding back into steel until only a faint hum remained, vibrating in my bones.

Alina still held it high, her little arms trembling, eyes wide in awe. The air around her shimmered, thick with a warmth that didn’t belong to this cold forest.

Then the warmth snapped away. The clearing fell still.

Even the wolves stopped moving. Every single crimson snout lifted, every ear twitched. They didn’t growl. They didn’t move. They just listened—as if something vast and ancient was still speaking, too softly for human ears.

Then—

"Master..." Zephyy’s small voice trembled through my mind, a ripple of awe and excitement tangled together. "Master, look—we finally found your sword!"

I blinked at him, the words catching somewhere between disbelief and exhaustion. "My... sword?"

Zephyy twirled on the ground, his tiny paws crackling with sparks of blue light. "Yes, master! The Divine Sword! It’s not found easily—no, no. Only one blessed with enormous divine power or... a soul untouched by corruption can draw it from the earth."

He Jumped again, Circling around Alina, jumping up and down, mud-smeared and grinning wide. "And here—" his telepathic tone quivered with pride—"with your help... we finally found it. The Holy Sword."

I stared at the weapon in her hands.

It gleamed softly now, as if recognizing her touch. My sister’s small fingers were curled tight around the hilt, her eyes glowing with that boundless light only a child’s heart could hold.

"Brother! Brother, did I do good?" Alina beamed, her voice pure, trembling with joy as she ran and threw herself into my arms. "Now can I stay forever with you?"

Her words pierced straight through me.

Forever.

I froze, her warmth against my chest, the sword’s hum vibrating between us like a heartbeat. It hit me then—cold and cruel.

Maybe the real Leif had promised her something. A deal. A lie wrapped in hope. She would live... if she found the Holy Sword.

I swallowed hard and forced a smile that felt more like a wound. "You did perfect, Alina. More than perfect."

Her face lit up, pure and trusting.

My gaze slid to the sword again, its silver surface reflecting a faint shimmer of my face—except for a flicker, a half-second distortion that wasn’t me.

"Give it to me, Alina."

She hesitated for just a breath. Then, without a question, she placed the sword in my hands. The moment my fingers touched the hilt, the marble beneath my shirt flared—hot, pulsing in rhythm with the sword’s glow.

"Alina..."

"Yes, brother?"

I looked down at her—this tiny spark of life, still believing that I was the same brother who once promised her forever. I brushed a thumb over her hair and whispered, "Let’s keep this our little secret, okay?"

She giggled, nodding. "Okay, brother."

I let out a slow breath, the kind that feels heavier than air. "Good girl."

The light dimmed, sinking back into steel. Zephyy perched quietly on my shoulder, tail curling tight, his usual chatter gone. The wolves began to stir again, uneasy, their low growls echoing through the clearing like thunder waiting to fall. I was surrounded by them.

When I finally looked up, Alvar was staring at me.

His sword hung loose at his side, but his eyes—those eyes—were sharp enough to cut through truth itself.

"Leif..." he said quietly, each syllable deliberate, cautious, and cold. "Who are you?"

The night swallowed the words. Even the air seemed to stop.

I stared back at him, unable to breathe for a heartbeat, the sword’s glow still whispering beneath my skin.

"What...?" I managed, voice breaking somewhere between confusion and fear. "What do you mean—who am I?"

Alvar didn’t answer.

He was just silent.

***

[Alvar’s POV — ForjnHolm Wilds—Continuation]

I definitely saw him.

That hooded figure—the one who touched Leif’s hand.He wasn’t a ghost.He wasn’t a mirage.He was real.

He stood there—hand in Leif’s—and for the briefest moment, time forgot how to move. The air itself bowed around them.

And when the stranger lifted his head, when the torchlight grazed his face... I saw him.

My heart stopped.

Same maroon hair, same golden eyes—bright as dawnfire. Eyes I knew better than my own. Eyes that had once looked at me with warmth, with love, and with a promise even the gods themselves could never steal away.

Leif.

But that couldn’t be. My Leif—the one standing by the pit, covered in mud and fear—was standing right there too.

Two of them.Two Seraph Kings.

No.No, not two.

One real. One echo.And I didn’t know which was which.

I took a slow step forward, breath trapped somewhere in my throat. The hooded man turned, just enough for me to see the faint glimmer of light beneath his skin—divine light, the kind that once crowned kings and burned worlds.

The Seraph King.

My Leif.

But then... why was my Leif still here? Why was he looking at that man with such guilt in his eyes, as though he already knew what he was seeing?

When their hands touched, the marble beneath Leif’s shirt blazed alive—gold and white, a heartbeat that belonged to neither man, but to both. The ground shuddered. The wind howled.

And then the hooded man whispered something—too soft to catch—before dissolving into the darkness. Gone, just like that.

I couldn’t breathe.

And my Leif—My love—he looked lost.

He didn’t cry out. Didn’t question. Didn’t even flinch. Just stared at the space where the other had stood, his hand trembling faintly, like he never expected to see him.

The wolves began to stir again, their howls echoing faintly through the trees. Alina clung to him, smiling with innocent pride, unaware of how the world had just cracked open around her.

I wanted to go to him—to touch his shoulder, to anchor him back to me—but I couldn’t move.I couldn’t bring myself to reach for him when I no longer knew who—or what—he truly was.

When I finally found my voice, it came out hoarse, almost breaking."Leif..."

He looked up. The sword in his hand shimmered faintly, and the marble beneath his chest glowed in rhythm, the same rhythm I once felt beneath my palm when I held him close.

"Who are you?" I whispered.

He stared at me, eyes wide, hurt flickering across his face. "What do you mean—who am I?"

I didn’t answer. Because every word I might have said would’ve broken me.

He was my fiancé. My light. My Leif.

But now, staring at him in the fading glow of that divine sword... I wasn’t sure if the man I loved was even human anymore.

"Alvar... what’s wrong?" he asked again, voice soft and careful.

I looked at him, at the gold still whispering beneath his skin. My heart rebelled against the truth my eyes had seen. Slowly, I stepped forward and reached for his hand.

Warm. Alive. Human.

For now.

"Alvar?" he said again, uncertain this time.

I forced a smile that didn’t reach my chest. "We should go back," I said quietly. "It’s not safe here."

He exhaled—half relief, half exhaustion—and nodded. His gaze flicked toward Alina, who was ruffling the crimson packs innocently.

"And you," he said, voice stern, eyes narrowing.

Alina blinked.

Leif turned his glare toward the crimson pack and Zephyy next. "And you lot—we’re going to have a very long talk about disobeying curfew."

"W—Wait! But it was you, brother!" Alina squeaked, clutching her little hands together.

Leif sighed dramatically, then scooped her up in one arm, pinching her nose until she squealed. "Still," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips, "you’re getting a proper lesson."

She pouted, then giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Alright, alright—but first I need food!"

He chuckled softly, and for a heartbeat—just a heartbeat—it all felt normal.

Leif strode ahead through the trees, the crimson wolves padding around him in quiet reverence, Zephyy, the smug shadow, on his shoulder. In his arm, Alina hummed as she snuggled closer to him.

And in his other hand, the divine sword gleamed faintly—alive, patient, watching.

A man walking beneath the moonlight—carrying a holy blade, a child’s laughter, and a secret the world had forgotten.

He didn’t look human anymore. He looked like the echo of something ancient pretending to be one.

Leif turned once more, his voice soft but steady. "Alvar... why are you still standing there?"

I blinked, forcing the ache in my chest down where he couldn’t see it.

He smiled—just a little. "Come on, it’s getting too dark."

I nodded, letting my lips curl into something that almost passed for ease."Yes," I whispered. "Let’s go."