Chapter 64

Her eyes had been tenfold more tantalizing than usual and her skin seemed especially smooth and clear. Toren gulped a lump on his throat and nervously groped his painting materials. He could hardly look away from her as he anxiously scampered around for the canvas sheet and brush and oil colors.

Airen struck an elegant pose of a motherly figure, which Toren decided to swiftly paint. He desperately gathered all his experience to be condensed in that sheet of blank white to make sure he would materialize such a masterpiece – better than how reality portrays it and better than all his previous artworks.

After the nerve-wracking, over the edge, sensual painting, Airen stood up and went up with Toren to have her meal. Since he does not need to feed himself, he just silently watched his mother fill herself with some vegetables and cooked meat.

While peacefully talking inside, they suddenly heard a loud noise coming from outside.

There seems to be a chaotic uproar around the neighborhood, so the butler checked up on what was going on.

He reported back that a member from the secret organization had escaped the dungeon and was severely wounded.

Airen and Toren immediately went out and saw a familiar face.

It was Sorell – one of the high officials from the organization and was always a good friend to Muren.

The retired nurses quickly aided his scratched body, while the other men began holding off the colonist soldiers. Since they had seen the critical condition of the member, the soldiers decided to hold back and refuse to behead the retaliating commoners until later.

Toren watched them desperately revive Sorell back using the herbs and medical practices.

The man was handled with utmost care and gentle manner as if he was a fragile leaf slowly crossing the line.

And just as quite expected, Sorell still died despite the great efforts of the village neighborhood.

The people's frowning faces expressed so much disappointment and a tint of resentment.

Whether it was intended for their powerlessness or the enemy's oppression, Toren never knew about it anymore.

"Why can I not see the man's soul?" The butler asked, confused while clutching on the beaded necklace.

Toren looked away.

"It is because his purpose on earth had already been fulfilled before his death, so his soul was no longer needed on earth. He had crossed the line already."

"The line between life and death, you mean?"

"Yes. The thin line which determines our existence here."

Airen, Toren, and the butler went back in the house and silently gathered at the dining area.

"Even the spy messenger from the government was denied entry," Airen softly said, weighing the heaviness of her words. "The war is getting more and more troublesome in and out of the country and of the west."

Later on, Airen bid her farewell and returned to the camp where her husband is.

When the couple had met again, Airen immediately reported Sorell's death and the crippled information from outside west.

Lastly, she disclosed Coen's imprisonment on account of murdering their second son, Toren.

"Do you still remember the prophecy, my dear?" Airen suddenly asked, which caused a jolting shock and nostalgia across Muren's nerves. He nodded to it, "I remember."

She looked at him intensely as if looking through a mirror to search for darkness.

"Look at what happened," She gritted her teeth, suppressing an outburst. "Toren is now dead, yet you have never seen him betray the country. And now, Coen is locked in the dungeon for murder and was busted for being the organization's member after the magistrate's thorough investigations! Muren, my second son, was not a traitor."

An abrupt frigid explosion swung a pang of painful realization against the father's brain.

It was only then he felt like he understood things.

"Coen was the traitor all this time?"