Helena Althorn was a knight of the Kingdom of Albion, and the eldest child of her household. By the time of that disaster that would change everything, she was around 20 years of age.
She was born in the rural region of Kharnam, a once desolate wasteland consumed by an infamous Veil known as the Old Domain, though it was freed by a legendary Hunter a few decades ago. Her father was from a low aristocratic family headed by Robert Althorn, a former Hunter himself who decided to settle the land after the previous family who lived there sold it to his household. Her mother was Anna Althorn, an ordinary woman that Robert fell in love with during his time as a Pathfinder, who had a strong heart to raise her to be someone worthy to be a knight.
In her journey to attain her dream of becoming a knight, she took inspiration from the strength and social aptitude of her father, the kindness of her mother, and the discipline of her maid and guardian Bethany Hart. She trained hard for years on end in the necessities of knighthood, starting from the age of no older than 8 years old, and achieved her potential.
After that fact, she would go on her own to the capital city of Leandon, and study in the Royal Academy of Albion like her father before her. And after years of hard work there, she was inducted into the ranks of the Royal Knights of Albion, first as a squire, then as a fully fledged knight.
It could be said that she became a knight for the sake of her family. That would be the wrong assumption.
It could be said that she became a knight due to her want of prestige. But that would also be the wrong assumption.
It could be said that she became a knight because she was inspired by the stories that were written in the novels her father bought. That would only be a somewhat correct assumption in itself.
In truth, she pushed onwards in her path of becoming a knight because of her promise. Her being inspired by books was only the start of it, for this was the real reason. She wanted to become strong, so that she could be capable of protecting the one person she cared most in this world.
Marilyn Althorn was that person. Her younger sister, to whom she had loved ever since they were little. So compassionate towards her was she, that Helena was willing to cut down anyone who may try to hurt her.
Because of that silver-eyed girl, she could achieve her goal in full. Because of her growing up to be a stronger person, she too could become strong. Because of their bond, she too could persevere through hardship and love others all the same.
Truly, despite her casual attitude, Helena Althorn was a knight. If not for the kingdom, then perhaps towards her sister to whom she loved.
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“GAAAH-!!!”
Marilyn Althorn woke up in haste and cold sweat, with a yell, as if she just had a terrible dream. Her hand had extended outwards towards…something, or someone. Heavy gasps of breath were the main things her body had been doing after that fact, as her eyes dotted across the new environment she was now in.
No, it wasn't new. It was…familiar?
“...what?”
A single bed she was now in, decorations she was familiar with, and the ever so oddly epic paintings of foreign environments her father had been through. This was…
“My room?”
The childhood bedroom of Marilyn Althorn, given to her as a gift when she reached ten years old. It was always quite the memorable moment for her, for she felt as if she earned it through her rigorous training somehow, despite having known she would have gained it regardless of that. Still, there was something off about this that she could not describe. It was not the hospital equipment, such as the heart monitor or the tubes her body was attached to that was off.
Something, or someone, was missing.
“Where's…”
Helena Althorn, the person she was most concerned about, not just her well-being but also existence in general. That rift…she didn't know what it had done, she couldn't understand what was going on during that time. She only understood that the higher space was something she had known about, but that was it.
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She looked around, as her hands gripped onto the bed sheets in growing frustration. The main odd thing about this room was…
“Where is my picture with her…?”
There was nothing to be found of that sort, the closest thing was a picture of herself playing in the village’s field of flowers, a wide smile present. That was taken when she was eight years of age.
She grabbed the object that was dangling at her neck, a crystal, to be more precise a Heart Crystal. That was still present, still glowing bright too, no sign of the energy within it dissipating. So it must not have been a long time since that storm.
She could see the light of the morning sun seeping through the closed curtains, by the window of her bedroom. So it must have been quite early. But…
“...why is my eye…?”
She saw the mirror that was hanging near her wardrobe, and now she could fully see her own face. There was no difference, barring one; her right eye had turned an emerald colour, similar to Helena's. In fact, it was the exact colour of her older sister’s.
Tears fell down from her left eye, which kept its silvery colour. She couldn't find the reason why—
No, she did in fact find a reason why.
Mourning. Grief. A realisation of one’s loss. Of the denial that someone you knew, someone you loved, was already gone. Could not be saved. Could not be held. Could not be cherished and conversed with. A mourning from one’s heart and soul. A grief that has occupied one’s mind and thinking. That was the reason.
But that was disturbed, for she heard a voice muffled by the door, multiple of them. Said door would open afterwards, and Marilyn was forced to wipe her tears away to hide what her true feelings were as of now.
“Marilyn? You're awake.” It was her father, a face of concern he adorned as he said those words.
She did not respond, for she had no words to respond with. Her mother had also entered the room with her father, Bethany inviting herself in last.
Her two parents sat next to her, a face full of worry for her well-being could be seen.
“How are you feeling?” Robert said to her, with a gentle smile she knew so well.
“I’m…fine.” Her voice was quiet, almost like a whisper. It reminded her of her childhood self, of a young Marilyn who fell into a passive state.
Her mother didn't buy it, nor did her father, nor Bethany who stood near the door. Anna however would be the one to speak about it.
“You're not fine, aren't you?” She said, her gentle voice reaching her ears once more, the back of her hand caressing Marilyn’s cheek. She could feel the remnants of the girl’s tears, so she knew something was wrong.
“...what happened?” Marilyn said, looking up towards them. She at least wanted to know what had gone wrong when she was in her presumed-to-be coma.
“The rift that was above Leandon, if you're asking about that, was gone. It dispersed itself. We're not sure what happened there, but everything else seemed fine.” Robert said, “Everyone near you was fine too, but they were primarily concerned about you, Marilyn.”
Marilyn furrowed her eyebrows, slightly worried, “How long…?”
“Four days, you’ve slept for four days. The headmaster told me that you should remain in the clinic ward that they had, but I insisted that you should be brought back home, so we can fully focus on you.” He explained.
“You seemed so…sad, when you were in that coma, Marilyn. Visibly so.” Her mother would add, looking down, “You cried, your tears were visibly falling for an entire day. We couldn't bear to watch, but we couldn't understand why it happened either.”
“I…” Marilyn stiffened, she was afraid of knowing what happened to Helena, for she was not here, but in any case—
“My lady.”
Bethany interjected, catching her attention.
“It's alright. Whatever you need to know or have in your disposal, you can tell us.” The red-haired maid smiled at her, in an attempt to comfort her at a distance.
Bethany had always been the more composed member of the family, the most calm, the one that could maintain herself whenever the situation was stressful. Of course she had her moments, Marilyn did not forget her trying to beg for her to be accompanied by the maid to the capital. But the reassuring voice ensured her enough that Marilyn could trust her with this.
And in turn, it somewhat worked. She was still nervous, but she managed to gather up some of her courage to ask that one question. “Where's Helena?”
Within the next moment, she braced for impact. For the news of her death, disappearance, anything. But as long as her family was with her in grieving and mourning, then perhaps she could live through it and move on.
“Marilyn…”
The girl with heterochromic eyes looked upwards, towards her father's silver coloured eyes. She was quite surprised, for his expression did not bear any resemblance of mourning or grief. None that was in her family wore that expression. In fact, it was a face of mild confusion that they presented towards her.
Her father, however, was the one to speak out his answer towards her, “...Who's Helena?”
And Marilyn’s most unexpected and worst fear had come to light.
“...what?”