Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 173

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 173.
The Voice of the Sealed Land (19)
Daphnen sprang to his feet and gazed toward the window. When the sound came again, he did not hesitate—he strode forward and threw open the shutters.
Outside, there was no one. Or so it appeared.
In the darkness, invisible raindrops fell in a soft mist. Daphnen waited for a moment, watching as an outline gradually revealed itself.
“You’ve come.”
The shadow beyond the window merely gestured.
Daphnen held up a finger as if to say wait. Then he darted to the table, retrieved a wooden chip he had prepared for such a moment, and scratched something onto it with a piece of charcoal.
He set the wooden chip on the table and drew out the Winterer, gripping it in his hand. Tension tightened his lips. This was something he had to do.
No one else could do it for him.
Daphnen returned to the window.
“Now it’s ready.”
Another gesture. Daphnen extended his hand as if to pass through the wall itself. And he truly did. Into another realm, this time stepping forward with his own will.
The sound of rain vanished from his ears at once.

Did rain fall in this world as well?
That was the thought that occupied him as he walked through the bluish mist. The air that brushed against his cheek was damp and cold.
In the distance lay a forest. Tall trees intertwined their branches, forming an archway like a tunnel.
Daphnen looked left and right. On both sides stretched desolate, expansive land. Rocks or tilted stones—he could not tell which—watched him mutely like reefs breaking the surface of water.
Where sky and earth met, thick clouds blanketed the horizon, erasing all boundary. Thus the world seemed infinitely vast.
It was not Endymion who guided Daphnen, but Nikitis.
The one who had once been witty and eloquent now spoke scarcely at all. Those whom Daphnen sought were clearly formidable adversaries, even for young spirits.
As Daphnen walked through the World of Mist, where day and night held no meaning, his chest grew heavy. He wondered if the dead Yefnen was also spending his days in lonely isolation in this desolate wasteland.
Was there someone by his side? Or was he wandering without even realizing he was dead?
He entered beneath the forest’s archway. As he passed through the tunnel, all around him filled with a rustling sound.
Sharp leaves whispered against one another in an endless wind, and the longer he listened, the more he felt he could understand their words.

There goes a living person.
This is the path of the dead—why has he entered?
Why does he not return to his own world?
We are dead and cannot return there, but….

Then a strong wind swept in and carried away their whispers. Silence fell around him.
Moments later, he heard the sound of water droplets falling one by one. As he listened intently, it gradually began to sound like a song.
Soft, like a lullaby he had heard long ago. Yet the words were different.

Do not sleep, do not sleep, never.
For sleep brings no rest.
Do not sleep, do not sleep, forever.
The moment you close your eyes, everything will end.
Do not sleep, do not sleep, until your final breath.
Sleep is a monster that comes to devour you.

Can you not hear the footsteps of sleep approaching to claim you even now?

Daphnen listened to the entire song without shaking his head. In the song, sleep meant death.
The person who had wished for him to sleep peacefully might now be searching for his younger sibling’s small hand to hold through the agonizing journey that had begun anew.
The moment he thought this, the melody of the song transformed.

Even when a grueling day passes, the time for sleep never comes.
The star that just fell—it fell because it died.
No one will protect you as you sleep.
Only cruel claws will awaken you, nothing else.

The pitch-black night continues, and morning will never arrive.
You will never be able to forget anything.
The moment you accept sleep’s kiss upon your brow,
you will be trapped in a nightmare that never ends.

Daphnen suddenly spoke aloud in response.
“Yes, your words are true. There is no rest anywhere.”
The singing ceased. Daphnen spoke again.
“There exists no refuge where one can be alone until the very end.”
Now the song no longer sounded.
Yet Daphnen found tears streaming down his face. He understood better than anyone why such a song had come to him.
The tunnel had ended.
Before him stretched a Grassland glistening with night dew. Beyond it stood a violet building with several massive hemispherical domes rising from its roof.
A path of white pebbles extended from here to the building’s entrance.
Nikitis, who had been walking without turning back no matter what Daphnen said, turned around and spoke.

「This is what we call the Hall of Spirits. When you enter there, you will meet Endymion and his father. But it would be best not to show familiarity toward Endymion. And even if it seems like Endymion is not taking your side, do not blame him—he has his reasons for acting that way.」
Daphnen nodded and committed the words to memory.
Nikitis continued.
「There will be many other adults there, and when they ask you something, you must not lie. They will see through it immediately. They ask questions not because they do not know the truth, but because they wish to understand how you will accept it.」

Daphnen looked down at Nikitis. Though the small child’s face suggested he might be ten years old, he was a spirit who had lived for centuries.
Daphnen extended his hand.
“Thank you. I won’t forget the bond you all shared.”
Nikitis’s expression brightened slightly as he spoke.

“I too will not forget the joyful times I spent with you. I hope for a favorable outcome.”

Nikitis turned back the way he had come and vanished beyond the forest’s archway.
Daphnen walked alone down the pebbled path and entered the violet Hall of Spirits. As he climbed the stairs, a massive door that appeared three times his height swung open of its own accord, then closed behind him as he stepped through.
At first, he thought the hall was empty. The nearby walls gleamed like mirrors, so smooth and polished that the translucent spirits dwelling within were not immediately visible to the eye.
As he ventured deeper, the gloss faded, and stone walls in soothing hues of tan and pale green formed multiple arches that receded into the distance. The far wall opposite him was obscured by something—whether mist or something else—that prevented him from seeing beyond.
The interior of the building was shaped like two elongated halls intersecting in a cross. Upon reaching the center of the cross, a sunken circular space surrounded by steps came into view.
Within it lay many large cushions and floor pillows. The fabric from which they were made shone with an ethereal luminescence he had never witnessed in any noble’s castle.
Not white, but pearl; not pink, but spring petals; not red, but sunset; not blue, but the summer sea.
As he drew closer, several spirits seated among the cushions became clearly visible. They reclined in relaxed postures, conversing freely with one another.
Daphnen hesitated for a moment, uncertain how to proceed.
Should he approach them and announce his presence? Yet doing so seemed rude, for they were so absorbed in their own discourse.
But soon, one of them noticed him.

“Boris of House Jineman?”

Strangely, they had called him by his Trabaches name.
Daphnen recalled Nikitis’s words—that such a question was merely meant to discern the other’s disposition—and answered.
“That was my former name. I am called Daphnen.”

“And you also bear the name Furakan, I presume. Come down and sit with us.”

Yet with dozens of spirits scattered about—some sitting, others even lying down—he was at a loss as to where to settle. He had never imagined such a place.
It would almost have been preferable to sit in an interrogation chair, surrounded on all sides, as he had anxiously imagined during his journey here.
Daphnen descended the stairs and hesitated before discovering a small cushion in a corner, upon which he seated himself. Only then did he have the leisure to observe the spirits more carefully.
Among them, only four or five showed interest in Daphnen; the others remained absorbed in their own conversations.
Though their discourse was in a language he could not comprehend, the space—enclosed by the circular stairs—was spacious enough that the voices did not blend into an incomprehensible murmur.
As he surveyed the spirits scattered about, clearly delighted in their gathering, he felt like a guest who had arrived late to a tea party.
One of them even offered him a drink. The figure of an Old Woman Spirit first spoke in a different language, then quickly switched to words he could understand.

“Take it. It shouldn’t taste too strange even to one who lives.”

Daphnen reached for the cup but suddenly withdrew his hand, speaking hesitantly.
“I apologize. I am a man of many doubts, and I cannot drink just yet.”
The spirit, who had been gazing elsewhere, suddenly burst into laughter. Because of the high ceiling, the sound transformed into a long, resonant echo that rippled through the hall.
Once his laughter subsided, he turned to face Daphnen and spoke.

「Excellent. The living must naturally harbor suspicion. Since you still possess the body—the finest thing a human can lose—how could you not fear losing it? Even if I were still alive, I would have feared the same.」

He was a large man with a generous, hospitable bearing. Yet even so, his outline wavered like a shadow, nothing more.
“Thank you for your understanding.”
After that, no one spoke to Daphnen for a moment. He glanced around and realized Endymion was absent, which weighed heavily on his heart.
Yet without showing it, he spoke boldly first. It seemed that Endymion had made him somewhat accustomed to spirits after all.
“I understand that the people I meet today are formidable indeed. That is why I am tense even now, cold sweat beading on my skin. I have only one thing to say to you, but I have heard you have much to tell me. Rather than trembling in fear, I would prefer to listen to your words.”
Several spirits turned to look at one another, whispering and tilting their heads in confusion. It was still a language he could not comprehend.
After speaking thus, one of them gestured toward Daphnen.

「Come here, lad. Let us play a game of dice together.」

Daphnen was bewildered. A game of dice? So they had not summoned him to speak after all?
A figure draped in a white toga, with long, curly white hair, suddenly produced a leather pouch of dice from his robes and scattered them across the floor.
Five ivory dice rolled across the polished, milky marble floor with a crystalline sound.

「Pick one up and cast it. We must determine the order.」

Uncertain of the rules but sensing an atmosphere that made refusal difficult, Daphnen picked up a die.
The hexagonal die, its edges slightly rounded and smooth to the touch, was bitterly cold. As he cast it, a two appeared.

「Good, then come here.」

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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