The Darkness Weaver

Charles gradually regained consciousness on a bed in the village temple's room. His head still felt dizzy as the stuffy indoor air clashed with the cold seeping through narrow window slits, creating an illusion of thin mist.

Doctor Elias had taken excellent care of him. Though his head still throbbed, his overall condition wasn't too concerning. Once Charles was awake, Elias recounted everything that happened while he was unconscious—how they had gathered solid evidence against Robert from his personal belongings and journals.

As for his fainting spell, Doctor Elias theorized it was likely due to accumulated fatigue combined with stress and insufficient rest.

"How is Robert now?" Charles asked, his voice hoarse.

"He's in custody awaiting trial, but he likely won't escape the death penalty," Elias replied frankly, his expression grave. "I shudder to think what other atrocities he might have committed if you hadn't intervened."

Charles fell silent for a moment, reviewing everything in his mind before remembering the small piece of paper with its strange message.

"By the way, did the city guards who searched Robert's house find a piece of paper? It had some odd writing on it."

"Ah," the doctor pondered before recalling, "They said a paper fell from your hand when you fainted. Thinking it might be important to you, they asked me to keep it until you woke up."

Doctor Elias handed over the paper. Charles took it and examined the inscribed text—it was the same paper he had found. His brows furrowed in concentration. Though not entirely certain, he felt it must hold some significance.

His thoughts were interrupted when Elias spoke again.

"So, what will you do now? Stay here or return to the capital?"

The young detective paused thoughtfully before sighing, answering with weary eyes, "I'll return to the capital, but there are still some matters I need to wrap up first. I'll probably leave today."

"Better hurry then. The last public carriage departs this afternoon."

Charles nodded while his eyes secretly glanced at the mysterious paper once more, his mind still churning.

'There are still some answers I need to find before I leave.'

He wasn't sure if the mysterious paper was connected to his missing memories, but it was his first real lead after two years of searching. And Robert might hold the answers he sought.

'At least this investigation wasn't a waste of effort.'

Charles bought his carriage ticket before visiting Robert in his cell to inquire about the mysterious paper's origin.

The young detective walked into the underground prison where dim torchlight illuminated the path ahead. The musty air mingled with the scent of rusted iron, making him wrinkle his nose. Every pair of eyes followed him with suspicion, some showing clear displeasure at being disturbed. Charles paid them no mind—he hadn't come here to make friends but to seek the truth.

In the furthest corner of the prison, behind large iron bars, Robert sat motionless with his back to the door, staring out the window with vacant eyes.

When Charles stopped in front of the cell, the guard quickly unlocked it. The sound of rusty iron bolts echoed through the space, but the man inside remained still, continuing to gaze at the sky outside with a hopeless expression. His hair was disheveled, covering his face, and the bruises from his arrest were still visible.

"Robert Thorn," Charles's deep, firm voice reverberated off the stone walls. The man slowly turned to face him, meeting his gaze with lifeless, pale eyes devoid of any spark.

"What do you want?" Robert asked, his voice hoarse and grating.

Without hesitation, Charles pulled the mysterious paper from his coat, holding it up clearly. "Have you seen this before? What is it?"

Robert raised an eyebrow, staring at the strange letters with confusion before furrowing his brow in thought. "Oh... that paper. I don't know, never gave it much importance."

The young detective sighed at this evasive answer and decided to step closer, his gaze intensifying. "Where did you find it? Do you remember?"

Robert pressed his lips together, appearing to strain to recall past events. After a moment, he answered in a faint voice, "Um, I think it came with a book I bought from a traveling merchant when he passed through the village. When I looked at it, I saw these strange letters, thought it might be worth something, so I kept it."

Charles nodded in understanding, his face relaxing slightly though questions still swirled in his mind. "Could you read it? Do you know what it says?"

The answer came with a shake of the head and a thoughtful expression, though still uncertain. Robert glanced at the paper in Charles's hand again, trying to interpret the message he saw.

"I don't know. It might be a foreign language or some ancient script. The letters are faded, so I can't make them out," Charles continued his conversation with Robert in the cell, and seeing that the answers weren't clear enough to solve the paper's mystery, he pressed further.

"Then... after you kept it, did you show it to anyone else? Like fortune tellers or anyone who might understand its meaning?"

Robert thought for a moment before shaking his head. "No, I never showed it to anyone. I didn't think it was important at the time. Just picked it up to study it casually, hoping to figure out its meaning. But when I got busy with other things, I just forgot about it."

Charles studied the man before him intently, searching for any signs of deception in his eyes and tone. But he found nothing unusual. Perhaps it was Robert's confusion or exhaustion, but he seemed to be telling the truth.

Finally, the young detective let out a long sigh, accepting that there wouldn't be any clearer leads for now. He carefully tucked the mysterious paper away.

"Alright then, I won't trouble you further. Thanks for your cooperation."

Charles nodded slightly in gratitude. Though his expression remained stern, there was appreciation in his voice. He looked at Robert one final time before delivering his parting words.

"Anything else?" Robert asked.

"I just think if you hadn't been so obsessed with Mary, your life might have turned out better."

"Don't lecture me. You don't understand anything."

"Fair enough. Maybe I don't truly understand your love. But looking at your current state, I think loving yourself might be better than staying attached to someone who doesn't love you."

"Get out! Leave me alone!" Robert shouted with anger.

Charles said nothing more, walking calmly out of the cell while the guard hurriedly locked the iron door securely. He left Robert alone in solitary confinement to contemplate the crimes he had committed.

On his way back to Edmund's house, Charles's thoughts kept returning to the mysterious paper. Though unsure if he could decipher it, he felt confident it was somehow connected to his past.

Perhaps he should try to find its meaning from other sources, or simply keep it safe for now, hoping that one day its mystery would unravel itself.

Upon returning to Edmund's house, Charles began packing his belongings, preparing for the journey back to the capital. He checked all documents and evidence for certainty before packing his clothes and essential items into his travel bag.

As afternoon approached, sunlight still shone brightly on the damp ground. A sense of vitality began returning to the air. Small birds flew overhead, their distant calls bringing a welcome freshness to his spirit.

Charles slowly walked out of Edmund's house, taking a deep breath of fresh air. He looked up at the clear, open sky, free of the fog that had shrouded it for days prior. This was the first time he'd truly appreciated nature's beauty since arriving in this village, after everything that had happened.

He stood in front of the house, bidding farewell to Edmund and his son who stood quietly seeing him off. Charles accepted the documents Edmund handed him—proof of completed work that would allow him to collect his agreed-upon payment from the guild.

"Thank you very much," Charles said, shaking hands one final time.

"Have a safe journey back, and thank you as well, for everything," Edmund replied with a gentle smile—a marked improvement from the sorrowful expression he'd worn when they first met.

After nodding in acknowledgment, Charles turned toward the waiting carriage. His footsteps echoed rhythmically on the ground, punctuated by the sounds of his luggage being loaded onto the carriage.

Before boarding, he took one last look around, his eyes scanning across the houses and villagers one by one.

From now on, the villagers would need to adjust to their changed reality, letting go of old beliefs. But Charles wasn't too worried. He was confident that with Doctor Elias's help, they would overcome whatever hardships came their way.

With everything ready, the young detective climbed nimbly onto the carriage, raising his hand in a final farewell before the vehicle set off toward the capital.

The image of Charles's carriage gradually disappeared into the afternoon light, leaving only the fading sound of hoofbeats. People on the street turned to watch, some with grateful looks, others with curious glances.

Charles leaned back in his seat, adjusting to the carriage's rocking motion. The steady rhythm of hooves striking the ground and wooden wheels scraping against the dirt road accompanied his journey toward the capital.

As time passed, the young detective gazed out the window. The scenery changed gradually, from rural roads to increasingly crowded paths surrounded by buildings.

Yet despite this, Charles felt strangely disconnected. His mind wandered back to the quiet atmosphere of the village, even with its recent dark events.

He missed the smell of damp grass and the whistle of wind through tall trees. This was the first time in two years he'd been away from the big city for so long, he'd almost forgotten its bustle.

His mind still puzzled over the mystery of the paper and the many questions that needed answers. His worry pushed his body beyond its limits, and finally, fatigue inevitably overtook him.

Charles shook his head, trying to chase away the warmth of drowsiness that was slowly creeping in. Guilt reminded him of Doctor Elias's advice before departing, telling him to rest fully before traveling. But stubborn as he was, he'd chosen to leave immediately to reach the capital as soon as possible.

A gentle shake roused Charles—the carriage had stopped at the scheduled rest point. Other passengers filed out to refresh themselves, some heading to the restroom, others sampling food from the street vendors.

Charles chose to remain in the carriage, reclining and relaxing his body. His eyes drooped halfway with drowsiness.

A cool breeze blew past, sending dry leaves swirling across the path. The crunching sound of leaves created a lullaby-like rhythm, and Charles's eyelids grew heavier until they finally closed.

At last, Charles let his eyes shut, allowing his consciousness to slowly drift away from reality. His subconscious began floating away from the real world and into a dream.

This is where his dream began to unfold...

Wave sounds echoed thunderously. The sky was dark with storm clouds, lightning flashing ominously. The gray, murky water churned into massive waves.

Charles saw himself struggling in the midst of vast waters, fighting to survive against the relentless waves crashing over him. His hands and feet thrashed about aimlessly.

His limbs seemed paralyzed as he sank into the deep water with no strength to resist. He struggled desperately, but his mouth inadvertently gulped in salty water, making him choke. His body was numb and aching all over, his hands grasping for something to hold but finding only emptiness.

Despair began to take hold. Though never afraid of water, Charles had no swimming skills. All he could do was try to stay afloat above the waves before being pulled under by the fierce current.

His consciousness began to fade, his vision blurring. Cries for help escaped his lips but were answered only by the howling storm. Charles felt his breath failing, his lungs burning as they filled with water instead of air. His body sank deeper like a man without hope. He was certain this would be his end.

But then... a large piece of driftwood suddenly struck his head with brutal force. There was no cry of pain, no shock. Only fading consciousness. The last image before he blacked out was of a golden-haired young man swimming through the storm waves toward him.

With great difficulty, Charles's eyelids finally opened. The first sensations were the hardness of the wooden floor beneath him, the cold against his skin, and the clamoring voices of other passengers in the carriage.

Charles slowly pushed himself up to sitting position, realizing he must have fallen from his seat during the nightmare. His face had likely hit the floor, waking him and freeing him from that terrifying dream. Now everything around him seemed clearer and more real than the dream images.

The young detective quickly wiped away the sweat that had broken out across his face, then turned to assure the concerned passenger beside him that he was fine. Though it was just a dream, Charles still felt frightened and alarmed. The chill of the seawater and the despair from the dream remained fixed in his heart, as if he had witnessed a vision of death itself.

Charles took a deep breath, trying to calm and center himself before carefully climbing back onto his seat. His mind wandered back to his previous dreams. This was the clearest dream he could remember in the past two years since losing his memories. He tried to find connections but found none, perhaps because his exhausted mind couldn't analyze deeply enough.

Finally, he chose to calm himself, letting his body rest to reduce his fear before shifting back to his original seat as the journey resumed.

Many questions and concerns still lingered in his mind, both about the dream and the mysterious paper. But for now, Charles knew he had tasks to complete—return to the capital to report his findings and receive payment. After that... he could think about how to solve the remaining mysteries.

That was what he needed to do... for himself. The young man reached up to touch his head, feeling the hidden scar there. 'Was it a memory or just a dream?'