Candace Sean had always been a devoted mother, but she knew she had favored her daughter more during Travis's early years. It wasn't until Travis fell critically ill—an illness many believed to be a fever—that she realized how distant she had grown from her only son.
Since then, Candace had made efforts to reconnect. She spent time with him, ensured his meals were to his liking, and even personally visited his chambers. But now, with Travis preparing to leave for military service, something unfamiliar stirred within her—an overwhelming protectiveness that sometimes bordered on obsession.
It didn't help that she had witnessed Travis entering the banquet hall earlier, confidently walking alongside Duchess Melantha Samara.
A flicker of jealousy sparked in her heart.
Not anger at Melantha, but disappointment in herself.
Was I not there enough for him? Did I not provide the comfort and care he needed?
That night, as Travis returned to his chambers after the banquet, he found Candace already waiting—seated beside the fireplace, her expression unreadable.
"You're leaving tomorrow," she said softly, brushing her hair behind her ear. "I just wanted to spend some time with you before that."
Travis nodded, catching the subtle tension in her posture. "Mother… You seemed upset earlier."
Candace hesitated, then chuckled lightly. "I suppose I was. It's strange… I used to think you were just a mischievous child. And now you're... almost a man."
She stood and approached him. "You've grown strong, Travis. And more composed than ever."
There was silence between them before Travis spoke. "Mother, you don't need to worry about me. I'm ready for what lies ahead. And I'll come back stronger."
Candace offered a gentle smile, though her eyes shimmered with emotion. "You've always been a little too ready for your age…"
They sat by the hearth, and Candace placed a hand on his shoulder. "You'll do great things, I know that. But promise me one thing…"
Travis tilted his head. "What is it?"
"Stay safe."
He gave a rare, soft smile. "I promise."
They remained in silence for a while longer until Travis stood and walked to his desk. He picked up a small, unmarked glass vial and turned back to her.
"There's something I'd like your help with," he said. "It's important for my safety."
Candace blinked. "What is it?"
"This vial contains an extract derived from a rare centipede species I discovered in the mountains," he explained. "It's harmless to the one who delivers it—but to someone already hosting the parasite, it accelerates its bonding. The centipede is already in its host. The extract just ensures the process completes faster."
Her brow furrowed. "A parasite? Who…?"
Travis's expression turned cold. "Father."
Candace's eyes widened. "What are you saying?"
"I've known for a while now. The fever I had? It wasn't natural. He wanted to see if I would break." His tone remained eerily calm. "He's arranged for me to be sent to the harshest military unit in the kingdom. A place where nobles rarely return."
Candace sat in stunned silence.
"You don't need to believe me," Travis said quietly, setting the vial into her hand. "Just give him three drops of this every six months. He won't die. But it will make sure that if he ever tries to harm me again… he'll regret it."
She looked at the vial for a long moment.
Then, without another word, she nodded.
"I'll take care of it," she whispered.
Travis smiled faintly and returned to his desk. "Thank you."
Candace stood and gently placed her hand on his head. "You shouldn't have had to bear all this alone."
"I never was alone," he replied, glancing at her. "Not since you came back into my life."
As she prepared to leave the room, she looked back at him once more.
"You've changed, Travis," she said, her voice almost trembling. "But… for some reason, I don't fear that change. I trust you."
He gave her a quiet look as the door closed behind her.
Left alone, Travis walked over to his bed and lay down, his hands behind his head.
'The first phase of the plan is complete,' he thought, gazing at the ceiling. 'The next step is the Lost Hell Hounds.'
A name known only in whispers, a place where even the toughest soldiers feared to tread. And that's exactly where he was going.
His gaze softened slightly.
'I wonder what my disciples are doing now…'
A flicker of a white-haired figure crossed his mind—Eira.
He smiled faintly.
'They'll see me again. And when they do… I won't be a forgotten master. I'll be the man who conquered this world.'
He closed his eyes, and with that, sleep took him.