webnovel

Far From Free: Echoes of a Forgotten Memory

A boy longing for revenge with blood painted hands. He is a cold blooded psychopath dressed in the glamorous clothes of a prince. In a planned attack during his 7th birthday, Prince Nicolas Gregory lost three important things, his friend Alisa, his innocence, and his memory of his merciless massacre of the culprits with a mysterious ability to conjure a sword. Attempting to fight his emptiness, he tries to live normally as a prince and fulfill his duties regardless of what his heart's cry. But there are things that one tainted with blood could not escape. With reminders popping out one after another and the continuous threat to his life, what will he do if his lost memory resurfaces. Will he once again wield the blades of revenge? Will he open his heart for the future? Or will he fall into deeper despair and follow the path of blood?

Grey_Petrichor · Fantaisie
Pas assez d’évaluations
33 Chs

Detective Work

"Hey Nicolas"

Finding himself in a dark space, he heard a familiar voice, "Alisa?"

"What? you look like you've seen a ghost."

He wondered for a bit as he squinted his eyes before rubbing it, "It's— you— you're," he held his forehead trying to recall what happened the day before. "Never mind, it was just a dream… an awfully long dream. Thank goodness…". He got up from his bed and inspected the view outside the window. "Thank goodness it really all was just a dream" he sighed. His smile as clear as the blue sky above.

"What was your dream all about?" Alisa asked in curiosity as she stood beside the window.

"Nothing, never mind it now. What matters is that everything is fine and normal. Should we play outside?"

"Sure"

Walking down the stairs, their footsteps echoed in the hall. Laughter can be heard as they began their usual chaotic play time. The maids and knights just watched the two of them, everyone has a smile on their faces.

"Wait, what day is it again?" Nicolas asked as they descended.

"Why do you ask? it's Thursday," the girl replied.

"Thursday? did I sleep through your Birthday?"

"Birthday?"

"Yes, your birthday," he smiled as he reached the ground floor first.

"Never mind that, it's fine, it's not that big of a deal," replied Alisa following him just a few steps back.

"But it's your birthday, it is highly important—," he suddenly came to halt when he noticed something familiar next to the paintings. "Vase?" placing his hands on the lid, he got a feeling that he had seen this porcelain vase somewhere before. It was a green vase with a yellow flower design, it's large size is enough to contain numbers of flowers and is probably used for decorations. "Don't tell me that was also just a dream."

"Dream?" Alisa asked pulling the vase from Nicolas's hands, bringing it in the middle of the corridor and circled it with inquisitive eyes. After two turns, she frowns and sighed, "It wasn't a dream," she whispered.

"What?" Nicolas wondered upon hearing just a murmur.

"Did you really think you can escape your sins?" Alisa yelled upon placing her hand on the prince's shoulder and pushed him away. Looking down on Nicolas she projected a grin. Rather than a grin it was a wide devilish smile. "It wasn't a dream nor a nightmare," Alisa pushed the vase off balance.

Nicolas anticipated the sound of a shattering porcelain vase, but it never came. Once it met the floor, The Prince could not calm his nerves as the vase turned to flames. He blinked and it's starting to spread. Another blink and everything's on fire. Another blink and the girl standing in front of him is combusting alive.

"How many lives have you claim this time," she continuously yelled while laughing in between. The surroundings slowly crumbled and eaten up by the fire, it is hellish, it is a nightmare. All the pain came back to Nicolas, headache, burns, bruises, and every single feeling of hate, anger, and agony.

"No, this couldn't be—," he thought as he squealed, hands grappling him on his every limb, as they forcefully dragged him down, sinking to the blood flooded floor. The high pitch laughter of the burning girl drilled deeper and deeper into his mind. The sight of the girls smile is the last thing he saw as everything finally went blank.

Dripping in sweat, panting, his feet on his pillow as his head rested on the other end of the bed. Tears skidded down his face as he sprawled out. The feeling is still there, his heart clearly remembers the horror he saw, and his mind is repeating the scene as long as it can.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he tried to calm himself down, his hand shaking as he placed one on his chest. Taking a deep breath and a long sigh, feeling the meditation failing him as the sheer headache he had always felt as a child tried to resurface. Without sparing a second, he ransacked his still packed belongings from the trip and found the tiny box he so treasured. With it, he avoided falling into panic.

"That dream again," he uttered to himself as he recollected himself. The blood in his hands from the day before still engrained in his mind, refusing to be washed off no matter how much soap and water he pour into them.

He's ungrateful for the bitterness it brings him but there is no denying that it gives him a light to guide him towards a goal. The one he saw just before he lost consciousness, the blue light. After finishing all his classes and training for the day, he immediately head for the library.

"If there's any place in this castle that might give me an answer, it will be there."

Full of hopeful thought, he marched down the halls with haste, leaving Anton to clean up the mess and halfheartedly greet back the aids of the castle. No one except for casual academics that had been given permission to visit the castle library, only the royal family and the maids that occasionally cleans uses it. It was one of those days where visitors are most likely absent so he knew he could take his time.

All that's left for him now is to make sure his father who's usually in the throne room, directly opposite the library's entrance. He peeked at the throne, to the left then right, even the office lounge on the far left, making sure the devil wouldn't be able to surprise him. With everything clear, he slowly backed away from the door and slowly to the library, his eyes still glued to the throne.

"Thank goodness, he's not here," he sighed in relief.

"Who's he?"

He slowly turned around, "You know, the—," he felt as if lighting hit him, meeting the person he's trying to avoid in the most undesirable way. "Goo— good morning father, w— what brings you here?" he has no excuse.

"I never knew the King is forbidden to do his research inside his own library. It would be most suited to ask you that question," Frederick gentle patted his head with a black covered book.

Was he still dreaming, he thought that by now he should have been scolded for negligence, but to his surprise, the king is mysteriously and eerily in a good mood. "Are you feeling unwell, father?" he asked just to make sure.

"No, what makes you think I am."

"Aren't you supposed to be angry."

Frederick just stared at him, as puzzled as he is, "Do I have a reason to?" he continued to the throne door and headed for his office. Waving the book on his hand, he added, "Leave now before I find a reason to scold you."

"Weird," he whispered to himself before finally entering his sweet haven. "Good day garden of knowledge, I hope you can help me find the answers," he yelled with a smile before delving into his detective spree.