A memento from centuries past; Deus, da mi vim.

In a world where humans exist, those of more unnatural descent existed. A century and some years ago, humans discovered they were not alone, that they were weaker than others among them. Instead of welcoming those that weren't human, those among the non, they chose to unleash their wrath upon them in war.

In their selfish desperation, after three years of war, they gathered the trust of five mages through cruel methods to create a barrier which separated humans .. and non-humans from each other. It only lasted a decade until the barrier was broken, and another war ensued, only smaller.

Everyone knew what to expect, and quickly they learned to settle as best as they could to try and live as one. Only that wasn't what happened at all. Despite everyone that wasn't what was accepted among humans .. settling in forests and underground spaces, they continued to be slaughtered and treated horribly.

A century and some years ago, the world still remained cruel.

Notes:

This is a story of one who is human and one who is believed not to be. The cruelty of the world shared from both perspectives, and even many others.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: A memento from centuries past; The start.

Chapter Text

In a world where humans exist, those of more unnatural descent existed. Though, words like that were only told in fairy tales. Little stories to scare children, fearing those with pointed ears and long horns on their head, fearing those with legs replaced with the wood and vines of a tree, turned to stone and made into bodies of worship and prayer. Or those who used the cursed arts of magic to connect with the dead, using it to their twisted advantage. Of course,when the world became less protected and the cracking barrier of magic had shattered, creatures and species that had never been spoken of before had graced the lands, good and bad.

“Do you think this a good idea, sire?” The burning heat of the fire ahead was making him sweat. A knight, serving a rather corrupt–even-more-powerful–knight. His commander. “She was a no-good influence on the Vilreths. She deserves it.” Tied to a sturdy and wooden stake above, a struggling woman. Her sleeve was slipping off of her right shoulder, hair braided and styled into four hoops. She was human, yes. Though, an incredible influence on a near species, common around the biggest city of the lands; Pothrick. She was dressed in jewelry, touching her forehead, her neck and torso, as well as her arms. Most of it keeping her outfit together; revealing her stomach and shoulders. She didn’t seem to be struggling now, but once the fire touched her precious and sensitive skin, she’d be writhing. “And you believe they wouldn’t come to save their precious woman?” The commander looked at the man who dared to question him. Like magic, soaring arrows and streams of magic came from above and below, long and pointed horns. “Vilreths!” A melodic voice called out. The woman’s head shot up, eyes gleaming with hope at her companions. “I won’t say I told you so, sire!” The man saw no use in trying to stop them, watching his commander run off to try and stop the Vilreths.

As the squeezing rope unraveled from her limbs, she nearly fell face first into the fire from pure exhaustion. “Graced one, we will return you safely.” The kind hands of the taller Vilreth before her, lifting her by her pits and carefully throwing her towards someone from the outskirts of the fire. Gently as possible, she was caught, held like a babe in her moment of rescue. Her cornsilk hair sparkled through the ember tints of fire, her arm hanging loose in the arms of whom she was unfamiliar with. “Worry not, you are in safe hand-” She was thrust out of the arms of who she believed she was safe with, crashing hard onto the stone ground. Her eyes fluttered open, finally looking at the Vilreth who had attempted to rescue her. “Agh..!” He had been struck with an arrow, right through his left calf. He turned over, eyes wide at who took careful and slow steps toward the Vilreth. “No! No wait!” He pleaded for mercy, and that's when she finally brought her focus to the figure ahead.

A rather burly man, his body covered in dark armor, hints of cerulean here and there. His hair was curled, all sweaty and down to his shoulders. Tanned skin. He raised the long and sharp axe in his hand, his bigger greatsword hoisted on his back. The man in charge, perhaps. Even he was beginning to scare her, as a woman who didn’t ever touch the grounds of Pothrick. “Alru!” A voice called out, screaming for the wounded Vilreth. The man looked over, he hadn’t even pretended to strike yet. Something was keeping him from doing it. “Ah..” She just wasn’t expecting his eyes to land right on her, a longing look. His permanent scowl was graced with more irritation, looking over his shoulder. She tried her best to get up, something about those ropes and the burning fire had weakened her mobility. The moment she tried, the man made his slow retreat. She did not dare to provoke him, to be an idiot and ask what he was waiting for. “Graced one…” The male Vilreth turned over, reaching his hand out to her. “Alru!” The female Vilreth, the one who had untied her earlier, had rushed over. “Do not worry, Ilmera. Please, take the graced one to safety.” Ilmera–The female one–looked over to her, the graced one. “It is too dangerous to dawdle over my wounds. I recall your spells of healing, but should I not return… I want you to relay that message to my sister. The one I spoke to you.” Ilmera was struggling to keep her composure, it seems she knew what to expect by trying to rescue someone so important from burning at the stake under the watchful lawmen and knights of Pothrick. “I shall..” Ilmera lifted the graced one into her arms, giving one lasting look before leaving. Her hooves clacked against the ground the faster she went, her feet not of normal human descent. The Vilreth species always seemed to vary, the graced one surrounded herself around such a precious species, as they were the most safe. Perhaps it was foolish to expect that it would go more smoothly than this, they were not creatures made for war. And this was certainly a declaration of it. “Seargant!” An older man with brewing rage on top of his already sour mood had given the man just enough to know who had come to complain. “You had her right in your hand! What is the meaning of this!”

He only nodded towards the Vilreths behind the old man, looking over his shoulder to see many of them holding bows and arrows, as well as a few staffs. “Really want to discuss this here?” His deep, welsh accent was quite the scare. The man didn’t speak much, and when he did, it was usually a bunch of threats. The old man grumbled to himself, the wrinkles on his face increasing. “...A meeting for the council will be held,” He only sighed, not knowing why he had to explain himself. “And you will be there!” Being yelled at as he made his further departure, he waved the axe as a way of goodbye without words.

Hands slamming against the table, was one of the few women in charge. Not that there were many. “The one they call The Graced One, the shining light to the Vilreths, her title spoken to the other species’ among the lands. Right around our finger, just for it to unravel in mere minutes.” Alice. Second in command, next to her father, whom she had a sour connection with. Neither of them were friendly with each other, and that was what kept the way of law in the cities the way they were. “You were in charge of the perimeter, to make sure none of those creatures were to interfere. Why weren’t you doing any of that?” The man sighed, “I can’t be everywhere at once, Alice.” She made no physical assault on the table, but her glare towards him was angry enough. “Now that you’ve let her go, you’ve declared war on us humans again. The Vilreths, Heilthors, Phiravas, hell.. even the Blessings of Worship will be alerted of this.” The commander spoke up, arm resting on the hilt of his sword. “Just those four?” A fight would have broken out already if not for Alice being here. If they wished to keep their status, no violence would ensue. “What? What about the Carotcia’s? Or the Mulereth’s and Vere’s? I didn’t even name all of them, there’s a lot that could strike down on us because you decided the chosen one of the Vilreths should die.” Alice took slow steps over to him. “Are you saying you’re on their side?” He could only smirk. “I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with each and every species of the lands ever since the barrier broke, but not even I was this stupid.” The man reached out, slowly pushing Alice back. He could hear a number of the men surrounding the table they all stood at reaching for their weapons, the blades quietly grazing against their armor and sheaths. “Your stupidity is not my choice. Banish me from the front lines if you wish, but I won’t say I told you so when you’re on the other end of the blade.”

“Illya!” Alice shouted at him, but he was already out of the door. “I’m not returning the armor either!” He yelled back. She slammed the door, groaning as she returned to the table. “...The objective doesn’t change. We find five mages, that barrier must go back up. With or without the ones strong enough we had before. We do NOT risk another war.” The commander sighed, Alice looking over at him almost immediately. “You must be at the top of your game, Jace.” He nodded, “As you wish, Alice. But are you certain this is what you wish for?” She rested her hand on Jace’s shoulder, giving him a half-assed smile that vanished just two seconds later. “I’m not about to back down because Illya is a coward.”

The Graced One. She never knew how to feel about that title. She didn’t ever want to be someone special, someone cherished and known by the majority of the lands. “Helves.” Words cast, words of entrance. Ilmera still held onto her very carefully, ensuring her grasp was in no way loose at all. Branches and vines moved on their own, her eyes peeking open. The familiar stature of the forest guardian ahead unmoving, yet never letting her eyes leave the two standing in front of her. “Guardian Ulmara.” Ilmera, a close cousin of Ulmara, spoke in a common tongue. Language of the North Forest, Scatoraci (Sk-ah-tor-ah-chee). Only the common tongue, speaking in High Scatoraci would be too much of a hassle for Ilmera. “I bring to you The Graced One, wounded and fatigued.” Ulmara lowered herself down, her tall stature a stark difference to those among the forest. “Cousin, I beg you.” Ilmera lowered the graced one down in front of Ulmara, she could hardly keep her eyes open. “I should.. Why? The lands were informed of her execution, would it not be better to let her die?” Ilmera only bowed, muttering words of Scatoraci that seemed incomprehensible, but not to Ulmara. “You would devote so much of yourself to this…. girl?” Ulmara’s green fingertips prodded at her cheek. “Cousin, you are selfless.” Ilmera said nothing, raising her head. “Return home, I will heal her.” She whacked a branch at Ilmera’s shoulder, air sucked in through her teeth at the rough hit. A barely open wound, Ilmera’s hand pressing against it.

She was hardly aware of her surroundings. The warm magic of the guardian above and beside her a nice feeling in her chest. The weak feeling in her legs was soon no more. “Tell me girl, what is your name?” In the regular tongue of English, Ulmara spoke. “Your title is precious, but I would prefer a name.” Eyes fluttering open, she stared at the guardian before saying anything. “I was not given one. They all saw my worth, and desired me to feel special.” Never given the first ounce of humanity, it seemed. “You did not think to speak up? Or have you lost all ability to, for fear they would cast you away?” She shook her head. “They wouldn’t, they would rather die than cast me away.” No pride or confidence came from those words. It was depressing. Where was the humanity in those who lived among her? “I thank you, for offering to kill me. Maybe then they’d find some of that humanity they once did, long before me.. If I was dead.” Ulmara pulled her up to her feet by her arms, lifted off of the ground for a bit before being completely set down. She kneeled down once again, trying her best to be somewhat eye level. “Your death wouldn’t benefit anyone, those who believe such are only fooling themselves.” She nodded her head towards the smoke, such big clouds of it coming from Pothrick.

“Excuse me?” A woman in a trenchcoat, a long skirt sticking out of the bottom. Illya wandered far from Pothrick, taking himself two towns over. Beilrut, close to his hometown. It was away from the city, adorned with meadows and meadows of beautiful crops and flowers. The only place that was–mostly–untouched by those without human descent. “I’m a little lost.” Her silver earrings stuck out from beneath her brown hair, tapping one red heel on the ground below. Illya didn’t say anything, sensing it from a mile away. “...I’m looking for my sister, the last time I saw her.. she said to look for her in Trelves. But I don’t know where it is.” Illya simply pointed to the left, the closest exit out of town. “But I… I’m a bit scared from all that smoke back in Pothrick. Could you escort me?” He could see it from a mile away. “You a Pulvish?” A Pulvish, someone who looked so human that the average person wouldn’t question it. Of course, Illya was not the average person. “I…” He reached for his sword, just casually resting his hand on the hilt of it. “No. I would never.”

His eyes flickered in the direction he pointed earlier. “Why don’t you take the lead? I’ll tell you the directions.” The woman took a moment, just staring at him before nodding. “Yes… of course.” From a mile away. “Just that way, where I pointed.” She obliged, taking quick steps without complaint. She didn’t say much of anything, just following his directions. At first, he nearly let his guard down. The two were nearing the outskirts of the forests, near territory that he didn’t truly recognize. “You’re quick to judge .. human.” He came to a full stop. “You’re so quick to draw your blade before you can hear me out.” The woman turned around, he didn’t notice the scissors in her hand at first. “Not all of us are dangerous.” The woman’s voice echoed, the same voice repeating the exact same sentence behind him. He immediately turned around, half-expecting her to attack him, which he did. His teeth clenched, something hard slammed against his head before he could even .

“You cannot linger here forever.” Ulmara offered her presence to the girl, but ever since Ilmera brought her here, she hadn’t left. “You give me a pleasant feeling.” She pulled at the jewelry sitting in her braided hoops of hair, one of the two. Her hair had gotten loose ever since that whole ordeal of fire. “...Your mother is a Catorcia, is she not?” Looking over her shoulder, at the mention of her mother, her first instinct was to question. But as a forest guardian who had been here longer than anyone, it was likely she knew her mother. She poked at the silver hairpiece that was wrapped around her head, the middle of it a big oval shape. “Yes.” All of her jewelry, she wore to honor her mother. “You do not reside with her, to be an heir to her status. But it makes you a Catorcia too, does it not?” Ulmara stretched out her long arm, resting her hand on the girl’s head. Turning it the other way, she caught the attention of a man in the far distance, stumbling and falling into a lake. He lost his footing. “He’s hurt.” Ulmara nodded, her hand leaving the girl’s head. “They won't hurt him if I do something.”

Vilreths were quite protective of their areas in the forest, and this was quite close. “It’s your decision.” The rational thinking in her told her to go ahead, to save the man or at the very least try to talk to him. So she stood up, looking over her shoulder with a lasting look. This could be one of the worst mistakes or one of the best. Getting involved with humans again after nearly being burned at stake by a large majority seemed foolish. “Vese.” Blue hands with pink fingertips. A Fulriva, creatures of the sea that can inhabit any body of water they wish. “Princess,” It only happened that the Fulriva trying to mend the man’s wounds was the sea princess, Kiyo. She looked over her shoulder, her wet hands sparkling with magic. “Humans are foolish, that is why they try to rid us from the lands, because they cannot handle smarter breed. But when they are at a loss, it is us who must do their dirty work.” Her Scottish accent was quite thick, the developed royal accent often seeping through. “Is he your friend, graced one?” She stepped closer, Kiyo had pushed him out of the water a bit.

Kneeling down and pushing his sopping hair aside, the knowledge of his appearance came to her. “No. But I know him.” She pulled her hand away, shaking off the wet feeling. “I thought he was going to kill me, but all he did was raise his weapon. I think he felt a little bad.” Kiyo slowly pulled herself back, resting her hands on the girls shoulder and wet hand. “He tried to kill you? Back at Pothrick?” She only shrugged, shaking her head after. “Someone shot an arrow at….” She tried her best to recall the Vilreths name, “...Alru. Then he came over, I thought he was going to kill Alru and then me, but he didn’t. Ilmera came, and took me back here in his stead.” Kiyo gasped, “Alru is still there?” She shook her head, completely unsure. “Graced one, I will alert others of this dilemma. I advise you to be cautious towards him as well.” Kiyo pointed towards the unconscious man, sinking into the water below. She watched as her tail flipped and flopped outside of the water for a few seconds before disappearing completely, taking her focus back to the unconscious man. He looked the same as before, only blood stained his armor and he was wet. She didn’t notice his beard and mustache before.

The sound of him gasping awake had gotten her to jolt back a bit, watching as he coughed up a little bit of water and reached for his wound. The blood was there, but it didn’t hurt as much as he believed. His belongings were still here, as well as his sword. “What the fuck..?” Opening his eyes to see what looked to be a forest from his position immediately confused him. He hardly remembered coming here, just barely. “You’re in the North Forest.” The sound of a woman's voice immediately got him to look towards where it was coming from, slowly sitting himself up. The Graced One. The one he spared, and the woman the council was so keen on murdering. “Did you… did you save me? Why?” She didn’t give him an answer, just staring at him. “...Okay. I’ll take that as a no.” Remembering the Pulvish from before, he immediately looked around, reaching for his sword. “Did you see a woman here? With scissors?” He stood up, trying to get a better look of his surroundings.

All she did was turn and dip her feet into the lake. She was strangely calm, while he was on high alert. “Do you speak?” She was just trying to keep an eye on him, if he did something stupid .. he’d probably die. “I just did.” He sighed, feeling very disoriented. “Well, whoever saved me, give them my thanks. I surely didn’t deserve this, considering I almost killed you… their Graced One.” She looked right at him, hands pressing against the ground. “Are you the one that calls the shots here?” Perhaps his way of speaking wasn’t exactly up to speed with those who weren’t human. “...They don’t kill someone unless you say so?” She shook her head. “Well then..” He scratched his head, this was very awkward. But the tension between him and this girl, and everyone that could have eyes on him, was quite big. Any false move, and he was asking to be killed. “Illya. That’s me.” He pointed at himself, his finger poking at his chest. His hand shifted over to her, not quite touching her, “You? What’s your name?”

She blinked, lips parting. Ulmara had suggested a name for her, all while she was making her slow recovery. “Ansa.” Illya nodded, resting his arm on his thigh. “Well.. now we know each other’s names.” He looked around. “You could’ve left me to die, told someone to kill me.. or could’ve done it yourself, you seem brave enough.” Ansa’s brows furrowed, what made him think all these things? “Brave enough?” Illya nodded. He was certainly honest, even if she didn’t think some things were very true. “You looked at me, with an axe to your friend and you didn’t even shed a tear. You didn’t even look scared, back up on that stake.” She blew out a breath through her barely parted lips, scoffing at him.

“I didn’t have anything else to do. If I cried, it wouldn’t have helped.” Maybe it was just because he was human. Everyone feared everything differently. “Maybe it was because the fire didn’t touch your skin, but–” She lifted her right foot from the water, a burn mark right on the skin. A big enough patch. “...Alright. You win.” He didn’t know whether to apologize or not. He certainly played a part, but would it make any difference to her? What would it say about him, apologizing to her? He had technically already done some treacherous things to his council, sparing someone he was particularly ordered to kill should the circumstances change that day, under any circumstances on a normal day. “Um. What?” He had been staring at her for a while now, just trying to think. He averted his gaze almost immediately. “I.. um…” He shook his head. “I’m supposed to kill you. Under any circumstances, like right now.” Ansa eyed his sword, then she eyed him. “Why won't you?” Did she even know how to fight at all? Or even defend herself with the magic she was said to harbor? “My council and comrades, I recently learned, are all cowards.. I think.” It took him that long to notice? “No, I think I knew that for a long time. But It wasn’t so easy to just leave like I did today.”

Not all humans are terrible, but most of the time, it’s always humans that are terrible. “Why?” He would ask why she was asking so many questions, but if he was in her shoes… “...When I was just fifteen, I was thrown into this life by my father. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps, but be a better soldier than he ever turned out to be…” Illya shifted his focus over to the water below, the tip of his boots tapping the surface, making it ripple. “Of course, my father had the same perspective of.. about the average person you’d see in Pothrick, and any of the other big cities. That those who weren’t human were abnormal, and those who wield such strong magic, like you, should be killed for the better of the world.. Or that the barrier should return, and separate all humans from the non.” Ansa tilted her head, lightly pressed against her shoulder. She kept quiet. Learning the perspective of a human that wasn’t so filled with hate towards others unlike them was quite the breather. “I just dealt with it of course, never really forming my own opinion. At least for a while, until I was barely, just barely convinced that people like you… were bad for the world.”

“That was the day my father died, and It took me a while to realize that maybe the world was better off without him.” Ansa never had to deal with such loss yet. Her mother was still alive, and her father a Vere, an eternal turned dragon of his own accord. But she wouldn’t say the world wasn’t better off without some people. “How come?” Illya only chuckled, “He was a disgusting dictator, I managed to put up with him because he was my father of course.. but learning that just because they are who raised you, it does not mean you have to harbor that love you are supposedly obligated to, I let myself take in just how cruel he was. To my kind and yours.” She didn’t want to ask what his father had done. She had a lingering suspicion on what, and didn’t feel like getting the details. “Then… when they grew more and more tired of your kind, they decided on seeking you out. Someone known by almost all of the lands, and your death would make them weaker. Or so they believe.” He shrugged, hardly believing that. It would only cause rage, make them stronger. And while it is certainly deserved for humans to get what they deserve, war is pointless. “I had a lingering suspicion your friends wouldn’t go down without a fight, so I didn’t check the perimeter as I was told to prevent your rescue. Because I was just so damn tired of following orders.”

“I’m in my thirties, they can’t boss me around anymore like they did when I was a child.” Ansa took a deep breath. She had to take all of that in. “They’re cowards, and if I’m a traitor to everyone there, then so be it.” Ansa looked down, then in Ulmara’s direction. “You are not alone. Humans live outside of the law too. It would not be wise to stay inside the territory of the Vilreth.” He nearly forgot. If that other Vilreth he held his axe too spotted him, it wouldn’t be very nice. “Right..” Standing up, the uncomfortable feeling of his armor deeply bothered him. “By chance, do you have any directions?” He wasn’t familiar with the forests, from being smart and staying the hell away from a home that isn’t his. “You’re wet.” He didn’t expect to see her standing up when he turned around. “Yes. I am.” He rested his hands on his hips. She didn’t have anything to help him, but she did have directions. “Two miles west, and then the rest of the way north. You will find a town, they accept outlaws.” He was thankful for her help, a smile gracing his lips. “Temporarily? I would guess?” Ansa didn’t answer. “I don’t know, I don’t go there.” It was all he could go off of, so he wouldn’t complain. “Thank you, Ansa. And… I appreciate your momentary hospitality.” He made his departure first, feeling her eyes on him until he was completely out of sight.

Two miles west, and the rest of the way north. It was a longer walk than he ever expected, taking the rest of the day and half of another until he actually spotted someplace. A colder area, closer to the mountains.

A little sign, with the name of a town bigger than he expected it to be. “Sundrop, huh?” A small shiver left him at the feel of a light breeze. “Excuse me?” The clacking of hooves coming down some steps made him think it was someone atop a horse or something similar, only to turn around and be met with a Mildre. It surprised him a bit. Those who weren’t human didn’t often linger close to the public eye, but this was a place outside the law. It did not matter, did it? “You are.. outside the law, correct?” She wore a necklace, adorned with a charm symbolizing her dedication to the Blessings of Worship. A circle with a star inside of it. She wore a cloak, her black horns poking out of her hood, her smaller ears barely doing the same. She held a book close. A nun, by the looks of it. “...Just started. Is that alright?” She looked down, nervously giggling. “Yes. Please.. come with me, we have a few residences available for refuge.” She ushered him to follow her with her hand, taking him a few feet away from where he stood to someone else. “...S’cuse me..” Turning around, with hair all the way past his back, was a man with a monocle hanging on the bridge of his nose. He looked professional enough. “We have a visitor, looking for residence..” He looked a bit old, holding a staff. A user of magic. This town seemed to be adorned with all types of people. “Right, thank you Mildred.” He held out his hand, just the one wearing a glove. “I am Reo. I keep watch of Sundrop and make sure everything is intact…” Illya shook his hand. “Just across from me and down to the left, is a house that someone just moved out of. Don’t worry.. they took all their belongings.”

Naturally, Illya reached for his cloth bag filled of Galleths to pay, only to realize the weight of it was missing. “Do not worry, you don’t need to give your Galleths. If I did not trust you, I would not let you stay.” Illya only sighed. “No.. I believe I’ve been robbed of my money. But… how come you trust me?” Reo tapped his staff on the ground with a smile. “I have been a user of magic for many and many years, and experienced much deception in that time. Don’t worry, I’ll know when someone is lying.”

Ansa held the oval-shaped coins, known as Galleths. The face of the very first Blessing of Worship rested on them, the most beautiful woman she had seen. Of course, those in cities like Pothrick used different currencies. “Ah..” A Wirtza flew to her. The little creatures often used as messengers or servants to guardians. Its little body had beautiful wings that of like a butterfly, quiet and melodic little giggles as it delivered the letter with letters made with magic embroidered into it. “Cute.” She poked the Wirtza’s cheek before taking the letter, letting it sit on her shoulder as she unraveled it.

Daughter, mine. Supposed heir to me, as Catorcia’s, we must bear witness and play part in our ceremony. This is not a choice, I am afraid. I am aware of the misfortune that has graced you, and once you touch these letters, finding me will be easy. You can choose safety and solitude in my company, but I will not force you. Though I miss you so, daughter, I want you to be safe. There, we can finally think of a name together, finally.

Bring whoever you think is right for your ceremony, daughter. Or a knight shall be appointed to you.

Ansa stared at the words for a long time, knowing she could not remain in her solitude, away from such responsibility, upset her deeply. “You are to depart?” Ilmera’s voice gave her a little fright, immediately looking behind her. “Yes.” She stood up, the Wirtza making its quick departure once she did. “To bear witness to your ceremony, then..” Ilmera took slow steps towards Ansa, resting her hands on her shoulders. “You must be brave. Protection will come to you in every angle.” Pulling her hand away, Ilmera made a rhythmic whistle. Soon enough, soft thumps against the ground got Ansa’s attention. “You have not ridden her in ages, though she waits for you.” The steed was given to her by her mother. A long mane, white hair, the color close to Ansa’s hair. “Would you like me to come?” Ansa quickly shook her head. “I will go alone.” This horse was special, connected to Ansa with much intent. It was her mothers doing, of course. “Be brave, Graced One.”

Ilmera stepped forward as Ansa mounted her steed, holding a folded cloth. “You will need it.” A cloak, just a regular white one. Unfolding it, she quickly threw it over herself and buttoned the clasp together. “You must be brave too.” She pulled the hood over her head before taking the reins of her steed and hurrying off. Two miles west, and the rest of the way north first.

“Excuse me?” Mildred came to greet her the moment she got off of her steed, stuffing a few things away in its pack. “Are you–” Looking over her shoulder, Mildred immediately recognized her. “The… the..” People either worshiped her or feared her due to her immense strength, she hated it. “Illya… is he here?” It had been roughly two days since she last spoke to him. “Ah yes, yes of course. Come with me..” Mildred stumbled with every other step until she got where Ansa was trying to go. “He’s just in here…” Mildred bowed herself, unsure of how to act properly in a woman she had only heard about, rushing off immediately after and muttering to herself. Without much question to who that was, Ansa knocked on the door just five times. And then another, after ten seconds.

“I’m coming, wait a minute will you?” He wasn’t dressed in his usual armor by the time he opened the door, just expecting it to be someone else and not Ansa on his doorstep. “Oh–” Her hair was all undone, all the way down to her feet. “Um.. did you need something?” She nodded her head, letting herself inside for want of an actual conversation and no watchful eyes. “Oh just… let yourself in, yeah.” Illya shut the door, watching as she pulled down her hood and pulled all of her hair out from beneath her cloak. “I am to bear witness and play a part in my ceremony.”

“I don’t understand.” Illya had only just started his day, his plate of breakfast still in the sink. Unwashed, for now. “My mother is a Catorcia, as am I.. by default. She warms her seat for me, and for the ceremony, I am to take responsibility of my duties and be recognized as who I am.” She looked down. “I have avoided this until it is unavoidable.” Illya took a seat at his dining table. He hadn’t gotten to fully decorate the place yet. “Why do you avoid it? The world recognizes you as a human who just.. has this abundance of power, and I have too… until just now. Would that not allow people to drift further from the want of taking your head?” That was just exactly why. But he did not get it, he was not in her position. “I will be recognized publicly as someone special, and they will want to seek out my mother too, I am sure.” With a quiet sigh, that explained enough. “...And I do not wish to be personally known by others who do not have the right.” She took just one step closer. “I am obligated to have a knight when the ceremony comes, so I have come to you.” If he wasn’t already confused before, he certainly was now.

“What? Why me? Do you not have others you know more personally in the North Forest?” Ansa’s brows furrowed, scrunching together as her upset expression slightly increased. Her hands came together, lips parting and pressing together. “I wished not to sentence someone I know to such a life. But you can decline, if you do not wish for it.” Something was telling him that being the appointed knight of such beings was a near death sentence with the way she worded it. “I do not know why I came to you. And this seems pointless now.” Illya sighed. “How soon do you have to be there?” She did not recall there being a specific time, but she assumed she had to be there within some short timeframe. “...By today.” At her answer, Illya stood up. “What have I got to lose now? Fuck it.” He headed for his bedroom, all the while Ansa stood there. Well, she got what she wanted, but what now? “Do you have a horse?” She spoke up a little, not very used to raising her voice. “Of course I do.” The rustling fabric and clanging gave her the impression he was trying to hurry his armor onto his body. “Uh.. I need a little help.” Ansa took her focus off of his half-empty glass, taking long strides over to his bedroom. Messy. “I just need help with the cloak, do you mind?” He was quick, his body already adorned with his armor. “Do you see where to put it on?” Illya handed the cloak to her, stepping in front of her to give her a better view. “Yes..”

She set the heavy fabric on his shoulders first, stepping in front of him to tie the strings of ribbon into a tightly knit bow. She tugged the hood over his head. “Thank you, it’s a chore to put it on myself.” Ansa took a few steps back, eyes roaming his figure. “What?” She didn’t say anything yet, just.. looking at him. “You have the look of a knight.” He hoped so, he had played the part for years already. “Well that's good, at least..” He watched as she took her leave out of the bedroom, hair flowing gracefully behind her.

A castle, so far from everything else. A castle high up, atop a mountain. It was rather cold, snow decorating the lands they traveled. A rather long bridge connecting it to the rest of the land. “Rather magnificent.” Ansa looked over her shoulder, the wind blowing her hair in a magnificent way. “Your mother lives here?” She nodded, eyes drifting back towards the direction of the castle before turning her head. “We shouldn’t keep the missus waiting, then.”

Dressed in a beautiful white dress, the sleeves long and flowy. A fabric thicker than her dress rested on her head, adorned with a beautiful, silver headpiece on top of her head. Another was pressed against her forehead beneath the fabric, wrapped around her head. Servants she was unfamiliar with had brushed her hair and slicked it back enough to tuck behind her veil. “We welcome you, dear one.” She stood in a dim and large hall, a bead of sweat sliding down her neck. Six women, along with her mother, stood in the room. Her mother stood in front of her, hair braided and longer. They looked so similar, her mothers youth had hardly left her. “From me, and down the line, all Catorcia’s will grace you with our blessing, as we all have received before.” She wore a silver dress which did not cover her shoulders, a thin cape on her shoulders doing the job. Her small and thin bracelets slid down to her elbow as she pressed her hands on each side of Ansa’s head, foreheads pressed against one another.

A sparkling surge of magic, though faint. Her mother’s blessing. Next came The Carian One, the Catorcia your mother often spoke about, bonded with a Wiltza on their shoulder. “Don’t worry. Your responsibilities will never be a burden.” They lifted the Wiltza off their shoulder. “I share this blessing with my Wiltza, and now we can offer it to you.” The Carian One took Ansa’s hands, their Wiltza lying themself in between the both of theirs. As The Carian One closed their eyes, a cold feeling inside Ansa’s chest had eventually come. “Should you have any trouble with my blessing, come to me. We’ll help you out.” Their Wiltza climbed back onto their shoulders, Ansa’s eyes lingering on the cute thing until the other Catorcia came over.

It was a boring process, and one which angered her. “And now, with her appointed knight, the ceremony will soon conclude.” The opening doors echoed around the large hall. Ansa sat, ever so slightly hunched in this unfamiliar wooden throne. Armor different than before, more comfortable looking and fitting to his body. Most of it black, adorned with beautiful and golden designs along the plates. A cloak with fur rested on his shoulders. She looked irritated. “Illya, appointed knight of The Graced One.” Illya made quiet strides down towards the throne Ansa sat on. When he was close enough, he kneeled. “…I am to be your appointed, and sworn knight. Your protection and safety is my priority, no fatal harm shall come to you, I swear it.” He surely had rehearsed this, the first sentence seemed good enough to her. “Thank you.” Illya raised his head, giving a smile to her. He thought this was all ridiculous, just as she did.

“You looked upset, back in there.” He didn’t want to follow her around either, but as long as they were here.. he was supposed to play the part. “I did not want this.” He took his sheathed sword off of his belt, setting the thing against the wall. “I’m aware, but I didn’t expect to see it so clearly, in front of everyone.” She was honest, it was expected. But he did hope seeing her mother again was going as she hoped. “…Did you at least get to speak with your mother?” On the way here, Ansa spoke of wanting to spend the time she had lost with her mother. Until the actual ceremony, of course. “I’m becoming stronger. These blessings gave me strength I do not wish for.” Ansa pressed her hand against her chest, squeezing at the fabric. The same upset face from earlier, she despised this, absolutely hated it. “It will make me more sought after, many more will want to kill me. I do not want strength, I want to be alone. I want to be normal.”

It felt even more humiliating, doused in all of these extravagant fabrics and jewelry. “I want to go back home, to be left to do nothing for the rest of my life.” Illya took a step closer. “It’s just for the rest of the day, right?” Ansa rose her head, her breathing heavy, a little bit faster than normal. “…Yes.” Her hand drifted back down to her side, her eyes stinging. Every time she could not cry, that familiar sting came instead. “The sun sets in a few hours from now. Why don’t we head outside? I can tell you won't be able to stand another minute here.” It wouldn’t be nice to just leave, but if she stepped outside for just a moment.. maybe she’d find this day more bearable. “Alright…” She turned around, pulling at the cloak she had been wearing earlier and throwing it over her shoulders.

“Come on, I’ll find us someplace.” She already hated the tighter feeling of the dress around her body. The fabrics she wore were mostly loose around the figure, never used to something like this.

Illya took her near the outskirts of the castle, standing at the bridge. Their steeds weren’t here, they couldn’t leave even if they wanted to, not yet. “Ever smoke before?” Illya offered an herbal cigarette, the only kind that was still out there. At least for those outside of the law. “I don’t see the point in it.” Illya smirked, putting the cigarette between his lips. “Fair enough.. I had my fair share of people who don’t.” He reached in his pocket, taking out a handful of wrapped candies. “Here, they’re safe to eat.” Ansa carefully observed her options, taking a candy full of red and green stripes. “How do you have these?” He stuck the rest back in his pocket, “I always come prepared.” In the other, he took out his handy lighter.

She didn’t eat the candy, just letting it warm up in her closed hand. “Right…” This wasn’t really helping as much as she thought it would. She folded her arms right on the edge, resting her head on top of it. “It’ll be over soon. It only feels agonizing because you’re constantly waiting.” She lifted her head a bit to look in his direction. “I’ve waited for countless things more times than I can count. And I’ve come to realize.. the less focused I am on time, the faster the day passes.” Illya tugged her hood over her head, finally lighting his cigarette right after. “I could be at home, doing nothing but sleeping. But I am in an agonizing dress that is too tight for me to feel comfortable in, my hair is pulled back too far, and this headpiece is heavy and my head is pounding..” He was expecting her to yell, but her anger was quite calmer than he thought. “Have you ever heard of screaming? Something to get all the weight off your shoulders?”

Ansa pressed her hands into the cold snow that had coated the surface of the stone railing, pushing herself back up. “That sounds foolish.” Illya let out a laugh. “It’s only a suggestion. But eventually, you won't be able to keep your anger at bay like this. Keeping as calm as you are will only last a little while.”

“I’m furious.” She stared ahead, eyes then shifting to the ground below. “I’m uncomfortable, I’m confused. I’m absolutely upset..” This was not the life she wanted. “I did not choose this, but I must bear this weight anyway. Because I was born.” Illya rested his hand on her back. “Don’t beat yourself up. You won’t stay here forever, right? And if your friends in the North Forest were able to do that much back at Pothrick, I don’t doubt they’ll do worse if someone comes for your head again.” Protection will come to you in every angle. “…The lands are familiar of me. And every soul knew of my execution that was to happen.” She raised her head, the tickling cold touch of snowflakes touching her cheeks a small comfort. Along with Illya’s hand on her back. “And more often than not, one of those souls wants me dead.” Illya turned her to face him, hands pressed against her shoulders. “I’m your knight. For the most part, right?” There wasn’t any way he was starting to take it seriously now, right? “I know we agreed this was just to get things over with, but I can’t completely neglect this.”

“I kept you from death’s hand before, I can do it again.” Ansa raised a brow, “You kept me from death’s hand?” He didn’t exactly think it through. “I was just… trying to cheer you up.” She shook her head, understanding what he meant. “I understand. But I do not wish you to push yourself, or to force yourself to do anything for my sake.” He seemed to be one of the very few people with their humanity and sense when it came to her. “I want you to live for yourself. Everyone here.. they lose their humanity, all for the sake of me.” He nodded, understanding just what she was trying to ask him. “I’m not that insane, but I will try my best to keep you from anyone who wants to take your head.” Her hands moved behind her back, trying her best to remain as comfortable as she even could. “I can defend myself just fine.” Illya didn’t say anything, just raising a brow. His hands rested on his hips. “The fire..” She clearly didn’t do anything when she was burning at the stake on purpose. “I knew… I knew the Vilreths would come. So I chose not to try and save myself.”

Ansa looked down, pressing her lips together. “…I chose not to do anything.” Illya’s subtle smile faded, blowing out smoke away from her direction. The gentle wind blew it further. Ansa never felt true gratitude in people wanting to keep her safe, as far as he had seen at least. It only seemed to make her more upset. “And what if they never came?” It was obvious, but he wanted to hear what she had to say. “Then I wouldn’t be here, right? Burnt to nothing but ash.” Was it just because today wasn’t going as planned? Or did she always feel this way? “That day, is it what you wanted?” Her hand pressed against her chest, the other resting on top. “Does it matter? I’m here now, aren’t I? It doesn’t matter…” He was finding that he didn’t really like her subtle want for death, taking a step closer. In turn, she took a step back. “I don’t understand what makes me so precious, so special to the world around me that they hardly care for anything else.”

“I do not want to be special, I do not want to have a special title.” She wanted nothing more than to just be left alone. To be normal. “The Vilreths are my home, but they have lost their humanity.” She slowly blinked, trying her best not to get more upset than she already is. “I did not want them to save me. It is only a matter of time until they begin to think twice, to realize how many have died for me.” A death sentence, that is what this is. “It would be better for me to die.” Illya shook his head. He didn’t believe that. But how would he be able to differentiate himself from those without their dignity who wanted her to live and himself? “That’s not true. You of all people deserve to live.” She tugged at her sleeves, trying to make the fabric less tight and constricting. “Because they dared to save me, I have brought the risk of war to the world again. Everyone will be themselves again if I am dead.”

Illya reached out, poking his finger against her head and nudging it back a bit. It threw her off, a look of instant confusion towards him. “You’re tired of everyone being the way they are because of you, right?” She didn’t give him an answer, but he was right. “It doesn’t mean you have to die to cease all of this. You’re the strongest voice out there, they’ll listen to you if you tell them.” She rubbed at the spot his finger poked, her hands drifting back down to her sides. “They’re doing this because of you. It’s not your fault, yes, but they’ll listen if you tell them to stop, right?” Would it really be that easy? “I prefer not to wander the lands, it’s a death wish.” He reached out to poke her forehead, but the look she gave him had gotten him to stop, pressing his hand atop her head instead. “Not with me around.” Her brows furrowed, fingers curling around his arm and removing his hand from her head. “There’s a high possibility it’ll work, and a high possibility it won't. But this grief you feel.. it’ll only grow bigger, the more you let yourself sit in it.” Ansa blinked multiple times, eyes drifting down to her feet. “It’s not that easy.”

For years, she felt this guilt, this grief. For as long as she remained important and had a significant place in the world, he would guess. “Believe me, I know how difficult it is, to pull myself out of a place that filled me with such negativity. It felt comfortable, familiar. What was the point in trying, right?” Seeing how he is now, it worked for him at least. But who was to say it would work with her? “It’s nice, that you’ve managed to find the light at the end of your tunnel. But you and I are clearly not the same.” Illya took a deep breath. “Yeah.. I’m human, you’re not. But… we’re friends aren’t we?” Ansa looked back up. “We’re friends?” At the question, Illya let out a noise of confusion. “Well you… you brought me all the way here didn’t you?”

“That’s because you wanted to. After I asked you.” She had a point, Illya gave a long sigh in response. “Right…” He blew out some smoke one more time before taking out the cigarette and flicking it over the stone bridge. “Do you want to be friends?”

“That’s still yet to be decided. I’m always on my guard.” He had taken his sword with him, but he wasn’t going to raise his blade against her unless it was necessary. “You think I’m still trying to kill you or something?” She crossed her arms, trying to mirror the way he did it. “I don’t know, are you?” The slight attitude from her got him to laugh. “Graced One!” The sound of someone unfamiliar got her attention, her arms falling back down at her sides. “You have been summoned… it is urgent.” Ansa gave a look to Illya, then back at the servant who had rushed outside to gather her. “...You should go back inside. It’s cold.” The servant quickly bowed and rushed back towards the castle.

“Daughter. You must stay here.” This wasn’t what Ansa expected, Illya too. “As a Catorcia, you must take on your responsibilities. Your duty, and running away from it will not be what I condone.” The dim lanterns in the hall did well to give the light that had been missing in the ceremony previously, the sky getting darker and the bright and gloomy sky no longer a useful enough source of light. “You condone the loss of my freedom? For a life I did not want?” Her mother stepped hard against the tile floor, a quiet warning. Yet the look on her face spoke words defiant of it. She did not wish to punish her daughter, but in the eyes of others among her kind.. “You were born a Catorcia.” The slight whoosh of air which proceeded to draw the dark curtains among the windows and blow out a few burning lanterns had drawn everyone’s attention away from Ansa.

The eerie giggles echoing and bouncing off the walls had drawn Illya closer to Ansa, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. “It’s a Stranger.” A stranger, unrecognizable beings drawn out from the recurring nightmares of humans. Beings usually with multiple lungs or tall statures. Not many of the Catorcia’s were present, only Ansa’s mother and The Carian One. “We shall make sure the castle is safe. Daughter, please make use of the magic we have given you.” Without much preparation at all, the two–actually capable–Catorcia’s rushed out to ensure the safety of the castle rather than Ansa and Illya. And once they were out of the doors, it slammed shut. The subtle banging on the thick doors gave Ansa reason enough that they were trapped outside, and that she and Illya were trapped inside the hall. “Just the two I was looking for..” No one had a clue how the Strangers managed to get in, emerging from the shadows straight ahead. One of them had many limbs, at least four tied together with barbed wire, two others resting behind their back. Bandages around their head and torso, all bloodied up. “That voice, it…” Illya muttered to himself, his grasp around his sword tightening. “I came for one head, but after the widespread news in Pothrick, I figured I’d come for two.”

Out emerged, A Vilreth, spectral skulls made of nothing but magic surrounding his upper half. His skin a bluish-gray, long silver hair with a haired tail slithering around. “You!” Ansa stepped back, keeping her eyes on the Stanger that stood close to the Vilreth. “It’s him, Ansa. He killed my father.” He wore a fitted suit, an unbloomed rose pinned to the left side. “I swore to you, on the day you were one and seven. That I’d kill you.” He flashed his perfect teeth in a sinister giggle, clasping his hands together. “It was your father’s fault…” The twisted happiness on his face shifted to anger, “He killed my wife! My beautiful wife! Slain by his blade!” Maybe if he had said that much earlier.. “...What?” The Vilreth snapped his fingers. With a giggle, the Stranger came flying after her. “Ah!” Illya swung his blade right at the Stranger, getting caught onto the barbed wire as he tried to push back the thing. “My father killed your wife? What do you mean?” It wasn’t that he wished to deny his father’s actions, he knew good and well what his father had done. “Days before our wedding day.” It didn’t help that the Vilreth was trying to explain while the two of them were trying to keep themselves from getting hurt. “Your father believed it was fun to raise his blade against my children, and my wife would never allow them to face such cruelty at the hand of a human.”

Illya kicked the Stranger back, but she was relentless. She let out a scream, her finger stretching at an absurd length, acting as some sort of noose sent straight for the both of them. “No..!” Ansa shot forward, light shooting and burning bright from her hands. Within seconds, a barrier formed around Ansa and Illya. Due to the blessings given prior, it was easy to knock the woman back. It certainly drew much strength from her, she didn’t expect to do all of that. It came from pure panic and unknown instinct. “Oh?” Today was just a complete mess, and this wasn’t making it any better. “I don’t even know who you are..” A stream of light shot at the woman, binds of light constricting her and slamming her hard into the ground. Another shot straight for the Vilreth, knocking him down but not completely knocking him unconscious as Ansa did with the woman a few feet away. “Ugh..!” He squirmed around, trying to get himself free only for the constricting binds of magic to tighten every time he tried. “I should let you suffocate and die.” Ansa stepped forward, a glance over to Illya who kept his blade pointed at the Stranger. “I am without my love, because of his father.. and you defend him?” The man laughed. “He was part of the reason why you were put on that stake to begin with!” Ansa took a deep breath. “You came to kill me, so you’re not any better.”

She gave him a rough enough kick in the side. “I’m not my father. I hated him too.” Illya spoke up, the edge of the blade pressing against the Stranger's neck when she began to stir. “You would kill me for his actions, you’ve killed him already. Is that not enough?” Illya only held resentment towards him due to his cruelty, and the vow to take his life. “Your grief drove you this far. Have you ever thought to yourself that enough is enough?” Illya took his focus off of the Stranger, taking steps towards the Vilreth. “I’ve waited for you to come back, like you swore you would all those years ago on the day you killed him. My view on you has changed so many times, and it certainly did now. You’re the only one still holding onto your hatred.” Ansa saw it from a mile away, the woman lunged Illya’s way the moment his back was turned. Another barrier was manifested, knocking her back. The man had nothing to say, not to him, not yet. “Return home, Valeria.” Letting out a growl, the woman stood back up. Slow steps back into the shadows, and she was gone. Simply by his command. “Will I have to kill you?”

The Vilreth shook his head. “Your grief will catch up to you, and your anger will eventually vanish. And I hope that means I’ll come across you another time without having to draw my blade.” It took Ansa a bit to release the binds of magic surrounding his body, allowing him to properly move and stand back up. He planned to leave, doing just that until he came to a quick stop a few feet away from the doors. “...Veltha. That was her name, my wife.” He looked over his shoulder. “Lucian. That’s mine… Luke for short.”

“Illya.” He looked over his shoulder, he took himself over to Ansa bed chambers to think in whatever silence he could give himself. “You should leave. It’s not safe here, and you know it.” She had ridden herself of her cloak and the veil atop her head. Just dressed in that uncomfortable dress, even without her headpieces. “Return home, as I cannot.” Illya took hold of her forearm, she was close enough behind him. “I can’t leave your side, you know this right?” She shook her head. “Leave, please.” Slowly, his hand drifted from her, a frown etching his way onto his lips. “What about you? You just told me how much you hate being here..” She shook her head once again, “It’s none of your concern, it never should have been. I’m sorry.” She stepped out of the way when he stood up. “The armor you came in will… be delivered to you before you leave.” He was aware they didn’t know each other that well, but the sudden coldness and her want for him to leave felt a bit strange. “...I’ll visit when I can. If you’re still here.” She would probably still be here, she didn’t think she’d ever go back home. Back to the North Forest. “I will. I’ll be here..”

That made it even more upsetting. “Not forever, I’ll make sure of it.” He didn’t really elaborate, leaving her hanging as he made his departure. That certainly wasn’t how he expected his day with her to end, but he couldn’t always get what he wanted.

“You have a visitor.” A servant whispered into her ear, remaining beside her as she sat on the same wooden throne. She was dressed all fancy today, not by choice though. It looked pretty, but she preferred something less extravagant. “Whom?” Ansa looked at the servant. It had only been a week since Illya’s departure. “A familiar face, I believe you’ll like the surprise.” She suspected Ilmera, or maybe even Kiyo, if the potions she took for going without water could last such a journey. “Ah… alright.” She pulled at her sleeves, eyeing the windows finally uncovered by curtains per her request. If she was going to be miserable, she could at the very least be able to see properly.

The large doors opened. There Illya stood, quite astonished by the castle's changes in such a short time. Ansa’s lips parted, not expecting to see him so soon. “Ansa…” He noticed her immediately, taking in the beautiful dress and accessories she had on. A beautiful blue veil, decorated with beautiful gold and a small red scarf wrapped around her head, pieced together with a small, woven rope with pretty gems and other things he couldn’t recognize from the distance hanging from it. Long and flowing red sleeves, she wore a beautiful dress. “Illya.” Her elbows pressed against the arm rests, fingers barely intertwining. “You’re back.” Illya gave a smile, moving his hands behind his back. “I wanted to see you, about something rather important.” She raised her head a bit, brows furrowing. He had a more formal way to his words too, it felt unusual to hear him speak that way. “...Our last conversation, what I had said to you before I left.” She remembered it very well, lips parting. Was he here to take her away from this place? “Yes… we shall talk in my bedchambers.” She pushed herself up from her throne, giving a look towards the servant. “If my mother asks where I am, tell her I went for a walk..” She led the way, Illya following close behind. Only when they were out of the hall did he say something. “It looks nice on you.” He caught up, walking right by her side. “Thank you. It’s heavy.” The skirt of her dress dragged along the ground, it was already hard trying to lift it so that she wouldn’t trip.

Reaching the doors to her bedchambers, she took a step in first, but leaving it ajar and standing in the way. “You have come to take me away from here, have you?” Illya swallowed, looking around before nodding his head. “Please wait, I have to change out of this.” She closed the door, pulling off everything from top to bottom first to make it easier for her. It was such a hassle putting everything on, she didn’t think it would be so easy to remove each layer and garment. “I won't take long, please be patient.” Only a minute had passed, she was trying her best to hurry and avoid any suspicion that could occur. “It’s only been a minute, don’t worry.” She stripped off the last layer of her dress, searching for the same white dress she had worn last time Illya had seen her. It wasn't the most comfortable thing, but she’d rather wear it than a heavy bunch of layers and garments. “Mm..” She took some of her hair in her hand, eyeing her door. “Illya.” He very carefully opened the door, peeking his head in before taking some steps inside. “Do you know how to braid hair?” She didn’t want to walk around with her hair loose if she did not have to. “I… vaguely do. My mother taught me how to before she passed, but I never really had to use that skill for anything.” She nodded.

“That ribbon there, I need you to wrap it around my hair while I braid it. Can you do that?” She pointed to the blue ribbon on her bed, watching as he went to fetch it. “It doesn’t have to be perfect.” She said so before he got skeptical, swooping her hair to her front and separating it into three parts with her hands. “I’ll just make sure it doesn’t look horrible on you.. Wouldn’t want to ruin your pretty hair.” She looked right at him, lips parting at his compliment. “Thank you.” Illya smiled, continuing to braid her hair.

It was calm and quiet, the feeling of his hands wrapping the ribbon around her hair, wrapping it around the little white hair tie he helped tie around the end of her braid. It helped to clear her mind. “It feels nice.” He had offered to help her with more layers, helping a coat on her body. “What?” She took her mittens when he offered them. “Your hands. They felt nice on my hair.” She took some steps toward her bed, a multitude of things scattered and thrown on top of it. Everything was so bunched together in one day at this place that she hardly had the time to be organized. She took a wide and long, blue scarf and handed it to Illya. She held her arms out a bit so he could properly wrap it around her body. It was thin, tied around her coat to press it against her body for more warmth. Ansa pressed her lips together, going to gather the boots she had first worn to come to the castle, switched out for uncomfortable heels and flats smaller than her feet. Comfortable brown boots, the blue socks on her feet helped with the cold tile. “Hm.” She looked over her shoulder, humming back at him with a confused edge to it. “..I guess one flaw humans have is that they won't always look their best no matter what they’re wearing.”

Was he trying to compliment her again? “You look the same as always.” One of her many flaws was that she didn’t know how to compliment someone, at least on purpose. “What does that mean?” She shook her head, not sure what she was trying to say. “Um.. you look nice too. Your hair looks cool, but it makes me wonder if you can actually see with how long it is.” Illya only smiled, her compliments with a side of confusion certainly fit her character. “I’ve adjusted, going a long while without scissors forced me to adapt. But don’t worry, I can see just fine.” Ansa didn’t say anything back, lips pressing together as she headed towards the door. “Don’t worry, I’ve made sure to retrieve your horse before coming to see you.” For the first time, she was actually missing her steed. The freedom of riding one was a feeling she didn’t expect to like so much until she was deprived of it without a choice. “Thank you. You’re very kind.” He was due for that compliment for a while now, she just didn’t ever feel like saying it. Until now, she was still so suspicious of him. And at times, she could be, but right now.. he felt trustworthy.

“Beezlebub.” A finger poking his cheek. “Buzzlebeeb.” He answered back. “You always know it’s me, no matter what. How do you do that?” Two close knit friends, who roam the lands every day. They can’t stay in just one place, getting attached and finding a place to call home just wasn’t their style. “Your voice, to start.” The girl pulled at his short hair, a groan at the sudden yank of her hand. He ripped her hand away from his head, turning to look at her. “What was that for?” She smiled, her shoes pattering against the stone ground as she moved her hands behind her back. “I finally got our Travelling Certificates!” Those things, especially in big cities, were hard to get. For Traveling Certificates, passing through to cities and towns wouldn’t be as hard, and no search warrants for those who didn’t have identification already registered. And these two, did not. Hilde and Alethorn, though of course, for safety, they used aliases. Alethorn’s jaw fell slack. “You did? After months of them constantly denying our certification?” With a cheeky smile, Hilde spun around, allowing herself to be happy for a little bit longer before pulling out the laminated certification papers out of her satchel. “Every time I say you’re being a pain in my ass, you come and prove me wrong.”

“I’m your best friend, I’ll always be a pain in your ass.” Her blonde hair flowed around, the gentle wind playing with each long strand. She trotted over behind him, wrapping her arms around him and resting her chin on his shoulder. She lightly tugged at his pointed ear. Alethorn’s mother was a Heilthor, while his father was a human. It was often looked down on for humans to fall in love with those who were not human, let alone procreate. His ears were slightly pointed, “thankfully” taking more of his father’s side in appearances. “I was thinking.. why don’t we venture into the South Forest today?” Alethorn looked over his shoulder, she let go the moment he turned to face her. “That’s crazy talk, and you know it. The Pulvish and Strangers linger there, as well as many other things that we don’t know of.” Hilde nodded, rolling her eyes. “The Vere we saw in the sky lingers there too, and they’re known to eat all the bad ones. If we can find it…” The two of them believed they could kill a dragon. A Vere. “Those things are strong, even in their less… stronger form. Dragon or not, we’re signing up for death.” Hilde frowned, her face falling. That Vere was the one who had lit her hometown ablaze, her sister dying in the crossfire. “I’ll do this on my own if I have to.”

Alethorn wouldn’t allow her to walk into danger all by herself. “No. We’ll go together. For Maren.” Perhaps it was a death wish, it certainly is one. For one human and one halfbreed to waltz into a battle with a Vere, but at least they were confident.

“Shh.” They waltzed far inside of the South Forest. They were mostly confused that they hadn’t seen anyone yet. Was the Vere’s territory really this large? “I hear something.” Alethorn whispered, coming to a complete stop. “Wait.” He took Hilde’s wrist, unsheathing his sword. The sight of violet smoke circling their surroundings, growing darker and darker had begun to unsettle the both of them. “I recognize it. That Vere blew the same smoke. It’s here.” The two of them stood back to back, Hilde resting her hand on the hilt of her shortsword. “Ah!” She didn’t expect it, a thundering white magic mingling with the smoke shooting straight towards the both of them. It ripped Hilde and Alethorn apart, the sound of a blade slashing and piercing against flesh that didn't feel like hers getting her on high alert.

Her arms that had come up to shield her face slowly lowered, eyes searching her surroundings until she immediately caught onto Alethorn, not even given a moment to fight back. On the floor, bleeding profusely from his chest, neck, and head. “Ale!” She shot over to him, the sound of him gargling and choking on his own blood an unpleasant sound. He couldn’t even move. “Alethorn… please..” This was a complete mistake. “Take… take it..” He barely managed to get out, using the last of his strength to press his hand against her chest.

Every Heilthor is graced with one of the longest lifespan of the lands, and magic that resided inside of their soul until willingly awakened. It wasn’t ever certain whether such magic was strong or weak, but it gave power nonetheless. “Ale..” Hilde could feel the magic inside of him, making its way into her body. His last gift to her. His lifespan, his soul, given to her. For as long as she lived, he would exist inside of her, the two intertwined and ever lasting. Though, Hilde had hardly any time to grieve. If she remained here in her grief, she would be next. “No…” She eyed his sword, the blade thing and long. Quickly, she reached for it, hands shaking beyond her control. She had to kill this Vere, or die trying. “You.. monster..” She stumbled back up, her breaths coming in heaves the angrier she got. She was trembling, the veins in her hands and arms pulsing through with how hard she held onto the sword. Soon enough, she erupted into the loudest scream she had ever given, echoing along the very trees and reaching even the furthest soul inside of the South Forest.

But that was thirty years ago. Hilde’s grief and strength had kept her alive. She became known as the human who had slaughtered a Vere out of pure strength and will. She had never spoken of Alethorn’s last gift to her to the public eye, it would make her more sought after than she already was.

Straight to the North Forest. “I didn’t think we’d get here so quickly..” The journey from the further north TO the North Forest was shorter than Illya expected, maybe he was so focused on spending his time with Ansa that he didn’t pay attention to how long it was taking. Ansa didn’t say anything. In the week she was gone, winter had taken its full effect upon the lands. The change in seasons were more drastic and sudden in the lands, often no time to prepare unless expected. She slipped off her mittens, stuffing them inside her steeds pack and taking out the little accessories she had stuffed inside days ago when first coming to visit Illya. “Thank you for coming. But you can leave now.” She took herself deeper into the forest. Illya could spot every little firefly, the little dragonflies flying close to every water source. “Is something wrong?” She said nothing, leading her horse further inside with her. He understood she was not obligated to keep him around, or want his presence, but she was acting strange. “Ansa.”

She looked over her shoulder, not wanting to face him right now. “You were once among the council of Pothrick. And with you at my side, it is a risk.” Illya didn’t understand her sudden coldness, nor the words she spoke. “What? Did something happen on the way back here?” He took a step closer, reaching out in an attempt to turn her around. “What’s wrong–” Ansa gave him a look, frustration evident on her face. A shift in the air. “...You don’t trust me anymore.” She tugged the reins of her steed closer, turning her head away from him. “You still lie under the order of the council.” He didn’t officially step down from his position, yes, but with him being away this long that should have gotten the message through, right? “Where is this coming from?”

“You told me I should speak up, so I am doing it now.” He didn’t think he was included in this. But like he said when he first spoke to her, he didn’t deserve such kindness. She was just returning the favor, but why now? “Return to who you were, and I will return to who I was. It will be as if we have never met.” He didn’t understand this, not a single bit.

An hour earlier.

“Please, can we stop?” Ansa didn’t even pull on the reins, but her steed came to a stop regardless. “Yes but–” She rested her hands on her horse's body, her head bowed low. All of the sudden, she was so upset. “What’s wrong?” She rested her head against the steed, squeezing her eyes shut. Illya took slow steps in front of her, surprised at the sight of her tears. He thought he’d never see her crack that much, never see a tear from her eyes. The emotions would come, but it was like all the tears had dried up. Until now. “What is it?” Ansa only shook her head. “It’s all catching up to me, weighing so heavily on my shoulders.” Illya only thought she meant the entire ordeal with her mother and the responsibilities she now had to bear. Nothing else.

“Is this because of what happened earlier? Were you upset about something else?” When he mentioned the moment of her tears, just barely, she faltered. Her brows scrunched together, the grasp on her reins tightening. “I don’t want to do this by force.” In just one sentence, they were drawn further apart than they ever had been. “This is what’s right for you? Pushing me away? To go back there?” She didn’t answer. “I wish you the best, but we cannot continue this.” Disregarding her warning, he took a step closer. “Why..?” Without an answer, she continued on the trail she was taking, and he didn’t think it would be best to follow her further. “Fine. As you wish.”

“Look what the cat dragged in.” Alice, hair styled into its usual curls, tied back into its usual ponytail. “Finally done hiding? Ready to work for us again?” Illya didn’t say anything, just taking steps towards Alice’s desk. His hands made a loud thud against the wood. “I’m only here because I had no further choice. Do not think I’ll be your dog again.” He hated this place. But Ansa wished for it, and like the dog he was, he obliged. “Illya.. Best not to get yourself worked up again. You know what happened last time.” There was a physical reaction at her reminder. The scars still remained from those painful hours of physical and mental torture. He took a step back after he had subtly flinched. “You’re lucky I’m a decent person, but you’ll only have so many chances of pushing my buttons until you get what’s coming to you.” He stormed out, taking himself to his old, dirty, assigned room.

The moment he shut the door, he stripped off a few layers, along with his cloak. In the cracked mirror in his area of hygiene, he lifted his shirt, getting a look at the slight bulging scar on his side. He was asking for this, he involved himself in Ansa’s life due to his own choices. Did he not expect her to shut him out? “Hey, old friend…” His screams still echoed in his mind, the most unpleasant memory of all. “I have a suspicion you’ll make some new ones.” But then again, it felt cruel no matter how he tried to think about it. If he did not go back on his own accord, Ansa would do it by force. She wanted him to go back to his cruel life, and she would go back to her life of solitude. “What changed.. Ansa?” He let his shirt fall back down, carrying himself over to his uncomfortable bed. “I guess nothing did. Maybe you were just waiting for the perfect moment.”

“You have drawn him away.” Ansa sought out Ulmara, who offered her company whenever Ansa needed it. “If they find that he has been here, then they will find me. And they will hurt everyone here, just to get to me. It is better that he is gone all together.” Ulmara had kneeled down, playing with Ansa’s hair. Her fingers unraveled the ribbon, pulled the hair tie off and pulled away each braided strand. The little project of Ansa and Illya completely undone. “But do you believe that it was right?” Ansa shook her head. “No. But I had to, to keep the North Forest safe.” Countless humans would set the forest ablaze if it meant killing Ansa. “Doing something you deeply regret will manifest your grief in many ways. It’s what my mother used to say.” Ansa looked over her shoulder, her hair completely undone. “...Sometimes the resentment you feel towards yourself from that regret, will come and get you.” She felt too tired to decipher an old saying like that. “I’m tired..” She reached for her ribbon and hair tie, holding it close to her stomach. “Goodnight, Ulmara.”

Ansa’s place of sanctuary was quite far from the lingering souls or Vilreths that could come. She liked her solitude. She was so tired that she couldn’t think straight, the long walk wasn’t helping either. “..Excuse me? Do you mind leaving? I want to sleep.” She didn’t recognize the hunched over figure, trying to open her tired eyes a bit more. She just didn’t understand why someone was waiting here, for her. “Excuse–” When she got a closer look, she immediately recognized him. Illya. He looked upset, unwilling to look her in the eye or even crack a stupid joke. “Oh..” She didn’t second guess it.

Her place of sanctuary was built in a rather big tree log, turned into some sort of tree-house, but from below. On one of the big roots, she sat a little far from him. Her fingers were barely intertwined, some fingertips pressed together and slightly swaying back and forth. “How come you haven’t left?” She didn’t understand why he wasn’t looking at her. “..I don’t know.” The rasp in his voice was unusual. Did he get sick? “Why did you run away? From your responsibilities?” Her entire body tensed, brows furrowing. “Just like you, I have a duty.” She tried her best to relax, she didn’t blame him for being angry… but this wasn’t normal. Ansa didn’t say anything, her eyes resting on what was between his index and thumb by complete mistake. Her blood ran cold. He isn’t supposed to have that.

The ring. A ring of binding and control. The Piercing Thorn, an heirloom of nothing but nightmares. “Why do you have that?” Getting that ring wasn’t something easy. It was given through nothing but evil intent in the heart of who wants it. Given. No one could just find it. “You deny yourself.” The moment he made the slightest move towards her, she froze up. “Stop it..” But very quickly, she moved back, scooting herself back enough to where her back was against the tree trunk. Maybe he’d snap out of it. “I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean what I said back there..” He moved towards her, and her eyes were so stuck on the ring in his hand that she couldn’t move. If that ring got on her finger… “We’re friends, aren't we?” Even she sounded uncertain asking that question. It was only until he was so close that she actually tried to push him away, her hands pushing his arms as roughly as her body allowed, trying to kick him away. Something in her told her to scream, as loud as she could, but her voice didn’t seem to work. The piercing feeling through her skin, flesh and right into her bone. Her jaw fell slack, eyes as wide as they could get. All that came out were noises from her throat, strangled noises and failed attempts.

Now she understood. Pulvish. “Ah…” Some sort of adrenaline or hidden strength surged through the unbearable pain soaring through her body, all of it fighting over control. With all the strength she carefully mustered, she got up, running as fast as she could even go through the trees that felt much harder to navigate through. She was so far from everyone else, how long would it take for help to come? She tripped over her feet, falling face first onto the ground. “No..” She struggled to push herself up, crawling to the closest tree. The approaching Pulvish–disguised as Illya–let her know that she was nearing her unexpected end. “I must carry out my duty.” Holding his sword too. An almost exact replica of him. It was silly, she was asking for this after waiting and waiting to see when he would crack. “No matter the circumstances.”

“Today’s a big day, Illya.” He didn’t hear anyone open his door. It had only been a day since he came back. “What is it?” He sat himself up. “Our big problem is finally gone, The Graced One is Dead!” His heart immediately dropped. “...What?” He stood up, wanting to make sure he heard that right. “Apparently, one of those creepy Pulvish did the job, and now the North Forest is in shambles because their home was breached without anyone noticing. Their Graced One is dead, and we have won again.” Disregarding the comrade he hardly cared for anyway, he picked up his pace, running as quickly as he could. She couldn’t be dead, that couldn’t have happened right? Just a day after she pushed him away, back here.. a Pulvish had come to take her life? That couldn’t be possible. “No…” He gathered his horse as quickly as he could, ignoring anyone who tried to ask where he was going. She couldn’t be dead, it had to be some sort of trick to make him give up on her, right?

Like a dog returning to its owner, knowing exactly where they would be. He hurried through, without even considering the eyes that could be on him. The stench of death came to him, and he slowed his steps. And there she was, her body propped up against a tree, blood all dried up on her dress. A stab wound, straight through her chest. He could only stand there, completely distraught. Not even words could come. She just sat there, the light out of her eyes, no longer breathing. “...Ansa?” It was all he could say.

The feeling of death was cold, numbing and painful for the most part. Then came the freezing yet burning feeling of bleeding out, and being left there to die. It was what she wanted, but not like this. Not cold and alone, for no one to find until she was already long gone. So why did it feel like she still remained in this body of hers, with her senses all deprived except the feeling of her body in the state she had left it? Like taking a seat, leaving it for a moment. It was waiting for her to come back, to take that spot again, or someone else would. “Ha..” It was all blurry for a moment, blinding at first, but the dim green of the surrounding trees soon came to her. Her fingers twitched first, then her eyes grew wider. A sharp, deep inhale. “Ansa..!” Illya rushed over to her, kneeling down. Of course, she wouldn’t die yet. The Piercing Thorn was still yet to mess with her, mind and body. “How are you….?” His hands pressed against the sides of her face, trying to get her to look at him. The gaping hole in her chest was brought to his attention. “Ul..mara..” Ulmara, the guardian of the North Forest. He didn’t know where she was, but they were usually in the center of each forest weren’t they? “Hold on..” He swept her body into his arms, sprinting and navigating through every tree he passed by. It didn’t take long, with how fast he was running. “Are you the guardian?” Seeing Ansa in his arms, Ulmara immediately kneeled herself down. “Set her here, hurry.” After immediately obliging, he stepped out of the way. This was the first time he had even come across a forest guardian. Ulmara, a Phirava turned guardian. Creatures of the forest who are often heirs or descendants to the guardians of their forest. She gasped at the ring on Ansa’s hand once she noticed it, doing her best to mend the flesh all the while trying to not overdo it and spend her energy. “..What?” Moving one hand away, her moss nails that were quite grown out pointed right at the ring. “I am sure you’ve heard of it in books, though many books about the non aren’t very spread around as they often used to be.” He kneeled at Ansa’s side, taking a closer look at the ring. “Very few races have their own ring fueled by such evil and binding control, Catorcia’s are certain to have one, but Ansa’s family carried this heirloom of evil for as long as they had existed.”

“Her father, a Vere, had crossed paths with Vaxrei.” Vaxrei, a man whose name went into history books. He harbored such evil in his soul, that he took others. He took the pure magic of others and mended it to his own evil. “To seal him away, he turned into a dragon completely, who roams the skies and often passes by wherever Ansa or her mother remain. He is deeply connected to them. Prior to his transformation.. he gave each of them a large fragment of his soul, so that they will always remain connected to him, and vice versa.” It was a bit hard for Ulmara to talk and mend flesh, but she was doing her best. “Though, Vaxrei made sure to curse Vere and his family. He used the last of himself to ensure his wrath is ever lasting… put into the ring she wears now.” The more Illya heard of Vaxrei, who he only heard of in stories told around a fire, the more disturbed he became. “It is a ring of binding, of control. Rings like that are often worn by force, or someone with a death wish,”

“In a case like this, the ring she wears can only be put on by someone else.” Ansa is strong, she has incredible magic. It would be foolish to deny that. How did a Pulvish manage to slip by? To put that ring on her finger and kill her immediately after? “It is impossible to remove, unless the one who had put it on.. takes it off. And even that is hard. And I only know because of her mother..” It was clearly hard to get rid of the ring entirely, if they were not disposed of yet. “It gives immense pain, mostly through the flesh and nerves. The entire body is battling for control between who inhabits the body and who wishes to control it, when it is put on.. It pierces through the finger, all the way to the bone.” It was no wonder. She was completely helpless. “I warn you now. If she wishes to carry on by your side, she will deteriorate.” Even Ulmara, who was keeping herself as calm as she could, had an edge of worry to her voice. “She will lose her mind, slowly but surely. And until the Pulvish who had taken such action on her is gone, these problems will persist.”

Illya reached for Ansa’s hand, completely upset by everything he just heard. “I’m nearly there. But she will need a lot more time to recover her energy, and her mental state.” She must have been terrified. “Ansa..?” She was barely awake, more than likely hearing the warning Ulmara gave him.

Beyond her control, she’d lose her mind, until the problem was gone. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be here, until you don’t want me to anymore.” He squeezed her hands. She looked so tired, so miserable. When would it end? Should he have let her rest, rather than let her feel every inch of pain that would come with this? Ansa blinked, a tear falling from her eye. He didn’t know what to say, in a situation like this, all anyone could do was try to hope for the better, while feeling so hopeless all at the same time.

“Do you feel up for it?” Ilmera came to visit Ansa, along with a multitude of other Vilreths, all of them women. Often times, many of the female Vilreths performed rituals of healing and prayer. To better the mind of whoever was hurt. It wasn’t anything very creepy, for the most part they just sat there, offering comfort and quiet words of prayer. “No..” She had been wallowing away in her misery, just feeling absolutely miserable. It took her a moment to actually want to see Illya again, but not enough to ask for him. It was hard to try and differentiate those memories. It looked so similar, so identical to him. “I know. But the longer you wait.. the harder it will get.” Ilmera spoke to her in Scatoraci, she had taught Ansa the language when she was so little. She felt proud to know Ansa was so fluent in it now when she had struggled with every other word and pronunciation.

Ansa rested her head on Ilmera’s lap, holding onto her hand. She hadn’t left Ulmara’s presence ever since Illya brought her here. The longer she waited, the more she would descend into that battle of control.

Ansa said nothing. It would only get harder. “Mm..” She flinched, her body curling up a bit. “Don’t remember if you don’t need to. Bad memories like that take time to settle comfortably in your mind.” It felt like a strike of lightning, electrocuting her. No amount of trying to resurface those memories would ever help her. Memories like that couldn’t just settle in her mind. “It looked like him..” She curled more into herself, burying her face further into Ilmera’s lap. “It?” Ansa held her breath, “The Pulvish..” She muttered, squeezing her eyes shut. She wanted to stop seeing it, but it felt impossible, eyes closed or not. “Illya. It looked like him.” It took a moment for Ilmera to remember who Illya was. “...The one who brought her here.” Ulmara spoke up, a close eye kept on Ansa for as long as she would want to remain here. “Honestly, I don’t know why you choose to remain close to him. He nearly killed you.” In return for the backhanded remark from one of the women, she was pinched. “Ow..!” Ansa raised her head, turning to lie on her back. “...I told him to leave. And… when I went home, he was waiting for me there. At least… I thought he was..” Ilmera frowned, resting her hand on Ansa’s stomach. “...I saw it. He had the ring in his hand.” The ring pricked at her skin, at her flesh and bones, with every little movement. “I never thought he’d be so angry.. to want to do that. But maybe I deserved it.” Pushing Illya away like that, making him go back to the council.. maybe a little karma was destined for her. “No matter who you are, no one deserves to wear the ring.” Ulmara took some steps away from the giant tree she always stood at. Slowly, she kneeled down in front of Ansa shortly after the women scooted away and made some space. “I could have done something, but nothing came. Not any magic, not a single scream.. not anything.”

The feeling of Ulmara’s hand felt weird in Ansa’s. Ulmara’s hand was a bit bigger and longer than hers, the moss and tiny leaves in her hands felt a little odd in a combination like this. “No one knows how bad fear is until it overwhelms them. Thousands of thoughts and a multitude of reactions, all at once.. all you can really do is sit there.” Ansa didn’t really like the feeling of being coddled, but for now, she would bear it. “I tried to stop it, the Pulvish. But… It felt so painful, I couldn’t do anything.. not after he put the ring on me.” She closed her eyes. The more she remembered that pain, the worse the ring felt around her finger. It was like she could feel every little prickling thorn, how it sat and remained pierced through to her bone. Trying to get it off would only end in ripping her entire finger off, but somehow, that felt like a much better fate. “It didn’t feel like I really died. It just felt… cold. And I couldn’t move, like my body was just waiting for me to come back.” In those moments, she had never felt so confused, so afraid and alone. As much as she could, anyway. Trying to feel anything in the state she had been in was.. hard. Like the process of death had numbed all of her senses, all of her thoughts and feelings.

“It was foolish. How long it took me to realize it wasn’t him.” She didn’t even second guess the possible anger that could have overwhelmed him enough to get that ring. “Ansa, a ring like that… it can only manifest through true evil intent, without even a second thought or an underlying want for anything else. Did you truly believe he would have wanted that?” A lot of the hope that she somehow still had before had diminished by a large percent. Ilmera could see it, straight into her eyes, the windows to her soul all wrapped up and tangled in vines. Now, thorns were starting to sprout. “I told him a lot of things before he left..” She scooted herself up a bit more, her head hanging off of Ilmera’s thigh. “Maybe he realized a lot of things about me… that I’m not all good. That I’m the reason the world is in so much chaos.” Ulmara rested her hand on Ansa’s head. “You are not the cause for the world’s travesties,” Ansa shook her head, “So many have died, even tortured. Just to find me, and put me on the stake. And even now, those among the non are willing to kill me just to put an end to it.”

She pressed her hand against her chest, the scarred flesh peeking through her clothing. Her fingers pressed against her skin, through the large metal clasp which held together the top covering her breasts. Dressed in white, dark hints of pink in the fabric. “Perhaps I should have died. To put an end to this madness..” To say such words in front of so many people, including those unaware of her ideals for death was quite insane to say. It earned a few gasps from the surrounding women. “You should not say such things..” She reached for her loose hair, Ilmera had offered to braid it into the four braid-hoops she had worn before, but she hardly felt the need to look extravagant on a day like this. “...Is he here?” Illya was still here, sitting at the lake the two had first met. Not far from here. “Of course he is. Look.” Ilmera pointed right at him, Ansa found it a bit hard to actually look at him. She had to remind himself that it wasn’t really him who had done all those things. She sat herself up, blinking a few times. “Do you want to speak to him? I could call him over.” She shook her head. “No, I’ll go to him.” Ilmera worried for her. That Pulvish was a near identical match to Illya, would it not be hard to speak to him so soon? “We’ll be here, if you need anything.”

Illya had been stuck in his mind ever since he came here. Knowing what he knew now, how was he supposed to leave Ansa’s side? “They whisper.” Looking to his right, there Ansa stood. Wearing the same dress she did on the very first day they had crossed paths. “I… what?” She nudged her head a bit over her shoulder, then back to him. “They don’t like you. But they put up with you, because of me.” He could see the scar on her skin. Ulmara had required the help of others to completely close the wound. She hadn’t practiced the magicks of healing in ages, it would take a while until she could be capable of doing this on her own. Especially with wounds as big as what Ansa was dealing with. “I don’t expect much else… I’m a human in the North Forest, not exactly my territory.” Deja vu.

“I’m sorry.” She lowered her head a bit, allowing her hair to hide some of her face away from his view. “If the council knew you were here. Then they would come, and they would kill so many. If it meant getting to me.” Her hands rested on her chest, the ring poking at her palm. “So you wanted to keep your people safe?” Wordlessly, she nodded. “...As cruel as it felt before, I understand. I wouldn’t ask you to put your people at risk just for me…” Illya stood up, resting his hand on Ansa’s shoulder. “Thank you, but you shouldn’t apologize. You’re going through enough already.” Her brows furrowed, her head raising back up. “But that doesn’t mean what I did wasn’t cruel. I.. I sent you back there, after you told me how terrible it was for you.” His other hand rested on her other shoulder, trying to get her attention. “Ansa. Don’t worry about it. I disregarded all of that, after…” He took a deep breath. He really thought she was gone for a moment, it still felt so strange to see her standing in front of him. “I thought you were dead. And I felt terrible.” To leave on terms like that, maybe he thought they’d resolve this. He didn’t expect her to die the very next day, if he had known then maybe he would have just accepted everything she had given him. “...We cannot stay here.” She turned around, looking right in Ilmera’s direction. “Why?” She didn’t elaborate yet, taking slow steps past him. She groaned, the sight of blood trickling down from the ring had given him the impression that something was happening, he just didn’t know what. “He knows.”

Ansa had no time to elaborate. She didn’t even call for her steed, just hurrying off on foot. Illya followed after her. Was she even stable enough to be roaming around outside of the North Forest? All while she was famously dead? “What’s wrong? Can you at least tell me that?” The two of them had wandered far, standing between a large gap between the cities and towns outside of the law. The hour was nearly late, and she wasn’t answering him. “I feel it. The Pulvish.” Her hand was drenched in her own blood, looking to her right to see a large group of lawmen, all carrying their own lanterns. “It isn’t very good to be out here you know.” Focusing, a stream of light came from her hands, following its movements in a trail. Her teeth clenched, trying to use her magic in this predicament and battle of control between the ring of her finger wasn’t the best mix. “Wait, who is that?” Each and every one behind the man in front, either atop a horse or traveling on foot, came to a stop. “Illya, leave.” He didn’t know what she was thinking, but she was insane if she thought he’d be leaving now. Instead, he drew his blade. The sight of it gave her inner conflict, she couldn’t be remembering something so sensitive, not now.

“It’s her! The Graced One!” In an instant, they all drew their blades. They wouldn’t hesitate to kill Ansa at the very sight of her. Illya knew she wouldn’t be able to handle all of the men at once. There were far too many for just a simple patrol, they were searching for her. Were they searching for a confirmation of sorts? To find her corpse and show it to the world?

Ansa drew out whatever magic she could muster, setting aside whatever thoughts and doubts she had before. She climbed the sloped land, all the way up the hill. She just barely stumbled over her feet, pushing herself back up the moment her hands met with the grass below. With each crash and breaking glass of the fire-lit lanterns, fire spread along the grounds more and more. “Where is he..?” She could have sworn she felt its presence. “Ah!” A piercing headache erupted in her head, her fingers pressing and clawing at her forehead. She could feel her flesh just barely tearing, blood streaming down her face. Agonizing, unbearable. Whatever else she felt, it mingled deeply with the magic resonating in her soul, corrupting it. Ansa threw whatever magic she could towards her pursuers, but it just felt like they were multiplying, unending. “Illya…!” She called to him, wiping away the blood that continued to cloud her vision. “They’re coming from everywhere! I don’t know if they planned this or…” She didn't wait for him to finish speaking, her legs giving out. “Already…?” Ansa whispered, blinking multiple times. Every inch of her body felt like it was trying to move on its own, not listening to her commands.

“Ansa!” He would have ran to her, if he wasn’t trying his best to keep multiple men away from her. The blood draining from her finger was getting worse, like it was trying to sever itself from the ring.

Unaware, a surging force erupted from Ansa, throwing back everyone in vicinity at least a few feet back. “Please….” She reached her hands out, just a couple of inches in front of her. Reaching for something. “Lend me your strength.” She called to whatever stronger being or god wished to listen. Not long after, pain surged through her entire body. All she could do was scream, though the pain was only momentary.

Little sparks and embers of her beaming magic came together, her hands reaching out. A staff formed, out of her pure will and pleas. Using it as a crutch, Ansa stood back up, covered in her own blood. Her eyes were bloodshot, even with the blood from her forehead clouding her vision. “Ansa!” Something didn’t feel right with her, Illya could see it. “Helves.” She swallowed. From the staff, her magic soared out. He could see it. In the magic filled of light, often devoid of color, traces of crimson mingled inside of it. She was losing her control. “Wait…” Illya struggled for a moment to properly get up, trying to get to her. Though, the moment she set her eyes on him, she did not fail to target him. Completely out of it, not even differentiating him from the rest of the men. “Muldris.” She waved the staff around, her attacks perfectly calculated. She ran straight for him, her staff vanishing into thin air with flying embers of her magic left in its trace.

There were too many things she shot at him for Illya to perfectly dodge and maneuver around. “Enough of this…” He didn’t want to hurt her, not on purpose, but he didn’t know what else to do. It came at the wrong time. She moved the wrong way, trying to angle his blade in a way that wouldn’t hurt her enough that would be deemed fatal. It didn’t seem that way, the blade just barely sinking into her side before he pulled away. But even that was enough to stop her, for just a moment. He kept his blade close if need be, but he immediately let go the moment she collapsed.

Ansa looked a mess, so much blood on her that it was an astonishing sight. “Ansa?” He didn’t know how many times he had said her name in under ten minutes. She was awake, but she wasn’t speaking, nor making any moves to try and hurt him. “Mm..” Her hand reached out, fingers prodding against his shoulder. Her blood coated lips parted, “You stick out… like a sore thumb.” Illya’s brows furrowed, confusion coming to him at first. “What? Ansa what are you…” Then it came to him, a brief memory from more than a decade ago, a lot longer than that.

For his birthday he was rewarded with a higher rank and more freedom than he was usually allowed in the council. Only treated in such a way because the council was his only place of shelter. At the time, anyway. Illya sat on the front steps which led to the inside of the council, at least the main building. It was time to break his fast, the graveyard watch was a miserable thing. But he didn’t feel hungry. “Hm?” A girl, roaming around with a white and gold cloak. Way to stand out. Black gloves on her hands, along with a dress of the same color. It didn’t seem like she knew her way around Pothrick. “I can’t be bothered…” He looked away, silently hoping someone else would do the job of helping someone and not him for once.

“...Excuse me?” Yet the sound of someone right behind him had let him know that he wasn’t going to have the uneventful day he planned to have. “Yes..?” The same girl. This close, he could make out her face. Pink eyes, her hair styled in a specific way that gave him the impression she was some sort of princess. “I need help. But I can’t say it here.” Illya looked around, raising a brow. “You stick out like a sore thumb. I’m pretty sure anyone will find you if you dragged me off someplace else.” She pointed towards the water fountain to the far left, no one really lingered there unless they were making a wish with their spare quarters. “...Fine.” She led the way, constantly looking over her shoulder to make sure he was following her. “Now, what is it? Did you lose your parents or something?” The girl shook her head. “I’m not that young.” Illya found it hard to believe. “Well, what’s your name?” She shook her head again. “...I don’t have a name.”

“Every person has a name, miss. You’re just being smart.” The girl looked down, taking a deep breath. “I’m connected to the Blessings of Worship.” They didn’t often suspect those who were children or appeared as such, but those who weren’t human didn’t often wander into cities like Pothrick unless specifically summoned. “You’re a… what? Catorcia? How come you’re here?” Illya had educated himself personally on the Blessings of Worship, knowing their importance and bonds with Catorcias. Their heirs, to be vague. “You’re connected.” He was immediately confused. “You’re bound to it. Alimond too.” For the girl to name his father out of the blue, he was thrown off, caught off guard. “What do you know about my father?” He stepped closer, his expression turning more serious. “My Mummy was familiar with him. She gave him a gift,” It didn’t make any sense. Just a month before his father had passed, he visited the Catorcia known as Amia, The One Reborn. He was given strength to battle against those he had lost against in battles before. Only for him to die soon after. “And I am bound to… what, exactly?” She took a step back, pointing right to the sky. “The gods of the sky, who watch us. The god, connected to the Blessings of Worship.”

Aelvor. The third god of the sky, who keeps close watch on the land. Once a Blessing of Worship, though awakened. She was rumored to have ascended to the sky, every piece of her, body and soul, spread along the lands in protection of it. Only two of those fragments have been found in the centuries that have passed. “What…?” Illya slowly rose his head up to the sky, all gloomy. The light grew brighter, like a blinking and blinding light, flashing over and over. It gave him a headache, a piercing sound shooting straight into his ears. “Agh!” Only when he looked down did he actually take into notice that the girl had vanished. Not even the slightest sound of footsteps. Looking straight down the path that led out of Pothrick, there she stood, half of her peeking out from a wall. “Wait!” The moment he picked up the pace, she hid herself, going behind the wall.

She wasn’t there when he checked, but when his boots touched the grass a bit later, taken out of Pothrick, she made her appearance. “Aelvor.” Illya’s head whipped straight in her direction. “My ancestor.” Her head was angled in a way where he couldn’t completely see her face, but he noticed the trickling blood coming from her forehead. “Amia, my mother… The One Reborn.” The girl stood up straight, her back arching inwards and her head tilting back. Her hand reached up to her forehead, fingers pressing and nudging her hood off of her head. Her hair looked different. Unstyled, a little messy. She slid the few strands of hair that acted as bangs, completely out of the way, staining her fingertips with blood. A mark on her forehead, in the shape of a bursting star. It was bleeding, it was unsure whether it was some sort of birthmark or injury, but the flesh was beginning to open up. “I am…” She didn’t look very good. Her eyes fluttered in slow blinks, eventually collapsing. Illya hurried over, unable to find any words to say in this entire situation. “Hey..” He tried shaking her, only for his hands to jolt away at the sight of blood coming from her–seemingly–uninjured neck. She looked fine a second ago, physically. The flesh on her throat was splitting open, as if an imaginary blade was sinking into her skin.

“Are you lost, child?”

“I’m not a child.” She fidgeted with her fingers, her hair spilling over her shoulders the moment she looked down. “You look rather young. Do you know what you are? Who your parents are?” The woman took some steps closer, resting her hand on the girl's back. “Amia. My father is a Vere.” The woman gasped, knowing just who she was. “That’s all I know. That’s all I can remember… I woke up on the grass, and everything hurt.” Her hand was taken by the woman, forced to follow after her. “Your mother is.. The One Reborn, and your father… he was in the fierce battle with Vaxrei, was he not?” The girl shook her head. “I don’t know. I can’t remember right now.”

“...You’re special. Very special, little girl. And the world will soon know who you are, but you must be strong, okay?” The woman kneeled in front of her. “Do you know your name?” She shook her head. “...That’s okay. That doesn’t have to be decided yet.”

“You don’t look old. What’s your name?” The woman giggled in response. “Me? I’m Ilmera.”

“Holy shit..” In an instant, that strange day had come back to him in an instant. While he still had a chance, he drew Ansa close and lifted her body into his arms, quicker than he thought he would. Just as he thought it was over, the sight of a familiar pair of Vilreths caught his eye. Ilmera took the lead, a personally crafted spear in hand. “Have we gotten here too late?” She took herself over to Illya, while the others made sure the men wouldn’t be getting back up. It was fine, for the most part. They attacked first. “Ansa, she…” Ilmera frowned, pressing her spear against the ground. She clutched it close, holding onto it as a way of comfort. “This mark… when she was younger, it was there. But over time it faded, until it was completely hidden..” Illya was unsure if he should mention that small encounter from all those years ago, did it matter? It didn’t directly involve Ilmera or her people, as far as he knew, anyway. “For it to come back… especially like this..” Ilmera pressed her hand against Ansa’s forehead, wiping away the blood as much as she could.

“I asked her about it before. She didn’t know where it came from.. but I had a suspicion it was connected to her in more ways than one, and from the magic we saw from afar…” She took Ansa’s blood drenched hand. Her expression hardened, taking a deep breath. “Did she say anything about the Pulvish who was with her before?” Illya nodded, “Yes.. just before she… lost her control.” If she was losing her control now, then time was running out faster than anyone would like it. “Very few times she has fought alongside us Vilreths before, but each time she tries to gather large amounts of magic.. It drains her energy and weakens her body to a large degree.” Even in her dreams, Ansa still struggled. Her face twitched ever so slightly, but she never woke. “I can see she wounded you.” Ilmera pointed to the wound on his cheek, a small gash, nothing serious. “If she cannot distinguish who is a friend or foe, then we are running out of time..” She turned around, watching as her comrades rid the flames from the burnt grass before it got any worse. “I would like to wait until she wakes, but she’s hurt, and Ulmara can help.” As a guardian of the North Forest, Ulmara acted as a natural omen of healing and recovery. “You should hurry, we’ll make our way back shortly.”

He brought Ansa to Ulmara as he was told, the wounds were not severe but her current state still worried him. “The churches of the Blessings of Worship are scattered around the lands. And with Ansa being a Catorcia, I would like to guess taking her to the nearest one will help her predicament with the ring.” Illya knew who she was, and how deep the connection was with Catorcias and the Blessings of Worship, but… “Would it really be that easy? The bond they have simply being enough to.. get rid of the ring?” Ulmara pressed her finger against the mark on her forehead. “Ilmera told me of this marking on her forehead. Her body is trying to regress due to the immense danger it senses its in, and that is not good. If she is lucky, she could take place in a church of her own.” Illya didn’t like the idea of that one bit. “What, you mean turn into a Blessing of Worship? To throw the rest of her life away?”

“Like Aelvor, she had broken from her captivity and ascended into godhood. It is certain she will not remain the way she is for long, but this is the safest way to rid the problem from Ansa.” The loud splashing of water behind him got Illya to turn around. “You.” Kiyo floated in the nearby lake, calling to him. “I will have a word with you. About the Graced One.” He gave another look to Ulmara before heading over with caution. “...Do I know you?” He did not recognize her, but she felt a little familiar. “I am Kiyo, the sea princess. And the one who ailed you during your night here in the forest.” His brows raised at her confession,

“Oh, my thanks..” He wasn’t sure whether to give some sort of bow or not. He knew of the sea princess, though not by appearances. “I am familiar with the Graced One, and through my quick transportation, I have a rough estimate of the Pulvish I suspect had put the ring on her finger.” She held her hand out, asking for his. “Not many of them shapeshift, only a few. But you must be wary, if the one after her can indeed do so, then they will do whatever it takes to get away. Or get through to you.” Illya set his hand in hers, the other–wet–hand resting on top of his. Bubbling magic, a way of communication. “Many Pulvish and Strangers linger in the South Forest, but you must be wary of Veres; they often seek shelter and await their prey.” Slowly, Kiyo withdrew her hands, giving Illya a big smile. “You are brave. I was right to heal your wounds.” He had never been more grateful to someone. “You don’t know how much this means. Thank you, princess.” She didn’t say anything, just sinking back beneath the surface and swimming off. He couldn’t just leave yet, it wouldn’t feel right to do that without relaying the news first.

“The sea princess… she gave me directions, information that could help.” But the issue of Ansa turning into stone to escape her fate still existed. “She may not have to-” Ansa groaned. She was trying to stay quiet, but pain waited for no one. Immediately, he was at her side. “Illya…” She shook her head, hands resting on her stomach. She looked so miserable, so weak. “It sounds much better.. to be out of this body, just for a bit longer.” But it didn’t make sense, not to him. If he found and killed this Pulvish, then the ring wouldn’t be a problem anymore, would it? “But I have directions, information… if I find him, you won’t be in pain anymore. I swear it.”

Ansa would have answered. Instead, a shiver left her lips, her body trembling with it. Her eyes squeezed shut, the pain was growing worse. He could hear it in her voice, every little groan and grunt letting him know how painful it was getting for her. More and more. “I don’t even know how… long I can handle this anymore..” Illya took her hand in his. “Which is why I must hurry.” Her eyes were a significant difference in color. The same bright fuchsia he had seen decades ago. Next thing he knew, her hair would grow lighter in its color.

“Your body is regressing, I cannot continue to debate this, Ansa. I’m sorry.” His other hand pressed against her cheek, brows knitting together. “I refuse to let you die here..” He could only whisper the words, almost sure he would have cried if he spoke the words any louder. “I’m sorry.” He leaned closer, pressing his lips against her forehead. Ansa quickly blinked twice, the feeling of his hands leaving hers giving her a greater feeling of guilt than she expected. “Illya…” Her hand stretched towards him, but she made no true move to get back up.

A death wish? He was unsure, perhaps. Marching into the territory of the Pulvish and Strangers was absolutely foolish. Illya was going in unprepared, all for a large and certain possibility that this could save Ansa and sever this cruel bond she had to the absolute monster who dared to corrupt her. Mind, body and soul. “It’s not wise to do something like this if you don’t know what you’re doing.” At the first few words, Illya had already drawn his blade to who was behind him. By the end of it, he recognized who it was, but he was still alert. Still on his guard. “Calm down, I’m not here to try and kill you. Quite the opposite of it, actually.” Lucian. “And who’s that with you?” He looked to the left of him, his companion, at least for today. “…Sulk. Welhelm.” Lucian’s companion answered himself. His hair, long and white. He looked a bit depressed, “Luke saw you, and brought me along to go with you…”

“That girl. She’s the Graced One, right?” Illya didn’t have the time to accept any sort of disrespect or cruel jokes. “I don’t have time for this.” He inched closer to Lucian, never lowering his blade. “...You’re looking for the shapeshifting one who did it, right?” His firm expression shifted to one of unexpected surprise. “How do you know that?” Luke stepped closer, Sulk remained where he was. “Word gets around. And I keep a keen eye on pricks who give an unfair battle to their opponents.” After much consideration, Illya lowered his blade, his gaze shifting between Sulk and Lucian. “So you’re looking for him too? Why? Weren’t you the one who went after Ansa’s head not too long ago?” Moving his hands behind his back, Luke smiled. “I lost that fight, not really fair… but square.” Sulk moved past the two of them. “We should hurry.” Lucian gave a nervous giggle, following after Sulk, Illya was the last to go, completely suspicious of this entire ordeal. He couldn’t afford to waste time right now, so he made sure to hurry.

“My wife…” As the three kept a quick pace, Lucian looked at Illya, remembering where they last left off in their previous encounter. “She always hated how the world was, how cruel it was to her and her people.” He still wore a suit, something a groom would wear. “She was a Vilreth, beautiful horns. I wish you could’ve seen them. They don’t often grow with more than one.” Seeing the man without his wrath felt alien to Illya, seeing him.. smile while talking about his late wife, that felt stranger. At least he wasn’t being the cruel man he was before. “Maybe it was a mercy, that she didn’t have to see how the world became. She would’ve hated how the humans put… your friend to the flames.” It took him a moment to replace Ansa’s title with a more “human-like” term. “She reminded me of Veltha. I think that’s why I spared the both of you, only partially.” Sulk came to an abrupt stop, holding out his arm. “Sh.” Illya reached for the hilt of his sword. “Look.” He whispered, slowly moving his arm towards where he was looking, pointing right at it for more precision. Was it really this easy?

“Ah!” In an instant, the Pulvish Sulk had pointed to darted right at him. In the blink of an eye, thrown back like a bull ramming straight into someone. “Sulk!” Lucian called out, crackling lightning emitting from his hands. These beings weren’t like the kinder non’s that roamed along the lands, exposing themselves to the public eye that would accept them in towns like Sundrop or kept away in their respective forests. They were creatures, manifested from evil and fueled from nightmares. They may have been kinder in the past, but they weren’t recognizable now. They turned into monsters, and they would be nothing beyond that now. “It’s quick! Be on your guard!”

“You think I don’t know that?!” The electrocuting magic kept the Pulvish at a more human pace, but it was still unnaturally quick. Illya wondered why the thing hadn’t targeted him first, considering the thing had disguised itself as him. Now it stood, a giant, mutated being. Thorns and barbed wire were pierced into its skin, sewn on flesh that certainly didn’t belong to it in multiple places. The thing clearly ate more than it could handle, blood spilling out of its mouth, still holding onto a hand that didn’t belong to him. “The thing’s a damn cannibal…” Lucian was luckily quick, zapping around at an almost identical pace of the Pulvish thanks to the electric magic he was blessed with by his mother. “Is that even the right term?” Sulk spoke up, drawing the weapon that he made sure to bring with him. “The things big, if you make it run around enough it’ll get exhausted. Then we can strike.” He looked at Illya, remembering why they came here in the first place. “...Then Illya can strike, and kill the thing.” Lucian was certainly being asked for a lot right now, he had to be sure not to burn out all of his energy if he wanted this to work. “You better watch my back then!”

With persistent dodges and coordinated movements, all three of them landed blows, but they knew who would deliver the final one. They were trying their best to spend the energy of the Pulvish, its breaths growing more heavy and guttural, a very audible sign that it wasn’t used to fighting three people at once. More used to working from the shadows, used to tricking and tormenting people. Leaving them to die alone and afraid. “Sulk!” Lucian managed to stagger the thing, but they all knew by now that it wouldn’t last long. Sulk rushed forward, sinking his blade into the Pulvish’s eye. A loud cry and a whack of its hand that threw Sulk into the nearest tree, his back slamming into it. The Pulvish threw himself around, clearly in so much pain. “It’s blinded..! We won't have a better chance than this, go!” Sulk couldn’t get himself up, urging Illya and Lucian to just go for it. Illya wasted no time, not waiting for Lucian to say anything before running straight for it. “Wait a little, will you?!” He tried to make do, doing as much as he could to try and keep the Pulvish restrained for a minute longer. Illya couldn’t care less right now, fixing his form as he ran.

Clenching his teeth, he used whatever speed and strength and energy he could muster, unleashing it onto the thing without the smallest bit of mercy. There wasn’t any room to think twice, sinking the blade into multiple places, hoping at least the tip of it punctured its heart. He hoped so, before he was thrown back hard enough against a rock, his head slamming into it and immediately falling unconscious. “Shit… did we..?” So much had just happened all at once, that neither Sulk or Lucian really said anything until the Pulvish collapsed. “He’s bleeding.” Sulk stood up, watching as Lucian speed-walked over to Illya’s unconscious form. His head was bleeding, all of it leaking and spilling onto his face. “Is he… dead?” Sulk had taken a slower pace over. He kneeled down, actually going to check by pressing two fingers against his neck. “...No. But any harder and he would have.” His skull was certainly cracked open. “But we’ll lose him if we aren’t quick.. and if you want him to live, we have to hurry.”

Ansa couldn’t stay in one place. She couldn’t stay in the North Forest. She and that Pulvish were connected, and with the pain it experienced, increased its desire to try and harbor its control over her with the time it still had. She couldn’t stay in the forest because of it, and she had a strong feeling that Illya was just going to get himself killed. She didn’t want to bear the guilt of that, not yet. Maybe when the world was changed enough and everyone had already forgotten about him, and her too.

“Kriti.” She called to the gods in the tongue she was taught, whatever god was willing to listen to her. “Gods, lend me your strength.” She stood in the Slumbering Church. The church with an empty throne, in the middle of it, sat the symbol of worship. For each and every Blessing of Worship. A circle not entirely finished, with a four pointed star in the middle. In Scatoraci, she spoke such quiet words. “This grief overwhelms me, and I cannot carry on in this heavy body anymore.” Ansa. How she wanted to call to her mother, to wish she had known the way to that big castle she lived in when she was younger and hold her so very tight. “At least… bring me back. Bring me back to when I was so confused about the world around me. Let me know how bad it will get, so I can keep the agony from plaguing me as it does now.” She kneeled at the empty, stone statue. Her legs had given out, hands coming together and her fingers intertwining. “I did not want this life. I wanted to die for as long as I have been conscious. But more than ever, right now, I want to cease from existing, to make the world forget I have ever walked the lands, and breathed the same air as them.”

Her breathing grew heavier. She was connected to these bodies of worship, who were bound to the gods above, was she not? Why could they not hear her? Why would they not listen? “Please.” She grasped at her skirt, her grasp ever so tight. “Take me away from this world. Kill me if you must, make me suffer in my last moments if that is what amuses you. But make sure I am gone, please..” In her hand too, clutched tight, was a necklace. A necklace of worship that she tucked away, but made sure she had brought it with her. With trembling hands, she clasped the thing around her neck, a tight hold back on her skirt. She couldn’t bring herself to stand back up. “Please..” Her eyes squeezed shut, the unfamiliar feeling of tears welling up and blurring her vision.

Ansa erupted in a scream, shaking her head and pulling at her hair. The piercing and prickling feeling in her finger just barely got her to calm down, gritting her teeth as blood ran down her hand. “What..” She held her right hand out, her legs shaking as she stood back up. “Again, it’s…” There was no point in waiting. She knew no amount of pleading would get her what she wanted.

She read the books, she heard every story there was to tell. To become one with the Blessings of Worship, and become one herself, she would have to give away every little bit of herself away to the world. To spread every little fragment of her soul, of magic, of blessings along the lands and offer that strength to someone who needed it more than her. “Kriti..”

“If you go fast enough, you’ll be able to catch her.” If Illya had known she’d run off anyway, he never would have been so reckless and gotten himself knocked out. An hour spent, just making sure he didn’t die. When did he become so reckless? “Don’t do anything stupid, Ansa..” He was running as fast as his body could manage, trying his best to fight the fatigue that threatened to overwhelm him. Just a mile away, he skidded to a stop at the sight of light beaming through the roof of the church. “No..” He knew what this meant. She was already going through with it, it didn’t matter what he had done. It didn’t matter to her, because she didn’t want to live anymore. Not in the body she lived in, not as the person she had become for the world. Not for anything anymore.

Ansa stood, in the church, the brightest magic her body could manage bursting from her chest. It was hard to keep herself upright, her body growing weaker and weaker. With every step, she grew closer to the throne, reaching out for it. “It’s for the greater good..” It felt like there were weights tied to her limbs, her fingertips barely touching the stone. She couldn’t find any words to say, not that they would reach anyone. No one was coming after her, certainly not Illya. He was still too busy trying to save her life. But she knew what she was doing was for the better of the world, for the better of everything and everyone.

Her hands pressed hard against the stone, trying her best to get on top of it. “I can’t let myself fail, not now…” But the moment her legs gave out, she knew ascending herself into godhood wasn’t a life meant for her. So maybe she’d just die. Maybe she wouldn’t have any better meaning to the world than she wanted to have, maybe she would always be looked down upon by the humans, and eventually the rest of the world. But it didn’t feel any different from everything the world already gave her. “You would treat me with cruelty… until the very end?” She sat just in front of the throne, her arms stretched out onto it. Her head pressed onto the edge of the throne. Each breath grew more shallow, and soon more heavier, more slower.

It all happened so fast, so quickly that Illya had only managed to get there when she began drifting off, and the bursting magic was no more. Ansa had made sure the doors were shut right, not wanting anyone to get in. “Ansa!” He was struggling to push the heavy doors open enough for him to get through. She wasn’t moving from the spot she was in, and that worried him. “Wait…” He squeezed through the gap, not having time to open the doors all the way. Stumbling steps and overwhelming fatigue, nonetheless Illya had gotten back to Ansa. She wasn’t moving, her eyes closed and her breaths so slow and faint that he could hardly tell she was breathing at all. He pulled her body into his arms, her touch lingering on the statue, as if she never wanted to part from it. “Ansa?” Illya shook Ansa’s body, her head only lolling back. She wasn’t a heavy sleeper, she never had been. “I did it all right, didn’t I? Come on, wake up…”

Ulmara had to know about this. Something about this. Ansa was with her before he left, she had to have said something about where she was going, what she was doing.

“Oh..” Ulmara and someone he didn’t recognize. A Mildre, come to visit and relay a message for the North Forest Guardian. “A friend of yours?” They held onto a thin book. “Something of the sort..” Ulmara didn’t seem very surprised. Like she was expecting this. “...Set her down here.” Always a couple feet in front of Ulmara, flowers starting to bloom in the place Ansa always laid. “She told me about this. Before you left, only me.” The present Mildre stepped to the side, not wanting to be too involved in whatever was happening. “Why didn’t you stop her? She’s not waking up because you let her–” He didn’t want to get angry, but this could’ve been prevented. She could have had a second chance, but he wasn’t sure at what. “Illya.” Ulmara gave a look to the Mildre, wanting them to step away for a moment. Soon after, Ulmara looked back at him. “...She’s always looked at the world around her with sadness. For the little time I have known her, and what has been told to me, by Ilmera.”

“Whatever was given to me, it was never good. She never saw the world in a positive light, and I doubt she saw herself in any other way than that.” Ansa wasn’t even moving, other than the slow breaths that came without issue. “When one fails to become a Blessing of Worship, they fall into a deep slumber.”

“A Catorcia, or anyone else completely capable enough, must give themselves away to the lands, to scatter every fragment of their soul, their magic, and their body… to complete, what is called, the Ritual of Hope.” The Ritual of Hope. A Catorcia; or, in the words of Ulmara, someone completely capable; throwing themselves away completely to become a symbol of hope for those who wish to worship and pray to them. To become hope, to become a blessing. “I feel Ansa wanted nothing more than to strip every part of her away, every bit that she believed was bad. But for her to fail, it meant she did not follow through.”

Ulmara fixed Ansa’s hands, placing them on her torso, one hand folded over the other. “With every talk I’ve had with her, she does nothing but feel guilty.” Ansa threw herself so deep in her feelings in emotions, with every feeling that came, it overwhelmed her to no end. “Even then, I suspect she felt guilty for leaving everything behind. And though she may have believed becoming a symbol of hope would have changed the way the world saw her, she’d be leaving so many people behind.” Directly, Ulmara looked at Illya. “Including you.” His feet slid back a bit. “..Me?” She nodded, standing back upright. “When she came home from visiting her mother, she spoke of you, how you accepted the position as her sworn knight.” Despite all of this, he couldn’t take his eyes off of the necklace she wore. She never said anything about, believing or even worshipping any of the gods, or the Blessings of Worship. “To become sworn to a Catorcia, is to be sworn to absolute pain.”

Ansa had warned him. But all he could say in response to that was that he had nothing to lose. “Did… her necklace. Did she always have that..?” He couldn’t answer Ulmara’s previous words, the guilt he felt in his chest making it hard to say anything. “...You would have to ask Ilmera. She’s the one who watched over Ansa, since they were both young.” At the exact mention of Ansa’s friend, the soft steps on the grass gave away Ilmera’s presence. That distraught look on her face.. She didn’t expect to see Ansa back like this. Maybe her being a Blessing of Worship would have been better, she wouldn’t have had to see Ansa in such a state. It only meant she had failed. “She said her mother gave it to her, that’s what she thought. She.. can’t really remember anything from her childhood.” Ilmera took slow steps over to Ansa’s unconscious form, kneeling right beside her. “As the world grew more and more terrible, and when she grew a bigger target for the humans, she lost more and more of herself.”

“I don’t think I ever got to see her be herself for long. Even when she was young.. life wasn’t the most enjoyable, because she is not human. And those who are among the non, will never have a life among peace. Not until their differences are accepted, and that probably won't be until we’re all dead and gone.”

“...Ansa always had a fascination with the Blessings of Worship. With death, in a strange way that it didn’t feel entirely uncomfortable.” Ilmera rested her hand on the side of Ansa’s face. “To turn to stone and leave the world behind. To become something that’s only seen as a symbol of hope to others, and only those who have known me before I threw everything away knowing my flaws.. It seems better.” She glanced at Illya, then looking over her shoulder towards Ulmara. “That’s what she said. And those words… stuck with me ever since.”

“She was never an entirely religious person. But sometimes I could hear her talking to herself, if I was close enough and she hadn’t seen me just yet…” There was so much about her that the world would never know. “Kriti. To call to the gods, whoever is willing to listen up there. That is what it means, and… she always says it. But she never speaks the words aloud, and I never know what she wants. What she’s begging for..” Hardly able to keep her composure, Ilmera broke out into tears. She tried her best to keep herself calm, or quiet at the very least. But her best friend lied here, and she may as well just be gone forever. It didn’t seem like there would be any difference. “She never allowed anyone in. She never… spoke of her troubles. Always, constantly saying she never wanted to burden anyone. Maybe if I had just told her to say something already, then..”

Ulmara rested her hands on Ilmera’s shoulders, trying to offer the comfort she could without being too overbearing. It took a few seconds, Ilmera sniffling and wiping her tears. “Illya.” Ulmara decided she would say the words, Ilmera clearly could not. “What..?” He hadn’t said anything in a minute. What was he supposed to say? “...To fail to become a Blessing of Worship, is to be sent into what is called the Slumber of Will. An eternal slumber… though only from will alone.”

“If she wills it, if her body wishes to wake. She will.” But Illya knew Ansa well enough to know. “...In other words, and simpler terms… she will stay asleep forever.”

The Mildre that had stepped away had decided to leave a letter of the message they wanted to relay instead of lingering in the North Forest. They had to get home, but due to often staying in more secure environments, they didn’t know how to navigate through the forests much. “What?” Something in the corner of their eye, though only in their line of sight for a second, with a blink it was gone. “Ugh..” They couldn’t let themselves get into all those scary stories they had been told about. The Stranger that stalked whoever it chose, never fully letting itself be seen. Though Strangers did exist, this one was just a trick of the mind right? It couldn’t be real. “I have to get home…”

The rustling of leaves, the quiet steps that didn’t belong to them.. It was starting to freak them out. “Screw this.” Picking up the pace, they constantly looked over their shoulder and in front of them, over and over, like whatever they were seeing was trying to play with them. By now, they were out of the North Forest by now, going West, closer to water. Where the Umelors, Mulereths, Fulrivas lingered. “Ack!” But due to not paying attention, they rammed face first into a tree, tumbling down sloped ground. As their back rammed into another tree trunk, they just laid there for a moment, trying to keep their fear from overwhelming them. But eventually, someone was bound to come across them. And someone did. “Excuse me…”

They lifted their head a bit, a Mulereth. Something more relieving, but a bit shocking. The race was often without clothes due to the way their bodies were ‘wired’, without the natural body parts that need to be covered. Like staring at a naked doll, it looked a bit weird, but not entirely… inappropriate. The wings on her back had quite the amount of feathers, unfolded and facing downwards. “Are you hurt?” They pushed themselves up, perhaps a concussion with the headache they had, but… “...Not really. I… I thought I saw a Stranger, but… It kept disappearing.” Offering her hand, with her… rather long arm, the Mildre took the Mulereth’s hand. “You have come across The Lingering Eye… it has no name, so that is one of the many titles.” Getting a closer look, the Mulereth was covered in little bits and pieces of stone, in many different places. An even closer look, her body had little cracks in a few different places, like she was made out of stone. It wasn’t uncommon for the race, but it was a bit astonishing to see up close. “It does not harm, only torments.” The Mildre kept a tight hold on her hand. “What is your name?” Their lips parted, looking around before saying anything. “Vesper,” they whispered. “What about you?” The girl's hair was pretty, a light pink with traces of blue and a pastel green. Her body seemed to have some of the same color scheme. “Come with me.” She took quick steps, leading Vesper off somewhere. The sound of splashing water was close by, who knew the forest was so large? They didn’t think they’d be able to run so quickly when they were terrified. Combined with the time they spent walking before, the North Forest was two or three miles away from here,

“Wow..” Fulriva’s were quite the multiplied race, their full number not completely counted due to the uncertainty between actual fish and Fulrivas in disguise. The first lake Vesper had caught onto, they spotted just one, yellow skin and gorgeous hair, with beautiful antennas and wings, long and beautiful yellow fins replacing her hands. “Wait.. she is a Fulriva, right?” Vesper kept their voice quiet. “...Yes. Though undeveloped. Her feet are with fins, and with legs like a human, unlike her kin.” The woman's eyes remained closed, feet sloshing in the water. The woman let go of Vesper's hand, staring at something else. “What is it?” Looking in the direction she was, Vesper spotted what looked to be an Umelor. They had never seen one in person, always wanting to.

Umelors, bodies more human like but obviously different. This specific one looked to have the appearance of a mouse. The ears, feet and tail gave it away. As well as her head shape. “She is who keeps the forest organized. She has directions, you must ask her.” In all honesty, the Umelor looked a bit stressed. “Oh.. thank you.” Vesper waved goodbye to the woman, though she did not wave back, only staring at them. “Um, excuse me.” The Umelor opened her eyes, Vesper slightly caught off guard by the few who looked to be playing around in the distance. Another Umelor, much taller by the looks of it. He was playing with children, who seemed to be a mix of Mulereths and Fulrivas, based on the wings and fins along their bodies. The tall one caught their attention the most. He was without a shirt, his body, tail(s) and feet covered in–healed–scars that looked similar to something like barbed wire. She wasn’t sure if he was something like a tiger or a bear.

His hair reached down to his back, orange pants decorated with blonde fur similar to the color of his hair covering his bottom half. He was having fun, but he sure was loud. “Yes..?” The Umelor was holding a.. broom. And while there were a few things built here and there for obvious shelter that looked a bit messy, why would anyone need to clean the grounds of a forest with a broom of all things? “I live in Tagaria. I came to deliver a message to the North Forest guardian, but I don’t know how to get back…” The woman’s lips stretched out in a frown. “Er… uhm.. My hands are a bit tied, do you think you could ask Xivor? He’s been there before, I think.” She pointed to the loud Umelor that had distracted Vesper earlier. The shirtless Umelor… really? “Okay. Thank you, miss..?” Her silver hair reached past her butt, some of it covering the left side of her face. “Mira.”

With a sigh, Vesper went over to Xivor. “...Excuse me. Mira told me to talk to you.” Looking at Vesper, Xivor’s smile quickly faded. Someone unfamiliar didn’t always sit right with him. “Mira? Why?” As serious as he looked, his hand was a bit occupied with one of the children, pressing his hand against their head. “She said you’ve been in Targaria, and I need to get there.. because I live there. And she said her hands were full, and…” Xivor took a deep breath, “...Mira told you to come to me? No one else?” As much as help would be appreciated, Vesper would much rather go by themself at this point. “You know what… I’ll just do this myself.”

With a chuckle, Xivor mumbled over to the child something Vesper couldn’t understand. A few seconds later, he headed over. “Wait a minute, I’ll help you. I just haven’t seen you… at all, in my life. So, I have to be a little wary.” Xivor poked at their horns, Vesper immediately stepping away and resting their hands over their horns. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t do that.”

“Just have to check if you’re not a danger to me or any of the children here. You know?”

Five gods. As many, five mages which had first separated the world and was a ticking time bomb for the second war ensued upon the lands. Valeth, the first god. The god who watches over the sins of the lands, and universes beyond. Culxor Enelope, the second god. She is who minds the death of the lands, said to be the one who accepts those into the afterlife, whatever that may be. Aelvor, the third god. One who watches over the lands, a Blessing of Worship, ascended into the trap known as godhood. Merimor, the fourth god. In children’s tales, he is who minds the flow of rebirth.

The fifth god, without its name and identity, is known by most. Though without its identity and a true name to call it by, many know this god as “the god who controls the flow of life”, not to be confused with Valeth or Merimor. Simply, putting the pages in the story, writing every word and controlling fate as seen fit. The most cruel god, yet seen as the most fair for those arrogant enough.

“Everyone knows how the world came to be the way it is.” On the days mankind found it was not alone, and weaker than the unfamiliar breed among them, they swore war would ensue and kept that promise. The Ecliptic War, the first world war and the most brutal. Thousands were slaughtered a century and some years ago, three years after that war, a barrier was made by the significant five mages. It separated mankind and monsters, slaughtered if they even dared to try and pass through the barrier. Those who were trapped on the other side were met with death, even if they did not mean to break such a rule. And of course, the barrier did not survive for very long. Ten years and it came crumbling down, the magic proved weak and futile.

Another war came, of course, but it was calmer than before. Regardless of that, blood was still shed. But the world learned to divide itself, to hide away and realize they were not accepted or wanted. A century and some years later, the world still remained cruel. Cruel enough to put an innocent woman on a stake and put her to the flames. For her to narrowly escape death. “After all that, and one false celebration, a week or so later.. you come to me instead of the council to let me know The Graced One has fallen?” She was still cleaning her blade. “..You’re more familiar with the world than I am. You’ve been alive longer than I, and you know how cruel it can be.” Illya eyed her necklace, shaped like a small seashell. “I’ve heard more stories about your brave victories than I can count, but this is the first time I’m meeting you. Hilde.” Hilde, in her years, had become something of a legend. Illya knew of her defiance against the corrupt, and he decided to seek her out. “...I know it was you who spared her. Word spread around that one of the strongest in the council second to the commander spared who he was to kill under any circumstances.”

Illya subtly flinched at the small reminder. If he had done what he was ordered to, so much would be different. War would have ensued, but was this not what was happening now? A war against the Vilreths? Or Ansa? “She’s a Catorcia.” The rubbing of the handkerchief against Hilde’s sword came to a stop. “You’re serious? She’s not just.. human, with a bunch of magic? Like everyone was saying?” Illya didn’t know why everyone–and him–chose to believe a silly thing like that. He sighed, nodding his head. “I befriended her, became her sworn knight, and now she is dead. Because I did not heed the warning she gave me, she is dead.”

Hilde knew that anger anywhere. “Hey. I understand how cruel it feels to lose someone close to you, I mean… that’s my whole story. But.. I don’t understand why you’ve come to me for a situation that doesn’t involve me.” Illya stepped closer. “Of course it involves you. You defy against the corrupt world, and that corrupt world was what had taken her away. I came to you because I wanted to do something about it.” He couldn’t do it himself, the council was familiar with him more than ever. The council knew everything, his weak points, just how to knock him down. “You can’t fight your battles? I have to step up and do them for you?” She stood up, sheathing her freshly shined sword. “It’s my fault!” Illya stepped back, speaking louder than he intended to. “I swore myself to her, and I know that was all the gods needed to mess everything up.”

“If I had never…. Maybe if I had just followed the order I was given..”

A set of stapled paperwork, slapped against the wooden table. Called into the meeting room with a number of his comrades. “We found a weakness to those Vilreths, and getting rid of it will weaken them..” Alice opened the folder, a rather accurate sketch of who was believed to be the said ‘weakness’. “...A girl?” Alice pointed right at her face. “They worship her, call her The Graced One. If she dies, all chaos ensues, and we win. But it won’t be easy. It won’t be easy at all.” For some reason, the girl felt familiar. Maybe it was the hair, or the way her eyes were shaped. “It could take years. But we have a clear target and the MOMENT we get an opportunity, we take her. And we kill her.” He couldn’t understand why a girl of all things would be a weak point. “Is she… evil?” If no one spoke up, he would. “I want you to stop asking questions. Now, Illya.” Alice circled around the table to where he stood. “It doesn’t matter what the fuck she is. These creatures have been a nuisance to us for a century now.”

Alice pressed her finger against his chest. “...You are to kill her, under any circumstances. No MATTER the circumstance, do you hear me?” His brows furrowed, taking a deep breath. “Yes.” His eyes shifted back to the paperwork, Alice went back to where she stood, flipping through the paperwork.

A girl, precious to the Vilreths and known to the rest of the lands. The majority of it, at least. Her hair is a very light blonde, blue eyes. No information on how she sounds. Nothing said on what she wears, most likely because it isn’t relevant. Illya just didn’t understand why killing a girl was necessary to settle the differences, differences he didn’t really care about. Why not just let the Vilreths live as they please without having to kill any of them? He suspected his entire team would die to a horn through the head before the girl was killed. He doubted the council would succeed, being this cruel only got people so far. “So we just.. have to kill a girl we know nothing about?” Sharing a room with anyone was unbearable, but he got used to it. Barely. “Illya, you got your ass told off by Alice, why are you still questioning this?”

“Because it really confuses me that we know nothing about a girl that’s… most likely human, and we have to kill her. Because, what? The Vilreths worship her?” He should have been used to bloodshed at this point, but this “mission” he was given just really confused him. “Yes, that’s exactly it. Now shut your trap… I want to sleep.”

Lying on the ground. It felt strangely comfortable. “Mm..” Blood on her forehead, a pounding headache. She had a feeling she was talking to someone, but it didn’t make sense. She didn’t understand where she was, or what was going on. “Hello..?” Ansa sat up, she took a few strands of her hair, then pulling at her cloak. “Mummy?” She called for her mother, who she felt she didn’t even know, but she has to have one, right? “Mmh…” She groaned, pushing herself up. With fidgety hands, she took herself towards the trees.

“Hello?” Everything felt unfamiliar, so scary and strange. “Hello!” A teenage girl called out, hurrying over the moment she spotted her. Her hair reached down her hips, a multitude of pretty colors mingling in her light hair. Her horn was a bit short, not fully grown. “Are you lost, child?” The girl frowned at the sight of blood on her face. She kneeled in front of Ansa, hands resting on her knees. “I’m not a child.” She fidgeted with her fingers, her hair spilling over her shoulders the moment she looked down. "You look rather young. Do you know what you are? Who your parents are?"

Being asked the question, the answer came to her easier than she thought. It was already ready for her, but all of it felt unfamiliar to say. "Amia... My father is a Vere."

The girl’s eyebrows raised, lips parting. "That's all I know. That's all I can remember... I woke up on the grass, and everything hurt." Her hand was taken by the woman, forced to follow after her. "Your mother is.. The One Reborn, and your father... he was in the fierce battle with Vaxrei, was he not?" The girl shook her head. "I don't know. I can't remember right now."

"Do you know your name?" Ansa shook her head. "...That's okay. That doesn't have to be decided yet."

“You don’t look old… what’s your name?” Giggling in response, the woman came to a slow stop. “Me? I’m Ilmera. And I think we’re going to be great friends.”

Within a few minutes, Ansa was brought to Ilmera’s “home”, which seemed to be a personally decorated tree trunk, with a hut right next to it. She was given old clothing that Ilmera used to wear when she was younger, the things she wore before taken and folded neatly just in case she wanted it back. “A wonderful birthmark you have.” The blood was cleaned off of her face, her hair properly brushed with the most soothing brush she had ever felt going through her hair. “Huh?” Ilmera sat in front of her, a smile gracing her lips as she reached for something.

A mirror, hand decorated by the looks of it. “…That’s how I look?” Stranger and stranger she got, Ilmera could only bear with it. “You’ve never seen your face?” Ansa shook her head, she didn’t recall much of anything right now. “I don’t.. remember that. I think I hit my head really bad..” Raising a brow, Ilmera handed the mirror to Ansa for her to hold as long as she wanted. “In the shape of a bursting star? Like a perfect little accident?” Maybe it wasn’t very believable, but Ansa didn’t know how that got there. “Mm..”

“Satiko. Virra.” At the strange words, Ansa raised her head. “What?” Ilmera set down the brush, fixing Ansa’s bangs. “Birthmark. Star. I thought I should speak the language of common Scatoraci to you, it will help you learn the common tongue of us Vilreths.” It sounded pretty, Ansa immediately wanted to try. “Vih… ra.” Ilmera laughed at the butchered try to pronounce it correctly. “Virra. You must roll your tongue, do you know how?” She shook her head, pressing her lips together. “Hm.. we have much to learn, you and I.”

In just a few months, Ansa’s existence grew more precious to the Vilreths. She wore the clothing that was given to her, wore the styled hair Ilmera did for her. More often than not, she roamed around the lands, wearing the same white cloak she always did, with her gloves in fear she’d touch something poisonous or slimy. Though she lived among others in the North Forest, trying her best to practice the magic she had with uncertainty on why she had it, the difference between her and everyone else was drastic if she focused on it. “Graced One, we have prepared for you…” Every other day, a plate of all the things she liked or new things for her to try, no different. “All you like, to good days.” Her brows knitted together, taking a deep breath. “…Thank you.” The two Vilreths that had come to deliver her food. One man and one woman, always the same people. “You don’t… have to bring me food. I can eat just fine.”

“Oh, but we insist, Graced One. You must eat your nutrients, and we must ensure your good health…” The female Vilreth bowed her head, the male Vilreth leaning forward. “If you die, we will be lost, Graced One.. we must ensure you do not leave us. Your presence is at most the best thing to happen to us.” To say she was disturbed would be an understatement. “But…” The woman lifted her head, the both of them waiting for her to say something. “…No. Nothing. You can leave now..” She didn’t do anything until they were far enough, eventually bringing herself to look at the plate of food. “You have to eat at some point..” Ilmera was a welcome presence. Ansa looked in her direction, some of the heavy emotions feeling lighter than usual. “..I know. But I don’t have an appetite.” Ilmera took some slow steps closer. “How about a walk? Or a horse ride?” Right now, she’d do anything to get a breath of fresh air. “I don’t want to be a burden and waste the food, they went out of their way to prepare it for me..”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll eat it if you don’t want it.” She frowned. “Really? It’s so much food.” Ilmera sat down right beside her. She didn’t like how sad Ansa looked all the time. “Like I said.. don’t worry. If a walk is what makes you feel better, go ahead. They’ll just have to deal with it.” She loved the North Forest, but she couldn’t be here right now. She didn’t want to be here at all right now, she wanted to be somewhere else. Maybe an hour or two. “Thank you..” Ansa quickly stood up, just wanting to get away as fast as she could. Maybe it wasn’t some place to call home just yet, but she had nowhere to go. She didn’t know where to go.

“Mm… mmmnhh..” As she reached the outskirts of the forest, finally getting a moment to breathe, she pulled at her hair. Ilmera had personally curled it herself, half of it straight, with big curls to make her look pretty. It made her feel foolish, like she was in a circus. “It’s all… so much..” She kneeled down when she got further away, hands coming together. As her fingers interlocked, her hands pressed hard against her chest. “Gods…” A loud roar of an unfamiliar creature stole her attention away from herself, just for a minute. “What…” A dragon. A Vere, its body about a mile long. On top of its body, white crystals sprouted, spread evenly along its long body. “Vere?” She pushed herself back up, pulling her hood over her head just in case anyone was close by.

The dragon carefully lowered itself down, its body in the shape of a spiral, its head quite close to Ansa. “…Why do you feel so familiar..?” On the center of its head, a mark in the shape of a bursting star. Ansa stood on her tippy toes, the Vere letting out a quiet sound when she tried to get closer. “You’re like me.” She reached out to the dragon, resting her hand on its snout. The color of its eyes was a bright Fuchsia. “Ah..” A beaming, tiny light, burned bright in her chest. Like a star, right in her soul. Her hand left the dragon's snout, both of them resting over her chest. The light refused to be covered, spouting its rays of light through the cracks of her fingers. “..What’s that?” Ansa tilted her body far to the left to get a look under the Vere’s long body, a beaming light shining through its skin, where she believed its heart to be. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

Standing upright, her hands drifted back down to her sides. “Daddy?” Another sound left the dragon, and soon it quickly ascended back up. She tried to reach out and touch it, but it was too high up for her to reach. “Wait!” She yelled out, jumping up a bit as she tried to touch it. “Ah—!” She stumbled back as she noticed its mouth opening, thinking she’d be burnt to a crisp. Only to see a shiny metal falling from its teeth, very carefully kept in its mouth. Ansa stepped out of the way before it could hit her on the head, staring at the thing on the ground before deciding to pick it up. “..For me?” It looked a bit too big for her to wear as it is, maybe when she’s older… “A necklace.. but..” She recognized the symbol. Ilmera had taken her to one of the churches close by on a horse ride before.

“It’s the symbol.. or emblem of worship. For the Blessings of Worship, beings people pray to, believe in, and worship.” Ansa held onto Ilmera’s hand, staring at the statue in front of her. The church was empty on this day. “What about this statue?” Ansa pointed to the symbol, right in the center. “There’s no person, only an empty chair.. but the symbol is still there.” There wasn’t a name, no letter or anything. Like it was waiting for someone to take their seat.

“This is the Slumbering Church, you know that. But.. It's called that because it's been waiting so long for its Blessing of Worship that it fell into a deep slumber.”

“Some say it’ll wake back up when one chooses to take the first step of godhood, and be among the Blessings of Worship.”

Ilmera nudged Ansa’s arm, time to go. “Want more exploring before we head back home?” Ansa smiled, following Ilmera out the church and to her steed. “Yes, please..” Ilmera was quite taller than Ansa. It was expected, Vilreths are naturally quite tall. The moment she was set onto the front of the horse, Ilmera mounted on behind her. The horse galloped in the opposite way of the North Forest. Exactly where Ansa wanted to go, she could get a better view of it this way. “Faster!” Ilmera tugged Ansa closer to her body the moment her horse picked up the pace.

Ansa leaned forward, trying to peek over the horse. Far ahead, a large shadow of a castle, close to the mountains. “Will we ever go there?” Ansa felt drawn to that castle. It looked gigantic to her, like something completely magical. “Oh.. I don’t know. No one knows how to get there, but they always try to figure out how.” Ansa leaned back, looking over her shoulder. “I want.. to go there, one day.”

“…Why?!” She called out to the dragon. It did not answer to her, only letting out another roar in response. “You’re a Vere, aren’t you?! Transform back and tell me! Who are you?!” It had to be her father, right? It wouldn’t make any sense if it wasn’t him. “No.. wait!” Quickly, the dragon made its way south, towards the mountains. Towards that giant castle. Ansa ran after it, until she realized where it was going. Skidding to a stop, she just watched. Even so, the dragon continued to roar out to her. “What is it? What are you trying to tell me..?” She took a deep breath. “You’re my father, aren’t you..?” Ansa pressed her hands against her chest, clutching the necklace close. “…I’ll keep it forever.”

Nothing that eventful really happened for a while. Not really. The dragon visited often, but not entirely too often. Like a father checking on his daughter, only her father was a dragon. At least she hoped it was her father. But whoever it was.. it was someone who kept coming back, no matter what. Never failing to return, to let her know they were still out there, still thinking of her and remembering her. “It looks beautiful on you.” Ilmera had done Ansa’s hair, pretty braids in four hoops. “Goes well with the dress too.” Dressed all nice, for no real reason really. Ansa just wanted to get off of her ass and actually look nice for a day. Despite everyone always saying she looked beautiful no matter what she wore or how she dressed.

The familiar roar in the sky, Ansa was drawn to it. She looked over her shoulder, nearly turning around. “Him again? Are you sure it's a man? What if it's a girl?” Ilmera just wanted to tease, but her smile faded the moment Ansa turned around. “Graced One…” She sat up, pointing at her eyes. “Your eyes.. they’re all blue.” First it was the mark on her forehead, then her hair, now her eyes. “What?” She didn’t feel anything, taking Ilmera’s mirror when she offered it. It was strange, her eyes a completely different color. “That’s…” In honesty, she didn’t really care about it, the dragon felt more important right now. “I.. I can’t think about that right now. I need to see if he needs to see me.” Without much time for Ilmera to protest, Ansa ran off, through the trees, down the little hills. She ran right where she thought she had heard the roaring Vere, only to see it soaring away from where it just was. “What…?”

“About time.” The voice of a woman she didn’t recognize. Ansa turned around. “Ten years, and now we finally got you…” Ginger colored hair, a high ponytail with the ends curled. By the time Ansa noticed people had been hiding away between the trees, they were already so close. “It’s time for your end… Graced One.” Strong hands took hold of her arms, and as she struggled, strong arms hooked around her own, a hard hit to her stomach to weaken her. “Don’t struggle and it’ll be easy for you.”

“How did you get your hands on magic like that?” Torturing her wouldn’t be good, only more of a reason for war, if they weren’t already risking it already. “What is your secret? Why do they obey you?” She wasn’t answering, what could they do?

“…I don’t like this.” Illya stood on the outside of the interrogation room, the door slightly ajar. “What?” Alice stood outside of the room with him, she’d only have to come in if things weren’t working out. “You’ll declare a war bigger than any of the two we had in the last century by killing her. All of the lands know of her importance, and you decide this.” Alice stepped in front of him. “Just because you weren’t in on this, doesn’t mean we’ll stop any of this for you. Your orders still remain, and anyone who tries to stop you.. will be killed. Am I understood?” Illya crossed his arms, glaring at her. “…Yes. Of course.” Alice stormed into the room, leaving the door open.

“It seems we aren’t getting anywhere, and you’ve left us with.. not much choice, Graced One.” Alice took her chin into her grasp, making Ansa look at her. “You’re going to die today, and you won't be fighting back.” The lack of reaction on her face just pissed Alice off. She let go with much force, immediately whacking her hand across Ansa’s face right after. “…Burn her alive, in front of all of Pothrick. On the stake.”

“Like what? A sacrifice?” One of the British men spoke up, the commander. “Yes, that’s exactly what she is.” Illya stood outside, unable to hide how disturbed this was making him, now that Alice was unable to criticize and judge him when he was out of her line of sight. “A sacrifice. I’m tired of having to put up with the endeavors of those Vilreths. And this will weaken them to a large extent.” Illya couldn’t keep listening to this, deciding to wait outside. “Go, set everything up. She’ll be here.. just until you’re ready.”

She didn’t have anything to remember about today. Waiting to die didn’t seem very memorable. “Stop struggling.” Tied onto the sturdy wooden stake, under the setting sun. “It’ll be over quickly if you just put up with it.” Maybe someone would come, maybe someone wouldn’t, it didn’t matter to her. This life wasn’t the very best, if it ended now… she wouldn’t be too angry. “Mmh..” The ropes were tight enough to mess with her blood circulation, it was worse with her feet and legs, like a fire already on her skin before it had started. “Spread the gasoline, quick.” The man hopped down from the wooden stool he used to tie her up, taking the gasoline for a moment and throwing it onto Ansa’s body.

A strong smell, burning her nostrils. “…This is The Graced One.” The man spoke to the large crowd that gathered around. “One of the biggest threats to us humans, the known treasure to the Vilreths…” Illya lingered in the distance, peeking around the corner. “When the sun has set and the moon comes to greet us, we’ll burn this damned witch and send a message!” Ansa’s head bowed low, her breaths heavy and shallow. “She will sit here, waiting every minute, until she is begging for death already.. but when the pain comes, she will beg for life. She will regret ever interfering with us.”

Regret. Beg. Pain. Thousands of words rang in her mind. The constant smell of gasoline and her blood circulation not being as fluid as it should be brought her great fatigue. She didn’t even notice how long it had been, dozing off a bit. The immediate feel of a strong head had gotten her to stir. “Burn!” Ansa wildly shook her head, trying to rid herself of fatigue. “You don’t deserve to be here, you beast!”

“Mmh…” Her brows furrowed, a brewing anger. How dare they be so fueled with hate, that they were capable enough to leave a woman to burn alive. Staring through her lashes, she set her sights on many of those in the crowd. “Cruel… so cruel..” The fire was spreading quicker than she thought, her eyes squeezing shut at the searing pain in her foot. “No…” Ansa shook her head, trying to let herself remain as calm as she could. This is for the greater good. She couldn’t let them get the better of her.

“Did you check the perimeter?” Illya nudged his head to the left, unable to take his eyes off of the fire ahead. “I… yes. I did..” It’s cruel, absolutely horrid. Anyone that would think to do this was no less cruel than they believed the non to be. “Good. I’ll check with everyone else, then. Good work, Illya..”

“I knew you’d get past it eventually.”

Visiting her mother was supposed to be nice. Ansa could do nothing but feel nervous. She had parted from Illya, the both of them separated into different rooms.

Knock, knock. “…Come in.” She turned around in the seat she had been waiting in. Someone was coming to dress her, weren’t they? “Daughter..?” Though, at the sound of her mothers voice, she immediately stood. Ansa hurried over, her cloak already discarded on the bed supposed to be hers. “Oh, it really is you..” Amia pulled Ansa into a gentle embrace, her hand cradling Ansa’s head. “My beautiful daughter…” She pressed a kiss to Ansa’s temple, drawing back. Tears in her eyes, her smile faded the more she took in her daughter’s features. “You had his eyes, for so long… For as long as I had you.” Her hands cradled Ansa’s face. “You have his.. beauty marks.” Amia pointed to each one.

Above her left eyebrow, under left eye; on her cheek. And right under her right eye. “His pretty lashes.. every little thing no one noticed but me.” Ansa took a step closer, just wanting to hold onto her mother. Squeezing her so very tight. “I.. I couldn’t remember anything. I can’t even… remember being with you. Not at all.” Amia rubbed her back, pressing her cheek against Ansa’s head. “..Before your father left, for the last time, he.. he warned me this would happen. That sealing himself away in his other form forever would impact both me and you.”

“Fragment of his soul, he set inside both of our hearts. The biggest piece belonging to you…” Her father loved her, Amia didn’t ever want her to forget that. “And with Vaxrei corrupting him, it would corrupt us as well. And before he could corrupt us beyond repair.. he swallowed the magic in his soul, and sealed himself away.” Amia drew back once more, wanting to look at her daughter's face just one more time. “It would corrupt your memories, to try and erase every remnant of him within you. Physically and mentally.. but he fought against it, as he continues to visit you and I, to no end.” Ansa’s brows raised, immediately remembering the precious encounter she had with that Vere. If she had just brought along the necklace… “That was him?” Amia nodded, a wide smile creeping onto her lips.

“Your father loves you so much. He.. wanted you to know that. He’ll never stop loving you, and he’ll continue to show his love for you, for as long as you live.” Amia took Ansa’s hands, looking down. “He loved the both of us, to no end.” Ansa had no recollection of her father, but she knew her mother was trying her best to keep her composure. She had lost her best friend, her husband. “He.. he was beautiful.”

“Everything about him. His love, his face.. everything he did. Absolutely beautiful.”

“No matter what you’ve done, what you wish you could have done, will fix the present.” Hilde pushed Illya back. “You can only change the future, so if you really want to do right by her, then every move you make will have to be in honor of her. Of her memory.” She spoke from deep experience. “Alethorn.. he’s the reason I’m still here, and the reason I struck down that Vere all those years ago. Everything I do is for him.” Hilde nudged her head to the left. “You best get going, if you want to make her proud.” Illya took slow steps back, nodding as he did so. “I will…” He picked up the pace, turning around and hurrying to his horse.

Quickly, he hurried onto his horse, galloping towards the North Forest. It wasn’t too far from here, but he wanted to hurry regardless.

“Woah.” He pulled on the reins, eyes drawn to what circled the North Forest from high above. Anyone that lived in the lands long enough knew who that dragon was. Belonging to the Vere who battled Vaxrei. A slow circling, his body going in a spiral, top to bottom over and over. “Right, that’s her…” Her father. Ansa’s father. Who visited the North Forest often. In search of his daughter, whom he is so connected to. “No…” Connected to her. A fragment of his soul lying in Ansa. And right now, she had never been so far from the world. Of course, her father would know. And he wouldn’t ever be happy.

Rooted in his soul, Ansa’s father let out a roar. Screeching and crying out, soaring towards the sky. Crying out for his daughter, who would never wake from her eternal slumber. The loudest a dragon has ever cried.

“It’s him..” Ilmera still remained close to Ansa’s body. She didn’t want to leave her, coming back not long after waking up today. “Oh gods, he knows…” She could do nothing but cry, shedding all the tears she could. Maybe even for Ansa, these tears coming from her very soul. No one but Ansa could reach that far. “Ansa.. he cries for you. Your father, he…” Ilmera lifted her body just a little from the ground, holding her close. “Please..” She looked to the sky, then to Ansa. “Do you truly not want this life anymore?” Her eyes squeezed shut. “Illya waits for you,” Ilmera whispered, hoping they would work. Even just a little. “He marches these lands, hoping for an impossible solution.”

“He comes every day, to do nothing but look at you. He hopes to catch your eyes as they open, as do I..” Taking a deep breath, Ilmera laid her back down, resting her hand over Ansa’s. “He is overwhelmed with his guilt, and I fear he will lose himself. Just as you had.”

“I was foolish to think otherwise..” Ilmera let out a giggle, but nothing was funny. “He is your sworn knight. He is connected to your heart, to the gods, you’ve told me so many times.. even if you could never understand it..” She watched the sky once more, trying to see if she could spot Ansa’s father once again through the leaves. “They watch over him, as he watches over you.” Gently, Ilmera’s hand rested on her cheek. “But…” There seemed to be no hope, not anymore. “…If this is really what you want, and it makes you happy..” Looking up, she was started by the—mostly—silent appearance of Ansa’s father, making his way through the trees. “Is it her you want?” Ilmera looked at Ansa, making sure she remembered every little thing. “I wouldn’t deprive that of you.”

Slowly, Ansa was lifted from the ground. Very carefully did Ilmera hand her over to the dragon. A very cautious hand-over. Regardless of how careful he tried to be, his sharp teeth drew blood from her regardless. There was nothing she could say, watching as she was so carefully taken away. It was what she deserved. To be taken someplace safe, in the arms of her father, no less.

“Ansa?” Held as gently as possible between the sharp jaws of her father. Carried away from the world. “Wait…!” Illya still wanted to say his goodbyes. “Please, just one more..” He tugged on the reins, keeping a fast pace after the dragon.

“Phae, little Phaedra..” Someone’s voice rang in her head. The most comforting voice, so quiet. She could feel a finger, stroking the bridge of her nose, trying to soothe her to sleep. “Bright shining one..” That someone was singing. Singing the sweetest lullaby. “Dawn of the morning light,” It didn’t come to her so easily, like the most precious memory pushing away the dirt she threw over it to bury it away. “I don’t think it’s working…” As much as she wanted to see who it was, she felt so comfortable. “I don’t want her to be without your memory, my love…” The warmth of that same hand pressed against her cheek, slowly and gently stroking her face. “She has to know how much you love her.” She could have gotten up, but everything felt too perfect to ruin. “She’ll always know. No matter how I appear in front of her… the only difference is that I cannot say it.”

The arms that held her tugged her closer. “No matter how much she loses herself, she won't lose this part of me. My little Phaedra.” Something soft pressed against her head. “Wherever you are, in that land of dreams you always drift off too.. I hope I’m there. I hope your mother is too, she loves you very much.” Another hand came to her, a colder hand, resting on her shoulder. Then a little kiss to her temple. “Right now.. I’m giving a part of myself to you. The biggest piece, because I love you so.” It felt like the coldest part of the sun, right in her chest. Its rays of light pierced through her eyelids, but even then she didn’t want to wake up. “No matter how cruel the word can be, know that my love for you will never change.” Strangely enough, the usual questions and sensitive feelings that would have come in a situation like this, weren’t there. Right now, she just wanted to remain here. “The both of us love you very much.. And against the cruel world who dares to hurt us and set us apart, not even that will work. We’ll always be connected, through our very hearts, our very souls.”

“The brightest light in all the lands.” The surroundings felt different, and her body felt more familiar to her. It felt so cold, she wanted to go back to that sweet memory. “The brightest soul, in such cruel lands.” It was all so bright. “Mm..” The feeling of an uncomfortable bed, hard on her back. “You don’t want to oversleep. People are waiting for you.”

Lying on her side, she stirred. Everything felt strange, even her surroundings. “Up you get.” That voice again, unchanging. Only this time she was allowing herself to question it. Because she isn’t small anymore. No longer naive, but her confusion and underlying sorrow only grew as big as the fiercest tornado, swarming inside her heart every single day. “Where are you..?” She sat up, getting her bearings. Inside a rather empty room, two windows to the right of her. A white bedside table, white bedsheets and a white blanket. Even the—white—dress she apparently wore was all white, it was giving her a bit of a headache. “Where…” She swooped her legs off the bed before standing up, treading over to the window and resting her hands on the windowsill. From outside.. a large forest of trees beyond. Below, she couldn’t see. Too bright. “Where are we?” She tugged at the unbuttoned sweater,

“…Back when I was but one and seven, my beloved often fussed over me. I was ill, my state worse than it had ever gotten in the past.” She tried her best to follow the voice, stepping out of the room to a dim hall and many other doors. Looking at the number on her door, 207. “This was the place I called home, for a selection of years. And so did you, for a week.” She had spotted the IV stand in the room she was in, but what was inside the bag attached to it was nothing but air. “I don’t remember this place.” All she got in response was a chuckle. “I don’t expect you to. No one does, not unless someone was there.” She took careful steps down the hall, quickly gathering that no one else was here but her and that voice. “What is this place?” It was quite large. The sight of empty wheelchairs gave her mixed signals. “I wouldn’t call it a hospital. People like us never really got that luxury,”

“Though we hardly had any money, and those who took care of us were often neglectful.. we dealt with it. Everyone who was there.” Finally finding a stairway, she pushed the doors open and took herself down. So many boxes and suitcases when she reached the bottom. “You were here during the war?” She recognized some of the emblems and the wax from unopened letters. “You’re a smart one.” Whoever it was sounded awfully proud of her, it made her a bit happy to hear such praise. “My beloved came here, wanting to experience it as closely to the human experience when she gave birth.” She knew well of that. Those who weren’t human couldn’t even have the proper assistance with birth, many dying during or after birth. But many were given assistance, perhaps this was the place talked about. But it didn’t last long, not even twenty years. “What did she name it? Her child.” Finally finding more windows, it only looked to be an area connected to the hospital itself. “Ah..” There, standing by the fountain outside, was more than likely the source of the voice.

“You already know.” She hurried out, struggling a bit to find the doors beforehand. It was strange, his entire figure was all white, too bright for her to properly see through. She could make out a few things. Hair, the length of it to their shoulders. Quite tall, and she felt quite short. Now that she was thinking about it, she didn’t sound the same, not what she was used to. “What do you mean?” As they stepped closer, the blinding light keeping her from recognizing him dimmed by a large percent.

Blinking, he kneeled in front of her. “But…” He rested his hand on her head, lips stretching into a big smile. “You’ve already made a name for yourself, have you?” His hair reached past his shoulders, black comfortable clothes on his body. “Yes…” Smiling, he reached a bit past her, wrapping something soft around her neck. She didn’t notice the scarf before, but.. this place wasn’t really real. Maybe that’s why she didn’t feel so eager to live. “…Ansa.” She looked down at her feet, trying to get a better look at her body. Smaller than usual, a child. About as old as she was the day she met Ilmera. Maybe this was how he wanted to see her, when she looked the most like him. “Me and your mother named you.. Phaedra. We wanted you to be the brightest light in all the lands.” His finger pressed against her torso. “Here, your soul remains. A bit lower than others..” Ansa’s small hands rested where he pointed. “It’s shaped like a star, I would like to think.” His hands ruffled her hair, shaking her head as he moved them around. “Because you stand out. You’re special, the brightest star in the universe. I wanted you to be, so it could be easy to find you.. again and again.” He tugged her close, into a big hug. It only took a decade or two to finally do that.

“I love you very much. And I’m very proud of you.” What was there to be proud of? “Why?” Rubbing her arms, he drew back. “Because you’re my daughter.” That was enough. It had to be. It always would be. “…You’ll get colder if you stay here.” Ansa looked over her shoulder. Staying here didn’t seem all that bad. “Your mother’s worried about you.” She hadn’t seen her mother in a while, “She can’t leave the castle, you know? She’s bound to it, because of the corruption Vaxrei had set on her.” Would her mother be able to handle another loss like this? “If you don’t wake up, perhaps your slumber may be eternal.”

“But..” Maybe that was what she wanted. “Maybe I just have to go. Maybe that’s what I’m meant to do.” Ansa’s father took her hands in his. “The world is absolutely cruel, and it will do whatever it can to drag you down.” She shook her head. “No, father, you don’t understand..” It was getting harder and harder not to cry. “Everything feels so heavy.. so overwhelming..” She squeezed her eyes shut, her hands coming to cover her face. “So many people, they… I don’t want this. I just want to be alone..”

“…I wanted you to have bits and pieces of me. But I never wanted you to feel the way I felt.” He rubbed at her arms, trying to soothe her and keep her from crying. “There are times where I just can’t handle the world, can’t handle myself. It makes me want to scream, to cry, or do nothing at all.” He himself was trying not to cry as well. The sight of his daughter feeling so strongly and describing something so familiar… he never wanted to give Ansa this piece of him. “There are days where guilt sits so heavily in my chest, where I feel so disgusted with myself. Where I feel terrible, and sometimes… there are days where I’m just fine. And it never goes away..”

“I was terrified to have a child at all. To give a child of mine the feelings and thoughts I feel every day… I didn’t want to curse you with that.” He pinched Ansa’s cheek. “But I’ve never been more glad to have you, my daughter.” To feel so much love from both her mother and father, it was overwhelming, but this time it didn’t feel so terrible. It made her want more, endless amounts of it. “You turned out beautiful, so kind and so good.” Her father pressed a kiss to her forehead. “To live with the people who love you, to live in peace, that is what I wanted for you. What I will always want for you. Your mother would say the same, of course.”

“It’s getting colder, and we’re running out of time, Phae.” Her brows furrowed. “Is what you truly want to sleep forever?” His hands left her, she felt a little lonelier than before. The cold feeling of loneliness grew warmer, more familiar. She had forgotten how loneliness felt for the majority of her life the moment she heard her father’s voice. “I want all the bad to stop. I want it all to.. to stop.” She didn’t cry often. Even her very tears felt alien to her. “Not all the bad will go away. Sometimes it sticks, and it will come and go. But the world will recognize your voice, your want for all the evil to come to an end.”

“They’ll listen to you. Your voice is loud, and you are the brightest star in the universe.” Ansa couldn’t bear to leave him yet. “Don’t go..” She threw herself into her fathers arms, holding onto him so tight. She knew what her mother meant now. So absolutely beautiful. “It’s not forever, Ansa. I promise.” He drew back, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. By now, she could begin to feel how cold it was getting. Goosebumps riddling along her arms. She reached out to him when he stood up, but she didn’t dare let herself hold on. “But what if I don’t ever want to go back?” One last time, her father took her hand. “I feel that way a lot. Even now, often times…” He squeezed her hand, tighter than ever before. “There has to be someone out there you still want to hold onto, right? Tighter than you would ever expect?” …Ansa could think of one. Maybe another, too. “Just one more try, okay? Then I won't be upset.. If you want to come back.” Very slowly, he let go.

He waved goodbye as he took slow strides away from her. Sniffling, Ansa waved back. It’s not forever, it wouldn’t be forever. She’d get to hold his hand again, one day.

The prickling feeling of pain in numerous places caught her off guard. The smell of blood had gotten her to look away, for just a moment. “Tell your mother, I..” Blood streaming down her hand, staining her palm. Looking back up, he was gone. “…Elias, said hello.” So many times she repeated that name in her head, a name she never wanted to forget.

“Elias…” So up high, she could feel the cold wind flowing through her. The clouds have never been so close before, so much so she believed for a second it was the afterlife. “Ah..” Raising her head a bit, the beaming light straight from her torso had gotten her attention. Where her star-shaped soul was, at least that's what he had said. She still felt so tired, not really wanting to do anything. “Father..?” She called out, a bit louder. In whatever way he could, he let out a sound to know he had heard her. He kept himself as steady as he could with her between his teeth. “I’m sorry..” It felt that if she did not do anything, this light would envelop her, and she’d vanish.

She struggled to raise her hands in the strong wind, doing her best to press her hands right where the light sprouted. Whatever she was supposed to do, it felt like it was working.

With a change of direction, Elias spiraled downward. He had planned to deliver Ansa to her mother, to give her a moment to grieve, if that moment ever came. In time, the sprouting rays of light grew smaller and smaller. “Ansa!” Illya didn’t stray away from Ansa or her father, not wanting to leave her side just yet. She was hardly conscious, keeping her eyes on Elias. Illya quickly climbed off of his horse, hurrying over to where Ansa was laid, keeping a close eye on her father. “Is she okay..?” He kneeled down in front of her, very carefully lifting her up. “Ansa? Are you…”

“Elias..” She whispered, at the sound of her voice he was immediately relieved. “Elias.” Illya tugged her closer. “It’s not forever…” Her eyes were hardly open, a tear leaving her eye. “What do you mean?” His hand pressed against her cheek, her eyes opening just a little bit more. “What if it is forever…?” She wasn’t a child anymore. She had to live in this body, full of regrets, full of grief, full of overwhelming sadness. “I don’t want this anymore… I want to go back to sleep.” Ansa shook her head, closing her eyes once again. Elias crept closer, nudging Ansa with his snout. Then her eyes opened a bit wider than before, reaching out to her father. Her hand rested on his snout, feeling like the child she was, doing the same thing so many years ago. It did not take long for him to leave again, slowly moving away from the two of them and bringing himself back into the sky. “No..”

Slowly, her eyes drifting back down, her hand following and pressing into the tall grass. “It’ll be alright, everything will be alright, Ansa..” He was trying his best to get her to hold on, to have hope in life. “The world.. will remain cruel. And I am the reason why..” With a heavy breath, her eyes quickly shut. “This grief overwhelms you, Ansa. And I will gladly bear so many of your burdens if it is what will help you.” He pulled her closer than before, a warm embrace, her body completely enveloped into his arms. “I’ll protect you from the world. I’m supposed to, aren’t I?” He was sworn to her. But more than it being his sole duty, it was the overwhelming want to bring her happiness.

Even with the words he told her, her will was the most important. If she refused to drag herself out of the slumber she put herself in, then it would be so simple for her to slip back into the slumber she was dragged out of by her father.

“I don’t know what he did, but… for a moment, he pulled her out of it.” He didn’t know where else to take Ansa, not right now. Ulmara’s attention was drawn to the thundering sky. The sky hadn’t been very happy for a few days, ever since Ansa slipped into her slumber, it was like the world felt it along with her. “But she didn’t want it.” Ulmara leaned closer, Illya nodding. “She just wanted to go back to sleep. That’s what she said…” He didn’t know what she was trying to say earlier, other than what he could understand without prior knowledge. “Elias, she kept saying that. Do you know an Elias?”

“Her father’s name. I had offered to tell it to her before, but she refused. She wanted to learn everything about him herself… no matter how long it took.” Ansa just barely shifted around in her sleep, though never waking. “She’s the most selfless person I’ve met.” Illya rested her hands back over her chest, her hands barely crossing each other in an X shape. “I just wish she cared a little more…” He took a deep breath, just letting himself… take it all in. There she laid, so tired. So absolutely exhausted. “Don’t go..” He rested his hand on her shoulder, turning her towards him a little. “You warned me of the pain that would come, and I was foolish to think I could handle it on my own.” He pressed his forehead against hers, letting his eyes drift shut. “I can’t do this..” He laid himself on the ground, pulling her close. “Not without you.”

Alice sat in her office, shuffling through old documents. “It’s good to know that it's over. For good. I was having just enough of her endeavors.” She spoke to the commander, the most loyal to her in all of the council. In many ways more than one. “I don’t know why she ever thought she’d be able to win against us. We were here first, we have all the advantages!” She smiled, leaning back in her rolling chair. The loud thud coming from outside made her smile diminish, but not enough to want to check it out. “...We have the upper hand. Whatever they want to try, it’ll just backfire on them. Being unreasonable will only get them so far.” And she believed she wasn’t being unreasonable, it was laughable, really. More thumps and thuds. “It was a well earned victory, Alice. They only got this way because they kept trying to fight back.” The Commander stepped forward. “Of course! And they think that we’re at fault..” Louder thumps and thuds. “And–can you check what the hell all that noise is about?!” Alice didn’t have a very big temper. “..Of course.”

With a sigh, the commander opened the door and stepped out. The noises sounded closer than he thought. “What…?” Spotting a pair of legs on the floor, the commander went around the corner. A comrade, unconscious. And another pair of people he didn’t expect. “What the hell is going on out there?” Alice called out, just about ready to go and check herself. And she was, standing up until the sight of Illya got her to stop in her tracks, just halfway there to the door when she saw him. “..Is it you? Making the ruckus out there?” Illya kept a serious, almost pissed look on his face. “And what of it?” She took notice of his sword, a different one than before. He wouldn’t choose to take any lives necessary with the blade of a dictator. “You should probably back up.” Alice wasn’t at all strong, hiding behind the strength of her men and her manipulation to gather her strength.

“And what now? You’ve taken care of the rest of my men and now me? Do you realize how the public will see you?” Still trying to cut deep. Well, one upside was, that he didn’t care how the world viewed him. Because what Alice considered the world as, is nothing but cruel and evil humans who agree with her views on it, never considering those among the non as a person like her. “I don’t give a shit, Alice.” He gave her a forceful push, enough for her to stumble back quite a bit back inside. Alice groaned, stepping more towards her desk. “I’ve come here to discuss terms with you, and your views on the world. And if we don’t like it, we’ll just have to kill you.” Through blackmail and pressure, just as Alice had done countless times. “…We? What, you and your imaginary friend?” Still, she thought it funny to crack jokes. “Come on.” Illya called out. The soft footsteps had reached Alice’s ears, in came a hooded figure.

Alice was so obsessed with her that she could tell who it was from her very shadow. Her face fell, the corners of her mouth stretching into a frown. “Alice Velemon.” Ansa pulled down her hood, wearing a black pair of gloves. “…I want to do most of the talking, to make this as peaceful as possible.” She gestured to Alice’s chair, in silence she took herself back over. The two followed, standing on the other side of her desk. “As you have been the source of pain for the Vilreths, and the reason for much mental distress of children and me.. your subject of obsession, I would ask you for compensation.”

“But I’m not that kind when it comes to people like you; who send your men out in witch hunts to see if they can collect my body and display it to all of Pothrick, constantly holding your meetings and using your voice to every human in the lands who is willing to listen to your lies.. and turn them against those who are unlike you.” With a deep breath, Ansa continued. “Yes. You were here first. But that does not make you stronger, or better than us.” She reached for the documents on Alice’s table, flipped right to the pages on her, every bit of information they could gather. In a blink, she ripped and crumbled it.

Though, in spite, she shoved it in her mouth and angrily chewed. “Just give her a moment.” Illya gave a momentary-mocking smile, Alice just sat there. “So what? You want to settle all of this and act like nothing ever happened—“ Illya stepped forward, another smile gracing his lips. He had never known someone who could piss him off this much until now. “I said.. give her a moment.” With a disgusted look and slack jaw, Alice leaned back in her chair. “Mm-hm.” Ansa cleared her throat, giving Illya a look. She wanted him to be less… obvious with his anger. If she wanted to settle this the way intended, they had to act as the better people, despite all the cruelty they faced at her hand. “As I was saying..” Ansa looked straight into Alice’s eyes, right into her soul. “I offer you terms, reasonable terms for the world, that you should be able to oblige.”

Ansa did not have a list ready to give, so Alice would have to listen and remember. “..Allowing those who aren’t human into your cities, allowing those who have committed violence—verbal or physical—on those among the non to serve time.. imprisoned.”

“A public apology from you and your entire team, excluding those who have publicly declined to commit terrible acts to those who are not human in front of you. Allowing those who are not human to get their Traveling Certificates.”

“Stepping down from your position in the council, and allowing those who are not human in the council as well. And…” These were only mandatory things. “A written, and in-person apology to me, my mother Amia, and those in the North Forest. I’m sure everything I have not spoken of is known to you, and I want you to know that also applies to the terms of our agreement.” Doing that in very few breaths, Ansa gave herself a moment to breathe, taking a step back. “You just expect me to agree to this? To.. accept you?” Illya looked right at Ansa, wondering if she wanted to say what came next. “..If you do not do this, you will die.” That would only fuel Alice’s frustration. “I do not want to do that. I do not want to shed more blood than necessary, but some things are necessary. And some people must die.” Gritting her teeth, Alice pushed herself up. “No!”

“No! I don’t agree to your shitty little agreement!” She could even laugh. It sounded like a silly dream, what Ansa wanted. “I’ve had power, STRENGTH.. for years. And you believe I would step down because you beasts want the world to be fair? News flash!” Ansa only looked down, trying to keep her emotions at bay. “You should’ve given up the moment we put you on that stake.” Another deep breath, Ansa closed her eyes for a moment. “…..Then I am afraid I cannot help you either.” The sight of falling snow from the nearest window had caught her eye. “What?” Ansa gave a look to Illya before pulling her hood back over her head, taking herself out of the office. He could do what was necessary, because he knew Ansa wouldn’t be able to bring herself to do it.

She waited outside, by the fountain no one bothered to still linger by. It felt familiar to her, standing in a specific spot as well. Even that felt familiar to her. In her hand, she tossed something into the fountain. With The Piercing Thorn still around her finger–despite its severance–her hands clasped together. Her fingers interlaced, her eyes never closing. She made a wish, but she wasn’t sure it would work without a Galleth. “I remember coming here.” Ansa turned around. Blood staining his armor, only little specks. As well as his sword. “You… have you ever come here before?” Her hands slowly sunk back down, slowly turning to face him. “I think so. I don’t know, I can’t remember.” She looked back at the fountain. The water continued to flow, continued to exist and fill the fountain no matter what happened. An endless loop of the same exact thing. “...Maybe I died. And that’s why I can’t remember.” It was a silly assumption, what else could she say? “What.. makes you think that?”

Ansa shrugged, shaking her head. “I don’t know, I’m…” She let her silence sit for a moment, and in the minute she remained that way, Illya took one step closer. “I’m stuck, in this loop of life and death..” Her eyes closed for a few seconds. “I should have been dead, maybe a long time ago. Or maybe after that ring went on my finger..” Her thumb pressed into a few of the thorns. Just to feel something, other than this numbness she felt. “I should have been. Maybe everything could’ve gone differently, maybe everything could have been resolved if I just gave up and…” One step closer, again. His hand took Ansa’s, squeezing it. “Maybe I should have died at the stake.” Ansa looked at him, a subtle look of sadness on her face. Never entirely visible. She was the most vulnerable person she had ever known, the most vulnerable person she could ever be. Yet the most guarded, the most aware of the world around her. Ansa felt everything and absolutely nothing. “You could have, but you didn’t.”

He squeezed her hand just one more time. Softer.

“...You were here. A decade or two ago.. I think.” She squeezed his hand back, just before letting go. “I was, really?” Illya nodded. “You.. came up to me, and dragged me over here. And said something about my father, I… don’t know how you knew about him, not at all.” The more he told her, the more confused she felt. Maybe it was her, but she just couldn’t remember. “You said I was bound to something. Bound to the gods, and then you… vanished.”

“I saw you, and I tried to follow after you, but..” He eyed the mark on her head. “The mark on your forehead, it was there too. Bleeding, like before.. remember?” Slowly, Ansa nodded, just trying to go along. “You said your mothers name, and then you spoke of Aelvor, you said she was your ancestor.” Ansa’s brows furrowed. How would she have ever known of her mother? She didn’t even remember her mother, not at that age. She didn’t even remember this. “You didn’t ever say your name. You collapsed before you could say anything else… just lying in the grass.” The first thing she could ever remember in her misfortunate life, lying in the grass, with a big headache. “...I guess it doesn’t really matter now.”

Ansa shook her head. “Not much… matters right now.” She looked behind her, taking a deep breath. “...I’m tired.” She took a few steps away from him. “I think I’ll stay here for a little longer. So.. I’ll see you there?” Staring at him, she pressed her lips together, considering what to say. “Yeah. Something like that.” Before she got too far, Illya ran over, taking her hand in his. “Hey…” He didn’t understand why he did it. Something in him just screamed to keep her here for a little longer. “Be safe, okay?” It was a bit embarrassing to do this in front of people that roamed the streets of Pothrick, but he didn’t care that much.

Illya’s hands pressed onto her cheeks. “Okay… I’ll try.” And he let go, a lonely feeling as he watched her get farther and farther from him.

Ansa clutched her necklace tight, the snow coat with a foot or two of snow with how slow she was going. She wasn’t going home today. She wouldn’t be going home anymore. With one of her biggest worries being nothing but null and void now, the world could move onto something else, establishing a new order. Sometimes that meant other things had to go too, and maybe this time she wouldn’t fail. Standing in front of the barely open doors of the Slumbering Church, she slipped off her scarf, and then her gloves, then her cloak. “Forgive me, Illya.” She took slow steps inside, resting her hands on her chest. “I regret the words I wanted to speak to you, for they would burden you more.”

Her body felt lighter than usual today. “Never knowing, perhaps, will burden you anyway.” In front of the statue, she unraveled the braid in her hair. She wouldn’t dare to leave any traces of those who loved her, because they would only feel guilt upon gazing at her. In the near future. “I’m sorry.”

Every strand of hair felt like a blanket rested on her shoulders, a quiet whisper of “goodnight” from who had come to check on the girl that couldn’t reach her bed in time for her exhaustion.

Ansa kneeled in front of the statue, the beaming rays shining onto her eyelids before she could even speak the word. “Kriti.” It wouldn’t be forever. It would only take a little bit of time. Her body felt as light as a feather, and it felt like she’d grow wings and fly at any moment. Maybe it was always for the greater good, maybe only for her. To bring this misery to an eternal end, she would never wake. Not ever again, not for any soul.

The world would remember her as cruel, the world would remember her as innocent. The world wouldn’t ever know her, not truly, not down to the depths of her soul. Not even you.

Phaedra was the most vulnerable person she had ever known, the most vulnerable person she could ever be. Brought to eternal slumber, and ascended to godhood. Far from the world who treated her with much cruelty, so far from those who had loved her. But maybe that was just how it was meant to be.

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