Chapter 2777: Story 2778: The Life That Was Stolen

The stranger’s red eyes burned brighter.

The forgotten child stumbled backward, clutching his chest as though invisible fingers were crushing his heart. Ronan stood frozen between the two identical faces, unable to understand how one could resemble the other so perfectly.

The First Mother struggled to rise.

“Ronan, don’t let them touch!”

But the stranger moved first.

He reached toward the child, and a black thread shot from his fingertips, piercing the boy’s chest. The child screamed. His red heart blazed through his ribs, illuminating the chamber with a light that made every shadow recoil.

Ronan drew his sword.

“Release him!”

The stranger glanced at the blade and smiled.

“That sword was forged from her blood. Do you know why she made it?”

“To protect me.”

“No.” His smile widened. “She made it to kill you.”

Ronan’s grip tightened.

The First Mother shook her head desperately. “He is lying!”

“Am I?” The stranger turned toward her. “Tell him what happened when his first heart stopped beating.”

Silence swallowed the chamber.

Ronan stared at his mother.

“What is he talking about?”

Her red eyes filled with tears.

“You were dying,” she whispered. “The darkness had already entered your body. I had one chance to save you, and I took it.”

The forgotten child fell to his knees. Black veins spread across his face as the stranger pulled harder on the thread.

“You took my heart,” the child gasped. “You put it inside him.”

Ronan felt something move beneath his ribs.

Not a heartbeat.

A knock.

As though someone were trapped inside his chest, desperately begging to be released.

The stranger stepped closer.

“I was the life you were supposed to live, First Son. The child who would have grown without crowns, without kings, without the burden of becoming a monster. But your mother chose you instead.”

The First Mother screamed, “I chose my son!”

“And condemned the other.”

The forgotten child’s eyes met Ronan’s.

For the first time, Ronan saw no hatred in them.

Only grief.

“I waited in that coffin,” the child whispered. “I listened to your footsteps above me. I heard you laugh, fight, love, and grow old in lives I was never allowed to have.”

Ronan lowered his sword.

“I didn’t know.”

“You were never supposed to know.”

The stranger pulled the black thread free.

The child collapsed.

Ronan lunged, catching him before he struck the floor. His body felt strangely weightless, as if he were holding a fading memory instead of a living boy.

“No,” Ronan whispered. “Stay with me.”

The child touched Ronan’s chest.

Their heartbeats synchronized.

Then the stranger screamed.

Golden cracks erupted across his face, and his body began splitting apart. Beneath his skin, something vast and ancient struggled to escape.

The First Mother staggered backward.

“That is not the stolen life,” she whispered in horror.

Ronan looked up.

The stranger’s face peeled away like burning paper.

Beneath it was a featureless darkness crowned with six golden eyes.

The Nameless King’s voice thundered through the mountain.

“THE HEART HAS CHOSEN ITS VESSEL!”

Ronan’s chest burst with red light.

And the forgotten child vanished into him.