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06/06 - Nord Mines

When Gallica reminded him of his mission to save the cursed prince of the United Kingdom of Euchronia, Will thought things would turn out alright somehow. His bold confidence didn’t stem from any specific belief in his own abilities; it was the kind of self-assurance that came from the fact that he really had nothing to lose. 

He couldn’t remember much about his own past—or more like nothing at all except for the fact that he was the prince’s best friend—but compared to the future at stake, his amnesia was hardly of importance. 

All he had to do was make this mission a success. Even if he died in the process, well, surely there are plenty of other people ready to fight for His Highness’s cause. And since he had no memories of his life before the beginning of this mission, he didn’t need to worry about anyone possibly mourning his death.

So, with the kind of confidence that should really be more concerning, Will signed up at the recruitment centre at Grand Trad and successfully made it onto the team despatched to the Northern Border Fort where he was supposed to meet someone who would help their cause. 

And that was when things started to spiral completely out of control. 

No one told him he’d end up fighting a hideous, powerful monster called a Human. Nor did anyone tell him about the mysterious power of archetypes or the fact that he’d end up meeting some strange clemar stuck in an enclosed library in his dreams. Not to mention, he ended up duking it out with a bloody dragon, of all things.

Was the mission supposed to be this hard or was the world going out of its way to obstruct him on purpose? Didn’t he just have to assassinate the culprit? What was with all these ridiculous opponents standing in his way?

By the time their ragtag team of three people and one fairy managed to chase the dragon out of its lair, Will grew discouraged. Perhaps he may have accepted a mission way above his league. 

“Never thought I’d ever have to fend off a dragon in this humble life of mine. You lot never cease to amaze me,” Grius said with a bark of laughter as he sheathed his sword. 

“You speak as if it was our plan to challenge a dragon all along,” Strohl muttered between sharp gasps of air. He stabbed his claymore into the ground and leaned his weight against it for support. “I think I lost a few years of my life just now. Which one of you woke up that bloody creature?” 

Grius shrugged. “You’ll have to ask the boy instead. It wasn’t me who decided to walk right up to the beast’s face. A skilled mercenary I may be, but even I don’t have the courage to face an ancient creature in battle.” 

“Right, what was that all about, Will- wait, what are you doing?” Strohl sputtered as he watched Will casually walk past him toward the end of the cliff. 

Without a moment of hesitation, Will began to ransack through the dragon’s treasures. He opened the giant treasure chest and pulled out a Greatsword. Will inspected its quality, noting its particularly sharp edge, and said to himself, “An excellent find. Strohl, I think you can use this weapon.”

When he turned around, Strohl was staring blankly at him, dumbfounded. 

“...You know, I can’t tell if you’re brave or absolutely mad. We just fought off a dragon and the first thing you do afterwards is steal its treasure?” Strohl breathed a shaky laugh. “What kind of life did you live if fighting a dragon just comes second nature to you?”

“I assure you, I was surprised too. But we can’t just let a dragon roam free inside these mines. Some people might get hurt later,” Will said with a small frown. “That aside, I’m quite discouraged right now. This mission is turning out to be incredibly…tiring. Both mentally and physically.”

Grius glanced up and down Will’s frame before snorting. “You sure don’t look like you’re shocked at all, considering how at ease you are right now with that stolen weapon in your hands.”

“I didn’t steal it,” Will said with an innocent smile. “We won it.”

“Is that really the issue here?!” Gallica suddenly flew out of Will’s bag with a sharp glare. “I thought I was going to die from a heart attack when you suddenly ran towards the sleeping dragon and woke it up! What were you thinking?!” She flew around Will’s head, hitting his face with her flapping wings in protest. 

“I wasn’t really thinking anything,” Will replied nonchalantly as if that was supposed to help his case. “I just…thought we had to fight the dragon to get out of here.” 

“I told you we could’ve just snuck around it but instead, you had to act like some hero and walk right into its nose!” Gallica complained, cheeks puffing. 

“Well, good thing is we survived the encounter and now have a grand tale to tell our children if you boys ever have any,” Grius said with a smirk. “Still, as much as I want to rest, we should be getting out of here as soon as possible lest the remnants of Klinger’s squad catch up to us.”

Will nodded in understanding. He handed off the new greatsword to Strohl who reluctantly switched his weapon to the rarer one. “Which way is the exit?” 

“Should be just right ‘round the corner,” Grius said as he led the group through the maze of tunnels and winding pathways. Perhaps it was due to the dragon’s presence, but no monsters or beasts laid in their path as they made their way toward the exit. 

After a few more minutes of running, the group made it to a giant wooden bridge. 

“Great, we found the exit! Let’s hurry up and get out of here,” Strohl exclaimed as he took a step onto the bridge. 

Will sighed in relief. Finally, after a grueling day of escaping from their pursuers, they had reached the exit. Maybe now, his mission would go more smoothly. After all, what else could be worse than fighting against a human or a dragon? 

But as if the world wanted to tear him down, the entire mine started to shake. A giant gust of wind flew past their heads, accompanied by the bone-chilling sound of a roar. 

“N-No! Don’t tell me that was- AHHH!” Gallica started, only for her voice to pitch off into a scream as a giant boulder suddenly fell right beside her. It crashed right through the bridge, leaving a giant gaping hole behind them. 

To make things worse, the planks underneath their feet started clattering. 

“Not good! It’s a cave-in! Run for your lives!” Grius yelled. 

Will couldn’t help but groan as he picked up the pace. Maybe there was a reason the prince was cursed. Was he actually the forebringer of chaos and disorder? Nothing could explain the series of unfortunate events that surrounded them the moment they started this journey. 

“It’s the dragon! It’s shooting flames everywhere!” Gallica exclaimed as she took a sharp dive, ducking a stray fireball. “Hurry! Now isn’t the time to hesitate!” 

“Who put all these crates here on the bridge? They’re blocking our way!” Strohl complained as he zipped through the obstacles, even jumping over a few hurdles along the way. 

“Stop the chatter and quicken your pace! We’re almost there!” Grius beckoned across the sound of cracking wood. 

“Just a bit more!” Gallica pointed out as the group neared the edge of the bridge. “We can make it!”

There were only a few planks left for them to cross before they would reach the other side. Will’s heart thundered as he forced his aching muscles to move. He was running out of fuel, literally, but the adrenaline rush of facing danger after danger kept him sprinting like a madman through the storm of crumbling rocks and splintering wood. 

By this point of the day, he was dying for a break and the end was so near. Just a little more and he would reach the safe zone and finally get the breather he deserved after all the wild events thus far. 

But of course, fate had other plans for him. As always, it was as if all the gods and almighty powers above were doing their best to mock his efforts.  

“Duck!” Gallica’s voice suddenly pierced through the chaos. 

Will didn’t have time to think about who her warning was intended for. He followed his companion’s orders on reflex and lowered his stance, just as a giant fireball whizzed past his head. Grius and Strohl, who were a few steps ahead of him, dodged the blast of heat by leaping to the side. As a result, nothing remained to block the dragon’s last assault. 

Will stared in horror as the gout of flames devoured the section of the bridge in front of them, reducing their path to a bundle of ashes. If only he were the type of person to curse, he would’ve screamed profanities at the heavens above by now. 

They were so close. So close, and yet again, a new deadly gambit unfolded right in front of their eyes.  

“Oh bugger, what now?!” Strohl cursed as he came to a screeching halt right at the edge of the now collapsing bridge. 

There was no time to hesitate. Both ends of the bridge were now rapidly collapsing into the plumes of flame that threatened to cinder all life to ashes. If they didn’t do something soon, they’d either be blown into smithereens by the dragon’s attack or fall into the open chasm below. 

Neither choice sounded particularly enticing.

Grius clicked his tongue in annoyance. Unlike the two young ones behind him, he had faced countless moments of danger before as a veteran mercenary. Sometimes, a split second decision was the difference between life and death. 

And so he spun around without warning and grabbed both lads by the scruff of their collars. 

“Gah!” Strohl gagged as Grius pulled him forward. “What are you doing, old man?!” 

“What else?!” Grius huffed. As the charred planks sloughed away below him, Grius gathered all the strength he had onto the soles of his feet and- “We jump!”

Will had read in his fantasy novel before that people were capable of flying between different countries and kingdoms without the power of wings or magic. The idea and concept puzzled him; how was it possible for people to move such large distances through the air without possessing wings? 

Still, Will was almost certain that the kind of flying the book talked about was something born from technological advancement and not whatever the hell this was.

“Ahhhh!” Strohl’s piercing cry reverberated through the cave as they soared through the air. 

Will would’ve screamed too, if only his throat wasn’t too busy trying to breathe. The world exploded into a kaleidoscopic flash of red, orange, and yellow behind them. Ironically, the blast created a surge of wind that propelled them forward. With the addition of extra fuel, the three flew towards the opposite ledge with shocking speed. 

However, even now, the heavens were forsaking them because- 

One foot. 

It was just the distance of one foot, but they missed the edge. So close, yet so damningly far. 

Right before they crashed into the cliff itself, Will found himself cursing the fact that rhoags were not born with larger feet. If only Grius was just a tad bit bigger, perhaps they would’ve made it. 

Still, there was no time for wishes or what-ifs. Gravity took hold and the three crashed into the cliff in a heap, sliding down the edge to the bottomless pit below. 

“No!” Will heard the faint sound of Gallica screaming. Her voice grew softer as the group plummeted down the edge in free fall. 

“What now?!” Strohl screeched as he floundered mid-air, waving his limbs around as if he could somehow magically swim back to safety. “At this rate, we’re going to fall to our deaths!” 

The cold draft of air whipped around Will’s body as he plunged deeper into the gaping chasm. He could only close his eyes in despair, heart hammering in chest at the realization that perhaps this truly was the end of their journey. 

What could he even do? They were already falling rapidly to their death and there were no trees, foliage, or anything to soften their landing in an empty cave such as this. As if to make things worse, Will could spy a few glints of blue and purple lights piercing through the darkness below. If his suspicions were correct, then they would fall right into a pile of magla crystals. 

Forget soft landing; it would be a miracle if their corpses didn’t end up speared and gutted atop of those sharp magla veins.   

There had to be something. Some light of hope at the end of the tunnel. Or, well, light at the bottom of the cave. If only he knew how to use a water spell, perhaps he could create a puddle or lake for them to land in-

Will took in a sharp intake of cold air as realization struck. 

Right, he did have a way to get them out of this situation!

“Wind!” Grius’s voice suddenly split through the air. “Use your archetype, boy!” 

Will didn’t need a second reminder. He placed a hand on his heart and channeled his wishes, dreams, and determination. He couldn’t let their journey end so pointlessly like this. He was on a mission to save his best friend and country. 

Their ambitions will never be snuffed out here. 

“Seeker!” Will declared as a bright light enveloped his form. Glistening, white armor grew over his skin as his body shifted into its archetype build. He gathered all of the wind zipping in the air and focused them onto his palm. 

“Wait, look! Over there!” Strohl’s voice turned Will’s attention towards him. The clemar was pointing towards a small protruding ledge on the cliff’s side. “There’s room for us to make a landing there! Hurry, Will!” 

Will nodded in understanding as he adjusted his position mid-air. After he managed to float upright with his feet pointing towards the ground, he swung one arm behind his back and yelled out, “Cyc!” 

A gust of wind burst out from his palm. The force thrust him forward. As he flew through the air, the Seeker’s body crashed into Strohl and Grius, altering their angle of descent. Together, all three of them headed towards the ledge. 

Right before they crashlanded, Will held both arms in front of him and casted another cyc spell, hoping to soften the blow as much as possible. The ledge grew closer and closer as they fell and then—boom.  

They slammed right into a sloped section of the cavern wall, tumbling back at breakneck speed, rolling down the cliff towards the ledge below. 

Will gasped as the wind was punched out of him. The world tumbled in all sorts of directions; Will felt his arms and legs scraping against the rocky slope as he continued to roll down the slope until coming to an abrupt halt with his back right against the edge of the ledge.

It was an insanely close call, but they had all made it alive onto the ledge. 

…Well, as alive as they could be, considering that Strohl and Grius were both tangled all over him in a bloodied mess of bruises that would definitely turn horribly purple by evening. 

The sound of groaning and pained moans filled his ears as Will laid there in his archetype form, cradling his companions. His head was still spinning from severe motion sickness, but he could hear Gallica’s voice from above, growing louder.

“Are you guys okay?!” Gallica asked in a panic as she hovered down to where they had fallen. Her eyes darted all over the place, wings flapping raucously as she inspected the damage. “You’re all bleeding! W-Wait, let me get the potions from Will’s bag!” 

Will didn’t know how to tell Gallica that potions were probably not going to help with their wounds that much. It was a miracle that they were all breathing without broken ribs, at this point. 

Forget potions, they all needed a doctor or healer. 

“...M-My head…hurts…” Strohl groaned as he slowly dragged himself out of the Seeker’s embrace. He plopped onto the ground on his knees, breathing heavily for air. “I-I’m…bloody hell…I’m alive? W-We made it?” He craned his neck up and about, inspecting his surroundings. 

Sure enough, they were all safe and sound with their limbs attached. 

“Ha…haha…hahaha!” Grius rolled over onto his back, laughing from the bottom of his heart, even as he held a hand to his stomach to stop his insides from spilling out. “By the crown, I thought I was going to join my dead wife just now!” 

“Not funny, Grius,” Strohl murmured through gritted teeth. “I may miss my parents, but there’s no way in hell I’m meeting them this soon, especially not without accomplishing anything.” It took him a few tries but eventually, Strohl managed to stand up on both feet again. His legs continued to wobble, but he paid it no heed for now. “Are you okay, Will?” 

A flash of bright light. 

The seeker’s body dissipated into thin air and Will’s tiny form re-emerged from the dust. There were scratches and wounds littered all over his body, but he still managed to quirk his lips up into a wry smile. 

“Things could certainly be better.” 

Grius reached over and smacked his hand on Will’s shoulder. “No complaining, boy. At least we made it out alive.” 

Will forced his head to nod in response despite the pain in his muscles. 

“H-Here! I found the potions!” Gallica flew over and began dousing a couple bottles of healing medicine over everyone’s wounds. “I’m not sure if we have enough to heal everyone, but at least we won’t be dying from the pain.”

“More than good enough,” Strohl said with a breathy sigh as the potion’s effects slowly settled into his body. “Besides, the wounds are the least of our problems. We need to find a way to get out of this place.” 

“Can we even get up all the way there from here?” Gallica questioned with a frown. “Surely, you’re not thinking of climbing the cliff. You might as well be sending yourselves right at death’s door again.” 

Strohl spared her a brief glance. There was a pained expression on his face as he huffed out with an air of frustration. “Well, do you think we have another option other than to try?” 

Gallica glanced between the injured party and the towering cliff above. She didn’t need to be a genius to realize the sheer impossibility of Strohl’s suggestion. Climbing was certainly out of the question; surely, Strohl knew that too. 

But it was just as he said because they had no other choice. It was either get up there somehow or let all their dreams and hopes die here without seeing the light. 

The silence that followed was torn and painful, ragged at the edges as everyone came to terms with their dire situation. Longer and longer moments of silence stretched out until Will felt dizzy with it as black spots began to cloud the edges of his vision. 

Surely, that wasn’t a side effect of despair. Maybe his injuries were acting up. Did he get a concussion during the fall? 

Still, now was not the time to faint. 

Will blinked blearily as he tried to chase away the exhaustion threatening to steal his consciousness. He forced himself onto his elbows, wincing as a particularly deep gash scraped against the rocky ledge. His wounds may still hurt but at least the pain was keeping him awake. 

Will took this chance to explore his surroundings. They had fallen so deep down the cavern that the peak of the cliff was barely visible to the eye. It was a miracle that they managed to land safely on a random ledge protruding out of the cliff. But despite their survival, they were now stuck without a path forward. 

Or at least, no visual path in sight. 

“Gallica, can you use your fae sight to search for a hidden passage?” Will asked. “No one has explored the bottom of this mine before. Perhaps there is a way out that we are not aware of.”

Gallica gasped in response. “Oh, right! I completely forgot about that. Give me just a moment.” Will watched as Gallica closed her eyes, focusing on sensing her surroundings. “Hm, there’s a lot of magla flowing from below, but that’s to be expected because this is a mine. From what I’m seeing, there’s only a pile of magla veins down there. No exits or secret holes, tunnels, doors- huh?”

“What’s wrong? Did you notice something?” Strohl couldn’t help but blurt out in anticipation.

Gallica’s brows furrowed deeply as she gritted her teeth together. “Uh, give me a minute. There’s this strange cloud of magla down there. It’s so condensed I can’t see past it with my insight. This flow…it’s leading somewhere. Is something drawing magla from the crystals nearby?” 

Grius couldn’t help but snort. “Hopefully, it’s not another dragon. One is more than enough for a lifetime.” 

“No, it’s not a living creature,” Gallica replied with a shake of her head. “It also doesn’t give off an air of malicious magla. This shape…it reminds me of a room.”

“You mean like a magla hollow?” Will asked with a frown.

“More like the opposite of one,” Grius hummed in thought. “You said there’s a lot of magla condensed there, no?” 

“Now that you mention it, it does seem to be some sort of hidden room. Perhaps we should take our chances there instead,” Gallica declared with a firm nod. “It’ll be easier to go down there with another blast of wind magic than climbing up this entire cliff.”

“Well, if you say so,” Strohl mumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Can’t say I’m excited for another grand fall, but if that’s our only way forward, then let us go.” 

“Do you still have enough magic to take us safely down there?” Grius asked as he turned towards Will who was now standing steady on his feet.

Will gave him a wry smile. “Would it help to say I still have a magla pill in my satchel?”

Strohl paused. “That…doesn’t bode well. Are you sure you can handle this?”

A small glimmer of light flickered through heterochromia eyes as Will replied with mirth, “Well, do you think we have another option other than to try?” 

Strohl choked on thin air. “Using my words against me now, eh? But seriously, jokes aside, are you sure this is safe?!” 

Grius guffawed. “Didn’t take you for a coward. Was one measly fall enough to spook all the spunk out of you?” 

Strohl shot him a glare. “Watch it, old man. Who says I’m afraid of a lil drop?”

“Then, be my guest,” Grius said and gestured towards the edge of the ledge. “Don’t worry. We’ll be right behind you.”

Strohl stared at Grius’s smirking mug. Then, he glanced at Will who was giving him a smile far brighter than said circumstances. He swiped a hand over his face and released a long, drawn-out sigh. 

“...I swear you two will be the death of me.”

“W-What in the world is this?” Strohl exclaimed, jaws dropping as he observed their surroundings.

At the bottom of the mines was a massive borehole filled with magla stalactites and other precious minerals. Such an underground cavity was no surprise, considering they were in a mine. However, it wasn’t the crystals that caught their attention. 

Giant piles of scattered debris. Unidentifiable structures made from rusty, foreign material. Remnants of broken glass and other strange, shiny bricks. Mangled frames hinting towards the existence of towering buildings taller than the Grand Cathedral that once adorned the open area. Not to mention, the giant mechanical tubes or veins emitting neon light that were sticking out of the black walls, hanging overhead them like a spider web. 

“Aye, to think there was evidence of an ancient civilization lying inside Nord Mines all along!” Grius couldn’t help but gasp out loud. “Is this perhaps the real reason why the Sanctist Church declared the immediate closure of this place?” 

Will cocked his head to the side, brows scrunching in confusion. 

As someone who spent his entire life inside the safe comforts of the Eldan Sanctum, he had never seen such strange ruins before. Will’s eyes traversed the daunting structures, looking over every single foreign object in the area. 

“What…is this place?” Will breathed out in both awe and anxiety. 

“How much do you know about our world’s history?” Strohl asked as he carefully stepped through the open area. Fragments of iridescent material crunched underneath his boots. He nudged a shard with his foot, watching it catch light from the magla crystals in impossible colors. 

“Before the War of Destruction that ended the Old World, people wielded both powers and technology far beyond our imagination,” Grius explained. “Apparently, there are remnants of that ancient civilization lying buried within our lands. However, the Sanctists have made it clear they wish to leave the past uncovered. No one has ever seen these so-called ruins before. Well, at least until now.”

“I wonder what the world was like before everything got destroyed,” Gallica mumbled as she flew around the mechanical tubes in the air, inspecting the light inside of them. “I sense some magla inside these veins, but there’s also a weird, um, current running through them. Are they not fueled by magla crystals? Is this electric magic?”

“Who knows? There’s no point in pondering about them. It’s not like we have the knowledge to understand the intricacies behind their functions. We might as well focus on finding our way out of here,” Grius replied with a shrug. 

“About that, I think I may have found an exit,” Strohl suddenly spoke up. All eyes turned to him as he pointed towards a large door at the very end of the clearing. “There seems to be a room there. Perhaps it might lead us out of these mines.”

Will stared at the so-called exit. His brows slowly arched up to the sky. “Strohl, the door is literally glowing.” 

Sure enough, there was a door-shaped spot on the wall. However, it didn’t seem to be tangible at all. A strange blue-white aura of light surrounded it, making the so-called door look like a split in the universe itself. There were also strange geometric patterns on the door with veins of pulsating light scattered across the surface. 

It was clearly something conjured up by magic, but the design of the door was far too alien for it to be something created by a mage of their era.  

Therefore, this had to be a door that transcended time and space itself—an ancient relic from the past. There was no evidence to support Strohl’s claim that the door would somehow lead them back to higher ground. 

“That door just reeks of a trap,” Gallica commented with a wince as she flew closer towards the door. 

Strohl clicked his tongue. “I know, but beggars can’t be choosers.” 

“Can we even open that thing?” Grius stepped closer towards the door. He reached a hand out and knocked against the tough shell of the frame with his knuckles. The noise rang out, sharp and crystalline, echoing through the cave. “Look at this bloody thing. No hinges, no handles, no lock. Do you reckon we can use force to push it open?”

“Probably not,” Strohl said with a frown. “Perhaps there is a device that will help us unlock this door? What do you think, Will?” 

Strohl glanced behind his back and then froze. 

Will stood there in all his glory, dressed up in pure white armor and a flowy blue cape. There was already a sword in his hand and its sharp edge was aimed at the locked door. 

Grius’s eyes widened as he immediately backed away from the scene. “Hold on, boy! Give us a warning at least!” 

“Gah!” Strohl yelped, just as the Seeker’s blade swept across the clearing, slashing against the door. 

It didn’t explode, nor dissipate into thin air. As the metal of the Seeker’s sword clashed against the surface, Will’s vision suddenly filled with pure white. A blinding light erupted from behind the door as the surface split into two. Will couldn’t help but shut his eyes tightly in response to the ringing white void that filled his senses. 

He didn’t know how long it took for the blinding light to disappear. Eventually, the world returned back to normal and with it, a broken door. 

When his vision cleared, Gallica was hovering right in front of his face. Her arms crossed against her chest as she glared at him. 

“Next time, how about giving us all a heads up? Or maybe just aim somewhere not directly in my wingspan,” she snapped. 

The Seeker’s form slowly dissipated, revealing Will who was sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, sorry. I acted on impulse.”

“...Well, at least you managed to break the door open,” Strohl mumbled under his breath with a sigh. 

Now that the light was gone, they could see that the door had been completely obliterated. What remained were bent metal-like frames. Whatever was powering the light also seemed to have been cut off the moment Will slashed through it. 

Grius was the first to step right through the open space. “Stay sharp, boys. There’s no telling whether this is a dragon den or not.”

“Very comforting,” Strohl muttered with a snort as he followed Grius's lead. 

Will’s boots squeaked against white sleek tiles as he carefully stepped through the doorway. Overhead, tubes of pulsating blue light casted moving shadows across their faces as the group made their way deeper inside the room. 

Unlike the cluttered ruins outside, the room was eerily barren. Aside from glass shelves and strange floating rectangles—or were they supposed to be panels?—in the air, there was only a large machine in the center of the room, humming with a low vibration Will could feel through the soles of his boots. Thick cables snaked from its sides into the walls, throbbing with the same rhythm as the ceiling lights.

“Is this…a lab?” Grius mumbled as he observed their new surroundings. 

A screen on the wall flickered to life as Will walked past, catching his attention. He squinted, trying his best to make heads of the strange symbols and letters floating on the projection, but to no avail. 

“What kind of technology is this?” Will faintly heard Strohl muttering with awe. 

Strohl had his hand waving through some sort of incorporeal floating object. Whatever it was, it was seemingly harmless. 

“Careful with those things,” Grius warned, just as the man swerved around a floating rectangle box. “We don’t know if they’re traps or not.” 

“Shouldn’t be. I don’t feel anything when I try to touch these weird things,” Strohl commented. 

Will drifted closer to Strohl, peering over his shoulder. “Let me try,” he said, curiosity taking the better of him as he shoved his whole arm right through the projection. 

The air suddenly prickled with static noise. A cold chill ran down Will’s spine as he yanked his arm out of the projection. It didn’t hurt, but for a moment there, it felt like his body reacted to something within the screen. 

As if to make things worse, Will’s head began to spin. He clutched his head with one hand and groaned, just as the sound of a drifting voice echoed inside his head, similarly to when he first awakened to his archetype. 

[Ca…yo…hea…me?]

“What’s wrong, Will? Are you hurt?!” 

“Young boy, what happened?” 

“Will!” 

Will could hear the growing concerns of his companions, but he didn’t have the energy nor time to reply to them. The voice inside his head…it wasn’t the same kind of sweet, nostalgic and warm tone that he had heard before. 

It sounded like a…man’s voice. 

[I…hav…be…waiti…fo…her…savi…or.]

[S…rry…you…lar…ge…magl…wa…need…to…fuel…dev…ce.] 

[Plea…help…he…]

Gallica, who was anxiously floating behind Will, suddenly froze up. “G-Guys, I don’t like this…!” 

“What now?!” Strohl snapped. 

“T-There’s so much magla in the air all of a sudden…I-I think something’s coming…!” Gallica stammered, eyes frantically darting around the room. “From the center! All the magla is condensing there!” 

“You mean from that mechanical box there?” Grius’s attention immediately snapped towards the machine in the center of the room.

The blue lights inside the tube, which were pulsing like steady veins a moment ago, now flashed with frenetic urgency, as though some ancient was being awakened. Suddenly, the entire room began to shake with a faint tremor. The lights hanging overhead shattered one by one, plunging the room into darkness. 

“Was it a trap after all?!” Strohl yelled as he immediately grabbed the hilt of his greatsword. “Will, get it together!” 

Will, who was still trying to stop himself from swaying on his feet, released a small groan. Nausea crept up his throat as his world continued to spin. He felt light as a feather; even the calmest breeze could sweep him away. 

Something was being drawn out of him. He couldn’t see it with his eyes, but that strange projection was definitely sucking all the energy and life out of him. It was a kind of exhaustion that he had never felt before; it unnerved him, all the way to the deepest parts of his soul. 

And yet for some odd reason, Will didn’t think he was in grave danger. 

[S…ry…thi…is…al…can…do…I…sorr…sor…ry.]

Will did not know this person. Hell, whoever was behind this entire trap was literally doing something indescribable that made him want to faint and maybe even die. 

But he felt no malice from their actions. The sheer desperation and yearning in their tone didn’t sound like a dying beast’s last cry but a sincere plea for help. 

Will’s vision blurred as he struggled to stay upright. The room around him was still a sea of swirling shadows and pulsating light, but he forced his gaze to remain fixated on the mechanical box in the center that was vibrating with urgency. 

He blinked once. Then, twice. 

Time seemed to stop. For a second, it was as if everything was still. He couldn’t hear any of his companion’s voices. Strohl and Grius seemed to be standing there with their weapons out, yet unmoving. Gallica was right beside his head with her lips still parted in a frightened cry. 

And Will—froze. 

There was a body hunched over across the machine. A figure shrouded within the darkness, yet shining with a light that seemed otherworldly. He watched, unable to move or even breathe, as the specter threw themselves over the mechanical box with tears of grief rolling down their face. 

And then he heard it, the sound of a faint ghostly whisper, translucent in its sorrow, the same voice and tone that he heard ringing inside his head. 

“Forgive me for being such a useless fool,” the man cried with all of his might, shoulders shuddering with the kind of tremendous force that could move even the heavens above. “Forgive me for failing to protect you and everything that we held dear. Forgive me that all I can give you is not a better present…but the unknown future.”

Will couldn’t help it. The anguish, the pain, the undeniable tragedy of something that had occurred here in this place within his vision, dream, or illusion of the past. 

He shut his eyes from it all and blinked. 

Gone were any traces of the man. He no longer heard their voice inside his head. It was as if everything that he had witnessed and heard was a mere summer night’s dream. 

All that remained were his friends, stuck in their stupor, and…

An opened machine with its lid off. 

“All the magla just disappeared!” Gallica gasped in shock. 

“Uh, what just happened?” Strohl’s words broke Will out of his reverie. He still felt light-headed, but at least he no longer wanted to nosedive straight into the ground. “The machine just opened by itself…?”

“No, perhaps it was the young boy that did something when he interacted with the floating screen,” Grius deduced. He glanced at Will who was slightly trembling. “What happened, boy? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Will didn’t know what to say. He himself had no idea what had just transpired. If he told them the truth, would they all think he had gone utterly mad or insane? That he had somehow relived a small portion of the past within that small sliver of time? 

“Um…” Will started, throat oddly choked up, filled to the brim with overwhelming emotions. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what happened either. However, I do know one thing.”

All eyes turned to look at him, patiently and also not-so-patiently waiting for him to continue. 

Will glanced at the opened machine. 

“Whatever is in there…it’s no monster. In fact, it might be someone or something that needs saving.”

Strohl jerked his head back in shock. “What? What do you mean by that?” 

Grius’s brows furrowed with confusion. “Young boy, how do you know that?” 

Will didn’t know how to explain things, so all he could do was show them the truth. He walked forward on trembling feet towards the machine. Each step echoed horribly inside the dark room. When he peered over the edges of the machine, he sucked in a sharp breath of cold air. 

“What? What is it?” Gallica, who couldn’t stew in trepidation any longer, flew across the room and hovered right over Will’s shoulder. 

The sound of her gasp reverberated through the air. 

“...What’s with all the suspense?” Strohl couldn’t help but ask in a low, breathy voice. He swallowed down his nerves and forced his legs to unlock, following after Will’s lead. 

Grius was the last to reach the center of the room. 

Inside the machine—or perhaps now it was more accurate to call it a coffin of sorts—was a young woman. To be more specific, an eldan woman. Dressed in strange clothing. Peacefully asleep, unperturbed by all the chaos that occurred outside of her dwelling. 

For a long while, none of them said a word. 

Ever since the beginning of his journey, Will had faced a series of strange or unfortunate events. From a deadly encounter with a human, to the awakening of archetypes, to fighting a dragon. By now, he thought he had grown immune to everything that the world could possibly send his way. 

 But this? Whatever this was surely took the cake. 

“It’s…an elda,” Strohl breathed, voice heavy with disbelief. “But this room…wasn’t it supposed to be a part of the ruins outside?” 

Grius frowned. “Are you trying to say that this lass has been sleeping inside this box until now? If so, then this isn’t a woman but a corpse.” 

Will stared at the young woman inside the machine. To him, the woman didn’t appear dead so much as paused in time. Her lashes were light and soft against pale skin. Platinum blonde hair fanned around her like a halo, giving her an almost angelic air of ephemerality. Against the darkness, she appeared to be shining with life and youth. 

There were also no obvious injuries or wounds on her skin, not even the bruising or pallor that sometimes marked the bodies of the dead. She was just an ageless stillness, like a marbled sculpture of tranquility.

If she was a corpse, then she was an incredibly well-preserved one. 

“No wait, she’s breathing!” Gallica suddenly spoke up. “Look carefully!”

Will peered closer, eyes widening with awe. Sure enough, the woman’s chest rose, then fell—a barely perceptible breath, but distinct. Not dead, but simply sleeping. Or perhaps trapped. Maybe even both. 

“...Shite, what is going on?” Grius couldn’t help but curse. “Does this mean this young elda has truly been sleeping here inside this room, unworn by time all along since the old ages? How is that even possible?”

“Maybe it has to do with the high concentration of magla inside this room?” Gallica guessed with a shrug. “Still, I think it’s more logical to assume an eldan woman from our time accidentally found themselves inside these ruins and just, well, decided to take a nap.”

Strohl spared Gallica a blank look. “Seriously? And you think that makes sense?”

Gallica sputtered. “W-Well, at least it makes more sense than the theory that she’s an Elda from the World Before who was sleeping inside these ruins until today! There’s no way someone can live that long! Even us fairies don’t have that long of a lifespan!”

“Nor do any rhoags,” Grius added with a snort. 

Will, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke up with determination, “Let’s take her out of here with us.”

“Wha- are you serious?” Strohl’s eyes widened as he whipped his head around to meet Will’s blazing gaze face-on. “We don’t even know who she is!” 

“Even so, we can’t just leave her down here. That would be too…cruel,” Will ended with a frown. 

He didn’t know anything about this girl’s circumstances, other than the fact that some man most likely placed her inside this room to protect her. But even if he weren’t privy to those details, he would’ve chosen to take her above ground anyway because…

Will released a heavy sigh and glanced at Gallica whose wings were beating with less energy than before. If someone could understand him, it was probably her. 

As expected, after a beat of silence, Gallica solemnly said, “I also agree.” She sat herself on Will’s shoulder, expression softening as she gazed upon the sleeping woman. “No one should be forced to sleep all alone down here, especially if it’s true that she has been here since before the end of the previous world. How lonely must she have been, hiding down here all alone?” 

Words were useless beyond a certain point. Both Will and Gallica understood the conflicting feelings within them. After all, they knew another who had been forced into eternal slumber against their will. 

They had started this journey all to save that poor boy, so why not save another along the way?

Strohl scratched the back of his neck, lips dripping into a frown. “Well, when you put it that way…I guess we should take her with us.” With that said, Strohl reached his hands inside the machine and pulled her upright. “Sorry to disturb your rest, milady,” he muttered an apology as he gently adjusted her posture before carrying her out in his arms. Her head lolled against his chest as he tucked her close into a comfortable position. 

Grius couldn’t help but sigh, shaking his head in disbelief. “I thought this mission was supposed to involve only two people, but now we’re catching strays all over. What are we, a charity group?”

Will sent him a wry smile. “I’m sorry things turned out this way.”

Grius waved him off with a hand. “Bah, I wasn’t truly complaining. It wouldn’t sit well with my conscience either if we simply left this young woman to fend for herself down here.”

“Right, so, what now?” Strohl asked. “How do we get out of here?” 

“The door, of course,” Will replied. 

Strohl blinked. “Uh, which door are you talking about? Surely, not the one we just came through?”

Will shook his head. “Of course not. I’m talking about that door.” He pointed his finger behind Strohl. 

All eyes followed after his movements and, strangely enough, there was now another glowing door on the wall that was definitely not there before. 

Strohl stared blankly at the new exit. He took in a deep breath, glanced at the strange woman lying in his arms, and then said in a deadpan voice, “You know what? I’m not even surprised anymore.” 

Unbeknownst to him, he would soon eat his own words in less than a minute because the moment they open the new door, they would find themselves transported right to the exit of Nord Mines. 

Once again, Will thought to himself, he had taken on a mission way above his league.

Chapter Text

06/06 - Outside Nord Mines (Campsite)

As Ciela gradually returned to the world of the living, she became aware of two things: the crackling fire pit right beside her body and the muffled sound of foreign language in the near distance. Although a part of her was overjoyed at the thought that someone had finally taken her out of that damn machine, Ciela tamped down on the rush of adrenaline and unadulterated joy rising up within her. 

Now that she was awake, she had better things to worry about. Although she had been asleep for more than a few centuries (most likely), the cold-sleep machine did nothing to cull her sharp intellect nor the survival instincts that she had honed over years of living on the run. 

She could identify at least three or four distinct voices in the background. Whether they were friend or foe, that was of nigh importance. Right now, she needed as much information as possible about the current state of the world. 

Ciela kept her eyes shut as she focused on her hearing. She took in every foreign word, analyzed the lilt and tone, and tried to read the emotions through the sound. 

This was a small trick that she learned from her older brother. 

All thought processes of intelligent creatures are essentially represented via inner language. Therefore, if one could skip that step of information transmission and instead link up their consciousness directly to another’s, then there would no longer be any barriers in communication regardless of language. 

Luckily, the existence of magla made it possible for one to share their consciousness with one another. Since magla was the manifestation of one’s desires, fears, and other emotions, it was possible to read and understand what someone was saying by interpreting the flow of the magla particles within their voice, even if one did not actually speak that person’s language. 

With the assistance of a little magic, Ciela spent her time piecing together the linguistics of this foreign tongue. 

“But, one spring seven years ago, our town was attacked by this…horrific creature. A human, though I’d no idea at the time.”

After minutes of eavesdropping, that was the first line of dialogue that Ciela fully managed to translate inside her head. It took all of the patience she had, not to twitch at those words. 

What did he just say? A horrific creature called a human? Are those abominations still alive after all these years? 

Ciela felt her head throbbing. Although she didn’t expect to wake up to any good news in particular, there was still a small bud of hope in her heart that maybe, just maybe, the state of the world had improved after her slumber. Of course, she had no idea of the logistics of everything, but a girl could still wish and hope for a better future. 

Perhaps humanity had managed to fend themselves against those tragic monsters somehow. Or maybe, the world wasn’t constantly at war anymore. Although she didn’t dare dream of all the countries in the world working together to put a stop to magical warfare and technological advancement, she still hoped that there would be at least a few people who understood the true dangers of magla research and enacted a global policy against it. 

But of course, the world was still a nasty mess, roaming with metaphorical beasts and conflict. Nothing had changed at all, even after all those years of rest. 

“Now, I think…what if the army—well, Louis… what if he’s the one who abandoned us? If we were just pawns in his game, then…”

Ciela resisted the urge to scoff. 

I guess no matter what era, the government and military continues to fail its people. 

“His Highness survived the attack, but…the curse hanging over him was powerful and complex. Of all the mage healers in the capital, not one could wake him.”

Ciela’s eyelids twitched imperceptibly at that remark. 

If he speaks of a prince, then wherever I am must be a part of a kingdom. I was forced into that machine on the border of China and Russia. The closest country with a monarchy would then have to be…Japan. But they’re clearly not speaking Japanese. 

Of course, Ciela had no idea how the continents had shifted over the years, so the old map of her world wouldn’t be of much use now. 

“You haven’t told this story to many, have you? Thank you for trusting me with it.”

The sound of laughter rang through the air. 

“A rhoag never forgets a debt. Even if it takes three generations, we’d see it repaid.”

What the hell is a rhoag? Perhaps a new ethnicity or nationality? It wouldn’t be strange for new countries to emerge from the ruins of the old. 

“However, as much as I’d love to continue this talk…it appears we have a little rat listening in on our conversation.”

At that remark, Ciela immediately tensed up. One of them must’ve sensed that she was awake from the changes in her breathing. 

“Huh? What do you mean?” 

Knowing that the gig was up, Ciela breathed a sigh and opened her eyes. Although her vision was still blurry from the lack of usage over the years, she could still make out the faces of the people who were huddling around the campfire. 

There were three men of varying ages. 

The eldest of them sported shoulder-length white hair and a matching beard. One of his eyes was covered with an eye patch, which also hid a part of the strange tattoos across his face. He wore metal plate armor, dressed like a mercenary or knight from the old ages. 

The young man sitting beside him had short silver-blond hair. Unlike the soldier, he was dressed in formal clothing with a long yellow coat, ruffled dress shirt, dark pants, and a cravat. 

The last of them was a boy who appeared to be a teenager at best. He possessed dark blue hair—was it natural or dyed?—that came up to his neck and incredibly beautiful heterochromia eyes. In comparison to his other companions, this boy was dressed quite casually in a long white buttoned-up jacket and black pants. 

And of course, she also noticed their strange…appendages. The pointed ears, beast-like horns, and also a fairy with wings-

Um.

Wait, what?

Ciela blinked slowly. She really wanted to rub her eyes, just to make sure that she wasn’t actually seeing things, but if she moved abruptly, maybe these men would attack her. So instead, she simply blurted out with a hint of incredulity, “Pardon me, but fairies actually exist?”

That was apparently not the kind of question they expected from her. 

The three men (and the fairy) glanced at each other. Some sort of telepathic conversation probably transpired through their gazes, but after an awkward moment of silence, the fairy flew over to the spot where Ciela was lying on—oh god, she was actually real and not a figment of her imagination. 

“Is this your first time seeing one?” Gallica asked with mirth roiling in her eyes. “Well, take your time! You don’t get a chance to inspect a fairy up close in all their glory that often!” 

Ciela had already memorized all of their names from the conversation. All she had left to do was match their voices to their names. 

“That’s not surprising. Even I haven’t seen one before yesterday,” the young man who she now knew was Strohl said with a low chuckle. 

Ciela didn’t know what to say. What happened in the years she spent asleep for the world to give birth to, well, such fantasy-like creatures? She couldn’t help but stare absentmindedly at those small wings, shaped somewhere between a butterfly and dragonfly, with striated veins and a translucent shine that sparkled against the campfire. 

“You’re not a hologram, right? Or a projection? Maybe a hardlight construct or-” Ciela cut herself off, wincing as her own words rolled strangely off her tongue in a weird accent. “Ahem, my apologies. I’m a foreigner to these lands, so I’m not quite fluent in your language.”

“Uh, I have no idea what you just said. But I see, you’re really not from Euchronia. Then, are you someone from the…World Before?” Gallica asked with a frown. 

Ciela met Gallica’s curiosity with confusion. “The world before what?” 

“The War of Destruction!” 

“...Is that what they call it?”

Who came up with that name? Sounds like something created by a middle-schooler…

Ciela shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you are talking about either.”

A moment of silence. Slowly, all heads turned towards the eldest who was sitting with his arms crossed, observing her quietly from afar. Ciela immediately tensed up. Compared to Strohl, Gallica, and the young boy who was looking at her with curiosity, the rhoag man was the only one who was constantly glaring her down. 

“So, you claim to be a foreigner,” Grius said, voice rough like gravel and firewood. 

“...Yes,” Ciela responded. 

Sharp eyes narrowed all the more. “The technology found inside the room you were in…it’s far beyond the knowledge of this world. Just where did you come from?”

Ciela knew that kind of tone. It was often used for interrogation. Clearly, unlike his other companions who took in her existence with interest, Grius was wary of her. She didn’t blame him. Not at all. If she was in the same position as him, she would also be suspicious of herself. 

After all, this world appeared to be quite…underdeveloped when it came to technology. At least from what she surmised from their conversations. If so, then the concept of time-travel or cold-sleep would most likely fall on deaf ears. Perhaps she might even be accused of witchcraft, if magic like curses still existed in this world. 

Ciela chewed over her words, picking them with consideration. “You found me inside the cold-sleep machine, no? Although my words cannot prove anything, I think the mere existence of that room tells you everything you need to know.” 

“And what exactly is the purpose of that machine? What were you doing inside there?” Grius scowled. His hand was already resting on the hilt of his blade. 

Ciela’s hand twitched. Her muscles still hadn’t recovered from the long years of slumber. Although she wanted to protect herself against Grius’s possible ire, she couldn’t quite move her limbs freely yet. 

I’ve already casted a physical enhancement spell, but I still need to bide more time. What should I do? What should I tell him? Actually, what can I even tell him, considering I have no idea where his allegiance lies?

“Grius, calm down,” Strohl couldn’t help but interject with a worried frown. “I understand your confusion, but at least let her explain herself. Besides, she just woke up. Surely, this can wait until later?” 

“No, this young lady was eavesdropping on our conversation just now. This means that she now knows everything about the prince and his survival. We cannot let her be,” Grius declared. 

The campfire flickered, casting dark shadows across Grius’s face. It warped his scars and tattoos, making his expression look like those of a snarling beast. 

Ciela measured how fast she could roll to her side if he lashed out with his sword. Even now, her bones and muscles still felt packed with wet sand. There was no way she could escape from them, not even if she crawled away on her knees. 

But just when the tension hit its peak, a soft voice rang throughout the campsite. 

“Even so, she deserves a chance to tell us her story,” Will said. She glanced at her, who was gaping up at him in surprise, with a welcoming smile. “Would you kindly tell us your name first?” 

Ciela stared at him. She stole a quick glance at Grius who was now huffing in annoyance, but she saw the way he reluctantly lowered his hand away from the hilt of his sword. Although she initially thought he was the one in charge, perhaps it was actually this young boy instead, seeing how his elder was listening to him. 

“My name…is Ciela Charadrius,” she started, wincing as a dry itch made its way up her throat. She cleared her voice and tried again. “As you may have surmised, I hail from an…ancient civilization. During what I believe you call the War of Destruction, I was locked inside the cold-sleep machine as a last-ditch effort to save my life. Or, well, in this case, prolong it.”

“A cold-sleep machine? What does it actually do?” Will asked, eyes sparkling with awe. 

“Essentially, it induces a state of cryogenic sleep, allowing a controlled deep hibernation period that slows metabolism to near-zero, enabling long-duration travel through time. It’s fueled by a mixture of space-time and preservation magic.” 

Will’s pupils dilated at the explanation, the boy’s face caught between giddy enthusiasm and the tension webbing the camp. There was a faint quiver in Strohl’s shoulders as he shook his head in disbelief. Gallica was circling around her now, inspecting every inch of her body, wings flapping with restless energy. Even Grius had stopped glaring at her for a minute. Perhaps the concept of cold-sleep was a curiosity powerful enough to suspend his suspicions. 

“So, you’re really a time-traveler,” Strohl murmured, eyes widening. “I can’t believe such magic was possible!” 

“We can’t be sure yet,” Grius muttered through gritted teeth. “She could be a spy or a trap, sent by someone.” 

Will couldn’t help but sigh at that remark. 

“Grius, I know you’re simply worried for us and the prince, but think about it logically. No one has the technological prowess to create such a room or device. Even if, say, the machine was fake and she’s simply a normal Elda who fell asleep in there, why would they assume someone would find her so deep inside the Nord Mines?” 

“He’s right,” Strohl added with a nod. “We only found her by accident because we fell down that cliff. Under normal circumstances, no one would ever wander that deep inside the cave. Not even the Sanctist Church folks.”

Grius’s frown deepened. Even he had to admit that his suspicions were simply groundless, close to paranoia, at this point. 

Ciela had no idea what sorts of thoughts were plaguing his mind. Regardless, she knew enough to assume the kind of situation these men (and one fairy) were in. 

“I understand your concerns,” Ciela began. “I dare not claim I know the dire circumstances that surround your country. In fact, I only heard bits and pieces of information from your conversations, enough to know that you are a resistance group of sorts. If so, then I am of no danger to you all, since I am not acquainted with this world at all.” 

She tore her gaze away from the group, glancing up at the sky instead. At night, the stars were shining brightly all in their glory. She could identify a few recognizable constellations, but even then, their positions had shifted drastically. 

Just how much time had passed since…everything?

Her new reality hadn’t really settled in her bones yet, but now, with the evidence of it all…

Ciela felt her eyes trembling as she stared at the familiar and yet utterly foreign sky. 

I see. The world as I knew it has truly…

“You may consider me like a ghost.” She swallowed down her anguish, sounding a bit like she was drowning; it took her a while to find the air in her lungs to speak again. “I bear no remaining connection to this world. Even if I wanted to do something to obstruct your mission, the most I could do is try to tell someone and end up making a fool of myself for spreading conspiracy theories.” 

Ciela closed her eyes, just so she would not have to witness their pity or skepticism. They had their own worries and she had hers. She was now alive in a world that had left her behind. Where and what she would do from now on…those were far more important topics to address than whatever secret assassination plot these men were planning. 

Or maybe I should just…end it all. 

“Regardless, thank you for waking me up from that cold machine. You have no idea how it feels to be trapped inside your body for centuries with your brain still conscious the entire time. It was akin to mental torture,” Ciela finished. “I owe you all a debt and if my secrecy will pay for it, then so be it. Do what you must. It’s not like I can defend myself, anyway.” Then, she breathed a cynical laugh. “In fact, maybe death will bring me salvation. There’s nothing left for me in this world, anyway.” 

Her words hung between them like a sharp blade. The muscles in Ciela’s face twitched, her jaw rigid. She waited for the metallic scrape of weaponry, but instead came only the whisper of wind through the forest and Gallica’s wings, rhythmically flapping. 

She heard the sound of clothes rustling. When she opened her eyes again, gold and blue filled her vision. Will was sitting right beside her now with a small mug of water in his hands. 

“Please have a drink first,” Will said softly. 

Ciela glanced down at the mug. Then, her lips shifted into a wry smirk. “Resorting to poisoning instead of getting your hands dirty?” 

Will shook his head. “We’re not going to kill you.”

“...Really?” Ciela rasped out. 

Will nodded firmly. His eyes shone brightly with piercing clarity. There was no sign of deception within that gaze. 

“And your friends agree?” Ciela couldn’t help but ask. 

She heard the sound of scoffing. Grius was still staring at her from afar, but his posture wasn’t as closed off as before. His hands were nowhere near the hilt of his sword, instead crossed over his chest. 

“I know this sounds ironic coming from me, but according to your story, were you not placed inside that machine for a reason?” Grius started and Ciela immediately froze. “Since it's meant to prolong life over long periods of time…someone wanted you to stay alive, no matter what cost.”

“He’s right. Let’s not talk about death, yeah? Especially after you just woke up and all. Besides,  you’re not the only…ghost around here,” Strohl said slowly. Ciela noticed a strange flutter in his tone, as if he had to dig the words out of a heavy, wet pit at the bottom of his chest. The fire reflected in his eyes, adding a watery and misty veil over them. “You can decide what to do after you at least see our world for yourself. Surely, whoever put you in that machine wanted to give you this chance.”

A chance that I never wished to have. 

Ciela wished she could simply yell those words out, but she couldn’t because their intended recipient was no longer alive. He left her—Luciano, brother, that wretched fool—all because of some savior complex. 

Why couldn’t he understand that she didn’t want to live in a world without him? Without any family or friends? What was the point of saving her if he wouldn’t be alive to see her again? 

That hopeless idealist…just what did he expect her to do after waking up in the future? Save the world this time instead of running away from her mistakes like the utter failure she was? Was this his idea of redemption? 

Ciela released a heavy sigh. Forget it. She could reminisce about the past later. She had the present to worry about now. 

She slowly reached her hand out to grab the mug that Will was offering her. At the pace of a snail, she pushed herself up with her elbows and sat cross-legged on the ground. 

Steam drifted into the air from the water, its warmth promising physical comfort that she dearly missed throughout her slumber. She curled her fingers around the mug and took a quick sip, feeling it heat up her insides. 

“From what I heard, the future doesn’t appear to be bright for this world, though. Or at least the country that you all came from,” Ciela couldn’t help but quip. 

Strohl winced at her sharp remark. “Uh, well, I guess you got me there.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “But, I mean, the world’s a wide place. Who knows? You might find something worth living for. Y’know, somewhere out there. Or maybe someone.” 

Ciela knew that he was just trying to console her. Albeit his awkward attempt, Ciela couldn’t help the small bubble of laughter, spilling from her lips. She tilted her head to the side, eyes curving with amusement. “How romantic. Has anyone ever told you how eloquent you were with words? Quite the silver tongue you possess, young man.” 

Even Grius couldn’t help but bark out in laughter at her words. “Oh, young lass, you have no idea how noble this lad is. A true knight in shining armor, this one.”

“Wha-” Strohl sputtered, cheeks flaring red. “Shut it! I was just trying to, y’know, make you feel better!” 

The way Strohl’s stammer cracked against the hush of the forest made it impossible for Ciela to keep her laugh in. She hid a grin behind her mug as the warmth of it all suffused her. It was a peculiar feeling to hear banter again after so much silence and solitude. Of course, these men were simply strangers to her, but they were the ones who also brought her out of that cold, metallic cage. 

Huddled together around the campfire like this…she felt a strange connection to them. Even if the world was in shambles, even if she had no purpose, there was simply something incredibly comforting about this moment. She clutched the mug closer to her chest, as if it could insulate her from the ache of the centuries she had missed. 

Will and Strohl seemed content to let the conversation derail off. They were now bantering like close friends. The flames began to crackle more fiercely, and Grius nudged a log further into the fire. It was a rough, yet warm gesture. An admission that she wasn’t viewed as a threat any longer. Just another stray they ended up dragging in from the cold. 

It was such a small act of kindness. Really, she shouldn’t be so moved by it. But this was her first human interaction in years. Against all the conflicting emotions inside of her like fear, confusion, loneliness, and anger…she was thankful. Truly, despite her initial reservations. 

“Thank you,” she said hoarsely, because it seemed like what was expected of her, and because she did owe them something, however small. “For saving me. And for believing me, no matter how strange my circumstances may be.”

She almost didn’t expect a reply, but it came anyway. 

“Hey, no trouble at all. We only did what was right,” Strohl replied with a smile. 

“But what are your plans from now on?” Gallica asked with a frown. “Do you…want to go to the capital with us? Of course, we’re not saying you have to join our cause now or anything.”

Ciela placed the mug down onto the ground beside her. “I would be grateful if you could take me along with you for the meantime. I know nothing about this country or the current state of the world, so I figured it would be nice to get myself into one of the big cities for now.”

There was no protest from any of them, much to her relief. 

“Great! The carriage ride to the capital will take around 3 days. In the meantime, we can get you up to speed with all current affairs,” Gallica said with a grin. “And of course, if you’re willing, maybe you can tell us all about the World Before!”

“I would appreciate that,” Ciela replied with a smile. 

The rest of the night descended into a chaotic conversation about both the new and old world. Ciela was both fascinated and shocked by all the new information she had learned. 

A kingdom populated with people from nine different tribes. Also the existence of a monster that was, for some odd reason, simply called a Human. Not to mention, the caste and racial system that existed. It really didn’t feel like she was in the future, but back in Medieval times with a splash of fantasy elements. 

Ciela did not fall asleep easily that night. There were far too many strange and bizarre things that happened to the world during her slumber. Although nothing about Euchronia sounded like the world that she knew, Ciela still believed that there must be remnants of her history lying somewhere. 

For now, that would be her main goal: find something that connected her to the present. And, if possible, forge a new life for herself here. 

Nobody knew who she was. This meant that she could practically start her life anew without any burdens or repercussions. She no longer needed to live a life on the run as a fugitive and wanted criminal. Here, no one would point fingers at her for her so-called heinous crimes. 

From now on, she could simply breathe and live as herself again: an engineer and magic specialist who once believed in the world more than anybody. 

Hopefully this time, there would be no government trying to chase and tear her down. 

That was all she wanted: a peaceful life, far away from warfare and bloodshed.

06/10 - Royal Capital Grand Trad

After three days of travel via carriage, the group finally made it to Grand Trad. This was only the second time Will had stepped into the capital city and already, he wanted nothing to do with the place. As they wandered discreetly through the crowd of bustling clemars, roussaintes, ishkias and rhoags, Will tried his best to ignore all the hostile words directed towards his kind. 

“Why is there an elda in the sacred capital…?”

“What are the guardsmen doing? How could they let not one but two eldas roam freely among the streets like this?”

“Don’t look them in the eyes. You’ll get cursed!”

“Ugh, what a bad omen for the king’s funeral…there’s definitely trouble on the horizon.”

Although Will was fairly used to such treatment by now, he couldn’t say the same for Ciela. He took a glance at her and, as expected, she was fidgeting with the hems of her sleeves in distress.

“I know you guys warned me about being a hum- uh, Elda, but wow. I can’t believe racist remarks like these are considered the norm, now,” Ciela muttered, keeping her gaze low as she tried not to wince at their words. 

Ciela couldn’t recognize any of the people around her—clemars with their horns, roussaintes with long sharp ears, ishkias with large wings, and paripuses with bushy tails and fluffy ears. They were all such bizarre creatures to her, but the crowd recognized her at a glance. Their gazes felt incredibly sharp and invasive as they declared her to be an outsider, simply because of the way she looked. 

Her world had also been a mess—riots, protests, government spies, national warfare—but at least where she’d come from, slurs were supposed to be whispered when you thought no one could hear, not flung directly at a person’s face on the main street.

“Imagine how much worse it would be if they knew your real background,” Strohl replied, voice pitched low as he glared at the nosy crowd around them. “It’d be a miracle if you weren’t executed by the Sanctists. Best keep your head down and avoid drawing attention.” He looked up at the spires of the silent cathedral with a faint curl of his lip. 

“There’s a hostelry tucked at the back of Sunshade Row: the Hushed Honeybee Inn. Let’s talk later once we’re there away from the crowd,” Grius said as he hurried the group down a public staircase towards the slums where the shadows clung thickly. 

Sunshade Row was like another world. Gone were the expensive-looking glass windows and beautiful bricked buildings. The homes here were rundown, mostly built from mud or old wood. Drunkards dressed in rags roamed through the narrow streets while small little orphans begged for money from passerbys. 

As they exited the alley into a small square, Ciela’s eyes were immediately drawn to the wooden gallows where two soldiers stood, guarding the area. 

She gaped in horror. “Please don’t tell me public execution is actually legal here.”

“It’s a common occurrence around these parts,” Grius said with a huff of air. “You’ll have to get used to it.”

“Seriously?” Ciela breathed out, shaking her head. “I can’t believe this…”

Will understood her apprehension. He too, coming from the Sanctum, had no idea of the blatant hostility that existed in the outside world. He couldn’t fathom why such brutality was considered the norm, and wondered what kind of ruler would turn a blind eye to such blatant injustice. 

Will knew that the previous king wasn’t the most competent ruler. He could understand why some might harbor resentment towards him, especially after seeing how the poor lived in the slums. But did he deserve to be assassinated so cruelly in the middle of the night? And what of the poor prince? What did that innocent soul do to have his life forcefully taken from him? 

“We’re getting close,” Grius spoke up as he led the group through another narrow path that opened up to a small clearing. At the very end of the road was a building with a round, wooden door. This was most likely the tavern and inn he was talking about. 

Without further ado, he ushered the group inside. 

The ground floor of the inn hosted a couple of tables, filled with customers and delicious smelling food. There was a warm fireplace inside and another area at the back, most likely a kitchen for the staff. 

“You’re back,” a voice sounded from inside the room. 

A paripus woman with ash blonde hair and fox ears walked out from behind the counter. Just one look at her made Will’s breath hitch. She was, without a doubt, one of the most stunning women he had ever seen in his whole life. 

Strohl, who was standing beside him, looked genuinely star-struck, mouth agape and cheeks flushed. Ciela simply stared her down with curiosity, her gaze focusing more on the swinging bushy tail behind her back. 

“Papa, you’re back!” A young girl with short hair rushed out from inside the kitchen and threw herself at Grius’s legs, hugging him tightly. “Welcome home!” 

“Well hello, my Maria. I trust you’ve been staying out of trouble?” Grius petted her gently on the head, rustling his hand through her soft hair. He then gestured towards the rest of the group. “These are our new recruits.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all. My name’s Fabienne. This inn is my business and home,” Fabienne greeted with a warm smile. 

“I didn’t know you had a daughter, Grius,” Will said, smiling at the shy girl who was still clutching the hem of her father’s armor. 

“She’s adorable!” Ciela gasped from behind him with a bright grin. “I know this might be rude, but she really doesn’t look anything like you, Grius.”

“Shut it, lass,” Grius grumbled with a glare. “She takes after her mother, that’s why.”

“U-Uh…” Strohl’s tongue was apparently tied as he continued to stare at Fabienne. 

“What’s with the tension, boy?” Grius couldn’t help but say with a frown. “Are you hiding something? I saw the way your eyes lit up when you looked at Fabienne.”

“What?!” Strohl sputtered. “I- uh, nothing! I mean, it’s just…” he trailed off, swallowing audibly. “She’s, y’know! I-I’m not trying to hide anything! I just don’t want to embarrass myself.”

Will’s brows arched up the ceiling. “...Strohl?” he started with an almost accusatory tone. 

“Eh? Oh, hahaha!” Grius immediately guffawed, lips widening into a shit-eating grin. “So that’s it, eh? All bluster and nobility in battle, but one pretty lady and you turn to mush. Say no more, lad, say no more.” 

Strohl bristled, ears reddening. “Oh, shut it!” 

“Wow, who knew Strohl was weak towards pretty women,” Gallica muttered as she popped her head out of Will’s satchel. 

Ciela, who was standing behind all of them, snorted. “Well, he certainly didn’t react that badly when he was talking to me.”

Will couldn’t help but smile at her remark. “Don’t worry, Ciela. I think you’re incredibly beautiful, too.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Will,” Ciela replied with a wry smile. 

She wasn’t actually offended by Strohl’s response. Even she had to admit that Fabienne just exuded an aura of elegance and maturity. Despite standing in the middle of a crowded inn, she shone brightly as if a spotlight was on her the whole time. 

Whereas in comparison, Ciela was simply dressed in a lab coat, black turtleneck, and matching white pants. She just looked like a normal researcher from every angle. Nothing particularly special and considering the population she saw roaming outside in the city, long platinum blonde hair and blue eyes wasn’t anything unique either.  

“I-I think you’re very pretty,” Maria suddenly mumbled as she peered up to steal a glance at Ciela. “The blue in your eyes…it reminds me of the sky!” 

Ciela blinked at that compliment. “Oh, thank you.” 

“Now, now, let us keep the talk for later. After braving the frontiers with this curmudgeon here, I’m sure you all would welcome a warm supper,” Fabienne interjected with a laugh. “Take a seat and I’ll whip something up real quick.”

Dinner was a quiet affair. Compared to all the rations they had eaten during their travels, Fabienne’s food was absolutely delicious. Will watched in silence as Strohl gobbled down every last bit of the plate. Even Ciela, who was initially poking her fork through the bidou meat with slight apprehension, appeared to be happily wolfing down her portion. Grius and Maria were the first to leave the table, heading upstairs to spend some time together as family. 

After their meal was over, the group separated, heading to their assigned lodgings for the night, but before Ciela could walk further up the stairs, Strohl suddenly spoke up from behind her. 

“Hey, uh, Ciela?” Strohl started, scratching the side of his cheek. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hm? What’s up?” Ciela lazily replied as she placed her hand on the rail next to the staircase. 

“So, you heard everything about what we’re, well, planning to do, right?” Strohl said in a low, hushed voice. His eyes darted around the room, as if making sure that no one was eavesdropping on them. 

Ciela stared blankly at him. “Uh, yeah. That whole thing about saving this kingdom by killing the perpetrator who cursed the prince, right? What about it?”

For a long moment, Strohl just stared at her, looking as if he’d been caught halfway between saying something meaningful and getting his tongue tied into knots. He opened and closed his mouth several times before he finally exhaled.

“Look, I know we’ve only just met. But I wanted to ask what you… really make of all this.” His fingers drummed nervously against his thigh. “If you don’t want to answer, that’s fine.”

Ciela couldn’t help but arch a brow in surprise. “You’re asking for my opinion about what you guys are planning to do?” 

“No, it’s just that I was thinking about things from your perspective,” Strohl started with a dry laugh. “You’re taking in everything so well that it surprises me. Does this kind of stuff happen often back in the past?” 

“Quite often, yes,” Ciela replied bluntly with a shrug. “In fact, it’s a fairly common occurrence throughout the world. I wake up to news every day about corruption in the government, assassination plots, and all sorts of heinous crimes. It’s not only about the country I hail from, but everywhere in the world is like this. Though I don’t personally participate in such things.”

Strohl’s mouth twitched. “I guess some things never changed over time. I suppose that’s comforting? No, actually, that’s pretty bleak.” 

Ciela shrugged. “One adapts. Or at least survives long enough to see the next crisis.” Which was, honestly, all she’d ever done. Well, at least aside from that one crisis she personally caused with her own hands. 

Strohl went quiet again after those words. He appeared to be pondering over something; he chewed over his lips, hesitant to speak up. 

“...I remember you told us during the ride here that you are a very skilled mage.”

At that remark, Ciela immediately tensed up. Sharp blue eyes narrowed to death as she folded her arms across her chest defensively. “A spellwright and magic engineer, to be more specific. But yes, what about it?” 

“I know you don’t owe us anything, but would you consider lending your strength to our cause?” Strohl asked with a pleading gaze. “As you can see, our kingdom’s not in a good place at all. Crime is rampant, discrimination comes as easily as breathing, and no one really cares about the future.” He took a step forward and stood there, one step below her on the stairs; it gave him the height advantage again. “I promise this isn’t a threat or anything. I just…we really need all the help we can.”

Ciela’s stomach churned, bringing with it a bout of nausea. 

Another mission, another country, another group desperate for solutions. Always the same: a bunch of people drowning, clutching at whatever drifted by, and now she washed up on their shore. She wondered why it stung that he only wanted to use her, when it was the only reason anyone ever needed her at all.

“...And what exactly do you want me to do? Before you ask, I’m sorry but curses aren’t my specialty. Neither is assassination,” Ciela spoke through gritted teeth. 

Strohl didn’t back down. His hands clenched the banister, knuckles pale. 

“I understand. I would never force you to do something you aren’t comfortable with. But from what you just told me, it seems like you have a lot of experience dealing with politics. Maybe you can, well, help us later on after we get the prince back on the throne. I’m sure your knowledge will come in handy later when we have to rebuild the nation.”

Ciela couldn’t take it anymore. The longer she stood there listening to Strohl’s words, the more old memories began to surge, painful ones that she never wanted to relive again. 

“You know what I think, Strohl?” Ciela immediately cut him off, voice dry as the desert that they had just passed through. “I think you lot are just flailing against a system so petrified it has already buried itself in the ground.” 

Strohl froze, lips parted mid-speech. His eyes widened with shock at her crude words. “I-I beg your pardon?”

Ciela fixed him with an unblinking stare, the glare of the stairwell’s lantern throwing a blade of light across her face. Strohl looked as if she had just slugged him in the gut. 

“Even if you get your prince back on the throne, politics will eat him alive and spit out what’s left for someone like you to mop up. The people you’re fighting? They’re never really finished. Who was it again…Louis, right? Yeah, sorry to say this, but even if you kill him, nothing is going to change. And if you think otherwise, then you’re incredibly naive.” 

A flush crept up the side of Strohl’s face. The tips of his horns seemed to vibrate with embarrassment or maybe anger. “B-But someone has to do something or else-”

“Every single person who tried to fix corruption eventually died in a puddle of their own blood. Either that or they caved in and became a part of the problem,” Ciela continued without a care to his feelings. She rolled her eyes, grip on the banister tightening. “So yeah, I don’t have much hope in your plans. Sorry if I sound cruel, but I’ve seen far too many regimes to believe that any of them could actually improve the world. Anyway, I’m grateful for everything you guys have done for me, but this is where we part. I want no part in your stupid plans.”

Then, without waiting for him to refute her, she turned around and continued up the stairs, leaving Strohl to stand there alone, utterly dumbfounded.

For the first time in a few days, Ciela was finally alone. She took off her lab coat and boots, then immediately sprawled herself onto the soft bed inside her room. Outside, the muffled sound of laughter bled through the thin wooden walls, joined by the clinking of glasses and the lively, shapeless music of tavern life. 

She wasn’t sleepy at all, but she still closed her eyes in exhaustion. Too much had occurred over the past few days. All the new information that she retrieved from Will, Strohl, Grius, and Gallica had completely turned her world upside down. Not to mention, all the blatant discrimination and corruption running amok down the streets. 

It was hard to come to terms with the fact that this was her reality now—an incredibly lawless world filled with strange creatures and both technological and moral deterioration. Although it appeared humanity—or whatever they wanted to call people nowadays—succeeded in surviving the disastrous wars of her time period, civilization had regressed back to a medieval-era like state. 

Ciela couldn’t help but groan in despair. She rubbed a hand over her face and sighed. 

The only good thing that came out of everything was the fact that at least humanity didn’t go entirely extinct. Though, it was a shame that all their technological and magical prowess simply disappeared over time. 

She couldn’t believe that the people of this time didn’t even know what electricity was. Sure, back in the past, civilization had advanced to the point where it was common to use magla-fueled circuits instead of normal light bulbs. But everyone at least had the scientific knowledge required to understand where electricity came from. 

Now? She doubted anyone even knew what a proton was. 

Ciela didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

Where she came from, it was common knowledge for people to fight over resources or the right to fire magical spells across continents via satellite. Now, the existence of fairies and furries were more plausible than a damn cup of tea. It was like waking up in a parody of humanity’s lowest moments where science became myth, magic became nigh-obsolete, and everyone seemed far too comfortable with the omnipresence of violence.

Maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised. History had proven itself countless times—how civilizations collapsed, how fragile knowledge could be. But even so, she had hope for the future. Despite the fact that all 195 countries in the world were at war with each other for natural resources and magla veins, she still didn’t think the entire earth would literally reverse back to a more primitive state. 

“So much for a better future, Luciano,” Ciela couldn’t help but grumble a complaint out. “Idiot brother. What the hell did he save me for? Did he think I could somehow right the world or something? I may be a genius, but I can’t create miracles out of thin air.” 

Luciano may no longer be there with her, but she knew him well enough to imagine what he would say to her if he knew how utterly discouraged she was right now. 

He’d probably laugh at her. Shake his head and gently pat her shoulder. Look at her with those brilliant emerald-green eyes of his, curved gently into crescent moons. 

“Compared to me who knows nothing but healing magic, you’re the one who should move on to the future. Besides, don’t you remember what you once told me?”

When she was but a naive fledgling straight out of high school who held innocent dreams of one day bettering the world with her ingenious creations, she once declared to Luciano in a bold fit of passion.

“If you’ve lost something, just find it again. If something has been destroyed, then rebuild it. As long as we live, the possibilities are endless. So as long as I’m alive, I’ll never give up. I’ll find a way to better everyone’s lives with my research. With the power of magla, we could solve a number of medical and technological complications in the world. Just trust me, brother. The world of sci-fi will no longer be a reach. I’ll make our fantasies come true.” 

Now, Ciela wanted to laugh at her younger self. 

Poor, foolish girl who thought she was so smart she could solve all of the world’s problems by herself. That arrogance would ultimately be her downfall. By the end of it all, her aspirations had been grounded to dust by none other than the world that she sought out to save.  

Nobody could save the world alone. In fact, the world probably wasn’t even worthy of salvation.

She had already given up those grandiose dreams of hers. Ciela Charadrius, who had now reached the age of 24, only wanted to live a peaceful life free from strife and bloodshed. 

Never again would she allow herself and her talents to be used for nefarious political schemes and treachery. 

So unfortunately, as kind as the men were to her, she didn’t want to spend any longer in their care. After all, she had heard enough from their conversation to realize that they were about to pull something incredibly bold at the King’s Funeral tomorrow. 

She did not want to be associated with a bunch of potential assassins. 

Tonight she would sleep, and tomorrow, she would explore the city and try to learn more about this new world. Hopefully, despite the discrimination towards eldas, she could still find a job somewhere. 

And if the world was as far gone as it seemed, then she would simply find a safe place to settle down and live a quiet life far from the eyes and ears of the people, tinkering with machinery or building magical artifacts in her humble abode.  

Just the kind of ideal life she always envisioned.

Chapter Text

06/11 - Hushed Honeybee Inn

Ciela woke up early in the morning. Or at least she assumed so, judging from the orange and red streaks of light across the sky. To her surprise, by the time she made it downstairs, none of the guys were present. There were no other guests either. Only Fabienne and Maria were standing behind the counter, talking in hushed voices. 

Fabienne caught movement in her peripheral vision and smiled at Ciela. “Good morning, Ciela. Did you sleep well last night?” 

Ciela replied with a chuckle. “Slept like a baby, ma’am.” 

“That’s good to hear,” Fabienne replied with a soft gaze. “I heard a little about your circumstances from Grius. So, you’re a foreigner from a distant land who sought refuge in Euchronia after your country was cindered to ashes?”

Ciela paused for a moment before nodding. “Yes, I’m afraid so.” It wasn’t quite the truth, but she couldn’t just tell anybody about her real identity. In fact, Grius had done her a favor by giving her a cover-up backstory. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Maria mumbled with a deep frown. “I-I don’t know what to say.” 

Ciela glanced at her and smiled. “I’m alright, Maria. Maybe I don’t have a place to call home anymore, but at least I’m alive, haha.”

Maria perked up at her words and smiled. “Hm, if you say so! Everything will be alright, big sis! You can stay here for as long as you like!” 

Fabienne, on the other hand, didn’t seem to buy her words. She watched over Ciela’s smile with a frown. It was no surprise. After all, Ciela was really cranking up the false bravado, just so that Fabienne wouldn’t dig for more details about her past. 

“As much as I want to stay here, I’m afraid I can’t because I have no reeves with me,” Ciela said as she scratched the side of her head sheepishly. “I’ll have to find a way to earn a living, first.”

Fabienne tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, lips pressed into a thin line. “We don’t take reeves from our guests. At least, not the ones without homes. That’s not how my inn works.” 

“Huh?” Ciela blinked. “Um, I appreciate the thought but I can’t just, well…” she trailed off, not knowing how to respond to such kindness. Although she was used to life on the run, she never resorted to thievery or, in this case, charity. “I’m grateful for everything, but I don’t want to impose myself any further on you.” 

“I had a feeling you wouldn’t accept my offer. But if you want to do your share, we always have chores.” Fabienne flicked her wrist toward the kitchen where Maria was currently washing up plates and lining up jars. “I hope you don’t take offense to this, but we see a lot of strays like you around here. Of course, we don’t take them all in. However, I do my best to provide them with temporary homes until they find themselves a proper job.” 

Fabienne’s smile softened. “I assure you, you are not taking advantage of my good will. In fact, with the funeral procession going on, we expect to receive more guests than usual. You would be doing me a favor by accepting my offer.” 

A flush of embarrassment crept up Ciela’s neck. She knew there was nothing to be ashamed of, considering her strange circumstances. But still, she didn’t like the feeling of being utterly helpless for a woman her age. Ciela wasn’t used to being treated like fragile glass. She was always the one ahead of others in life, graduating school early and fast-tracking herself to a post with the government, leading research groups and seminars. 

“Oh, um, then I guess I’ll take up your offer for now. I promise, I’ll get out of your sights as soon as I find my bearings in this new country,” Ciela said sheepishly before she leaned forward into a curt bow. “Again, thank you so much, Miss Fabienne.”

Fabienne waved her off with a chuckle. “No need to thank me, Ciela. I’m only doing my part.” She turned towards the back of the counter. “Maria, will you show Ciela her way around the kitchen?” 

“Okay!” Maria’s bright voice chimed from the back of the kitchen. The young girl came running out with her hands pink and wrinkled from sink water. “Um, big sister, follow me!”

06/11 - Sunshade Row

In the end, Ciela spent most of her morning washing up dishes and tidying up the dining area. She also helped clean the empty inn rooms, folding blankets and airing out the laundry. When she was finished, Fabienne deposited 500 reeves into her hands, which she reluctantly accepted, only because Maria was sulking when she refused; she always had a soft spot for the young. 

Now that her ‘work’ for the day was done, Ciela excused herself for a walk outside. If she wanted to find a way to make a living here, then she needed to assimilate herself to the capital city as soon as possible. There was no better way to get herself acquainted with the customs of this new world than to experience them for herself. 

Normally, when she found herself in a foreign country, the first thing she would do was visit their public libraries; there were always plenty of history books lying around for her to peruse. However, that method wouldn’t work in this case, since she had no idea how to read the Euchronian alphabet. 

Although she could use magic to get by the issue of verbal communication, written words had no underlying emotion or voice she could identify. They possessed no innate magla, so she couldn’t understand them.

From what she heard from Grius and Strohl, most people were apparently illiterate in this kingdom. There were no public schools and the concept of free education didn’t exist. Only the rich or nobles knew how to read and write. 

Ciela knew she was a fast learner, so if only someone could teach her, she was certain she could master any foreign language in less than a month. The problem was, she was an Elda. No one would want to teach someone from the bottom of the caste system. 

Which left her only one option: ask the only noble that she knew to teach her. 

But that idea also led to another series of problems. 

She just blew Strohl’s opinions off the night before. She also had no idea how long the others were going to remain here in Grand Trad. Besides, they were probably busy with that secret mission of theirs. And if things went awry, who knew if they would be alive to see tomorrow? 

Ciela couldn’t help but wince at that thought. Although she hadn’t really grown attached to them yet, they were still the only people in this world who knew who she really was and readily (sort of) accepted her. If they were to disappear all of a sudden…she’d really have to fend for herself alone in this strange world. 

Ciela kicked a loose pebble off the sidewalk, listening to it clatter into the gutter. 

“God, I really am screwed, aren’t I?” she muttered to herself with a sigh. 

If possible, she really didn’t want to associate herself any further with the so-called resistance group. It wasn’t that she didn’t possess any martial prowess to protect herself; Ciela knew more than enough about magical combat, being the creator of numerous spells herself. Murder also wasn’t something entirely foreign to her either. As someone who often found herself chased down by the government and police, she had experience killing in self-defense.

But that didn’t change the fact that she didn’t like fighting. Not to mention, she refused to lend her hand for a group whose goals were questionable at best and morally corrupt at worst.  

She only heard bits and pieces from eavesdropping on their conversation. 

Apparently, there was an ex-military general named Louis Guiabern who made a name for himself by slaying the humans. However, according to Strohl, he also purposely chose to delay aid towards specific villages to spread the infamy of the humans, all to gain more political power. This was also the same man who attempted to assassinate the prince through some mysterious curse that no one could unravel. In addition, he was also assumed to have killed the king. 

Altogether, it sounded like this man was definitely a corrupted official who played with the lives of the people. But as someone from a more modern society, Ciela had witnessed enough people like Louis Guiabern to grow immune to it all. 

She understood that to the resistance, the act of killing him would be revenge—a way to serve justice by honoring the lives of his victims while also curing the prince from his curse. However, if anyone could simply kill the people who wronged them, then the world would quickly dissolve into one lawless arena. 

Of course, the rules of this world were entirely different from the past. Crimes were allowed unless caught, and the likelihood of killing for survival was higher than ever. Perhaps there wasn’t even a proper judicial court system in place. 

Still, to actively seek and assassinate someone to right some wrongs was not the sort of behavior Ciela wanted to support. Or more like she wanted nothing to do with that kind of messy life anymore. After all, she was done with living on the run. 

Forget saving the world. From now on, she was going to focus on herself. 

“Wonders never cease. To think there would be not only one but two eldas in our fair city. I didn’t know the late king had supporters from such far lands,” a voice suddenly rang out from her right. 

Ciela startled, coming to a halt. It appeared in her daze, she had ended up walking right out of the slums onto Sunlumeo Street. Now, she was standing right in front of a store that seemed to be displaying magic artifacts. 

She turned to look at the person who had called out to her. It was a woman with long white hair and dark brown skin, dressed in black. Her jacket flapped against the wind on her shoulders as she glanced up and down, observing Ciela’s frame. 

“Although the funeral procession should start soon, I would still advise you to keep a low profile. You don’t want to catch the eye of the lords and ladies with…special interests.” 

Ciela didn’t need to be a genius to catch the drift of what this lady was trying to say. She resisted the urge to wince, instead glancing sidelong at the shop window beside her. Glass cases lined the interior, each crowded with softly glowing trinkets and stones. 

“I…shall keep your words in mind, but I’m not actually here for the royal funeral. In fact, I’m more interested in the items being sold in this store,” Ciela replied. 

“Oh? Are you in the market for an igniter?” The woman asked with a hint of surprise. “Not what I expected from an elda. After all, your kind is known to possess the peculiar ability to use magic without the use of igniters.” Her lips curled into a smirk. “The name’s Brigitta and I run this humble shop. If you want to purchase one, then you’ve come to the right place.”

“Igniters? So they call it that around here?” Ciela hummed in amusement. She met Brigitta’s curious gaze face-on with a placid smile of her own. “My apologies, but I’m not interested in purchasing one. I was simply curious about how they are made in the capital.”

“Curious, huh?” Brigitta drawled, voice more bemused than mocking. “Most eldas turn up their noses at our presumably outdated methods. Never seen one outright admit interest. Then again, I’ve only met one other elda before.” She breathed a chuckle, shaking her head. “You say you’re interested in how they are made? Are you perhaps a magic engineer?” 

Ciela shrugged nonchalantly. “Magic engineering is indeed one of my specialties, though I’m not only involved with the production side of things.” She tilted her head to the side, lips curving into a proud smirk. “My true expertise lies with creating and altering spells.”

Brigitta’s brows slowly arched up. “Now, that’s a rare find. I’ve never met a spellwright before.” She crossed her arms, fingers lightly tapping her own skin in a show of interest. “Unfortunately, for a master spellwright, you will find little interest in the igniters made by the state. They’re all infused with the most basic of spells, pawned mostly to the gentry and the nobles who have a taste for luxury.” 

Ciela nodded with understanding as her eyes traversed the items on display, each one pulsing weakly, as if exhausted. “Yes, I can see just by looking at them. No offense, but this is quite the…poor selection of goods.” 

Brigitta breathed a dry laugh. “No offense taken. My job is simply to sell them off as a merchant. I care not whether they are of use or not.” 

“A shame. When made with good intentions, these…igniters are much more than weapons of destruction,” Ciela muttered with a sigh. 

Brigitta’s eyes lingered on hers, the silence between them heavy and expectant. 

“...What other use do you think igniters should have?” Brigitta slowly asked, eyes narrowing. 

Ciela hummed in thought, rubbing her chin. 

“Well, for starters, they shouldn’t be used simply as weapons. For example, imagine the most basic of fire spells. A magla crystal inscribed with this spell allows its wielder to use Bot. However, what if we mold the magla differently, changing its foci, directing it inward instead of outwards? We heat up the crystal internally and from there on, we can use that magla crystal instead of, say, a fireplace.”

“But to generate enough heat to warm an entire fireplace would require a substantial amount of magla crystals,” Brigitta interjected, though her eyes were brimming with barely concealed excitement. “The cost far outweighs the benefits.”

“Perhaps so if we are talking about generating a whole bonfire to last for eternity. But who said a fireplace was the only way to warm a home?” Ciela continued with a smile. “Have you ever heard of heated floors?”

Brigitta frowned. “Can’t say I have.”

“You see, someone in my, uh, hometown created this method,” Ciela explained. “One magla crystal with Bot inscribed is enough. It’s a system that utilizes warm water or electric currents to generate heat energy. By creating an underground pipe circulating system, through conduction, convection, and radiation, the warm water is enough to create enough heat for an entire house.”

“And only one magla crystal is enough for this idea?” Brigitta couldn’t help but marvel in surprise. “I’m not sure if it’s realistic.” 

“Well, look at all the street lamps out here,” Ciela said with a shrug. “It’s the same concept, utilizing magla stones encrypted with light magic.” 

Brigitta paused. She glanced at the lamp posts on the streets, and then back at Ciela’s smiling face. 

“So, you’re a crafter and a theorist. Interesting,” Brigitta said, almost admiringly. Her gaze sharpened as she stared Ciela down. “I’d buy you a drink just to pick your brain about it more, but I’m afraid that would be far too dangerous, considering the crowd around here. I appreciate your ideas, but I advise you not to speak about them elsewhere. Or, better yet, keep it for only trusted company. Most men in this city don’t want things to improve. Even less so by the likes of your people.”

Brigitta’s words were a cold warning. They reminded Ciela of the current state of the world—how danger lurked in every corner because she was Elda. But instead of feeling afraid, Ciela almost laughed instead because there was something strangely reassuring about the other woman’s bluntness. 

“I’ll take your words to heart,” Ciela replied with a smirk. Then, she took a step closer towards Brigitta, peering up at her with curved eyes filled with mirth. “But I’m afraid it’s too late, since I’ve already shared my thoughts with you. So, what will you do? Report me to the Sanctist Church? Or maybe…” Ciela’s smirk widened into a full-blown grin. “You’ll take advantage of this poor naive soul?”  

Brigitta’s gaze met hers, level and cold, before her lips parted into laughter. Not polite, not mocking, but almost delighted, as if Ciela had been an unexpected hand hidden in a deck of marked cards. 

“Take advantage? Of you?” Brigitta grinned, all white teeth and amusement. “You are certainly poor, yes. But naive? Not for a moment. A talented spellwright like you could simply teleport yourself out of my watchful eyes.”

“Indeed, I could,” Ciela boasted without fear. 

She had seen and heard enough from Brigitta to know that this woman held no malice towards her kind. If she did, she wouldn’t have warned Ciela about the dangers in this city, to begin with. 

Besides, that glint of light in her eyes was impossible to mask, even if she held the sort of poker face that would’ve made a brick wall jealous; when Ciela spoke of her ideas, there was a fire burning in those pale white orbs. She could sense Brigitta’s hidden passion and dreams within them. 

This woman was definitely secretly a revolutionist, someone who disliked the hold the Theocracy had on the distribution and usage of igniters.

Ciela couldn’t help the bubble of excitement threatening to spill out of her throat.  

If she wanted to accomplish anything in this new world, whether it was making a living or forging a new path for herself, she would need precisely this sort of co-conspirator. 

She’s definitely someone I can use. If there’s a kindred spirit with the same passion for magic and technology as me left in this world, then I would be a fool not to take their hand. That is, if they’re willing to give it. 

What a lucky find!

“Well,” Ciela suddenly started, stretching her arms overhead and pretending indifference, “I suppose I’ve wasted enough of your business hours. Unless you’re secretly in need of a spellwright and self-proclaimed inventor like me?” 

Brigitta was a smart enough woman to understand what Ciela was insinuating. She couldn’t help but bark out in laughter again. “I’m afraid I have no interest in dealing with the devil, especially not during such tumultuous times. With that said though…” Brigitta trailed off into a smirk. “I’m a merchant and I see a profitable future for your endeavors. It would be foolish of me not to at least consider a potential partnership. In secret, of course.” 

“Great!” Ciela chirped. Then, she held her hand out in an o-shape and smiled. “As you already guessed, I’m in quite the financial trouble right now. So, if you’re interested, I can draft up a few blueprints for some ideas I have in exchange for a commission fee. What do you say?”

Brigitta, the shrewd woman she was, squinted at her. “A commission fee? You think like a merchant already.” She crossed her arms over her chest again, but there was no tension in her posture and a small smile creased the corner of her mouth. “I don’t pay in advance. Bring me a design, something usable, and we’ll talk numbers then.”

“Perfect!” Ciela felt her chest flutter. For the first time since waking up in this cursed kingdom, she had something close to a plan. “I’ll work hard to impress, promise. Oh, by the way, the name’s Ciela.”

Brigitta’s lips curled. “There’s no need to flatter. When you finish your blueprints, just knock on my door. I’ll tell the guards your name so they can bring you in. With that said, I wish you the best of luck in this accursed city. Try not to get discovered and killed along the way. The Sanctists want to keep their monopoly on igniters and if you fall into their hands, well, that would be a loss for the future and for my pockets.” 

Those were last words as she stalked away, disappearing through the front door of her shop. 

Ciela watched Brigitta go, feeling a grin tug at her face. She took a moment to relish the feeling of joy rising up inside her—the heavy thrum of new possibilities in her chest. 

Maybe life in this new world wouldn’t be that difficult, after all. 

But after the adrenaline rush of her new success faded, Ciela facepalmed. The sound of skin smacking against skin echoed down the bustling street as she groaned in despair. 

“Fuck, I forgot to ask her to teach me the Euchronian script! Damn it!”

06/11 - Regalith Grand Cathedral Plaza

A few days ago, Will thought to himself that his mission would turn out fine somehow. Now, Will would like nothing more than to ask Ciela if it was possible to time-travel back to the past because he wanted to smack his previous self for even daring to think such naive thoughts. 

Nothing was going right. Nothing at all. 

From the start of their mission, everything that could go wrong went terribly wrong. But he still dared to hope like the foolish boy he was that maybe, just maybe, things were turning out for the better. They had managed to meet their agent, made it safely out of Nord Mines with another companion in tow, and all that was left of their mission was to kill the bastard who cursed his best friend. 

They were so close. So close yet so…far.

Just like Grius’s lifeless body, lying on the cold hard floor right in front of his master’s casket. 

His death was a pure mockery of everything they had fought for. Not only did he die by his sworn enemy’s hands, his loyalty and trust was also trampled on and ripped to shreds by none other than the dead king himself. 

Will didn’t want to admit it, but Louis was right. There was something incredibly poetic about this outcome. But this was no epic romantic. This wasn’t a fictional story written to entertain the masses. Grius wasn’t just a character in a book whose death symbolized the decaying faith of the people. 

This was pure tragedy. 

This was real. 

A man’s life had been snuffed earlier than expected, and yet time unrelentingly marched forward. No one paid attention to the poor man lying dead underneath his enemy’s feet. All the people around him were entirely focused on Louis’s grand speech and the king’s magic. 

But Will didn’t hear a damn thing. Their words filtered meaninglessly through the pure white shock and rage clouding his mind. Strohl and Gallica were both yelling something in response to Louis’s audacious words, but Will couldn’t speak or move through the sudden anger and betrayal coiling through him like a snake.

Why? Just why did Grius have to die this way? 

As ironic as this entire situation was, Will began to understand why Louis called the King a failure. If he possessed such strong magic that defied even the laws of death itself, then why? Why use his powers this way? 

Why destroy the life of the only servant who remained loyal to him until the very end, instead of the throne usurper who murdered both him and his son with no remorse? 

What right did he have to re-emerge from his death in this manner? Even in death, was this- this incompetent fool trying to tear down his own kingdom? He couldn’t do anything to protect his own family while he was alive, but now that he was suddenly dead, he decided to use his magic to prolong the life of his murderer? 

Had the king gone utterly mad? Or maybe, the rot was always there, festering inside this damned kingdom. How was it possible that no one bothered to check on Grius at all when there were so many people around here? Not even the guards and soldiers made a move since the king’s magic began to speak. 

Since when was death viewed as something so easily tossed aside in favor of power?

It was suddenly difficult to breathe. All his naivety and delusions of a peaceful future had been shattered in the cruelest way possible. Will made himself take a breath, and then another. He ignored the outcries of rage and support echoing around him. He could hear the pounding in his ears, loud and stuttered as the sheer insanity of everything finally sank deep inside his bones.  

Is this country even worth saving, at this point? Can the prince…that young, kind-hearted child…even do something to save us all from this disaster? 

“Will! We need to do something!” Gallica’s voice pierced through the blinding fog of anger painting his vision red. 

“Grius!” Strohl yelled as he sprinted through the chaos, running up the stairs. 

Will followed after them in a trance. He didn’t even know how he managed to unlock his legs and properly wobble there without collapsing. Strohl was there on his knees, clutching Grius’s cold, blood-stained hand. Gallica had tears rolling down her face. And Will…he-

He thought he saw the ocean. 

He should be focusing on Grius right now. He should be mourning the man’s death. And yet something had sinfully stolen his attention and all the remaining air inside his lungs. Gone was the maelstrom of rage threatening to bleed through his soul. Instead, a strange heart-ache filled its spot. 

His eyes met Louis’s through the pandemonium. 

The madman’s golden hair swayed gently against the wind. His piercing blue eyes were a kaleidoscopic explosion of inexplicable emotions. His expression was rigid, set in arrogance, exuding an air of authority. But the long lashes of his eyes trembled uncontrollably, each wave as expressive as the waters of the sea itself. 

This was not the look of a man who had just murdered someone in cold blood. This was not the look of a man who threatened to conquer the world with brute force and might. 

This was a man who was…suffering. There was euphoria, but also deep pain. He saw it in the way Louis’s expression suddenly twisted with wretched recognition the moment he caught himself staring at Will. 

Will had no idea why Louis was looking at him with such striking emotions. And Will had no idea why he felt so terribly moved by it all. He was supposed to feel disgusted, but for some odd reason, he wanted to…cry. 

He wasn’t actually crying, of course. Still, his body badly wanted to. His eyes stung and there was a lump in his throat the size of a brick, painfully digging in at every point of contact. 

But before he could react to everything, Louis’s expression suddenly went eerily blank. Will didn’t think it was possible for someone to restrain their emotions to such a degree that nothing showed on their face at all. 

A chill ran down Will’s spine as Louis spun away from his view, his white jacket flapping behind him, untainted by blood. 

And in that moment, memories bubbled up like rising tides. There was nothing Will could do but let himself drown in it all.

XX/XX - Ancient Eldan Sanctum

He was sitting there at the tree again, curled up on the patch of green that he had worn out over time. His nose remained buried in the book, nestled between soft tiny palms. In the near distance, he could hear the sound of laughing eldan children, running through the field of white lilies. 

It would be a lie to say he had no interest in mingling with the other children his age, but he didn’t truly belong here. Not with the way their parents kept whispering harsh truths behind his back. That their queen had fallen, sired him from a mistake that could never be taken back. 

So the silver-haired boy with dark skin sat there alone as always, reading the same book again and again as his brain churned with fantasies and far-stretched dreams of heroic adventures. 

He didn’t think anyone would bother to talk with him, much less about his ideals for the world beyond the edges of their safe haven. He never expected anything much from the adults nor children around him. 

Which was why it came as a surprise that one day, a young eldan boy with beautiful blond hair would come knocking on his tree. 

He glanced up to look at the newcomer. Golden streaks of sunlight pierced through the foliage overhead, casting a heavenly shine on the eldan boy dressed in a pure, white tunic. He didn’t believe in the divine, but whoever this taller boy was, he could easily mistaken him for an angel or god. 

“Are you still reading that same book?” 

He blinked slowly, a little slow to react to the sudden intrusion of this newcomer. 

“Ah…y-yes. It’s my favorite book.”

“I see. I have my own copy, too. It’s a fascinating read.” 

He perked up at those words, silver eyes sparkling against the light. “You really think so?” 

He watched as the golden-haired boy nodded with a small smile. 

“Do you…want to read it with me, then?” He couldn’t help but ask, cheeks flushed red. “To be honest, I don’t really understand all the words. I just look at the pictures and let my imagination take me away from here.” 

He waited for the newcomer to laugh at him, maybe tease him for being illiterate. Instead, the golden-haired boy merely sat down beside him. He watched with bated breath as the older boy began to read in a smooth, eloquent voice. 

“In this country, the king hears the voices of the citizens and protects their way of life. Society’s purpose is to protect its citizens. This is a basic principle of utopia.”

“Oh, so that’s what it says…” He muttered in awe. “It sounds like an amazing place. I wish this, um, utopia place was real.” 

The boy sitting beside him went quiet. The sound of birds chirping echoed through the prairie, their voices bright and free. He fidgeted with the pages of the book, shoulders drooping. 

“My father said he wanted to make this kingdom just like the world inside this book. I know I should be a good boy and wait for him, but I can’t help but think…when?” He turned to look at the taller boy next to him, eyes watery. “How long do I have to wait for the world that he envisions to come true? I also want to talk to the other children…a-and explore what lies beyond the forest!” 

Silver eyes clashed against soft blue ones. 

“Me too,” the blond boy spoke in a low, yet determined voice. “I wish to leave this place, share our knowledge with the people, and better this world. There should be no reason for us to cower and wither away like this without even being given the chance to spread our wings. I believe in a world where the people are truly equal.” 

So earnest and sincere, unlike the other adults that roamed the sanctum. The older boy’s words resonated with the bud of hope inside of him. He closed the book shut and laid it on his lap. 

“I…I don’t want to just sit here and wait for my father to create my ideal world for me. I want to be the one who makes it too,” he admitted as he pulled his knees in, hugging them close. The book fell with a plop onto the grass beside him. “But my father won’t let me go see the world outside. He wants me to just wait here until things get better.”

It felt embarrassing to voice out his childish dreams, but the blond child listened intently to his words. Other children didn’t say things like that out loud. They all wished to remain in the forest, safe from the scary world outside. It was another small thing that made him feel lonely and…different. 

So he was happy to know that there was someone else who shared his ideals and dreams. 

After a beat of silence, he felt the warm press of skin on top of his head. His new friend gently rubbed his head with affection. He looked up with sparkly eyes and saw the older boy’s smile—a sunbeam compared to a lantern’s glow with not a hint of teasing or mockery to be detected.

“Then one day, let us wander out there together,” the blond child invited with glee. “Once you grow up, even your father will have to listen to your wishes. When that time comes, take me with you. For the sake of the world…for our sake…I will lend you everything that I have.” 

He didn’t dare to breathe. He felt like if he did, this precious moment would somehow vanish with the wind. If this was a dream, then he never wanted to wake up from it, because when he looked at his new friend—no, his equal—he saw a promise there. A light at the end of the tunnel. Rainbow at the end of the sky. 

A brighter future that lied ahead of them.  

The golden haired boy raised his hand and held it in front of him. And with no hesitation, he grabbed it and refused to let go. 

“Okay!” He felt his lips curling into a grin. “It’s a promise! Together, we’ll change the world!

The young boy did not know yet of the harsh trials that would await them beyond the edges of their home. He didn’t know yet how much it would hurt to lose faith in the possibility of what could’ve been. 

And he certainly didn’t know that one day, he would look into those same dark blue eyes that once gave him hope and see nothing but ruin reflected there.

Still. 

He believed that no matter what things fate had in store for them, together, they could do anything.

06/11 - Regalith Grand Cathedral Plaza

Louis didn’t think the late king deserved a grand funeral, much less one held in his honor when all he did during his reign was turn a blind eye to all sorts of injustice. Surely, even the heavens above were agreeing with him, judging by the bleak gray clouds that blocked all rays of light from ever reaching the king’s casket; not even the sky would shed tears for him. 

It was quite the pitiful end for someone who once spoke of lofty ideals and dreams. Louis would’ve laughed if only his mood wasn’t so bitter throughout the entire affair. 

Though he didn’t expect any better from the crowd, he still thought there would be a few loyalists who mourned the loss of the late monarch. Instead, everyone was far too eager to see a new king crowned; he could see the burning ambition in Forden’s eyes from the top of his ship.  

As usual, the masses were as incompetent as their leaders, believing that blind worship would somehow lead to their salvation. Fools, all of them. 

Still, so far, nothing out of his expectations had occurred. The clergy and their hateful glares, the jeers from the nobility, the gossiping population, and the horror in their eyes as he dropped a human corpse right into the middle of the Grand Cathedral. 

(Louis thought of his act as poetic justice. There was a certain irony to it all—revealing evidence of the dark truth of their world in the very sanctuary that tried to bury it.) 

But then the sky split open with a shining beacon of light and the king’s old face emerged. 

Louis never wanted to see that traitor’s face again, but perhaps there was some worth to be gained from this spectacle; the red anger painting Forden’s usually pale skin made him look like a boiled lobster and if only Louis wasn’t committed to his dramatic act, he would’ve burst out in laughter. 

Then, as if to add even more chaos on top of his plans, an assassin emerged from the crowd and got themself restrained by the king’s magic. This time, Louis couldn’t help but scoff because- seriously? The king was now screwing his own people over from the dead? Did he not already spread enough havoc when he was alive? He never knew the king had a penchant for such tricks and mischief. 

Then again, maybe he never truly knew the man at all. 

Louis didn’t recognize the name or face of this assassin; there were far too many loyalists who stayed by the wretched king’s side until the very end. But with one look, he knew their motive. 

Another one, fooled by the theocracy, so sure of his guilt simply because Louis didn’t bother to prove otherwise. Then again, he did murder the king, so perhaps their anger wasn’t entirely misguided. 

Still, he might as well put them out of their misery. He knew best how betrayal felt, especially when it came from someone you trusted dearly with all of your heart. He cleanly took the man’s life with his blade and continued with his speech. 

After Zorba descended from above, it was time for Louis to make his exit. There was nothing left for him to see. From now on, everything will go as planned. 

He didn’t think anything else could catch him by surprise. Surely, there was nothing more shocking than the king rising from the dead to cast some flimsy magic over his kingdom. 

Louis didn’t like being proven wrong. He hated it. But this time, he must concede his loss because the king had prepared far too many twists for him on this day of reckoning. 

Recognition came instantly.

It appeared the king was not the only ghost parading amongst the living today. For a split second, he expected something else—silver in place of dark blue and gold, hair a few inches longer. But the resemblance was simply far too uncanny to brush it off as nothing but an illusion. 

Besides, he saw the way that apparition looked back at him. He wondered if he was looking into a mirror. Surely, the anguish and soul-quaking confusion he saw was also something that currently marred his own features. 

He couldn’t help it. Even him and his ironclad facade could shatter and crumble to pieces for he was only another human being, albeit heads above the fools in the crowd. 

Ever since he left the burnt ashes of his home, Louis marched forward without looking back. He thought he had already forsaken everything from his past. His naive beliefs, the people he once cared for, no matter how large or small. It had been years since he reminisced about the past; he only had time to work towards a better future. 

So he never thought that one day, all the sins and crimes he committed in the name of justice would catch up to him in the form of the prince’s ghost. 

He wondered if the prince had come to berate him for everything that he had done. Or maybe, it was meant to be a form of encouragement. That he would still be waiting for Louis at the very end of the earth after he succeeded in creating the world they both yearned for. 

(He doubted it, even when his heart begged for understanding. If this was the same prince he knew, the one who shone brighter than the sun itself, then surely, he would look at him with nothing but bitter disappointment.) 

No matter. 

If the prince truly wanted to stop him, then he shouldn’t have left him in the first place. It was far too late for him to be crawling out of his grave at this point. Louis had nothing left to say to him now. No excuses, no promises, nothing. 

Still, when Louis tore his gaze away from the ghost, he offered a quiet prayer. 

Do not come back to the world of the living, my dear friend, for there is nothing of value waiting for you here.

Chapter Text

06/11 - Regalith Grand Cathedral Plaza

Ciela thought she had grown used to bloodshed and chaos. Wars waged over religion and resources, revenge schemes and mass genocide—although she wasn’t personally a part of them all, she had experience on the battlefield; it was primarily her job to save innocent civilians caught in the crossfire as a skilled mage herself. 

But whatever was happening in Euchronia was much worse than she expected. 

Even when countries declared war in the name of retaliation or justice, they still had to provide a proper reason. There were national laws that prevented indiscriminate manslaughter and those that started wars were normally condemned through the media. Civil war was no different. Even a country’s internal conflict needed to be properly addressed through formal procedures. 

But because Euchronia was such an isolated and outdated kingdom with no connections to the outside world, the laws of modern times had no value here. Nobody could stop such madness and power was truly everything. 

To make things even more ridiculous, the dead king himself was supporting this upheaval. 

Sure, democracy was a step towards a more inclusive future, but who the hell tried to implement the idea in such a lawless manner? A tournament for the throne where even criminals could become king as long as they had support from the people? 

Well, are threats and coercion the same thing as support in the eyes of the late king? If so, then Ciela was starting to understand why Louis Guiabern assassinated the damn guy. 

Speaking of Louis…

“Luci?” There was a small note of disbelief in Ciela’s words, a hint of vulnerability, as she whispered that nickname on reflex.  

The moment Louis dropped down from his flying ship, Ciela’s heart was up in her throat, blocking all words from articulation. She barely registered anything the man said, even as he plunged his sword into the chest of her temporary companion. 

All she could focus on was that face—those familiar striking emerald-blue eyes, wavy blond hair, the angle of his nose, brows, everything was just so…uncannily similar to her brother. For a moment, she thought she was back in their lab, standing there, listening to her brother’s passionate speech about his new medical findings. 

But in reality, this man’s hands were stained red with the blood of an innocent man. His smile was cruel, lips contorting with blatant disgust and mockery. The expression was just so wrong on what was practically Luciano’s face. 

Her brother couldn’t kill a damn fly. He even cried when he first had to dissect a lab rat in their middle school days. After graduating, he spent years deep in his own research to cure a number of diseases. He…he was a man with integrity, a proper moral compass, and a genuinely kind-hearted soul. Not whatever Louis was. 

No, this isn’t Luci. It’s someone who simply looks like him. An impostor, one I shouldn’t need to care for, considering his cruel streak. 

Ciela shook her head vigorously, trying to shake the remnants of her own wishful thinking out of her head. She missed Luciano dearly, but she didn’t want to see him in this way. Just a fragment of her delusions. Do not mistake this madman for her brother. He wasn’t him. Couldn’t be. 

Besides, Luciano wouldn’t support Louis’s actions. And neither did she. 

She had seen plenty of politicians like him. The commonfolk, especially the uneducated poor, loved to hear stories of talented leaders, rising from the ashes of discrimination and inequality. Even more so if the leader boldly did things that they never thought they could do. It made them dream of one day having the power to change the world as they wished, too. 

These types of leaders often tricked and beguiled their supporters with sweet promises, pretending to fight for a better future for all when really, they just wanted to put themselves into a position of power. Once they were there, who knew if they would still keep their words. 

Most of them didn’t. Ciela had witnessed that cycle too many times to expect anything different this time. No matter how eloquent Louis spoke, no matter the rousing words he used to fuel the anger and spites of the crowd, power would eventually swallow him whole. Worse, he would turn into a monster himself and eat up the entire nation with his greed. 

The current state of the capital city proved her predictions right. 

Blood squelched beneath her boots as she ran through the square. Distant wailing and screams filled the air as the crowd tried to fend themselves off against an undead army. Skeleton knights were hacking their swords through the area, killing down anyone in sight. 

Ciela didn’t have a lot of experience dealing with black magic. In fact, there was only one case of necromancy ever being used in the past. 

It happened during the war for oil in Egypt when the government decided it was a great idea to raise their pharaohs and mummies from the dead to use as infinite soldiers. Later, Ciela heard through the news that the necromancer failed to control their summoned minions and the skeletons ended up murdering their own people. 

Ironic, really, to end up dying by the hands of their own ancestors. 

However, even if she wasn’t there then to see the carnage with her own eyes, she could tell that whoever had unleashed this army of skeleton knights through the capital was incredibly skilled. Eerily skilled, considering the amount of magical knowledge that survived the passage of time. 

These puppets were gleaming with dent-free armor and a coordination that would put most military troops to shame. They were even using support magic to boost each other up. 

“Of all magic that could’ve been passed down to the next generation, it had to be fucking necromancy!” Ciela couldn’t help but curse as she sprinted through the chaos, running towards the king’s casket. 

She didn’t know why she even bothered to head there. Her legs carried her forward despite her mind screaming at her to turn back, run, and save herself. The faces around her blurred into strangers she had no obligation to protect, yet their terror reminded her so much of the past—unwelcome memories that she couldn’t shake off even now. 

She had just sworn to live for herself a few hours ago, but the tips of her fingers tingled with magic, betraying her resolve. Even as she stepped over a fallen body, she thought: what if I could save just one? 

Still, she tried to harden her heart again. This wasn't her world. Not anymore. None of these mutants were her people, friends, or family. 

It was a logical conclusion, a decision made from rationality. She shouldn’t need to save anyone, especially not at her own expense again. If she used magic here as an elda, who knew how the people would look at her? It’d be a miracle if the church didn’t arrest her because of their stupid superstitions.  

And yet her feet kept moving. Despite being at war with herself, her limbs had allied with her heart instead of her brain. The screams of the people around her sounded exactly like those she once swore to protect and save. She just couldn’t leave them be, no matter what lies she tried to tell herself.  

Ah, fuck all. Fuck everything. Fuck you, old king. Fuck you, Louis. Fuck you, Luciano, for making me experience this all over again. Idiot brother, damned bastard, son of a-

“If I’m going to do this anyway, I might as well try to save the only people I know,” Ciela justified to herself as she ran up the stairs to the central platform. 

Grius’s dead body was still up there. So were Strohl and Will who were now surrounded by a group of undead soldiers. Gallica was also hovering anxiously in the air behind Will’s back. 

She knew these guys were competent mercenaries, but fighting a skeleton was entirely different from cutting down monsters. In fact, most skeletons would be immune to physical attacks. And since magic was pretty much obsolete in this era, she didn’t think they could hold on any longer. 

“Strohl! Will! Gallica!” Ciela yelled as soon as she reached the top of the stairs. She took a moment to catch her breath, placing her hands on her knees as she gasped for air. 

“Wha- Ciela?!” She heard the sound of Strohl squawking in surprise. Strangely, his voice seemed to be muffled by something. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Ciela lifted her head. “I’m here to help you guys- wait, what the fuck?”

She stared in bewilderment at the armor-clad figure in front of her. 

The warrior stared back at her, equally in shock. 

Ciela’s jaw actually dropped. She froze visibly, eyes widening and unblinking. “Y-You…” she started, only for her eyes to catch movement in her peripheral vision. 

She watched as Will stood there with glowing orange patterns across his skin. With a surge of light magic, his body morphed into a giant, floating healer clad in white robes. One flicker of the mace in his hands and the skeletons crumpled to the ground in a pile of ashes. 

Light magic. Will was actually using light magic. But more importantly-

“You’re telling me no one knows what a damn teleportation skill is, but using archetypes is the norm?” Ciela sputtered in comical surprise. “The goddamn pinnacle of magic combat itself? A realm where even I, self-proclaimed genius of the century, haven’t reached?!” 

“...Uh, what?” Strohl, or the warrior, stammered out in confusion. “So, the power of archetypes is that unique?”

“Unique is a huge understatement, you idiot!” Ciela shook her head. “Do you even know what sort of powers you’re using? They’re the same powers the chosen ones used back in my time! Powers given to heroes! Those who would go on to save the damn world! Holy shit!”

In that instant, the skeleton army, the screams, the blood—all of it vanished from Ciela's awareness. Her inner curiosity took over completely. As a magic scholar at best and geek at worst, she had always wanted to research more about the power of archetypes: a mysterious power that emerged during the calamity of her time.  

And now, she had the rare specimen right in front of her face. What kind of researcher would she be if she didn’t take this chance?  

So, she followed her instincts. She lunged at Strohl, fingers trembling with the need to explore. This was it—the legendary power, right here before her eyes! Her lips curled into a manic smile as she practically collided with the warrior, palms pressed against the metallic surface, eyes wide with a gleam that outshone even the magical sigils beneath her fingertips.

A shudder ran down Strohl’s spine as he felt her touch running all over his body. “Shite! Get off me, you mad woman!” Despite channeling the archetype's superior strength, he couldn't pry the determined researcher off him. 

“Oh my god, I’ve never seen such strange magic before! There are so many layers of physical enhancement spells casted on your armor!” She ran her fingers across the warrior’s abdomen, feeling the heat radiating from there. “Oh, is this where the magic core is? I wonder how the core was created? Did it suck magla particles out of the air? Or did it draw power from within?” 

All around the platform, more skeleton knights were converging, clattering their jawbones in mockery, the points of their spears trained on the three of them. Yet Ciela was still completely starstruck, hanging across the warrior’s arm.

“Ciela, watch out!” Will’s voice pierced through the awkward tension in the air. 

A few skeletons had suddenly emerged from the ground beside her, each carrying sharp weapons, eyes glinting red. 

Strohl’s eyes widened. On reflex, he swerved his greatsword into an arc. But with the added weight of Ciela hanging on his body, his move missed as the skeletons dodged in a row. “No- damn it, Ciela!”

“Ah, dodge!” Gallica screamed out in horror, just as the skeletons raised their weapons into the air. 

Everyone expected the blow to land. At worst, they thought Ciela would end up speared through the gut. But Strohl, Will, and Gallica had forgotten one thing. 

The woman they saved from Nord Mines was no normal person. 

“Oh, ignore those clunky bones already and stay still for me, will you?!” Ciela snapped with a scowl as she turned her head around to face the looming threat. 

One blink. 

That was the amount of time needed for Ciela’s magic to obliterate the horde of skeletons standing in the way of her research. 

She didn’t even need to think; her body moved purely on reflex. Magla coursed through her veins in a rush. She lifted one hand into the air, palm facing the group of skeletons. The air around her hand shimmered, then condensed into a pulsing orb of light that grew from pinprick to fist-sized in milliseconds. 

Her lips parted as the words rolled smoothly off her tongue. 

“Celestial Flare!” 

A shockwave pulsed outward like a beam of light from her hand. Photons seared the air as a concussive blast of pure white magic sent the skeletal bodies flying off the central platform. The three skeletons that were closest to her were immediately reduced to nothing but ashes, while the other remaining soldiers froze, momentarily stunned by the force of her magic. 

The beam of light continued to devour everything in its path. After a few seconds, the spell finally ran out of magla. It left nothing but a pile of dust in its wake and a few gaping skulls with jaws thrown wide in silent screams of terror. 

“Huh, it appears I’ve grown weaker during my slumber. Usually, that would’ve been enough firepower to slaughter all of them,” Ciela said to herself with a frown. She glanced at her own palm and saw the way her fingers were trembling from the sheer force of her own spell. “Maybe I need to practice a bit more.” Then, she shook her head and spun around to face Strohl again. “Anyway, so, about your archetype-”

“What,” Strohl said so blandly, so blindly that he almost choked on thin air. “You can do that and you’re telling me we’re the strange ones?” He pointed at the carnage that Ciela left; there were still giant crater-like marks on the ground. 

“...I thought you said you were a mere magic engineer,” Will slowly added, blank eyes staring right at Ciela’s face. “Did you lie to us?”

Ciela blinked. “Um, no? I am a magic engineer. Specializing in spell writing.” 

“And you’re telling me that spellwriters of your time could easily cast a high-level hama spell?!” Gallica screeched in shock.

Ciela frowned. She glanced at the skeletons around her that were still standing frozen in place. Her gaze flickered towards the empty space that followed after her destructive spell. Then, she turned back to face Will and his party with a sheepish smile. 

“U-Um, well, spellwrights have all the magic theory inside their heads, so it’s just a matter of putting theory into practice. That’s all I did…?” 

“That’s all you did?!” Strohl suddenly snapped. She could feel the glare radiating from underneath his helmet. “You wiped out a platoon of skeleton soldiers with one single shot! What are we even here for? You might as well just fight all these maggots yourself!”

“Hey, that’s uncalled for! I wasn’t trying to steal your thunder. I just wanted to help!” Ciela protested with a pout. “Besides, I’ve seen people wielding archetypes that can use even more explosive magic! I’m sure you guys could, too!”

Strohl made a sound that, under all the armor, could only be a groan of despair. “Next time, why don’t you resurrect the dead king yourself and ask him to spare us all this trouble?” 

“Uh, I’m afraid I can’t help you there,” Ciela said with a shrug. “I don’t deal with the dead.”

“That’s a shame,” Will muttered with a sigh. “Guess we’ll have to kill Louis, after all.” 

“Um, guys?” Gallica suddenly interjected, wings flapping urgently. “Have you forgotten where you are? We still have enemies to slay!” 

Sure enough, the skeletal troops had now recovered from their stupor. From every direction, skeletons swarmed the platform, marching over the bones of their dead comrades. The stink of burnt calcium and marrow still filled the air, but that didn’t deter them from following the commands of their controller. 

It wasn’t just the skeletons, either. Out on the square, more movement caught Ciela’s attention. A throng of black-clad knights—living this time—had begun to encroach, forming a line at the bottom of the stairs. 

The leader of their pack appeared to be a roussainte with vibrant red hair. 

Ciela glanced at the lady knight who was staring directly at them. She spun her head back towards Strohl and whispered harshly. “Hey, psst! There are other soldiers here now! What do we do? Are they going to lock us up for using sacrilegious magic?”  

“We'll think about that later,” Strohl replied as he lifted his greatsword into the air. “For now, we fight!” 

Ciela didn’t have time to hesitate. The skeleton knights were crowding around them now. With a groan, she closed her eyes and imagined a spark of light inside her mind. She gathered all the magla particles in the air, forming them into the shape of magic she wanted. 

“Ugh, what did I sign up for…! Screw this new world! Screw everything!” She yelled as she casted a few more spells across the area, submerging the enemy’s platoon in pillars of potent light. “If I get in jail for this, you guys better bail me out!”

Hulkenberg had far too many things to worry about. She had spent most of her youth searching for any tracks or traces of the prince’s supposed death, only to come back empty handed to the capital for the king’s funeral. Not only had she failed her liege, she failed the crown twice. 

And then while she was wallowing in self-pity and despair, some necromancer threw the entire funeral process into bloodshed. Putting the king’s magic and Louis’ abominable actions aside, Hulkenberg already carried far too many responsibilities on her shoulders. She really didn’t need another hundred innocent civilian deaths added to her burdens. 

So she led her small group of loyal knights to evacuate the premise while dealing with the skeleton knights herself. Of course, no matter how many times she knocked them down, they kept healing themselves. Still, she was a knight, someone sworn to protect the lives of others. If she had to lay down her life to eradicate these pests from her city, then so be it. 

Besides, maybe death could bring her reprieve. That way, she could go to the other side and personally apologize to her liege for failing to protect him that accursed night. 

She expected to die today. Really, she did. 

But then she spotted three figures fighting for their lives in the middle of the plaza. They wielded such strange magic. Two of them kept transforming into different armored versions of themselves. The other was throwing spells around without the use of an igniter or staff. 

After the coast was clear, she walked up to them with her entourage. Although she really wanted to interrogate them on their special powers, she had more important matters to deal with. 

Alces. 

Her dear friend. 

Just why did he do something so…so meaningless? He should’ve known better than her that the prince would never support something like revenge. They were more useful to the crown alive than dead. Surely, Alces was level-headed enough to understand this. 

So why? Why?

Unfortunately, she would never know the truth. The dead could not speak, and his companions didn’t seem keen on spilling his secrets. 

No matter. For now, she had people to save. 

Since she had no other choice, she enlisted the support of this strange group of skilled fighters to help her save the civilians trapped inside the cathedral. As they slipped through the foyer doors, Hulkenberg led them up the path towards higher ground where she believed Louis’s henchman was. 

But after a damning earthquake, a portion of the ceiling collapsed, cleanly splitting her apart from the rest of the group. She stood there on top of the stairs alone, scowling. Truly, nothing was going her way today. 

“Seek another path! I shall ascend from here!” Hulkenberg yelled across the broken staircase. 

“Got it! We’ll catch up later!” The clemar of the group, replied. He quickly led the other eldan boy away from the area. 

Hulkenberg expected the other lady to follow in their steps. But then, to her surprise, the eldan woman suddenly turned around and faced the giant pile of boulders blocking the way between them. 

She watched as they whispered something under their breath before leaping into the air. Despite there being no open windows inside the cathedral, a gust of wind blew over the area. As if some magical force was propelling them forward, the lady landed safely over the blockage, right in front of Hulkenberg. 

Hulkenberg couldn’t help but gape in shock. She already knew that this group of strangers wielded mysterious powers, but seeing it again in front of her eyes was certainly something. 

As if noticing her stupor, the woman in front of her suddenly froze. Her lips curled up into a wry smile. “I assume people don’t use levitation magic in Euchronia?” 

Hulkenberg didn’t know what to respond to first: the fact that this young lady knew ancient magic or the realization that she was a foreigner. 

“Ah, yes. Forgive me for saying this, but I thought such magic is only privy to the elda?” Hulkenberg asked. 

The woman shook her head. “Sorry, but that’s a part of the church’s propaganda. Anybody can use the same magic I can, as long as they have the natural aptitude and talent for it.” 

That…was definitely not what Hulkenberg expected to hear. At least not in such a straightforward matter. 

“Truly? ‘Twould make our lives easier if every knight could cast such strong magic like you.” 

The young lady breathed a laugh. “I could teach you, Hulkenberg, but I have a feeling I might get arrested for spreading…evil practices. Oh, by the way, the name’s Ciela.” 

“Do not worry, Ciela,” Hulkenberg replied, drawing out a ghost of a smirk. “If the sanctifex wishes to have you arrested, he will have to go through me first.” The words came easily, surprising even herself. “Unlike those who hold prejudice against your kind, I only believe in things I have witnessed with my own eyes. To risk your life for mere strangers is something only one who possesses a noble heart can do. Your secrets are safe with me. I swear upon my honor.” 

Ciela’s cheeks flushed pink with an air of embarrassment. “Oh, uh, I’m not really doing this because I have a savior complex or anything. It’s just that…I owe those guys a favor.” 

“Regardless, your act of service will not be forgotten. Nonetheless, ‘tis about time we move on,” Hulkenberg said as she twirled her halberd in the air. “I can hear footsteps from above. Let us make haste.” 

“Understood.” 

Hulkenberg still wasn’t sure what to make of Ciela. She didn’t possess the physique of an experienced fighter, and yet she casted spell after spell with no hesitation or fear in her eyes. It was as if she were numb to such brutality. 

Still, her help was much appreciated. With her light magic, the two of them made quick work of the remaining skeleton knights inside the place. Eventually, they made it up to the outdoor passage that led to the higher levels of the cathedral.

After waiting for a couple minutes, the clemar and elda boy reconvened with them. 

“You’re late. Were you waylaid by fighting?” Hulkenberg asked. 

“There were people struggling to get away. We couldn’t just abandon them,” the clemar replied with a heavy sigh. 

“Playing hero as always, Strohl?” Ciela quipped with a smirk. 

“Oh, shut it. I know you would’ve done the same if you were in my shoes. Besides, it was Will who was proactively crawling through the bookshelves to save a lost child,” Strohl said with a roll of his eyes. 

“To be fair, you could’ve simply cut the bookshelves apart instead of letting me get my knees dirty,” Will mumbled under his breath as he fidgeted with his collar. 

“Let us save the talking for later. We must prevent that necromancer from taking the Royal Sceptre for himself,” Hulkenberg interrupted with a frown. She didn’t even want to imagine what Louis would do once he got his hands on that bloody thing. 

But it was as if the heavens were doing all they could to prevent their success. The moment they reached the entrance of the main hall, the ceiling came crumbling down. Again. 

This time, the entire hall was covered in boulders. There was no room for them to weasel their way through the gaps, either. 

“Shite! That bastard’s playing with us!” Strohl cursed. 

“What do we do now?” Will turned to look at Hulkenberg for answers. 

“I know of another way we can reach the Royal Sceptre Chambers,” Hulkenberg said. “There is a mausoleum where the dead are interred. It opens to the Grand Cathedral on the other side. Follow me.”

“Wait, are you serious?” Ciela interjected with a frown. “Isn’t it dangerous to go through a mausoleum, of all things? Our opponent’s a necromancer. There, he’d have an almost infinite amount of soldiers!” 

“We have no other choice,” Strohl said with a shake of his head. “If it’s the only way we can stop Louis from taking the Royal Sceptre, then we must go regardless of the dangers.”

For a moment, Ciela seemed to hesitate. She glanced between all of them, as if confused why all of them were going this far. But eventually, she relented with a sigh. “Oh, fine. But I swear this is the last time I lend you guys a hand. I only jumped into the fray because I thought you guys were in danger, not because I wanted to, uh,” she trailed off, glancing at Hulkenberg, “save the country. Yeah.” 

Hulkenberg arched her brow. It appeared that Ciela wasn’t truly a part of Alces’s group, merely a helper. Interesting. Since there was also another elda within their group, Hulkenberg simply assumed they must’ve come here to the capital city together. 

“Of course. Unlike the rest of us, what happens in this kingdom does not affect you,” Strohl replied dryly, but there was no denying the sudden heat in his gaze. “But I hope you do not turn a blind eye to injustice when you have the power to change things in your hands. It would be a shame, truly.” 

There was a strange flicker in Ciela’s eyes at that comment—a conflict, a storm of contradicting emotions, and so many other things that Hulkenberg couldn’t possibly identify. Still, she saw a flash of pain and turmoil there. 

Hulkenberg frowned.

Perhaps there was a reason why Ciela could not easily lend her hand to the people? A pity, considering the woman appeared to possess a heart of gold. There was no reluctance when she fought to protect her friends and strangers, but now that politics was in play, she suddenly hesitated.

Ah, maybe she was actually a part of Louis’s faction? That wouldn’t do. They needed to prevent the royal sceptre from falling into that madman’s hands at all costs. 

But before Hulkenberg could gnaw on the implications of everything, Ciela had recovered. 

“...Fine, I’ll try my best,” she grumbled under her breath. “So, where do we go from now, again?”

All eyes turned to Hulkenberg. 

“There’s a gate just beside the recruitment centre. We’ll make our way in from there,” Hulkenberg explained. 

“Right,” Strohl nodded in understanding, “let us hurry.”

The mausoleum was the same as when Hulkenberg last saw it. Dark, eerie, and filled with the smell of rotten flesh and rusty mold. The only difference was the lack of guards. Most of the soldiers were still patrolling the city and calming the public, after all. 

“It’s much too quiet down here,” Strohl whispered, his voice bouncing off the walls.”

“We’ve got no choice but to steel ourselves and move on. This is the only way left open to us,” Hulkenberg declared as she marched confidently down the stairs. 

Ciela stood at the very back of the line, eyes darting all over the place. “Hey, uh, I don’t know if any of you can sense this, but the magla here is incredibly dense.”

“You think so, too?” Gallica hovered close, the sound of her wings just off Ciela’s ear. “I can barely breathe in here,” she whispered, as if the spirits of the dead might hear her and awaken from their slumber. 

Gallica’s concerns weren’t unfounded. Each alcove embedded with a tomb was thrumming like the dead might pour out at the slightest prod or noise. If they wanted to make it to the Royal Sceptre’s chambers, then they needed to sneak past the area. 

“Mind your footsteps,” Hulkenberg warned as she led them down the maze-like hallways. 

Eventually, they reached a giant door that was flanked by two statues, each holding a lit torch. Despite having no magla-detection skills, even Hulkenberg could sense that there was something incredibly formidable, lying beyond the door. 

“‘Tis strange. There ought not be this much magla down here,” she couldn’t help but wonder. 

“I’m getting a really bad feeling about this!” Gallica exclaimed, wings flapping with urgency. “It’s the same feeling I had at the abandoned mine before!”

Strohl clutched the hilt of his greatsword tightly. “Well, let’s hope it’s not another dragon.”

“Or a live person stowed away inside a casket,” Will quipped with a wry smile. Ciela rolled her eyes at his words, but the joke was lost to Hulkenberg. 

An abandoned mine? What was this group doing in a place like that? And what was this about finding a dragon and a person entrapped in it? 

The longer she spent with these people, the more she grew suspicious about them. The fact that they knew Alces was already surprising enough. But to have the skills to face a dragon and survive unscathed? 

Perhaps they were adventurers. Only people so used to such dangers would have no qualms sneaking inside the royal catacombs with her. 

But before she could ponder more about their true motives, Will boldly brushed past her and pushed the door open. “We have no time to second-guess ourselves. Let’s go in.”

Hulkenberg expected to face off against their enemy behind the door. Yet again, her expectations were shattered. 

There was a giant crystal object blocking their way forward. From deep within its core, a sickly blue-violet aura pulsed rhythmically, as if the crystal itself were breathing; the unnatural light casted long, distorted shadows against the walls that seemed to writhe with a life of their own. The vines constricting around the crystal twitched occasionally as if feeding on the malevolent energy inside.

Whatever this…thing was, it was incredibly foreboding. 

“What the fuck?” Ciela suddenly swore. “Why is there a melancholia crystal down here?” 

“You know what this thing is?” Hulkenberg turned around to ask her. 

Ciela nodded with a grave expression. 

“You know how magla crystals are created from concentrated magla particles? Well, this thing here is similar to that, except the magla particles it uses to fuel its core is made up of pure evil intentions. If we don’t destroy it soon, it’ll start attracting all sorts of nasty beasts. At worst, it’ll start affecting our mentality, too.”

“Then, we destroy it,” Will declared as he unsheathed his blade. 

But before he could even move, a sinister voice rang out from another doorway. “Unfortunately, we can’t have you doing that.” A soldier dressed in Euchronian uniform stood behind them. “Strange as he is, that pale fellow’s magic works wonders. It’s quite good for rooting out the rats.” 

“That blasted mage set a trap? Not surprising. We knew he was expecting us,” Strohl said with a scoff as he spun around, eyes narrowed to death. 

The soldier only laughed at them. “You knew, and yet you still fell for it? No matter. At least you’ll be in good company.” Then, the soldier disappeared into the darkness. 

In his place, a very familiar face emerged from the shadows. 

Hulkenberg's heart lurched painfully in her chest—stopping, then racing, then stopping again. The shock hit first, then sorrow, overwhelming in its depth. Her fingers tightened around her halberd until her knuckles whitened. She wanted to run toward the figure and flee from it in equal measure, her mind rejecting what her eyes insisted was real, because-

“A-Alces?” she whispered in horror. 

He was dead. Louis had slit open his throat. The image of his cold hard body on the ground of the cathedral was already seared into her mind. She could never forget it. 

And yet, here he was, walking towards her. 

“Fucking hell,” she vaguely heard the sound of Ciela cursing behind her. “And this, my friends, is the number one reason why I hate necromancers.” 

Hulkenberg wished she’d had a proper conversation with him before his death. She entertained the thought of him visiting her as a ghost later to tell her he was sorry. She sincerely wished they could’ve had a better parting than all those times years ago. 

But out of all the ways she could’ve encountered him again, she didn’t want it to be this way. 

Not in a damp decrepit mausoleum beneath the city that now smelled just like him. 

Hulkenberg could not move, paralyzed from head to toe. Alces walked with his usual, measured stride—no damning limp or visible wound across his throat for some odd reason. But it wasn’t him. There was nothing behind his eyes. Just darkness, and-

“Urgh!” 

The sound of pained grunts filled the air as Alces zipped through their formation, knocking down both Strohl and Will in two quick slashes. He was far too fast, even faster than when he was alive. With the two close combatants down, Ciela had no one to protect her and before she could finish casting her spell, Alces was already in front of her, kneeing her in the gut. 

“Gah!” Ciela rolled across the ground until her back hit the opposite end. She slumped against the wall in pain, groaning. 

“No, Alces, stop it!” Hulkenberg couldn’t help but cry out, catching her old friend’s attention.

Alces’s corpse turned around to face her. Before she could yell another word of protest, Alces was already right in front of her. On nothing but pure reflex, she lifted her halberd up and parried a slash. 

It had been a while since she last sparred with this man when he was still alive. His power caught her off-guard and she staggered backwards, boots slipping against the dust-slicked floor. Even as a mindless puppet, Alces would not let that small window of opportunity pass by. 

With one well-aimed kick, Hulkenberg flew across the air with a scream of pain. 

She hit the ground hard, shoulder crunching on worn-out tiles. Pain flared through her torso in lancing spirals. Still, Hulkenberg forced herself to crawl up onto her elbows. She wouldn’t let this opportunity go—no, even if he was nothing but a dead corpse now, she still needed to know…!

“Alces!” Her voice cracked like brittle stone, echoing in the mausoleum. She couldn’t even tell if she was cursing or pleading. “Just why? Why did you do it?!” Even as the sound of metallic steps grew closer towards her, she continued to yell. “Why die for revenge, of all things? The man I fought beside was not so ruled by anger and malice!” 

Alces responded to her desperation with another slash, right across her shoulderblade. 

This time, her legs betrayed her, buckling as blood soaked through her armor. She crashed to her knees, the impact jarring through her bones. Her vision blurred with tears or blood—it didn't matter which. 

Fine. If he didn’t want to answer her, then…

"Finish it," she whispered, voice raw. The prince's face flashed before her—pale, cuddled in Alces’s arms—overlapping with the image of the lifeless body in front of her eyes right now. 

Two deaths she’d witnessed now while her hands remained clean of blood, not because she was skilled but because she was so pathetically weak. Two precious lives, slipping through her fingers like sand because she was too late. 

Now, those same hands trembled in her lap, waiting for the blade that would finally absolve her of her sins.

In the end, nothing had changed at all. Her time had stopped at the same time as the prince’s heart. She was still the same, weak knight as back then, incapable of saving anyone. 

“No! You have it wrong!” She vaguely heard the sound of Strohl screaming. 

She didn’t care anymore about the truth. She just wanted all her pain and suffering to be over. Hulkenberg slowly closed her eyes as Alces’s blade slashed down towards her neck.

She thought that death would be painless, but instead, she felt a throbbing ache at her side. Her world spun sideways, just as Will came crashing into her, pushing her out of harm’s way. 

Her eyes snapped opened in shock as Will clamped his hands tightly on her shoulders and-

“The prince is alive!” 

…What?

His words ruptured her world so violently that she lurched sideways in Will’s grip, nearly slamming them both to the ground. His words echoed terribly inside her head, repeating themselves like a broken reel. 

The prince was alive? What kind of ridiculous lies was this boy saying now? 

“He’s right! We do hunt Louis, but not for revenge! We mean to lift the prince’s curse!” Even Strohl appeared to be messing with her now. 

Hulkenberg didn’t know how to react to this sudden revelation. A part of her yearned to believe them, while another part screamed that such belief would destroy her all over again. 

How many years had she wandered alone through the kingdom, searching for any traces of his highness? She had spent numerous winters in the cold, tracking through blizzards, sleeping in abandoned barns with frost-stiffened clothes. She’d dug through rubble with bleeding hands, following after a rumor that someone had witnessed an elda boy falling inside a cave, only to find that they were somebody else. 

And now, after all that searching in hope and in vain, these guys come along telling her they had found him instead? And that he was actually still alive? 

What did that make her, then? A fool chasing after ghosts? A knight who failed her liege all over again? 

Truly, she was still the same useless girl as ever. Once a failure, always a failure. 

But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered when weighed against the prince’s life. Her insecurities, sorrows, and pain was nothing compared to everything the prince must’ve suffered thus far.  

She gathered herself up onto her knees and grabbed onto Will’s shoulders. Her lips wobbled, eyes prickling with unshed tears as she rasped out, “Is that true? His Highness is…still…”

Will nodded. “Yes, he lives! So you have to keep fighting!” 

That was all Hulkenberg needed to hear. Gone were her doubts and anguish. She pushed herself vertical, boots scraping against the ground as she reached for her halberd once more. 

So what if she was weak? So what if she was a failure? As long as her liege was alive, she had no reason to falter nor wallow in despair. As long as he was still breathing, all she had to do was fight for his cause. 

And if one day they met again, then this time, Hulkenberg would fulfill her duties. Even at the cost of her life, she would do everything to protect him. 

After all, she was a royal knight.

One moment, they were all fighting a losing battle. Another moment, the tides had completely turned.

When Ciela’s back hit the wall, she had accidentally slammed her head against it. The resulting concussion left her in a daze for at least a full minute. She casted a quick healing spell on her head and groaned, waiting for the throbbing to disappear. 

While she was recovering, she heard the sound of Hulkenberg screaming in the background. Will and Strohl were also yelling something. She had no idea why these guys were chatting in the middle of a bloody fight, but miraculously, Grius’s corpse didn’t make a move to shut them up. 

Thinking back, perhaps she should’ve realized that something was wrong then. There was no reason for Grius to stop attacking them. He should’ve followed up with more attacks as soon as they were rolling on the ground. 

Nonetheless, by the time she managed to stand back on her feet again, there were now three archetypes in front of her eyes. Somehow, in the span of minutes, Hulkenberg had manifested into the Knight. 

What the actual fuck? What are the chances that I end up walking into three different people who had the power of archetypes lying dormant inside of them? 

If this was a video game, Ciela thought her luck stat must be maxed out. Either that or this was some twisted sort of cosmic joke. 

Archetypes were supposed to be an incredibly rare type of power, awakened in only a selected few. Even during her time, there were less than a hundred known people who managed to manifest into archetypes and even then, they all didn’t wield it with the ease these people did. In fact, the power of archetypes was so far beyond their knowledge that it was outright banned for being far too dangerous. 

(Of course, that didn’t stop the different governments from rounding up all those talented fighters for their own secret agendas. Those poor souls ended up being forced by their own countries to join the war across borders for resources.)

Still, what were the chances? 

Was there some sort of hidden unlocking condition that she wasn’t aware of? According to her theory, the power of archetypes usually emerged parallel to the rise of some abysmal worldly threat. But the chance she’d run into not just one or two but three in this hellhole of a kingdom? 

Ciela didn’t know whether she wanted to scream, laugh, or cry. 

What in the world is going on in Euchronia for there to be so many archetype users around?

At this rate, they didn’t even need her to help them. Grius was forced into a corner from Will’s hama spells while Hulkenberg tanked all of his attacks. Strohl was at the back, taking advantage of any windows of opportunities to sneak in a physical slash, tearing down Grius’s limbs. 

The battle didn’t take long at all after the emergence of Hulkenberg’s archetype. The three of them quickly tore down his defenses with their synthesis skills. 

Ciela rubbed the back of her head awkwardly. So much for coming all the way here to help them. They were much stronger than she expected. 

But just before Hulkenberg made her final blow, Ciela froze. Even from the back of the room, she could see Grius’s lips parting. 

“Guh…! His Highness…and Maria’s home…I leave them in your hands…” 

That…wasn’t right. 

He was supposed to be dead. That was supposed to be only a vessel for necromancy. His soul should’ve departed the world of the living already. 

And yet Ciela heard him clearly. Those words. They rang with a flicker of memory, a small gut-heaving echo of the man Grius was. If he were alive, surely, those would be his last words. 

So, what was the meaning of this?! 

Hulkenberg’s halberd was arcing downward—already committed, already past the point of return—and for a dizzy half-second Ciela was sure she would watch the woman kill her own friend. 

But right before her attack struck, she froze stiff. It appeared Ciela wasn’t simply daydreaming. Grius definitely spoke just now and Hulkenberg heard him, too. 

“A-Alces?” Hulkenberg gasped out in shock. 

Even Strohl and Will were visibly confused. Was Grius’s ghost secretly watching over them right now? Did he successfully steal back his body for a moment, just to tell them his last wishes? 

Or was there actually something more to this? 

Again, Ciela had no personal experience dealing with the undead. However, she had all the theory inside her head. After that global incident in Cairo, she spent a few hours researching necromancy and dark magic, in particular. 

From what she remembered, the only scenario in which a necromantic vessel could retain a memory or a shred of selfhood was if there had been a deliberate, ritualistic preservation of identity—some kind of anchor left behind, powered by regret, unfinished duty, or a strong will. 

However, no sane necromancer would do something like that. After all, a mindless puppet was easier to control than a half-living one. Therefore, it was common sense to use corpses. 

Besides, this necromancer was clearly skilled. He wouldn’t make an amateur mistake like allowing the soul of the deceased to resurface during possession. Standard necromancy involved forcibly ejecting the original spirit from their corpse to make room for the controller’s will; the body was a puppet, the mind as empty as an abandoned stage.

Then…was this actually not necromancy? 

Was Grius resurrected or saved from death, then brainwashed into fighting them? 

But why? That makes no sense. Louis’s mage wouldn’t do something like that unless he was some sadistic bastard who simply wanted to see two old friends fighting to their deaths without realizing that they could actually save the other. 

Ciela had no idea what the necromancer’s motives were, but she knew a fixable problem when she saw one. 

Ciela called out, as loud as she could, “Hulkenberg! Wait!”

Everyone’s attention pivoted towards her. Maybe they all had forgotten about her for a while, because they all looked visibly surprised. 

“Ciela? What are you-” Strohl started, only for Ciela to sprint right past him into the middle of the battle. 

She stood there in front of Grius’s twitching body. Grius’s corpse stared back at her, but it didn’t move. 

Hulkenberg’s eyes widened. “Ciela, back away! It is dangerous!” 

“No, you don’t get it!” Ciela yelled back. “He’s not all dead yet!” 

“What are you talking about?!” Gallica screamed. “We all saw him at the Grand Cathedral! Louis sliced his neck right open! He died on the spot!” 

“I know, but the necromancer did something to his body! Look, his throat isn’t bleeding!” Ciela pointed at Grius’s body. 

All eyes trained onto the spot of interest. True to her words, the previously gaping wound wasn’t there anymore. No puckered skin, nor blood-clotted bruises. Grius’s neck wasn’t smooth and unbroken, but there was evidence of patches of skin stitched together from some sort of hasty resurrection. 

Hulkenberg reeled her head back. “What is the meaning of this?!” 

“I don’t have time to explain the logistics of everything, but think of it this way. A dead corpse without legs can’t walk! Even if you control it, it can’t grow a limb!” Ciela yelled. “If that guy left Grius’s neck detached like that, he might as well be controlling a headless body. And without eyes, a mindless corpse can’t fight properly!”   

“So is that why he healed Grius’s wounds before he casted his magic over him?” Strohl’s eyes widened as her explanation sank in. “B-But that doesn’t explain why he’s actually conscious now! He still died!” 

“Ugh, look! The caster had to use a high-level restoration skill, something close to actual resurrection to restore Grius’s body to its usual state. And a brain after death can remain active for a maximum of ten minutes. So even if he died, his soul is still very much in his body! His consciousness was trapped there because of the necromancer’s own magic!”  

Will stared at Grius’s twitching body, horrified. “Then, what do we do?”

Ciela took a step forward with both her palms in the air. “Well, watch and learn.”

This better work…! 

“Kotoludi!” 

Magla pulsated out of her palms in concentric rings of white light, each wave seeping into Grius’s body. A heavenly glow covered every expanse of skin as her magic slowly pushed out the corruption within. The necromancer's magic—faint tendrils of shadow that writhed like dying worms—hissed and receded out of his body. 

As soon as the last remnants of enchantment magic dissipated into thin air, Ciela immediately followed up with a high-level recovery spell.

“Revitalis!” 

The effect wasn’t immediate, but within seconds, Grius’s pupils shrank back to their normal size, the red clearing from his vision. When the glow of white light faded away from his body, he convulsed and dropped to his knees, bracing himself on the floor with trembling arms. 

For a moment, Ciela thought she had failed. But then she heard the sound of coughing. 

Grius sucked down a greedy breath, then another, as if he’d just clawed his way out of death, literally. 

Hulkenberg stared blankly at the scene, the halberd limp at her side, face stricken with hope and horror all at once. “Is he-” 

“What just-” Even Will couldn’t help but choke on thin air. His eyes darted between Ciela and Grius’s corpse- uh, living body? 

Strohl’s greatsword clattered to the ground. His jaws dropped to the floor, mouth gaping wide. “I- she just- he’s actually-” 

“...Grius?” Gallica whispered, voice trembling with thick emotions. 

Finally, after a long period of silence, Grius lifted his head. Although he looked paler than ever, the light in his eyes had returned. A faint smile hung on his lips as he glanced over the party. When his eyes finally met Ciela’s blue ones, he breathed out in a hoarse voice. 

“Forget the Almighty. We might as well start worshipping a new god. Or in this case, a new goddess.” 

Everyone in the room was stunned, speechless. The rush of adrenaline following a life-or-death battle, the horrors that occurred that day, and even the pure shock of this miraculous revival—none of it registered for the party. 

Everything was irrelevant in the face of Grius’s unmistakably living voice, echoing inside the tomb. 

“...By the crown, you’re actually back? For real?” Strohl muttered, head shaking in disbelief. “T-This isn’t a dream, right? This is actually happening?” 

“This is nothing short of a miracle,” Will breathed softly in awe. “Ciela, you…you gave him back to us.” 

Ciela stared down at her hands. The faint white glow barely lingered at her fingertips before fizzling out, leaving nothing but sweat and the faint trace of magla in the air. Although she acted confidently, she had never used two high-level spells in a row before. Combined with the fact that she was terribly out of practice, it zapped all the energy out of her. 

She could already feel her legs wobbling as she tried her best to remain standing. 

“Not a miracle…just some…magic theory…haha…” Ciela stammered out through clattering teeth. 

Strohl was the first to notice her strange reaction. His dark brows furrowed with concern as he spotted her trembling in place—the slight quiver in her knees, the way her fingers twitched involuntarily at her sides, the sheen of cold sweat breaking across her unnaturally pale forehead. 

He took a step toward her, one hand instinctively reaching out. “Ciela? Are you alright? You don't look too good.”

Ciela tried to wave him off. After all, this was supposed to be a happy reunion. She didn’t want to destroy it all by collapsing on them. 

“I-It’s nothing. It’s just, you know…some boring old…magla…deficiency-” 

Her words cut off. Like a puppet with its string cut, she blacked out and crashed to the ground. 

As her consciousness waned, the last thing she heard was the sound of chaotic yelling around her.

Chapter Text

06/11 - Hushed Honeybee Inn

Ever since she was young, Maria had always understood the fragility of life. 

When her mother died from an incurable disease, Maria thought she had done something wrong. Maybe her mother was angry with her because she came back home past curfew. Or maybe it was because Maria forgot to clean the plates after she finished her breakfast. Perhaps her mother simply refused to wake up and play with Maria again as punishment. 

But her father told her that it wasn’t her fault—that her mother’s time had simply run out. 

At first, Maria didn’t understand. 

How could one’s time just run out? Who decided how much time one had? And what reason did anyone have to take away someone’s time so cruelly like this? 

Her father told her then that there were things simply beyond our control. That this was incredibly normal. That sometimes, the people we love have no choice but to disappear from our sights, far out of our reach. 

And Maria listened to her father. She listened to everything he said, even as his voice cracked the more he talked. She took it all in, stayed silent like the good girl she was, and simply nodded in understanding at the end. 

“I understand, papa.” 

It was a white lie, and her father definitely saw through her act, but he didn’t call her out for it. He simply hugged her tightly, shedding silent tears against her shoulders, and refused to let go. 

Maria’s understanding of normalcy shifted after that. She expected little from the world, carried her losses quietly, and learned to live inside the cocoon of herself. If her loved ones were bound to leave her eventually, then at least, she would send them off with a smile. 

So she learned to do chores for herself, stopped playing around outside, and played the role of a kind-hearted single child, patiently waiting for her father at home. 

She wasn’t privy to the details of her father’s job, but she knew that he was fighting for a good cause. Even if he didn’t come home that often, she still loved him dearly. After all, her father was a hero! What child wouldn’t be proud to have such a respectable parent? 

Even when her father found a new woman, Maria didn’t mind. 

She had caught him a few times, hunched on that creaky wooden chair by the window of their room, staring at the stars in the night sky. His eyes would trace constellations she couldn't name, fingers absently twisting his wedding band. She could feel the palpable sorrow and loneliness, radiating from his silhouette. 

As much as she loved her father (and he loved her back with fierce, protective hugs and forehead kisses that lingered), there remained a hollow space in his chest that her small hands could never fill. 

So when she was introduced to Miss Fabienne, with her cinnamon perfume and laugh that sounded like wind chimes, Maria was happy for him. Every time she caught Miss Fabienne looking at her father, she saw the way her amber eyes lit up. The soft lines around her smile made her whole face glow like a beacon in the dark, and Maria couldn’t help but mirror that warmth with a grin of her own.

Miss Fabienne was a very pretty and kind lady who her father also seemed to adore. Although Maria felt a bit sad that her father was moving on from her mother, she didn’t mind it. As long as her father was happy, she was too. 

From then on, life continued as usual. She helped out at their new home with Miss Fabienne, while her father went out on his secret missions outside. 

This time, Maria thought things would be fine. Surely, she had been acting like a good girl long enough to get herself in the Almighty’s graces. She even made sure to visit the church every day to pray for her father. 

Even knowing how fragile life was, Maria still allowed herself to hope. 

But then her father spent longer days away from home. Sometimes, he simply disappeared for months. It drove her crazy, but she continued to smile and wait for him. Even if he was late, her father always kept his promise to come by on her birthday, at the very least. 

Still, Maria was lonely. She missed her father dearly and wanted him to come home more often. But she couldn’t say anything. If she begged her father to stay with her, she would be a selfish girl and the heavens didn’t like bad children. 

It was already bad enough that she was a half-blood. If she also became a naughty one, then her father might disappear like her mother. 

So Maria did everything she could to be a good girl. She tried her best to welcome her father back with a smile every time. She always did everything to help Miss Fabienne around the house. And as if the heavens were rewarding her for her behavior, her father finally came home again after almost a year. 

Maria was shocked that her father brought over four new friends this time. Normally, her father never introduced her to his friends. Miss Fabienne told her that it was for her own safety, which she reluctantly accepted. So she was pleasantly surprised that her father introduced her as his daughter. 

These must be his esteemed friends! Maria decided then that she would serve them to the best of her abilities. She helped Miss Fabienne cook Redgrass-Roasted Bidou, made sure to set up the prettiest of napkins, and tidied up their rooms. 

When she talked to her father last night before bed, he apologized for coming home late. 

His arms encircled her completely in a warm hug and when he rubbed her head with his rough, calloused hand, she could feel each ridge and valley of his palm catching slightly on her hair. The calluses told stories of work she couldn’t imagine, of places she’d never seen. Through his touch, Maria understood that this was her father’s way of making up for his absence—each gentle stroke an unspoken promise. 

So, she melted into his embrace, her small body curving to fit against his larger frame, and fell asleep in his arms, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

That night, she had the sweetest dream ever. She dreamt that her father had retired from his job and decided to permanently stay home with her and Miss Fabienne. Her father’s laughter filled their small kitchen as he kneaded dough with flour-dusted hands. He would lean across the wooden counter, trading stories of his journey with customers whose names she remembered. Then, when night fell, he would tuck her into bed, smoothing her blanket with his large hands, and press his lips to her forehead. 

Life was so peaceful, serene, and ideal. It was just the kind of life that Maria wanted all along. She never wanted to wake up from this dream. She had been a good girl for this long. Surely, the Almighty could allow her to hope. 

But dreams were never designed to last. In the end, one had to face reality and wake up to greet the next day, no matter how cruel it was. 

“I’m sorry, Maria,” Miss Fabienne said in a grim tone. She already knew something was wrong when Miss Fabienne walked in through the front door after the king’s funeral procession with blood-red eyes. 

But still. She wanted to believe. Her father promised her. He promised that he would be back at night with everyone, again. 

“...M-Miss Fabienne? What happened?” 

The silence that followed after her question made Maria want to faint. It would be better if Miss Fabienne just started crying and bawling. But instead, she stayed utterly silent. It scared her. Truly. 

“...Maria,” Miss Fabienne finally spoke after what felt like centuries. “Your father…he won’t be coming home again.”

Her words were like a heavy stone that smashed right through Maria’s heart. Her thoughts and blood froze for a second. Her mouth and nose felt like they were drowned out by a tremendous amount of fear, anger, and sorrow that surged up like the mountains and seas that she often saw in the picture books lying at home; it left her incapable of breathing. 

Maria didn’t say anything. She simply spun around, ran up the stairs, and locked herself inside her room. She threw herself onto the bed, forgetting to even take off her shoes, and buried herself into the sheets. 

She let out a faint noise, halfway between a whine and a sob. She didn’t know how to deal with all the emotions rising up inside of her. Maria was a child that never cried. 

It didn’t matter how many times she pressed her fist into her chest or slammed them against the mattress. The ache inside of her only grew larger, spreading into her throat and behind her eyes until her whole head hurt. 

She curled up tightly, face mashed against the pillowcase that smelled like herbs and faintly, somehow, like her father. It was as if he was still there with her, but the realization didn’t do anything to cull the storm inside of her. It made it even worse because-

She would never see him again. Her father was gone. Left her. Just like her mother. 

This was all that she had left of him now. This dirty, dusty pillow. 

She stayed buried for hours—long after the room had gone dark and the ache in her chest became something dull and stubborn, like a fever refusing to break. Occasionally, she heard Miss Fabienne’s steps outside; each one slow, as though she was treading on the thin ice of Maria’s misery.

Then, a couple of knocks. A soft voice calling out to her. Maria knew that Miss Fabienne was simply worried about her, but she didn’t want to face her right now. As much as she grew to love her step-mother, her voice wasn’t the one she wanted to hear right now. 

She just wanted her papa back.

Miss Fabienne must’ve given up because for a while, she didn’t hear anything again. 

Maria didn’t know how long she lay there, face planted into the pillow. She vaguely heard the sound of their front door opening and closing, so the Hushed Honeybee Inn was still serving customers as usual. Even with her father gone, the world continued to move on, leaving her behind. 

But then she heard the sound of a click. It was like someone had opened the lock of her room. Sure enough, wood creaked and a sharp slant of light seeped into the darkness. 

Maria froze stiff. 

Miss Fabienne had the key to her room, but she never forced her way inside before. So whoever opened her door wasn’t Miss Fabienne. But…that only left one other possibility. There was only one other person who had the keys to her room. 

It couldn’t be. Surely not. The world wouldn’t be so cruel as to tear her father away, only to suddenly make it just a twisted joke. 

Still, she hoped. She prayed to all the heavens above, even if they deserted her once. 

There was a slow scrape—the shuffling of boots, the dull thump of something heavy set upon her desk. The sound of those footsteps was so familiar, so nostalgic it almost made her shatter again.

But she didn’t. She refused to. Maria squeezed her eyes shut. Her hands knotted into the sheets and she stayed there, stubbornly refusing to address the person who had broken into her room. 

A waft of cold air slipped beneath her as the person walked closer to her bed. Then, the mattress next to her small body sank down from additional weight. 

“...Maria.” 

Her lungs forgot how to breathe. 

She knew that this was only a dream. Her father’s voice now belonged to the past, buried beneath yesterday’s promises. And yet it was him. She could recognize that voice anywhere.

She didn’t turn around to face him. Not yet. She feared that if she did, she’d see only empty space, and that spark of hope would be sucked up by the black hole that would form inside her, vast and crushingly destructive. 

She couldn’t bear the illusion of her father. Not now.

But then warm, rough hands caressed the back of her head, just like what he had done the previous night. 

The mattress dipped further; she could feel his warmth through the blankets, a heat the dead shouldn’t have. She squeezed her eyelids tighter, burying deeper, afraid to break whatever spell the darkness had cast.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’m late.”

Another beat of silence. And then-

“I’m home…Maria.” 

Those words stabbed through her resolve and before she could stop herself, a wail escaped her throat—a loud and ugly one. Maria threw the covers off and spun around on her knees, leaping right into her father’s arms. 

“Papa…papa…!” 

She could hear his thundering heartbeat against her ears. 

Her father was alive. He didn’t leave her. He was truly here with her. 

She had no idea how he came back from the dead. Perhaps the Almighty listened to her prayers, after all. Whatever the case, for now, she couldn’t care less what magic power brought him back to her. 

She had her father back, and that was all that mattered.

The sound of Maria’s wails could be heard throughout the entire inn. As much as Will wanted to sleep, there was no way he could simply close his eyes to the sound of her crying. Judging by the sound of sheets rustling beside him, he was certain that Strohl was also having a hard time resting. 

Gallica was perched on top of the bedside drawer, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m glad that we managed to save Grius. If not, I have no idea how we could face Maria.” 

Will grunted in response, not knowing what to say either. The entire time they fought against the undead in the Grand Cathedral, he had been secretly dreading the sound of Maria’s heartbreak all day. Thankfully, Ciela gave them a miracle that prevented him from ever having to console a poor child who lost a parent. 

Now, the girl could happily cry in the warm embrace of her beloved father. 

“It’s all thanks to Ciela and her magic,” Strohl said from the opposite end of the room. The young noble sat up from his bed and hunkered an arm over his knee, turning to look at Will. “If we didn’t save her from the bottom of Nord Mines, who knows what would’ve happened today?” 

“We probably would’ve slayed Grius down,” Will replied with a solemn frown. He rolled himself onto his side and faced Strohl. “Speaking of Ciela, how is she doing?”

“No clue,” Strohl replied with a sigh. “Hulkenberg is taking care of her in the other room though, so we shouldn’t need to worry. She probably just overexerted herself. Something about magla deficiency, she said.” 

“I left Hulkenberg with a few magla pills, so she’ll be okay,” Gallica said as she swung her legs around in the air. 

“Are you sure?” Strohl asked, skepticism curling the edge of his voice. He flexed his left hand like he was weighing words in his palm. “She looked half-dead when we pulled her out of the cathedral.” 

Gallica just shrugged. “Well, magla pills are all we have to cure lack of magla. That’s what we used during battles, too. Besides, who knows if our medicine even works on her?” 

“She’ll make it,” Will spoke with confidence this time. “She survived centuries inside that machine. It wouldn’t be right for her to lose her life because of something like magla deficiency.” 

“We can only hope for the best. In the meantime, we’ll need to stop that necromancer from taking the royal sceptre for himself,” Strohl replied with a heavy sigh. He rustled the top of his head in frustration. “What does Louis even want with that thing? The royal sceptre is known to host the strongest magic that only kings can wield. Without having the king’s blood in him, can he even use its powers?” 

“Who knows?” Gallica frowned. “There’s a lot we don’t know about royal magic. Only the king and his descendants know how to use the sceptre. Perhaps Louis overheard something during his time as general in the palace.” 

“Regardless, we can’t let something with the potential to destroy an entire nation fall into his hands,” Will said, eyes narrowing. “Louis cares not about the innocent lives lost in his battle for the throne. Someone like him can’t be fit to be a ruler.” 

“At least that’s something we can all agree on,” Strohl said with a snort. 

“Hey, speaking of Louis…Will, you were acting a bit strange back then,” Gallica suddenly changed the topic with a curious light in her eyes. 

Will blinked in confusion. “Um…back when?” 

“I think it was when we were running towards Grius’s body. You suddenly froze stiff, staring at something in the far distance.” 

Will drew in a sharp breath that seemed to crush his chest. 

As if she sensed the strange way Will was reacting to her question, Gallica hovered through the air, planting herself right next to his head on the bed. She peered over his face with narrowed eyes. “So, there really was a reason you froze up like that.” 

Strohl had no idea what Gallica was talking about. His eyes darted between Will and the fairy, brows furrowing. “Did something happen?”

Will glanced at Strohl, then at Gallica who was waiting patiently for him to speak. He swallowed audibly. He wished he could tell them what had happened, but how was he supposed to explain that strange vision he saw in his head? 

Normally, it wouldn’t be strange for people to recover lost memories out of the blue because of some emotional trigger. But what Will saw…that was the prince and a young eldan boy that resembled Louis, minus the horns. It made no sense that he suddenly saw a vision of the past that didn’t even involve him. 

Will squinted at the ceiling, avoiding everyone’s curious gazes. “Look, I… I’m not sure if it was a memory, or some weird trick, or what. But when we were running—just before we got to Grius—I saw something. My eyes met Louis’s through the crowd and in that moment, it felt like I…remembered something.” His words came out sticky. The more he tried to speak, the less sure he felt of what he’d seen.

“You remembered something? Oh, did you finally realize something about your past?!” Gallica’s wings buzzed with excitement. Strohl slowed his breathing, intent on listening. 

“Well, that’s the problem. I did remember something, except it wasn’t about my own past at all,” Will replied, sweat glistening across his forehead. “It was a scene of the prince chatting with his…supposed friend? Neighbor? Some elda child who was also living in the sanctum.” 

Gallica reeled her head back in surprise. “Huh? So you’re telling me you remembered another childhood friend of the prince? And that elda child wasn’t you?”  

Will shook his head. “No, I don’t know him. And yet something about him felt incredibly…familiar.” 

Strohl’s eyes narrowed at Will, a line slowly growing between his brows. “Like…you felt a kinship, or something?”

Will shook his head. “Not really kinship. Just…like he was important. Like if you met a childhood friend once and forgot about them, but then you see their face again and it all comes rushing back—except it wasn’t you interacting with them, but somebody else.”

“Hm, maybe you were actually there and seeing everything play out from afar?” Gallica offered, nose wrinkling from deep thought. “But wait, you said this other elda kid looked exactly like Louis? That doesn’t make sense. Louis is a clemar. What would he be doing at the eldan sanctum?”

“It’s probably not actually Louis, but some random kid who looks like him. Blonde hair and blue eyes aren't that rare of a combination,” Strohl commented with a shrug. “I mean, look at Ciela. Her features do look similar to Louis’s, but it’s not like they’re related.” 

“Still, it’s a hell of a coincidence,” Gallica said. “That you’d have a vision about a kid who just so happens to look and sound exactly like him.”

Will didn’t answer. He kept his eyes glued to the flaking ceiling plaster, the roughness of the inn’s sheets scraping at his elbows. 

The vision from earlier sat in his head like a fishbone. He couldn’t dislodge it, couldn’t swallow it, and the taste lingered on his tongue. It wasn’t just the memory, or whatever it was—it was the feeling that came with it. A kind of longing. A homesickness for something he couldn’t name. 

Maybe it was the way the prince had looked at that boy and how the boy gazed back at him with equal reverence. It was as if the world only revolved around the two of them and Will was just some outsider that happened to walk in on this incredibly intimate and private moment. 

Sure, the prince had also told him many times before that Will was the only reason why the prince didn’t give up on living. But that and this was different. If Will gave his highness hope, then this golden-haired elda boy was hope itself to the prince. 

Will felt like he had lost somehow. It turned out that he wasn’t the only one who the prince absolutely adored and cherished in his heart. 

He scrubbed a palm over his face, trying to settle the tautness in his chest. “It doesn’t matter who that boy was. All that matters now is stopping Louis and his necromancer from turning this entire country into a graveyard.”

Gallica piped up. “Well, if you get any more weird visions, feel free to talk to us about it.”

“She’s right. Maybe your memories will slowly come back to you,” Strohl consoled with a smile. “Maybe you had other friends in the sanctum, aside from the prince. Perhaps even family.” 

Will could feel that his friends were simply trying to cheer him up. He appreciated it, despite their words not easing the dull heartache inside of him. 

He forced his lips into a placid smile. “I guess there’s no hurrying things. We should probably go to bed now. We have a long day ahead of us.” 

Maria’s incessant crying had stopped by now. The moon was at its peak in the sky and if they wanted to face off against the necromancer tomorrow, they needed to rest. 

“Alright. Good night, you guys!” Gallica said as she flew over towards the candlestick illuminating the room and blew it out with her wings. 

As soon as Will closed his eyes, exhaustion took over and he drifted off into dreamland. It was only long in the middle of the night that he woke up again inside an incredibly familiar space.

06/12 - Akademeia 

“There truly is something special about you. The virtuous gravitate around you with such ease it puts all past heroes to shame,” More said with a smile. “A gallant warrior first, a noble healer second, and now an honorable knight. I can only imagine what other heroic virtues you might awaken along your journey to change the world.” 

Will shook his head. “You speak too highly of me. Hulkenberg already possessed the qualities necessary for a true knight. I merely gave her a push.” 

“And yet if everyone responded so well to the slightest push, archetypes wouldn’t become the rare magic it is today,” More hummed in thought as he rubbed his chin. “Even in the ancient records, I have never seen so many wielders of archetypes emerging at similar places and times.” 

“Doesn’t that mean there’s something strange going on?” Will asked with a frown. 

More stood up from his seat and curved around the table. “I have seen everything unfold through your eyes. Euchronia is currently facing an unprecedented threat unlike anything before. At this rate, it is only a matter of time before the kingdom crumbles from within.”  

Will watched as More gently patted Plateau’s head, eyes narrowing. 

“However, with the power of archetypes, you have a chance at saving this world. Continue to nurture your bonds with others and strengthen your will. Especially during such tumultuous times where people, ideology, and power are beginning to align in dangerous ways.” 

More turned around and stared at the golden statue behind his seat. 

“Heroes have always been born from crises. But when the crisis is larger than the hero, it does not make the hero godlike. It only makes him alone. Understand this.”

“I will take your words to heart,” Will replied with a nod. 

“Good,” More replied. He glanced back at Will with a smile. “I hope you do not falter in the face of looming threat. Everyone has anxieties in their heart, but only those who can face their fears will emerge victorious. The truest essence of magic lies in one’s imagination. Lose hope and everything will be for nought.” 

“I understand, More. I won’t let you down,” Will said with a smile. Then, he paused, as if suddenly remembering something. “Speaking of magic, are you aware of Ciela’s existence?” 

“Ah, yes. I see that you have met quite the unique soul,” More couldn’t help but speak with barely concealed excitement. “To think there was actually someone from the ancient world who survived until the present. This is nothing short of a miracle. I can only assume this is the work of fate itself.” 

“Do you think it’d be possible for me to help her awaken to an archetype?” Will couldn’t help but ask. “Of course, I think she’s strong enough without it, but since she’s curious about them, I want to help her if I can.” 

More’s eyes crinkled with interest. “A very intriguing proposition, Will.” He leaned in closer, face half-silhouetted by the library’s shifting light. “You must understand that archetypes are embodiments of heroic virtues. If one does not possess such values, then it is nigh impossible for one to awaken an archetype. Your friend Grius only managed to awaken one because he possessed an incredibly strong will.” 

Will’s lips dripped into a frown. “So are you saying that Ciela does not meet the requirements necessary to awaken one?” 

For a moment, there was a strange hollowness in More’s eyes. It was the kind of gaze that came with age, wisdom, and weariness. In this case, perhaps More understood something about Ciela that Will wasn’t capable of in the present. 

“What matters isn’t whether she has the gift, but whether she finds her own meaning in it,” More spoke cryptically with a sigh. “The power of archetypes comes from the nature of a person’s soul. It demands unwavering strength and willpower, yes, but sometimes also trial and suffering. I am not sure if she possesses the mental fortitude required to hone her natural talents into something bigger.” More paused, eyes softening. “Or maybe, deep down inside, she doesn’t wish to hone her talents any further. Perhaps she doesn’t actually want an archetype.” 

Will had a vague idea where More was going with his conjecture. He had already witnessed a glimpse of the darkness that surrounded Ciela’s heart. The day she first woke up, she immediately accepted the idea of death by their hands. It was as if she had no reason left to live, nothing to fight for.

And Will couldn’t fault her for that. The World Before seemed to be a place entirely different from theirs, despite them sharing similar roots. To Ciela who has no connections to this new world, what would she even want to fight for? 

Maybe that was why Ciela looked so empty sometimes, so insubstantial that her presence barely left a mark in the room’s air. Even during their fight in the mausoleum, they somehow forgot about her presence until she re-appeared to save Grius. 

Even during their small talks on the caravan towards the capital, she responded politely to their questions about the Ancient World but with a sort of practiced detachment, a kind of emotional courtesy more than true engagement. All the questions she asked about their world, in return, were all incredibly dull. She appeared to have no interest in the world itself aside from what she needed to know to survive here, like the different tribes here or the currency used. 

This habit of hers also re-emerged during the king’s funeral procession. She had no qualms joining the fray of battle to save them, yet hesitated when they talked about slaying down the necromancer who was threatening the state. It was as if she was content with doing the bare minimum as a ‘good’ person with power. 

Those were the actions of someone who wanted to save the people, but not the world. 

He’d understand if she was unskilled at combat, but judging by what he saw, Ciela was an experienced fighter. She must’ve fought through a few battles or maybe even wars before. A ‘good’ person who had such power would normally not hesitate to fight for a better future. 

Granted, Will had only known Ciela for a couple days. He had no idea what sort of life she lived before she woke up in their time period. Perhaps there was a reason why she was so reserved in her actions, or why there always appeared to be a flash of pain in her eyes every time they talked about saving the prince and the country from doom. 

He wondered if rekindling her curiosity about this world, or helping her discover something new to anchor herself to, might bring her closer to wanting an archetype—or simply to wanting anything at all.

Because from what he could tell from her, Ciela simply wanted to stay alive. But staying alive wasn’t the same as living. 

“What can I do for her?” Will asked with a sullen frown. 

More gave him an encouraging smile. “Do as you always do. Nurture your bond with her. The only way to know another person is to touch upon their heart. If it’s you, I’m certain you can do it, Will.”

Will didn’t know what kind of confidence More had in him, but so far, this man held the solution to everything. If More believed in him, then he could only repay that faith by trusting in the process. 

“Alright. I’ll try my best. Thank you for answering my questions, More,” Will said with a curt nod. 

“You are always welcome in my study,” More said with a laugh. “From now on, you may find my presence lingering in the cities. If you wish to meet me, all you have to do is focus, open your book, and find yourself transported here.” 

The line between fantasy and illusion began to blur as Will found himself slowly ejected from the Akademeia. The last thing he heard before awakening to the real world was More’s echoing voice. 

“...May our fantasies lead us homeward.”

06/12 - Hushed Honeybee Inn

The inn’s familiar ceiling was the first thing Ciela saw when she opened her eyes again. Although she didn’t expect anything else from Will and the others, she was still glad they didn’t leave her to die alone in that mausoleum by the hands of the undead. 

She tried moving her fingers; their joints cracked with ease. Then, she brought her arms up and squeezed her palms into fists, feeling her muscles stretching without ache. 

Huh. Surprisingly, I don’t feel terrible. Did they feed me a magla recovery potion or something? 

Ciela pushed herself upright, the quilt falling around her waist in a heap of borrowed warmth. Judging by the slant of light piercing through the curtains in her room, it must’ve been at least a day since she fainted already. 

Before she could slide herself off the bed, the door to her room suddenly creaked open. Fabienne stepped inside with a tray of food in her hands, a soft smile gracing her features. 

“I expected you to wake up soon, Ciela. Your pallor looks much brighter than yesterday,” the paripus said as she placed the tray onto the bedside drawer. 

Steam rose in curls from a bowl of amber broth, carrying the rich aroma of simmered roots and pungent spices. Flecks of crushed vegetables and meat floated on the surface alongside green sprigs of herbs. The delicious scent made her stomach rumble as she felt her hunger return. 

“Thank you for the meal, Miss Fabienne,” Ciela said with a smile. “Have I been out for a day?”

“Almost. It’s still the middle of the afternoon,” Fabienne replied. “The boys are already out in the Grand Cathedral. The lady knight is also with them. Apparently, they wish to stop the madness before the Day of Calamity.” 

“I see,” Ciela replied blandly.  

She expected nothing less from that group. Strohl was always so eager to face off against injustice and Will was simply too kind to turn his eyes away from those seeking help. Hulkenberg was also a knight, loyal to the crown, so it only made sense that she would do all she could to protect the kingdom from harm. 

Speaking of which…

“And is Grius okay now?” Ciela asked as she reached over to grab the bowl of soup. 

Fabienne’s ears twitched, her eyes darting to the wall before she sank onto the edge of Ciela’s bed. “He’s with Maria now. The two of them locked themselves in her room since last night. I imagine he won’t be moving for a while.” Her lips curved up, but the smile never quite reached her eyes. “I suppose it’s the least he could do for her.” 

Ciela made a non-committal hum of understanding in response. She picked up a spoon and blew on the surface of the soup, watching the way the herbs swirled around in circles. 

Fabienne studied her in silence as she quietly ate her first meal of the day. 

“...I was always prepared for the day he wouldn’t come back to us alive, but I must admit, I felt my world collapsing yesterday when I heard the news from everyone,” Fabienne suddenly spoke up with barely concealed grief. 

Ciela paused mid-scoop. She set the spoon down, throat dry despite the broth warming her body. 

Fabienne’s words made her remember that shy and lovely child with a smile brighter than the sun itself. Maria deeply missed her father when she ran over to hug Grius’s legs on the first day they entered the inn. Ciela saw the slight quiver in those ishkia wings, trembling with emotion. 

If Ciela didn’t save Grius yesterday, then she would wake up today to another funeral and a child with a broken heart. 

“That is why I am so incredibly thankful to you for bringing him back to us alive,” Fabienne continued. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears that caught the afternoon light streaming through the curtains, turning them to liquid amber. “Thank you. Truly, you are our savior.” 

Ciela looked away, unable to fully appreciate that gratitude. “It was nothing. I only did what I should,” she said, a little too quietly. The soup scalded her tongue as she forced herself to gulp down another mouthful; the sting gave her a reason to keep silent. 

She didn’t do anything special. It was simply the right thing to do. Anyone would’ve done it, if they had the power. Saving a life should not make her a savior; it just made her less of a coward than she remembered being.

Back during her life in the World Before, Ciela would’ve appreciated Fabienne’s words more. Now? They only sounded like a mocking joke to her. 

She hid a cynical, bitter smile behind the bowl of the soup as she tipped its contents right down her throat. 

Me? A savior, all because I saved one man’s life? If an utter failure like me could be called a savior, then perhaps Louis is also one. At least he seems dead set on making his ideals come true, unlike me who only knows how to run away from all her mistakes. 

Still, Fabienne was looking at her with nothing but appreciation and care. If she truly meant those words, then so be it. It wasn’t as if Ciela could tell her otherwise; Fabienne wouldn’t understand. She’d done what she could, and if gratitude stuck to her, she could let it cling for now. 

Sometimes, the world simply liked to play at being just for the briefest flicker of time and Ciela wasn’t going to go out of her way to swim against the flow. 

Ciela set the now-empty bowl down onto the tray, the urge to get up and find the others nettling at her. She didn’t though, because Fabienne was staring at her with a parsing gaze now, reading the meaning behind every twitch of her mouth or blink of her eye. This was a woman who worked in the slums, feeding drunkards and the poor. She must be a master of seeing through the gentle lies that kept people moving through the day.

Yet when she spoke, her voice was tender as if she were coaxing a shy child out of her shell. 

“It’s okay, you know,” Fabienne said, voice a shade softer. She crossed one leg over the other and folded her hands on her lap, the knuckles paling as she pressed them tight together. “Sometimes, people save the world in small ways, one person at a time. You didn’t need to do more than you did. Maria needed her father. And you gave him back to us. That’s more than enough.” 

Ciela almost froze up in shock at how eerily accurate Fabienne was at reading her emotions. She knew she wasn’t the best at keeping a poker face, but to think Fabienne who didn’t even know about her past could tell that much about her from just a look. 

“Do you think I should feel guilty for not doing more? For not going along with the rest of the boys to save the country?” Ciela couldn’t help but ask.

Fabienne shook her head. “You’re a foreigner. Our burdens are ours to bear. You are simply someone who accidentally found herself in our lands. You shouldn’t have an obligation to save us from our horrible situation.” 

“I never thought of it like that. I thought it was my moral duty to do all I can to protect everyone and that if I didn’t, it made me a bad person,” Ciela said, then found she couldn’t stop a rueful laugh from scratching at her throat. “I’m not trying to toot my horn or anything, but I’ve always had plenty of people envious of my talents. My peers kept me at a distance, my supporters placed me on a pedestal, and the people kept expecting more of me. There was a time where I once held pride in my abilities, but at a certain point, I just wanted to run away from it all.” 

She knew that she was talking vaguely without giving any specific details about her past. But she had a feeling that Fabienne could understand what she was trying to say. 

“And did you run away?” Fabienne asked. There was no mockery in her voice at all.

Ciela clasped her hands onto her lap. She dug her fingernails into her skin, pressing upside-down crescent moons onto them. 

“I didn’t do it on purpose. The thought often crossed my mind, but even so, I fought to be everyone’s savior. It was my only reason for existence and I thrived on their attention, hopes, and dreams. I helped everyone that I could get my hands on. I did everything I could to protect them. But my arrogance got to my head one day and I…I made a mistake. A fatal one. One that cost the lives of many. And then before I knew it, I was running for my life.”

She knew that she was simply trauma-dumping on this poor lady who she hadn’t even known for more than three days. Still, it felt relieving to talk to someone who wouldn’t judge her for her crimes because they were simply unaware of it all. 

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t afraid of rejection or condemnation. 

She waited for Fabienne to press her for more details about her mistake. Surely, it was important to know whether the person you hosted in your house actively killed and destroyed the lives of people before. 

Still, those harsh words never came. 

“I see,” Fabienne said, filling the silence left by Ciela’s confession. There was no tightening of judgment in her brow. Only a pause, a quiet breath. “You regret things. That simply means you still possess a heart. Is that why you have run across borders and seas, all the way to Euchronia?”

It was close enough of a theory to the real truth, so Ciela simply nodded. “I have no home to return to now. I cannot even make amends, nor do I particularly want to. I fear that if I bring myself out into the spotlights again, I’ll be pushed into a corner all over again.” 

She could feel her eyes brimming with tears. She sniffed and tried her best to tamp down on those embarrassing emotions. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to save your people. It’s not that I don’t want to be out there with Will and the others, saving the world. It’s just that—I’m afraid of what comes after. I failed to bear the weight of being a savior once, and if I have to bear that moniker again…I don’t think I could do it well enough without breaking into pieces.” 

Fabienne surprised her by reaching out and setting a gentle hand atop her wrist. If her touch lingered a little longer than expected, Ciela said nothing of it. Sometimes words swarmed too thickly, and a hand was enough to brush them away.

“I think you are owed some selfishness,” Fabienne said finally. “The world you know is gone, and you did what you could for ours. You don’t have to chase after the end of every tragedy. Sometimes, it is enough to just remain.” 

“...You really think so?” Ciela rasped out, voice breathy. “I don’t have to go out there and fight for a better future? And that’s somehow acceptable?” 

“There’s no rush, Ciela. It’s clear you’ve been fighting for long enough. Even heroes have their rest days. And my home is yours for as long as you’d like.” Fabienne’s thumb stroked her wrist in a slow, rhythmic motion—once, twice—as if soothing a fever she couldn’t see. “And if that coward in you happens to save a few lives here and there, I think that’s a beautiful thing.”  

Ciela stared in stunned surprise at Fabienne’s words. She managed a wet laugh, wiping at her cheeks before she let herself look up again. “Cowardice as a virtue, huh? Never heard that one before.”

Fabienne only smiled softly at her. She reached for the empty bowl then stood up. “Eat as much as you like. That’s an order. A good rest and warm food. Sometimes that’s all you need.” She smoothed her skirt by habit and stayed a moment longer at the bedside. “If you’re feeling up to it… come downstairs when you’re ready. Maria’s going to need a friend when her father finally lets her out of his arms.”

“Alright. Thank you for everything, Miss Fabienne,” Ciela said with utmost gratitude. 

“No, thank you for bringing us a miracle,” Fabienne breathed a laugh, right before she left through the door. 

Left alone, Ciela lingered. She didn’t want to go downstairs quite yet—to be stared at with gratitude, to have Grius, Maria, or the other customers look at her the way people once did, as if she could save the universe if she just tried hard enough. 

Instead, she closed her eyes and quietly listened to the muffled sound of voices below, the pleasant chaos of an inn that was somehow putting itself back together after everything. 

But she didn’t get to rest for long because before she knew it, the whole inn suddenly started to shake. The windows rattled loudly and she had to grab the mug of water from her bedside before it crashed to the ground. 

Ciela jolted up from her bed in confusion. Was that an earthquake? 

She received the answer to that question soon enough. The sound of someone screaming from the bottom floor reached her ears, piercing through her door. 

“Help! T-The Human in front of the cathedral just came back to life!” 

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Ciela groaned, not because she doubted the report, but the number of Euchronia’s crises just kept on piling up. How was it even possible for so many things to go wrong in the span of a few days after her awakening? 

She didn’t have the time to ponder about her savior complex now. Fabienne was down there and––god forbid, Maria––it was possible that she would lose her father again, knowing Grius’s tendency to get himself into trouble when the crown was involved. 

If her guess was right, this must be the work of that bastard necromancer. Did Will and the others fail to stop him? 

“Papa!” The sound of Maria yelling seeped through the door. “No! Don’t go!”

That was enough to force Ciela into action: she threw on her boots and coat, gripped the cold brass knob, flung her door open, and nearly collided with Grius who was sprinting down the corridor. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” Ciela couldn’t help but yell as he tried to brush past her. 

“Heading to the cathedral, what else?” Grius barked, shoving her away from him. “We have to hurry. Who knows what Louis’s men are up to?”

Ciela scowled as she ran after him. She managed to yank him back by the collar of his armor, half-way down the stairs. He whipped his head around to glare at her, but she refused to cower away from doing the right thing this time. 

“You’re not going anywhere, old man,” Ciela snapped. “Stay here and hold down the fort. Protect Maria with your own fucking hands this time and don’t leave your wife to mourn over your death.” 

Grius’s jaw clenched, and for a split second Ciela worried he might shout her down, but he only worked his tongue against his cheek and wrenched his collar from her grip. No bark, no bite. At least not yet. 

So Ciela continued with a smoldering glare of her own. “Have you still not learned your lesson? You go out there and save the country, sure. But what about the people you leave behind? What about their world?” 

Fabienne suddenly appeared at the bottom of the staircase as if hearing the commotion she was making. Her amber eyes were wide with shock but also deep gratitude as Ciela spoke. 

“You can’t save the damn world alone. To think otherwise would be nothing short of arrogance. You may be older than me, but I’m your ancestor. Trust me. The way you’re going about everything with nothing but sheer desperation is wrong. You’re bound for inevitable failure.”

Grius stared up at Ciela, lips twisted in a snarl and eyes nearly backlit with pure frustration. For a moment, Ciela thought he’d push past her on stubbornness alone, but then something behind her stilled him—a sound that cut clearer than anger ever could. 

Maria’s voice, raw and frightened, ricocheted up the stairwell. “Papa! Please, don’t leave me alone!” 

It was a plea desperate enough to make even the most stubborn of men crumble. 

Ciela watched the fury in Grius falter and fade. He met Maria’s teary eyes and shattered. He exhaled, deflating. All the energy dissipated from his body and he remained stuck in place, staring blankly at Maria’s crying face.  

Ciela knew resignation when she saw it. Now, she only had to hammer it in. 

She took the step down between them, closing the distance. “Grius. If you leave now, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. So don’t. Don’t do it. It’s always harder for the people who are left behind. I know that feeling better than anyone else and I assure you, I don’t wish that kind of emotion on anyone, especially not on a young girl like Maria.” 

She didn’t wait for an answer. She thundered down the stairs, skipping three steps at a time. She trusted that Grius would make the right choice. 

When she landed at the bottom, Fabienne was immediately in her face, expression worried. “A-Are you going to go? But I just told you that-” 

“No, Miss Fabienne. I’m okay. Really,” Ciela said softly, but with burning determination in her eyes. “The coward in me wants to fight today, and nothing can stop me.”

Fabienne’s lips parted as if she wanted to say something. But after one look at Ciela’s face, she decided against it. She moved to the side, unblocking the way to the entrance of the inn. 

Then, in a soft voice barely louder than a wind whisper, she pleaded, “Please come back home safe and sound with everyone.”  

“Of course. Leave it all to me,” Ciela said as she took one step out the inn’s entrance before turning around with a grin.