Dear Cecillia,

It almost felt like she could hear Doran’s voice echoing out. It seemed to be so, or perhaps it was by the power of the system. But one thing she knew for sure was that the deep, gravelly tone transmitting directly into her mind belonged to the man who had walked with her through hell and back.

By the time you read this letter, I might have already been dead. I am not sure if these words will reach you at all, whether you choose to turn your eyes away, or be it circumstance’s sake. I will not hold you for your choice. Although, in the case where fate would allow it, where these words are privy to you alone, then please know that this may be the last piece of writing that I will ever write.

I am sorry. Please forgive me for burdening you with my final words. It is not something that a woman like you should ever have to bear. But as the situation permits, I am left with no other choice. I have chosen to trust you and for that I must apologize.

I have included letters for a woman named Maria, and for the boy, Laen. If you have the time, please deliver to them my words for they shall be my last. I know that it is strange to write as if you have already made your escape. This monster… this should’ve never happened. I have made a grave mistake, and many more innocent lives were snuffed away by my hand yet again.

My death shall be atonement for all my sins.

Regardless, I thank you Cecillia. I will not admonish your decision of returning for me, nor will I ask you to remember my name kindly. Continue living without regret, or without a second thought and I will understand. I know that I have no right to ask for your forgiveness, but I implore that you…

Live on, freely.

And if you do find it within yourself to deliver my words to Maria and Laen, I would be eternally grateful. So please, remember that words will always have two meanings, and do dwell not on the past, else the sands of time shall drown you mercilessly.

Cecillia’s eyes passed over the final lines of ink while Doran’s voice echoed in the back of her mind. The letters with their faint glow, soon lost their luster and the paper fluttered into her lap. She wasn’t sure how to respond to the words, so she only did what she could and stared at the fading page blankly.

Doran… with these words, he really did seem pitiful. Why he had apologized so often along with his sense of self-loathing, Cecillia didn’t know. It was something she thought she would understand by now, but humans were rather complicated.

Her head lifted as she glanced towards the door once again. Cecillia confirmed that there would be no one entering before turning her gaze back down to the next set of letters. Apathetically, she shifted the next page open, her waiting expression much like of a lifeless doll.

Page: 2

Cecillia,

I wonder if you knew this, but when I had just found you, you had said a single word so innocently. It was then that in that fleeting moment that I found something precious that had almost been lost. Perhaps it was because of my exhaustion, or some false trick of my mind. But my daughter was really there, resting in my arms, and I could almost hear her voice.

If you don’t remember, the word that you had said was a faint, delicate ‘Dad?’—and for some reason when I heard that voice I felt a warmth that I hadn’t felt in so many years. I remember nearly dropping you into the snow before my heart started to crumble. I looked closer, telling myself that it couldn’t be true, but all I could see was Marianne, my little girl.

The truth is, you couldn’t be any more different from her. Marianne had golden hair like that of some of the stars twinkling in the night, while yours is dark like the shadows. Still… your eyes, blue like the oceans and leaving after glows whenever they wavered and blinked. It was just so like hers, and I could not help but remember when I used to gaze into my daughter’s eyes, and feel that the world was complete. As a father, everything was perfect—that was what I had felt.

And as I looked at you again, she was there…

Marianne. She spoke to me, with her innocent, childish voice. I heard her laugh. I heard her giggle. Almost… but you made it true.

I remember the faint promises that no longer echoed deep within my heart. How she would hold my hand and tell me all about the place where she wanted to go. She really wanted to show me a special place, a place wh—

—A place where the sky touches the ground, and everything feels all quiet and nice.

Her voice was so tender and sweet, and she’d always say, ‘Daddy, I’ll take you there someday!’

After that, she would tend to describe the place that her mother had brought her one day. How the stars would come out and tell stories just, just for our little family of three.

Marianne… you were so certain about it too. And I promised you that as well, that we would go someday, too—that one day we would watch the stars together.

Just us, you and me.

Yet.

I had failed.

I had failed my daughter Cecillia…

The time I had with her was something that I had cherished more than anything else in the world. And yet, for some reason I had chosen to forget.

‘Promise me, Daddy, promise we’ll go someday.’

In that quiet splintering of silence, where I held you with my teardrops that hadn’t been shed for decades, falling upon your pale cheeks. I knew now that I was never able to keep my promise, and as the years slipped past me, I now realize that I lost more than I ever thought I could bear.

I am a broken man. A broken father.

I’m sorry, Cecillia. It seems that I have been repeating this line many times to you by now, but a part of myself needs convincing to believe that somehow you would understand. It’s a foolish thought, I know. Even now after countless years, I am no more intelligent than I was as a child.

Still, is it so wrong for a father wishing to see his daughter grow. To see his own flesh and blood becoming their own person. Call it selfish, and it is exactly so. I do not deserve but to imagine, but there will be a time where I may be driven mad.

Maddened as I may be, the fate had been sentenced atop my head and I had returned from my false sense of reality.

There in the real world, I saw you open your blue eyes. Within them, there was nothing of my daughter—only pain and grief. Perhaps we might not be so different, you and I.

As amusing as it may be, I cannot begin to imagine the horrors that you have lived through. I had wondered who you were, and the past that you have denied living may have been filled with retribution. Yet you continue walking forward, with clothes scorched aflame, and flesh torn asunder. The methods that you have contrived are things that I shall never understand and it is something that I wish not to learn.

Cecillia.

Just know that you’ve done more for me than I could ever reciprocate. You’ve helped me for far more than you would understand.

Thank you.

Thank you for giving me back a piece of myself that I had almost lost to the flames.

Thank you, Cecillia, for helping me remember.

Thank you for truly I am grateful.

Doran’s voice trailed off into a deathly whisper and the second letter fell to her lap lifelessly. Cecillia bit her lip, her eyes passing over the last few lines that the man had scribbled. The sentences were all seemingly nonsense, but if there really was a truth behind the ink, then perhaps it was something that she would figure out in time.

Still, Cecillia didn’t know why, but she found herself reading the letter again. This time with her own eyes. And as she did, the feeling wrought from the words were confusing, making her want to hug her shoulders with her non-existent arms before curling up into a tiny ball.

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So much pain and suffering were emitted from just words, and if they were only words, then why did she feel this way.

The image of the man in question appeared in her mind—of the short time she had spent with him, never once did she consider the fact that he had a family of his own. Much less the amount of turmoil that he had experienced. She could almost feel his sorrow from behind the page.

But what to think…

‘Dad…’

Doran had written that she had said that word, yet there was no memory of it anywhere in her mind. She didn’t think he was lying, or that he was a mad man. It was just that Cecillia didn’t expect herself to say such a thing in the first place.

Though, despite her current qualms about the meaning of empathy, her scattered thoughts chose to recall the memories of her father. A formally righteous man that had long been Earth’s final leg.

Dr. Malkorn Black

Cecillia wondered now if this was how her own father had felt. After losing his eldest daughter and his wife within the span of a year—she looked back at the letter… Did he share the same state of mind as Doran?

Cecillia had visited her father multiple times as well, and every time she had seen him he was either drunk out of his wits, or buried in the ashes of cigarettes.

Perhaps…

‘Did he lose me too…?’

Cecillia could almost see her father. How he used to work so hard in the lab alongside mother. Then the days flew past where he spent his life cooped up in that hospital ward. If she hadn’t chosen to become a soldier, if she had decided to pursue something other than revenge, would her father be happier?

She released a heavy sigh and stared up at the ceiling, blinking as if it was a blinding light. Only God would know how her father was doing, but she hoped, really did hope that he was okay. After all, there was no one that he nor her had left.

Cecillia shook her head softly, she trusted that he was doing fine, and that Earth would be okay. That was all she could do.

Cecillia glanced back at the letter and frowned. She noticed that the names, “Maria” and “Marianne” were quite similar, but Doran had only mentioned a letter being addressed to one of them. There was no other reason she could think of, and for the sake of the man’s peace, she would not voice the worst of assumptions.

Cecillia remained like so for a minute and allowed her lids to close over her eyes. And as if the time had been perfectly measured like a timer, she felt a slight movement in her lap when the final letter shifted. Her eyes unveiled and the initial line of ink was placed perfectly in her vision.

Page: 3

Farewell Cecillia,

After assessing your condition, I had managed an escape from the Tunnels of Kaust, which ended up in me trailing after the bloodstains left behind by the rest of the refugees. I had been wandering for some time within the Elendar Forest, until I had heard the sounds of your wolf and slime.

Good animals they are; for they had rushed to you with anguish hidden behind their monstrous eyes. Your Twin-Tailed Wolf had allowed me to mount atop its back and it wasn’t long before we had arrived at the outskirts of Windhaven.

When you read this letter, it must now mean that you have awoken after what seems to have been a very long dream. Fret now, for I have left you in the care of doctors and nurses for your recovery. You have been scheduled for an operation which should begin shortly; and with hopeful luck, it will allow you to live and breathe just as you were before your many injuries.

Yet, I must tell you this; that once your eyes open once more, I will not be there to meet with you.

I do not deserve any more from you, and nor will my opinion about it change.

If you feel the urge, or a desire to come search for me. I will not refute you so, for whatever thoughts you might have to say will be of greater meaning than anything that I have.

Though…

I will tell you this now.

The exile upon my head will be lived out in peace, and perhaps...

Perhaps if I told you this, it would ease the burden I have left you, if only slightly. I will understand if anger should rise in your heart, or if a raging hatred has festered. Then, I would rather you curse me, or blame me for all that had happened.

The life that is now left to you, which you are now expected to live; without arms and limbs. It will be extraordinarily difficult. And as I had written earlier, it is my full mistake, and my selfishness would rather have you blame me for it is something that you should do. If cursing my name would give you even the briefest moment of respite, then do so for it is only fair.

As for what I can do, and if fate is willing to allow my treason, and if the Cassandra that I once knew had grown. Then it is a thread to cling on to that I cross paths with the 63rd Crimson Squadron once again. If she were the same, then perhaps she might still offer you a kindness. And in the case that my words would be heard, I promise you this that I would direct her towards you.

As for life after this tragic incident, the city you now find yourself in, it is named Windhaven. A kind little town in the heart of the countryside. Life would move slow, far slower than the motions of the refugee caravan. Things don’t usually happen, and in the case that they do, they are soon forgotten in the matter of weeks.

So like as you wish, I have made arrangements with an acquaintance who is willing to grant you a place to stay. And If you were wondering about your animals, they are well and within her care. Alongside that, I have left you a vast portion of my wealth within that necklace. If you were to live among those in the city, it would allow you to enjoy a lavish luxury for many decades.

If I were in your position, I would prefer to settle and start life anew. It is a beautiful place where life would be but a simple notion, and would be filled with a mellow contentedness.

Although, if you would prefer to go beyond, to explore this new world, then know that I would have no negative thoughts. You are young and lively, with a hunger for battle that I have not yet seen.

If you so choose to go forth with that route, then something that I would suggest to you may be going to school. A seal has been enclosed alongside this letter, reserving your entry to the Windborne Academy. Attending classes there will be beneficial, and the choices that you will receive will benefit you in any possible way. Whether you choose to study physics, or practice spellweaving with the instructors, I’m sure the information would be valuable towards you.

After the battle, you may have received many rewards and boons from the system. But please do take care, and do not make any large decisions rashly. Anything you do within the system cannot be reversed without special means, and any regrets you have will be everlasting. Take your time, and consider first what your desire is within this world.

Lastly, I want to thank you again.

I’m sure you must be confused, but you were the first person to truly restore my meaning of love.

And for that, for everything you have done, I cannot be any more grateful.

I shall leave you with these final words, dearest Cecillia.

And one day…

One day, perhaps, you could show Laen which world you came from.

The final lines of the letter continued to echo out incessantly. Love was something that she had not yet learned, but if the contents of the letter were true, then it was something that she had restored for Doran.

How?—

She vacantly stared at the framed image of the daisy. There was no introspective meaning in the picture, but it almost seemed to emanate a fuzzy warmth. Would others also receive the same feeling?

Doran had stated that words always had two meanings, and if that were correct. Then perhaps, that love would be different for everyone. A cold white breath left her lips in an air of bitterness and the warmth all but vanished.

Cecillia envied the man, only a little bit though, for love was nothing but a twisted lie. But would not lies… have two meanings as well?

Cecillia wanted to clutch at her head, to think this much was rather disconcerting and her eyes started to wander adrift. Until they floated upon the words where Doran had spoke about the city.

‘Windhaven. Pretty.’

The name itself was pleasant on her eyes, and his description of the city wasn’t off the mark either. He had said for her to settle down and live a life of peace, but he had also stated that she had many options available.

Cecillia applauded the man for understanding, as even now, with her arm less body strapped with bandages, her soul yearned for the thrill of the fight. She had killed many in the name of a soldier, murdered innocents for the sake of greater good. By no means was she a good person, but she had been melded to enjoy killing.

Whether it was humans, or monsters, it often didn’t matter. Truly, it was a dreadful fate.

Cecillia found herself continuing to read through the letter again, pausing on where he had mentioned showing Laen her former world. It was something she hadn’t noticed earlier, for she had been lost in the many definitions of love.

‘So he knew all this time…’

Cecillia had never suspected that the man realized that she was from a different world. It might have been hypocritical to think that others would not notice, but she was sure that her lies upon their first meeting were convincing. Her face turned glum, but overall she was thankful that the man hadn’t sparked a giant fuss.

She shook her head and a soft smile appeared on her lips. She wondered how Laen was doing currently, after all, his injuries weren’t insignificant in the slightest. Cecillia liked to imagine that he was somewhere in the city, enjoying his life as a child.

There weren’t any letters left with her, which meant that Doran would deliver them himself. How the boy would respond to the captain not being his biological father? Cecillia wasn’t sure, but the boy was mature to the point where he would understand within a few years.

As for the rewards granted by the system, Cecillia was somewhat irritated by the constant buzzing sensation that tugged at the corners of her mind. She would heed Doran’s words well though, and would prefer to deal with it in a better state of clarity.

Cecillia’s gaze lifted, and she allowed herself a small sigh. The night brought with it a lull and she was starting to get tired. The days that would come were unclear, but at least she had a direction to head towards.

Although… school wasn’t something that she had ever thought she would return to. It had been nearly eleven years since she had attended a class, and it was odd to even think that by now she would have been a graduate from college, and most likely working a mundane job.

The thought was a little bit exciting, and the knowledge would very much be appreciated. A small break after the events of the refugee caravan was something that she could accept. That was… of course, after she had visited the train she had heard the villagers talk so much about.

Smiling, Cecillia leaned back against the bed, her figure’s outline gleaming in the pale moonlight glow. The darkness claimed her within seconds, and it wasn’t long until the sun rose to signal the start of a new day.

The warmth washed over her rested body, and a slight yawn escaped from her lips. Cecillia raised herself and was about to stand when suddenly, she heard a knocking at the door. Turning her head in that direction, her brows lifted when her eyes were met with the faint image of a thin man wearing a suit. His face was youthful and bright, but his eyes were sunken and full of vitriol.

At the same time, there was a slamming sound at the other side of the room where another door was, but by the time her head had turned, Cecillia only managed to catch the streaming strands of navy blue hair.