Chapter 291 - The Stirring Wind

Claire silently gazed upon the scene laid out before her, the colour slowly draining from her world as she continued to stare. Her heart beat loudly in her chest, filling her ears with a constant, dull ringing that threatened to mute her mind.

Her feet moved on their own, bringing her to her side. But her hands didn’t dare to budge.

She was too afraid.

Afraid that her sense of touch would prove the reality her eyes had dared to claim.

It was a warrior's death, an honourable end, something that should have been celebrated and showered with praise.

But Claire felt no joy, no inspiration, and no urge to better herself.

In fact, she felt nothing. Or at least nothing whose name she knew.

The only emotion that stirred in her chest was the dawning bitter cold of a snow-white mountain. She could feel her fingers trembling, her eyes blurring, her chest sinking deeper and deeper and deeper into the void.

Her breath ran short. It was stuck in her throat, refusing to budge and make way for the welling scream.

“I’m sorry.”

The only sound that eventually emerged was a whisper, a quiet ghost of a breath. And with the silence broke a heavy dam of emotion. The tides surged, threatening to crush her beneath their colossal weight.

“I should have known better.”

It was her fault for allowing Nymphetel to remain. She should have spirited him away, warped him to another part of the world and left him to his own devices. She knew that Pollux wanted him, that with his fire lit and the end in sight, the old warlord would stop at nothing to achieve his goal.

The attack was blatant, written on the wall with no sign of censure or deception. And yet, she had failed to prepare. In fact, she had done nothing but idle and enjoy the days as they passed.

The peace had dulled her senses. Its continuation had remained an unquestioned fact in the back of her mind. And he had taken clear advantage. Their blood, her blood, was on her hands. And there was nothing she could do to wash them clean.

Slowly, fearfully, she raised a trembling finger to the catgirl’s face and brushed her hair out of her eyes.

She was supposed to be numb to the cold.

But she could feel her freezing skin, the missing warmth that once flowed through her veins.

Her tears began to trickle. Slowly. One drop at a time. Wetting her hands. Deepening the colour of the blood that already stained her clothes.

“I did love you, Lia,” she said, quietly. “Just not the way you wanted.” She pulled the catgirl into her arms, holding her tightly to her chest. A final embrace. “You were like a sister to me. A dumb, older sister.”

Setting her back down, she removed the catgirl’s broken bandolier and laid it carefully by her side. Her belt was next. Claire tenderly unfastened its hooks and allowed her friend to breathe. Not that she would, or could, again.

“I still remember the night you realized who I was. I knew why you were crying back then. But I didn’t really understand. Not until I saw the kindness you always showed.”

A faint sniffle.

“You always put everyone else first even when it hurt you. I kept everything bottled up too. Because I was afraid to let it show. But you did it so that no one else would have to worry. And when push came to shove, you always faced your fears head-on, embracing them in a way that I never could.”

She began to take off her clothes.

One layer at a time, she folded the uniform’s ruined pieces and laid them with the rest of her belongings. Her sword and her glasses were arranged as well, retrieved from across the broken room.

With everything sorted, she pressed their foreheads together, brushed her lips with her fingers, and squeezed her hands.

“I’m not strong enough to carry on your will. To do things the way that you would have done them.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

And then, finally, made a small incision on Natalya’s body right in the center of her chest. From it, she retrieved a vital organ—

“But I’ll try. I’ll try my best to be more like you. I’ll try my best to show mercy and be kind. To love, to forgive, and to forget. To carry everything that you had in your heart. Forever as a part of mine.”

—and raised it to her lips.

A sickening sweetness spread across her forked tongue. It was cold and unbeating. But warm and gentle. And yet, bitter and painful. A flavour she would never forget. Just like her mother’s.

It was her fault that it was so difficult to swallow. For failing to give her closure. For thinking that it was better not to open up. For being so unbearably weak that she knowingly took advantage of her hurting friend’s kindness.

If their positions were switched, Lia surely would have stayed behind. She would have held her hands and stayed by her side until her tears had finally stopped.

But Claire? She had only run away.

“But that will have to wait until I’ve seen you avenged.”

Another bite.

And then another.

And then a last.

She was supposed to have grown stronger. That was what the ceremony claimed. But the freezing despair only continued to assault her.

Unable to bear it, she assumed her true form and escaped into the sky with the cat between her jaws. She crunched and swallowed, taking every part of her into her body as she flew through the clouds. The colour didn’t return. The world was still muted, its sounds converted to a single high pitch.

But she forced herself to descend, to return to her humanoid form and put everything back into order.

She started with the sign—salvaging what was left of the broken letters and placing them with the rest of the late cat’s belongings.

Claire felt something warm wrap itself around her as she thought to reclaim the corpses. A warmth that only blurred her already distorted world.

Sylvia was crying too.

Sylvia was shaking too.

Sylvia was mourning too.

She buried her face into the back of Claire’s head. Comforting them both in her gentle embrace. Eventually, Claire turned around and found that not everything was black and white after all. There were only faint hints. The oranges of her hair and tail, the rosy hints in her skin, and the pumpkin shade that filled her eyes.

Just enough colour to slowly dye her surroundings, spreading from the one source of warmth that still remained.

“Not everything’s going to be able to go back to the way it was,” whispered Claire. “But let’s fix as much of it as we can.”

The fox didn’t say anything, but she nodded, peeling herself off the lyrkress’ frame as she sang a heart-wrenching tune. The building’s pieces floated back into place. The scratches and burn marks covering the walls were healed, the blood was scrubbed from the wooden floor, and the rubble was carefully rearranged. It was a simple task.

But even then, it was imperfect. Every sniffle created a minor distortion, a tearstain upon her paradise lost.

Claire’s handiwork, the signboard, was just as messy. She had tried to piece the whole thing back together, but too many of its letters were broken or irrecoverable. The latter half was especially damaged, hoof-marked into disrepair. Perhaps to serve his own vanity, or perhaps to leave a calling card, Pollux had left only the fresh corporate text untouched.

“We’re going to need a new name,” she muttered.

Sylvia lowered her gaze to the scrambled letters. “I can fix them.”

But Claire shook her head. “There’s no point. It isn’t going to be the same without her.”

“Right.” The fox hung her head, another whimper escaping her throat as she brought her tail to her chest and hugged it.

Biting her lips, Claire returned to her handiwork. After a few moments of deliberation, and smooshing a number of broken letters together, she floated the sign overhead and returned it to its place. Though many of the letters were formed from bits of others, she was able to at least provide a hint of its previous identity.

She ventured back into the shop once that was done and retrieved the other corpses. They were laid down out front, protected by a bubble so that the flies would never reach them. She barely flinched as she gazed upon the familiar faces. It wasn’t the same. Pollux had stolen their lives, just like he had stolen hers, but she almost didn’t care, perking up only as she realised that it was not just Nymphetel that was missing from the crowd.

“Estelle managed to escape,” she muttered.

There were no signs of struggle in the lab, nor any of her feathers on the scene. The siren had managed to flee. Somehow, learning that filled her with relief. Even though she had hardly expected to care.

She inspected everything once more before grabbing Natalya’s things and locking eyes with the fox.

“No more moping,” she said, more to herself than her companion. “Let’s go. We have a horse to kill.”

The lyrkress grew out her wings and prepared to take off, but a pair of hands grabbed her by the wrist and tethered her to the ground. When she looked down, she found Sylvia shaking her head, her face as pale as a sheet.

“I don’t want to lose you too.” Completely overpowering Claire, she yanked her into her arms and held her tight. “Please.”

She was struck by a pang of guilt, but the lyrkress shook her head regardless. “I have to make him pay.”

“He’s just going to kill you.”

Claire shook her head. “I have a plan.”

It was a lie. At least until she saw the fox’s face, she had planned to storm the castle, but she quickly pieced a scheme together as she considered his fate.

Killing him wouldn’t suffice. His life alone could never sate her rage.

She would do to him as he did to her, make him feel her pain a thousand times over.

She would take everything he had ever had.

Even the things that were not entirely his own.