Date: September 26, 637, Time: 10:02

I got out of bed. Following Malle’s instructions from the previous day, I dressed in the necessary clothes and had my breakfast. I was about to step outside to see what Malle was up to when I suddenly paused. As I placed my hat on my head, a question that had been lurking in my mind froze me in place: Why hadn’t I been dreaming for the past two days?

Every morning, I opened my eyes like an ordinary person. But this sense of normalcy was overshadowed by a strange detail lurking deep in my mind. Numbers. I wasn’t entirely sure I had seen them, but I knew I had felt them. It was as if my body remembered them, not my consciousness. A vague wave of unease stirred within me.

As I opened the door and stepped outside, I was confronted by the sun’s audacious brightness. Squinting, I tried to cope with the sudden glare. The sun had always bothered me, though I had never questioned why. It was convenient to attribute it to being Alphian; after all, my body was vulnerable to sunlight. But what if the truth was more complicated than that?

While I tried to push these thoughts aside, I heard a rustling sound from my left. I began walking toward the source of the noise. As my feet descended the wooden steps one by one, another thought crept into my mind: how easily I had adapted to this world.

I remembered the moment I first opened my eyes in the Great Oak Forest. The change between who I was that day and who I had become today was unrecognizable. Now I wore clothes, ate food, slept, and lived like humans. With each passing day, I was becoming more human. But was this the right path? Had I made the right choice, trusting the girl in my dream? My steps slowed as these questions swirled in my mind.

When I reached the bottom of the steps, a strong earthy scent filled my nostrils. I turned to the left, toward the source of the smell, and saw Malle, using her small trowel from the day before to work the soil. She was tending to the earth around the flower that the children had said resembled me. Watching her delicate movements calmed my mind for a moment.

Malle looked up, and when she saw me, a gentle smile spread across her face.

“Good morning,” she said softly.

I smiled back. There was a natural calmness in Malle’s demeanor today. She immediately asked how I was feeling, particularly about my leg. I told her I felt much better compared to yesterday.

She returned her attention to her trowel, but I continued to observe her face. Yesterday, while tending to the flower, there had been a faint expression of sadness on her face. Today, it seemed like she was making an effort to hide that emotion. I wanted to understand the reason for this change.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

Malle paused for a moment.

“No, I’m fine,” she said, but her eyes betrayed her words. The distant look and faint sadness in her gaze made me feel as though she wasn’t being entirely truthful.

There was a brief silence. Malle slowly set her trowel down, placed her hands in the pockets of her apron, and turned to face me. There was a new light in her eyes.

“Actually,” she said with excitement, “I realized I forgot to tell you something yesterday. It’s a lovely tradition, and I’d like to share it with you now. Would you like to hear about it?”

The moment I nodded, her eyes lit up. She clapped her hands together and gently tapped her knees.

“Then I’ll tell you right away!” she began enthusiastically.

“The timing of the Harvest Festival is based on a special tradition,” Malle said, her excitement radiating from her eyes. “It’s dedicated to the day of the first harvest. So, the day of the first crop holds great significance. But do you know how they determine that?”

Instead of answering, I looked at her with curiosity, swept up in her enthusiasm. Malle took that as a sign to continue.

“With the Fall of the First Leaf. This tradition has been passed down from our village’s ancestors.”

She slowly stood up from where she had been kneeling, brushing off the dust from her clothes while maintaining the same rhythm in her explanation.

“There’s a large oak tree in the Village Square, just beyond the place we went yesterday. No one knows how old it is. But one thing is certain: it’s older than anyone in the village, perhaps even older than history itself.”

Her voice softened, reflecting the respect she held for the tree. She set her trowel aside and picked up a yellow leaf that had fallen from one of the nearby trees, holding it delicately between her fingers.

“When this tree sheds its first leaf in the autumn, everyone begins to harvest their fields and gardens. But before this happens, it gives a sign. All the oak trees in Kome turn their leaves completely yellow for a week. And on the seventh day, that first leaf falls.”

She gently waved the leaf between her fingers before letting it drift to the ground.

“Every year, that first leaf always comes from the tree in the square. The villagers believe this tree enriches our lands with its blessings. But when it starts shedding its leaves, they believe it has given all the blessings it can. That’s why they wait for the first leaf to fall, to ensure the crops are harvested at their most abundant.”

Despite Malle’s enthusiasm, this tradition struck me as illogical. I had always felt a distance from traditions, especially those based on supernatural assumptions. And this distance only grew as I realized how little ignorance had changed throughout history. Still, I didn’t want to voice these thoughts to her. Instead, I chose to ask another question:

“So, when does this first leaf fall?”

A flicker of curiosity appeared in her eyes.

“It hasn’t fallen yet,” she said. “But six days have passed since the first leaf started turning yellow. That means today is the seventh day.” She tilted her head slightly. “So, if our predictions are correct, the leaf will fall today.”

I tried to understand the excitement and happiness Malle felt for this belief. I looked at her and, influenced by the brightness in her eyes, asked what was at the heart of this joy:

“Why does this make you so happy? Is it really that important to you?”

Hearing my question, Malle paused. She narrowed her eyes, gazing at the horizon, and slowly smiled.

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice tinged with softness. “I’m just happy right now. And I wanted to share it with you, to make you happy too.”

I found her answer strange. But I didn’t question her further. Malle had a way of finding ways to hide things when she didn’t want to share. We stood in silence for a while.

Suddenly, Malle took off her apron and set it down along with the trowel. Then, unexpectedly, she turned toward me and wrapped her arms around my neck. I was stunned. I hesitated between pushing her away or letting her hold me. Reflexively, I lowered my head to prevent my hat from falling off. Her embrace was filled with a trembling warmth, and then, in a slightly cracked voice, she began to speak.

“You know this is your flower, right? Yours.” Her words seemed to catch in her throat. “Its name is Lily. Her name was Lily too. She looked just like you. She looked like me.”

As her voice quivered, a few tears fell onto my shoulder. She paused for a moment, then quickly pulled away, wiping her eyes with hurried movements.

“Let’s go inside,” she said quietly, bending down to pick up her trowel. As she did, she grabbed my hand and gently tugged me toward the veranda.

Once inside, I sat on the bed, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Malle carefully placed her tools in the chest beside the mirror. She then wiped off the dirt from her clothes with a cloth. She was silent. Finally, when she came over to me, she began examining my clothes with a thoughtful expression.

As her fingers traced the patterns on my garments, I realized she was mumbling something under her breath. I couldn’t make out the words, but her voice was soft and reflective.

After a while, she stopped mumbling, pulling her hands back from my clothes. With a serious expression now shadowing her face, she began to speak.

“I’m sorry if I upset you yesterday,” she said. “For keeping my distance from you…”

I looked into her eyes, waiting for her to continue. It was clear she wanted to say more. She took a deep breath, her gaze dropping briefly to the floor before she locked eyes with me again.

“I had a sister,” she finally admitted. “Her name, as you might have guessed, was Lily.” Her voice faltered for a moment, but she pushed on. “I told you about Haura and Axtje’s plan to destroy Alphia, remember?”

I nodded slightly in response. As I did, her expression deepened, her face shadowed by pain. After a brief pause, she lowered her gaze again and continued.

“I wish it had stopped there. But they didn’t. They hunted down those of us who had scattered across the world, one by one. But they didn’t just kill us.” Her voice trembled. “They tortured, abused, and broke us in the most inhumane ways imaginable. It’s hard even to describe what they did. They ruined our lives with the vilest methods one person could inflict on another.”

Her words echoed in my mind. I thought deeply. Was Haura a god? No, she was just an arrogant human. Someone who had gained power and used it to oppress. A despicable person, nothing more. That power likely came from the Archive. Maybe she had somehow surpassed Restricted Mode. But those details seemed insignificant compared to the weight of Malle’s pain.

She continued. Her voice grew deeper, more fragile.

“It was a winter evening. My mother, father, Lily, and I… We were having a lovely evening at the farm we built on the northern slopes of the Great Oak Forest. Only a few months had passed since Alphia’s destruction. Our lives were slowly returning to normal. I was gazing out the window, watching the snow that had been falling non-stop since the day before, and chatting with Lily.”

Memories must have flooded her mind like a tide, because her tone softened. She was fully immersed in the past now.

“I was sixteen then, and Lily was eight. We were playing one of our usual simple games: guessing how high the snow would reach when it finally stopped. My parents had prepared warm tea and were enjoying a peaceful evening for the first time after everything that had happened.”

She paused briefly. Her voice dropped, her eyes fixating on a distant, unseen point.

“Those moments were simple family happiness. Ordinary, but so precious…”

I wanted to hear more, but I hesitated to interrupt her fragile state. I simply waited.

Malle took a deep breath, clasped her hands on her knees, and continued speaking. Her voice clearly showed she was struggling to keep her emotions in check.

“That night, Lily had already fallen asleep. I was yawning so much that tears welled up in my eyes. We all slept together by the fireplace in the living room, our only source of heat during the winter. My parents had fallen asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms. Seeing them like that made me feel so at ease… But then, a sudden thirst ruined all that peace.”

She paused again, as if the details of that moment were becoming sharper in her mind. Her fingers intertwined tightly on her knees.

“I stood up quietly and walked over to the pitcher on the table by the window. I picked up a glass and filled it with water. As I drank, my eyes drifted outside. I thought I saw a shadow among the snow-covered trees. At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, but as I slowly set the glass down on the table, I realized the shadow was moving. Yes, they were there. The figures became clearer under the faint moonlight.”

Her hands began to tremble. Her eyes stared off into the distance, and the muscles in her face twitched slightly. The weight of her story seemed to press down on her shoulders.

“I immediately called out to my parents. They both rushed to the window and looked outside. There were no longer just shadows; there were multiple figures now. A group of people, cloaked in darkness, was moving through the trees. My mother turned to my father in panic, but he did something I never expected—he asked me to stay calm.”

Malle’s voice began to crack. She folded her arms gently over her chest, hugging herself.

“My father grabbed my arm firmly. The instructions he had repeated to us countless times, which I had never taken seriously, he now said with absolute gravity: ‘Take Lily and get on one of the horses out back. Don’t stop. Go deep into the forest and don’t look back.’”

Her voice trembled. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn’t stop.

“My mother was silently crying. Lily clung to my mother’s skirt, confused and scared. When I saw the determination in my father’s eyes, I realized how serious the situation was. As her older sister, I had to protect Lily because she was a pure-blood Alphian. Like my mother, she came from a pure lineage. That’s why all the training I had received existed in the first place. Unlike my father and me, her pure-blood traits couldn’t be hidden. Lily had to survive.”

Her words etched themselves into my mind. The mention of her training piqued my curiosity, but I knew this wasn’t the right time to ask for details. I waited for her to continue, without interruption.

“All at once, my father shoved Lily toward me and forced us out of the room. I cradled her in my arms and did exactly as he said. We quickly grabbed what we could and rushed to the back. We mounted a horse and galloped deep into the forest at full speed. I never saw my mother and father again after that night.”

Her final words were whispered, barely audible. Tears streamed freely down her face now, but she kept speaking, undeterred. Her bravery, even in reliving such deep pain, struck me. Every word that left her lips carried an even heavier weight, drenched in sorrow.

“By sheer luck, we weren’t noticed. Maybe my parents had gone to great lengths to make sure we wouldn’t be. Still, I had to be strong… for Lily,” she continued, her voice shaking, her eyes flickering toward the floor. “My father had a doctor friend in Amura. He had once helped him during a journey to Alphia. He told me if I couldn’t find any other refuge, I should go to him.”

She paused for a while. Her eyes seemed to search for a memory in the empty space ahead. Finally, she continued.

“Clinging to my father’s advice, I took Lily and rode for days on horseback. It was a difficult time…” She took a deep breath and ran her hand through her hair. “But eventually, we reached Amura. We stopped at an inn in one of the towns on the outskirts of Amura, and that’s where I met Cecily.”

The faint, bittersweet smile that crossed her face when she said Cecily’s name didn’t escape my notice. She continued:

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“I was trying to keep Lily hidden from everyone. I had wrapped her up tightly, making sure no one could see her. Cecily knew about the time my father helped the doctor, because back then, she was working as his bodyguard. The moment she saw Lily and me, she recognized us. She helped us for a while, and eventually, thanks to her, I met Doctor Percival.”

Malle’s voice softened a bit at this point. Perhaps the memory brought her a sliver of peace. Her hands were clasped in her lap as her gaze drifted to the intricate patterns on my clothing. Then she continued:

“Finally, we had a home,” she said, and for the first time, a smile that seemed close to genuine appeared on her face. “We lived in a small house where Cecily and her team stayed. They were usually out working, making a living, and rarely came home. So, it was up to us to maintain the house.”

There was a brief pause here. Her gaze became more focused, and she seemed to relax slightly as she recalled those days. I could sense that these last memories brought her a bit of solace.

“Doctor Percival would visit us from time to time. One day, he noticed the things my father had taught me,” she said, and the faint smile returned for a fleeting moment. “He invited me to become a member of the Katra.”

After a few seconds of silence, she added:

“At first, I was confused. I had just turned sixteen. It was hard to grasp such a big offer. But when the doctor told me that joining the Katra would give me the strength to protect Lily, I accepted without hesitation. And so, I found a new purpose in my life.”

Malle stood up and walked toward a table in the corner of the room. She filled a glass with water from a pitcher, then returned, holding it in her hand. As she sat down, she took a few sips, took a deep breath, and continued her story.

“I went through a grueling training process,” she said, her voice sounding steadier now. “But thanks to what my father had taught me, I became the top recruit and officially joined the Katra. My first missions were simple—taking down small gangs in the outskirts of the capital.”

As she twisted the glass in her hands, a serious expression settled over her face.

“After completing a few missions, I started to understand the inner workings of the Katra better. And I realized I was in the right place. I was doing something good. I was punishing those who did wrong, cleaning up society from people like them.”

She seemed about to set the glass down on the table but then stopped, her face hardening.

“But it wasn’t that simple. For three years, Lily and I lived this life in the outskirts of Amura. I did everything I could to keep her safe. But…” She paused, her face darkening. “Around that time, when I had just turned nineteen, the followers of Haura arrived in Amura.”

Malle’s voice took on a harsher tone. She lowered her gaze, clutching her hands tightly on her lap.

“A grand Haura Church was established in the heart of the city, within the Amura Fortress. And soon after… the purges began.”

Her voice had dropped to almost a whisper. I noticed her hands trembling slightly. She continued:

“The streets were no longer safe. Axtje’s Order of Knights scoured the city in search of Alphians. And they found them. Because Amura was the closest major city to Alphia.”

She lifted her head and looked me in the eyes with a helpless expression.

“Lily wasn’t safe,” she said. “No matter how hard I tried, I wasn’t sure if the decisions I made were the right ones. Maybe I had been on the wrong path from the very beginning.”

Silence settled into the room. The weight of her words made the atmosphere feel suffocating. But I knew Malle had more to tell.

She took a deep breath. Her eyes dropped back to the floor, her fingers tracing the embroidery on her clothes without moving much as she continued speaking.

“I can’t forget that day,” she said, her words heavy and cold. “The day I couldn’t save Lily… The day she died… The day I abandoned her to die… The day I handed her over to death with my own hands…”

Her words sent a chill through me. I leaned toward her, gently placing my hands on her shoulders and giving her a light shake.

“Malle?” I said, my voice tinged with worry.

But she didn’t respond. Her eyes were fixed on a single point in the distance. A tear rolled down from her left eye, tracing its way down her cheek to her chin before falling to the floor. It was as if that tear had brought her back, grounding her in the present.

As the tear soaked into her clothes, she began to speak again.

“I was returning from a mission,” she said. Her voice was monotone now, devoid of any emotion, as if she were reading from a script. “I had met with Cecily and parted ways with her. They were going to spend time at the tavern, as usual, so they wouldn’t be coming home. When I arrived at the house, it was dark, and Lily was nowhere to be found. I was terrified. I thought they had taken her, but there were no signs of a struggle in the house. As I ran from room to room in the corridor, she suddenly appeared behind me.”

She paused. Her eyes flicked to mine for a brief second, then dropped back to the floor.

“As I said, Lily was a pure-blood,” she continued. “Her powers were slowly awakening. She had already learned how to mask her presence. That’s why, despite being a top Katra assassin, I couldn’t sense her.”

She stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, and squeezed her eyes shut.

“I don’t know why I acted the way I did then. If I hadn’t yelled at her… If I hadn’t hit her… If I had been able to control my anger… Maybe she would still be alive now.”

Her voice cracked, and she was swallowed by a deep sob.

“But I couldn’t. I killed her,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I struggled to process what she was saying, but she was already lost in her emotions. The glass she had been holding slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor as she collapsed to her knees, overcome by sobs. Her hands ran through her hair as she trembled, her tears coming in sharp, staccato bursts that made it hard for her to breathe.

Seeing her like this stirred something deep inside me.

Without thinking, I moved closer. I took Malle’s hands in mine, lifting them from the embroidered patterns of her clothes up to my chin, guiding her to look at me. I gently placed her hands on my cheeks, hoping to ease her pain. I didn’t know why I did it. But I wanted to. I realized I couldn’t bear to see her suffer.

It was a feeling foreign to humans but familiar to me: compassion.

Malle slowly pulled her hands back from my face and lowered her gaze, taking a deep breath. Her sobbing had stopped, but the sadness in her eyes remained. She straightened up and bent down to gather the broken pieces of the glass from the floor. She moved silently. After tidying up, she returned to sit beside me. It seemed like she was replaying her words in her mind, weighing them carefully.

“I couldn’t see her fear,” she suddenly admitted. Her voice still trembled, but now there was a hint of regret mixed in. “She tried to calm me down. But instead of recognizing how scared she was, I blamed her. I raised my voice, I yelled, and even—” Her sentence trailed off, as if she couldn’t bring herself to say more.

I waited patiently, trying to meet her eyes. An expression of pain flickered across her face. It was clear she was struggling to finish her story.

“That slap…” she finally whispered. “The slap I gave her ruined everything. Lily hit her head on the corner of a chest in the corridor and collapsed to the floor. My hand was still burning, and when she looked at me, tears were streaming down her face. That’s when I realized... but it was too late. I stared at the blood pooling on the floor, frozen in shock. Lily, sobbing, stumbled away and ran out the back door into the garden.”

She stopped, her eyes filling with tears again, but this time she tried to hold them back. She pressed her hands tightly against her knees and continued.

“I should have stopped her. But I didn’t. I was paralyzed. When I finally stepped into the garden, I heard the sound of hooves and Lily’s screams. She was shouting, ‘Sister, help!’ Her voice... I can still hear it echoing in my ears.”

Malle fell silent. The weight of her words hung heavy in the room, making it hard to breathe. For a while, neither of us spoke. I gently took her hand, hoping that small gesture could ease her pain, even if only a little.

As I looked at her, I wondered why this scene felt so familiar to me. Strangely, I felt a sense of certainty inside me—as if I knew exactly what I needed to do. I placed my hand on her long, single-braided red hair and began to gently stroke it. My lips moved on their own, and words tumbled out without conscious thought:

“You’re so full of emotion. I’m sure you did everything you could. You wanted to overcome them, didn’t you? You wanted to see your precious sister by your side again. It’s such a shame what happened. But it’s okay. Sometimes we can’t succeed at everything. We make mistakes. What matters is the lessons we learn from those mistakes. And you know that very well.

Also, look at me. I’m here with you. I’ll always be by your side. No matter how many mistakes you make, I won’t leave. Fate won’t have its way with us.”

When Malle heard my words, she slowly lifted her head and looked at me with a surprised expression. The moment I saw the astonishment in her eyes, I realized what I had done. I was only now grasping the meaning of the words I had spoken. The warmth spreading inside me made me feel how profound my words were. They weren’t just words of comfort—they were like stones rebuilding something.

A glimmer of hope appeared in Malle’s eyes. Her tears, still lingering at the corners of her smiling eyes, caught the sunlight streaming into the room. That sight left a warm feeling in me. Why was I so affected by this?

A soft smile spread across Malle’s face. Her crying had stopped. She straightened up, smoothing the wrinkles from her clothes.

“What are you even saying?” she asked, her voice lighter and gentler, free from the sadness of before. “I really liked that.”

Seeing the sadness lift from her eyes only made me more eager to learn about the rest of her story. I wanted to fully understand the emotions and pain in her memories. She wiped her face with her hand one more time. She seemed to have regained some of her strength. After taking a deep breath, she lowered her gaze to the floor and began to speak again.

“When I opened the back door and stepped into the garden…” Her voice trembled again, but she forced herself to continue. “They had tied Lily to the back of a horse by her ankles. They were dragging her along the ground, taking her to the square.”

Her shoulders shook slightly. She intertwined her fingers tightly. Her gaze remained fixed on the floor.

“I didn’t know what to do,” she whispered. “It was a horrifying sight.”

With each word, her breathing quickened, and she seemed to retreat further into herself as she recalled the events.

“I ran upstairs to my room and grabbed my long sword. Then, with all the strength I had, I rushed toward the square. I cut through a few narrow alleys, taking a shortcut. I arrived just after the knights did.” Her hands clenched into fists; I could see her nails digging into her palms.

Malle’s expression grew heavier, and the pain in her eyes deepened.

“In the square…” she said, then swallowed hard. “There was a large crowd and a fire. And a disgusting smell…” Her eyes drifted into emptiness for a moment, her voice lowering to a near whisper. “It smelled like burning flesh.”

I could hear the tremor in her voice; it was as if she were reliving those moments all over again.

“I saw Lily. She was at the front of the fire, tied to a wooden platform. Her hands and feet were bound. There were other Alphians beside her…” She glanced down at her hands, pressing her fingers into her knees. “I had to save her,” she said. Her voice fluctuated between anger and helplessness.

“The head knight was speaking loudly at that moment. The crowd was shouting, cheering. I could hear him clearly.” Malle repeated his words, her tone mimicking his harsh, authoritative voice. Her descriptions brought the horror and chaos of the square vividly to life in my mind.

The murmur of the crowd filled the square. People stood with wide eyes, their attention completely fixed on the elevated wooden platform. A woman, unable to hold back her tears, gripped her child’s hand tightly, murmuring something under her breath. An old man shook his head with a mix of anger and fear. On the platform at the center of the square stood the head knight, towering in his heavy armor. His stern face and the cold determination in his eyes radiated an aura of control over the entire crowd.

His thick boots echoed against the wooden steps with each step he took, silencing the crowd as he ascended. When he reached the top of the platform, he took a deep breath and began to speak loudly. His voice carried to every corner of the square, tightening his grip on the people gathered there.

“This decree has been issued by our god, Haura!” he bellowed, raising his sword to the sky. The moonlight and the flickering flames of the large fire behind him danced on the metal surface of the blade. The light reflected on the people’s faces, making their fear and uncertainty even more visible.

The crowd began to stir. The knight’s eyes swept over the faces in the square, and his voice grew even more threatening as he continued:

“These are witches!” he shouted, pointing at the Alphians kneeling with their hands bound. Among them was a figure Malle couldn’t tear her eyes away from—Lily. The young girl’s small shoulders trembled; blood trickled from her head, hands, and feet, pooling on the ground beneath her. Her head hung low, but her eyes reflected the helplessness and horror of the situation.

Malle, trapped in the crowd, struggled to breathe. She clutched the edges of her cloak tightly, her eyes glued to Lily, but unable to move.

The knight raised his voice even higher, his words slicing through the murmuring crowd:

“Witches are the servants of evil! It is our duty to purify them and save their souls. When the world was first created, the God of Evil claimed Alphia as its domain. And in the great war we waged, both of us lost our physical forms!”

Whispers spread among the crowd. People glanced at one another in fear. The knight’s voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the rising murmurs.

“I,” he declared, “am here to stop the God of Evil one final time!” He roared, his voice shaking the square. Stepping to the front of the platform, he drove his sword into the wooden floor. Placing his hands on the edge of the platform, he scanned the square. “For many years, I have shared my powers with you!” he said, his voice suddenly dropping to a near whisper.

That silence lasted only a moment. Then, all at once, he shouted:

“But to regain my former strength, I need your power!”

Malle’s heart pounded in her chest. Her eyes remained fixed on Lily. The knight’s final words had sent a new wave of terror rippling through the square. The cold wind carried the scent and crackle of burning wood. The knight’s thunderous voice sealed his control over the crowd.

“Listen to my words!”

The crowd erupted. Anger and fear surged together. People shouted, clapped, and screamed their loyalty to their god, Haura. In Malle’s mind, however, a different chaos raged. Her anger and helplessness surged within her, sharpening into a blade of tension.

“I saw Lily’s face…” Malle whispered, her voice barely audible. “Her eyes were looking at me.”

Her words came out in broken, trembling fragments. Then she fell silent. But the scene she described remained vivid in my mind. I could see it as clearly as if I had been there. The head knight’s booming voice once again filled the square:

“Let us send their souls to the other side with our prayers, brothers and sisters! Let us proclaim our faith in our god Haura at the top of our voices!”

The crowd, as if hypnotized, began to chant prayers in unison. But when I looked at their faces, I saw no sign that anyone truly understood what they were saying. They were all puppets, moving exactly as the head knight directed. The crowd’s uncontrollable fervor made it nearly impossible for Malle to reach Lily.

The head knight gave a sharp hand signal to the knights behind him. Then, all at once, the Alphians were kicked into the fire. The screams of the weakened and wounded Alphians echoed through the square, reverberating off the surrounding walls. Their cries were deep, soul-shattering.

Malle, standing frozen before the horrific scene, couldn’t move. Her tears streamed down her cheeks, dripping onto her chin as she silently turned to look at me. Even amidst the chaos of the screams, her voice had fallen silent.

When I looked at the expression on her face, I realized that all of her emotions had collapsed under the weight of this final scene. This was the reawakening of her greatest trauma.

I grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her gently a few times, but she didn’t even blink. Tears and mucus ran from her nose and eyes, soaking her clothes, yet she showed no reaction. It felt like Malle had completely disconnected from this world.

I paused for a moment. It wasn’t hard to realize that the only way to bring her back was through compassion. I hugged her tightly and repeated the words I had said before. Those words had melted the ice inside her once, and I hoped they would work again. I waited in silence, hoping.

After a while, Malle’s hands gripped my shoulders, and she gently straightened me up. There was life in her eyes again—she had returned. But immediately after, she pouted slightly and scolded me:

“Don’t you see? You’ve gotten tears and snot all over your clothes! Ah… You never learn.”

Her reaction was so strange that I didn’t know what to say. I was already close to giving up trying to find logic in her behavior. It was clear she hadn’t lived a normal life.

She stood up, wiped her face one last time with a handkerchief, and turned toward the door. Before leaving, she glanced back and said, “Since you’ve dirtied your clothes, I’ll bring you a clean outfit,” and then she exited the room.

Left alone, I lay back on the bed and took a deep breath. The emotional weight of Malle’s story felt heavy on my shoulders as I began to think about my own past. There was a heaviness within me that I couldn’t quite explain. Had I experienced a similar trauma in my past?