The Crown Prince In Hiding

The chirping of birds signaled the dawn of a new day.

Soft sunlight filtered through the window, brushing against Rafinya Saint Pauli’s eyelids until she stirred awake.

She jolted upright in confusion.

After blacking out, she found herself lying in a large, snow-white bed — wide enough for two, yet now used solely to tend to her. The scent of warmth and comfort lingered in the sheets, a stark contrast to the chaos that had preceded her collapse.

With trembling hands, she pulled the blanket aside — and froze.

Her dirt-stained casual outfit had been removed. In its place, she wore soft, white-and-gold loungewear. Casca’s colors.

Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the faint ticking of a clock above her, the still air, the serenity that made no sense after what she’d been through.

Then she caught it — the sound of an axe splitting wood outside, rhythmic and steady, punctuated by the gentle chatter of birds.

She turned toward the doorway—

—and gasped.

Totti, the wolf demon in his human form, peeked out from Casca’s prayer room.

He wore an apron and appeared to be tidying up, the scent of herbs faint in the air. He must have heard her wake.

Rafinya instinctively backed away, the memory of what she’d seen him do still seared into her mind. But Totti simply pointed toward the door and said evenly,

“His Highness is outside.”

His Highness.

There was only one person he could mean.

Rafinya clutched her arm—and noticed it was glowing faintly with golden light. Healing magic. Not just Snowhaven’s, but Luminus’ as well, layered upon each other.

She pressed gently along the bone. It had mended cleanly. Only a dull ache remained.

The realization left her breathless.

Casca’s appearance last night… it hadn’t been a dream.

Barefoot, she stepped softly across the wooden floor, hand over her healed arm, and pushed the door open.

Outside, morning light spilled over a humble campfire and a simple wooden clothesline. Hanging there were two men’s school uniforms, one woman’s, and her own.

She turned cautiously to the right—

—and saw him.

Dan Burn.

Standing with his back to her, motionless. Staring.

No, not staring — contemplating.

Facing the rising sun.

Rafinya didn’t dare breathe.

Her chest tightened; her lungs forgot how to draw air.

It was the first time in a decade she had truly felt fear. The primal, bone-deep kind that claws its way out from the base of the mind — the kind born from standing face-to-face with death.

Still, she forced herself to speak.

“What… are you doing?”

“…Thinking,” he replied.

“About what?”

“About how they did it,” he murmured, gaze never leaving the horizon.

“Two hundred million years ago, how did they leave the sea and walk the earth? I’ve thought about it for ages… still can’t find an answer.”

“I don’t understand anything that’s happening here.”

“I don’t understand why I’m here either,” he said quietly.

“Demons like you shouldn’t exist here to begin with.”

“I have my reasons.”

“Whatever they are, they don’t justify anything.”

“You’re right.”

He finally turned to face her, sunlight tracing the sharp lines of his expression.

“That’s why I’ll let the one responsible explain it herself.”

He gestured past her shoulder.

Rafinya turned—

—and froze.

Standing there, carrying an armful of freshly cut wood, was the woman Rafinya revered above all others.

Casca Saint Maximin.

“Lady Casca…”

The legendary knight set the logs down gently, her golden eyes moving from Dan to Rafinya — she already knew what had transpired.

“Kid…” Casca sighed softly.

“Go ahead, Casca,” Dan said as he passed Rafinya, voice calm but heavy.

“She deserves to hear it from you. I already got chewed out enough for breaking her arm — not that she didn’t deserve a lesson.”

“Fury,” Casca snapped, warning in her tone.

He only waved her off, walking back toward the cabin.

“Lady Casca… what does this mean?” Rafinya’s voice quivered, disbelief shaking every word.

Casca fell silent for a long moment, the weight of her years steadying her. She set the logs aside and gently took Rafinya’s trembling hand.

“Rafinya,” she said softly, “listen carefully.”

. . .

“No… No, that’s impossible. During the ten years you disappeared… you were in Diablo?”

Casca’s silence said everything.

And in that moment, Rafinya became one of the few who truly understood the bond between Casca Saint Maximin and Prince Fury.

Every suspicion, every unanswered question she’d ever had — it all clicked perfectly into place.

It made sense now.

This was why Casca had taken Dan in.

Casca Saint Maximin stood upon the small ridge, backlit by dawn.

“I used to be just like you,” she said quietly.

“I hated demons with every fiber of my being, because the scriptures told me to. I hunted them in the name of the Holy Light, pouring all my faith, all my spirit into the service of the Divine.”

Her voice trembled — not from fear, but sorrow.

“And then I discovered that the scripture I’d devoted my life to… was edited.”

She looked back over her shoulder.

“The original text never mentioned demons at all.”

Her gaze softened, heavy with memory.

“Meeting Fury in the Salawan Fields opened my eyes. The ‘demons’ spoken of by the Divine aren’t creatures of flesh — they’re formless things that dwell in the human soul. The Holy One would never create living beings just to torment His children. The only monsters here… are us.”

Fury hadn’t been trying to destroy the world.

He’d been trying to let his kind survive it.

“The world,” Casca said, “needs to redefine what the word ‘demon’ means.”

She sighed gently. “His way of teaching may be… harsh. But he never means harm.”

Yet even after everything she said —

Rafinya collapsed to her knees.

Her whole body trembled, fists clenching tight, breath ragged.

“Teaching?!” she cried, her voice cracking. “Don’t make me laugh!”

Her scream echoed through the quiet clearing — raw and unrestrained.

Casca didn’t flinch. She understood.

Rafinya was still just a girl — eighteen, maybe nineteen.

No one could face Fury’s power and walk away unshaken.

“All that training… everything I’ve dedicated my life to…”

Her voice broke. Tremors turned to sobs.

Casca knelt down, gathering her into her arms as Rafinya folded into herself, shaking, crying.

“My strength… my effort… all of it meant nothing against him, didn’t it…?”

“It’s not true, Rafinya,” Casca murmured gently.

A few paces away, Dan stood with his arms crossed, watching silently.

He said nothing — just sighed quietly.

Then he turned back toward the cabin, where Totti was preparing to leave.

“How is it, Your Highness?” Totti asked.

“You can go,” Dan replied, glancing once more toward the field.

“Casca can handle the rest.”

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