Elena awoke.

This time, death was not the reason for her slumber. She had simply passed out for a brief time. But death was the reason why she had passed out in the first place.

When life returned to her… her mind was in a shattered state, and the following sleep provided not enough respite to put its pieces back together.

“Elena, are you alright?” Miles asked. No response. “Can you hear me?”

“Blrlrlrgasfafs.”

Elena babbled random sounds, unable to connect syllables properly. She stared intently at her arm, then at her chest, and finally at her legs, all of which trembled wildly.

There were no bruises, no wounds, not so much as a scratch. Her skin was pristine, pure and pale as silk. Her dress, the same she wore her first day on this world, was stitched together perfectly, no thread out of place and without any splashes of blood.

She was the picture of a doll, unravished by the passage of time and displaying a beauty that could make a rose flare with envy.

And yet…

“Brlrllrlrlllarlal.”

The wounds remained. She could picture every single beast that… no, actually, she couldn’t. They all blended together. An army of vicious beasts, all attacking together from every existing direction, all united by their single-minded thirst for inflicting death. All her mind could picture was this same body, that seemed so peerless in its construction, being violated from head to toe by sharp blades, being ripped apart until only a paste of blood and guts remained.

Those wounds were not visible. They did not serve to blemish her fine features. To those who saw her, there was no hint of what she’d endured, of the struggle she carried.

But the wounds remained. As mere memories, but they remained.

Those memories were enough to prevent her mind from regaining composure. Pain had become her entire world. Every time she exercised thought, the wounds flared up again.

The mush of blues and greens that assaulted her eyes might once have been identified as sky and grass, but her ability to comprehend things remained impaired. All she saw, all she heard, all she smelled, was pain, pain was all her soul knew.

Elena no longer feared death.

She had once naively believed that she’d seen all that death hid in its depths. And in truth, her assessment was correct. To her, witness to death on more than one occasion, death held no more secrets under its sleeve. Death was tranquil, lacking in chaos, an eternal sleep that differed not one second from the next, a trip devoid of adventure.

It was life, then, what she had to fear. Life was what still held new ways of torturing her, further unknowns that could lead to suffering. It was while alive that those unforgettable sensations became forged into her flesh. Had she not been alive, she’d never have experienced the physical pain of being torn limb by limb like prey, the psychological pain of crying for help that would never arrive. The pain of…

Any pain. Pain that wouldn’t go away so long as she was alive. Pain that came with being alive. Painpainpainpainpainpainpainpain…

Living itself was pain. By contrast, death was not. Death was, in fact, the salvation from the pain of living, the calm after a storm of suffering. The moment death arrived, her pain subsided, and her only regret was that it hadn’t come sooner.

It was seeking to escape that pain, then, that her soul began to yearn for a return to slumber.

With great force, Elena bashed her head against the nearest hard surface. It didn’t matter what said surface was, so long as it had even a slight chance of cracking her skull wide open. If successful, she’d leave behind the pain of life, and be soothed back into the eternal sleep of death.

Each slam hurt, but it felt comforting, in a sense. Even in the storm of pain that clouded Elena’s mind, the damage to her head still stood out, signifying she was stepping ever further on the road to death.

“Elena, please, calm down!”

It should have been impossible. But somehow, his voice broke through to her.

The warm touch of his hands pulled her back. Her ears regained the full depth of their abilities, as the faint sounds of water droplets managed to pierce her hearing.

Her eyes scanned their surroundings. Before, albeit they were functional, the world they perceived consisted of nothing but a mush of shapes that were impossible to make sense of. Now, the shapes that surrounded her were definitely walls of stone. The dank atmosphere told Elena she was in some sort of cave, however it was one with a unique, purple lighting. It made it possible to see, so there was little to complain about, but it regardless proved disorienting to Elena, who was still making sense of the world.

“Where are we?” Elena asked, fighting off a headache.

“Thank the heavens, you spoke. You showed no wounds, but the way you were panting so heavily was painful to see.” Miles breathed a sigh of relief, before adding, “We are in a cavern right underneath the Cathedral, within the depths of Tomster’s Hill.”

“I see…” Elena nodded along, but unfortunately, her head hadn’t fully recovered. There was a fog of noise, as if a woodpecker was drumming inside her skull. Despite being the one to ask, she was unable to truly comprehend Miles’ answer. She was simply shivering too much. Not due to cold—albeit the low temperature didn’t help. But because, even now, she remained numb from the freezing tundra that was her memories.

She shook her head fiercely, fighting off the dreadful recollection drilling at her brain.

Then suddenly— she was pulled into a warm embrace.

Her eyes widened as her head found rest within welcoming shoulders.

Everything happened too fast. She, who was still reeling from the images her mind was projecting, suddenly felt the rate of her beating heart accelerate.

Her senses remained too broken to understand properly. She could not muster the gleeful response such a happening deserved. But she knew this was the work of Miles—whose touch was his way of delivering support.

“I don’t know what you’ve been through, but…”

Miles spoke, doubt scattered throughout each of his words. He slurred many of the sounds, as if he wasn’t sure if he had permission to say what he wanted to say. The movements of his fingers were fidgety, and his stare lacked focus.

It was plenty evident that Miles was not well-suited for matters beyond fighting. To provide comfort to an injured soul; that was a task beyond him.

And yet— he gave it his best shot.

“I know full well what it’s like to keep pain hidden. So please, feel free to count on me.” Miles said, nodding his head. His voice sounded soulful, but in a way that was complimentary to his usual, stoic demeanor. The words had their emotion massaged, as if they wanted to sound softer than they were allowed to be.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Still, they proved enough for the fire of Elena’s eyes to light again. It was a burn that could fizzle out at any moment, so Elena took the opportunity to truly see what lay before her.

A field of flowers, all blooming in spite of the lack of sunlight. They emanated the purple glow that gave the cave its color.

Extending his arm, Miles grabbed the one nearest to where they were sitting, before gifting it to Elena with a smile. “Here, give it a sniff. It might help deliver some peace of mind.”

Elena wrapped her slim fingers around the stem. Observing it up close, it resembled a clematis, albeit smaller in size. It was obviously not the same flower, though, as it grew underground. She brought it to her nostrils, and closed her eyes, letting the fragrance wash all over her. If the elated face Miles had made was earned, it was sure to have a calming, pleasing effect. So, she braced her mind to feel a soft embrace stemming from a floral smell.

And then she began to cough.

“ARGH! cough. Are you trying to poison me? This is dreadful! cough.”

“What? Nonono,” Miles denied while shaking his head violently. Twiddling his thumbs, he added, “I mean, it usually helps me feel better, so I thought…”

“Well, I’d rather choke on tobacco,” Elena said, grumpy. Once the anger fizzled out, however, she noticed that Miles had begun to hide his eyes, his gaze directed at the nearby cavernous wall.

At that moment, Elena gripped the bodice of her dress, and began to reconsider the situation while taking a deep breath.

“Miles, let me ask you something. Why did you bring me here?” Elena held her suspicions about what his reasons were, but she raised her question nonetheless.

“I… don’t know. My mother used to bring me here whenever we were in the capital, and I remember it making me feel really happy.” He left out a tsk, then continued while laughing at himself, “But I guess it’s just a random cave if you don’t have that nostalgia.”

Elena covered her mouth with her hand, preventing a squee from leaping out of her. Which it did anyway, albeit a bit muffled.

He took me here just to make me feel better. ARGH, so adorable.

“W—Why are you staring at me like that! It’s uncomfortable!” Miles’ complaints only intensified his cuteness.

With her mouth curving into an earnest smile, Elena began to laugh, a laugh so pure and earnest it took her a second to realize that tears were rolling down her face.

“It’s nothing,” she said. “I just wanna say… thank you, my friend.” She spoke no more, letting any further words for her eyes.

The flower smelling might have been a bust, but it did not matter in the long run. What did matter is that Miles, the fearsome warrior of the Dead Sea, took the time to try making her feel better; and to do so, he searched the inner depths of his heart, seeking a way to connect with hers, sharing a hidden spot of emotional significance to him.

Like impulse, Elena drove her head into his shoulder, much to his embarrassment. As her head dug into his jacket, his nervous hands responded by caressing her hair.

Everywhere, all at once, sensations assaulted her body. The chilling breeze that blew inside there. The warmth of Miles’s fingers. The scratchy fabric she was rubbing her cheek against. The joy of sharing a quiet moment with someone. Even the repulsive odor of the remaining flowers.

Not all were positive. But they were sensations unique to life, ones that the dead did not know of.

At that moment, any yearning for death had vanished. Elena had remembered the virtues of being alive.

Feeling at peace, Elena felt compelled to inquire further about the man who’d shown her such compassion. “Tell me more. About this place. About your mother.”

After a pause to recollect his thoughts, Miles began a wistful recollection. “She adored this place. She said the purple glow reminded her of why she’d fallen in love with my father.”

Miles growled and grimaced as he mentioned his father, then let out a breath long enough to bring down a house of straw.

“Was your father… like, umm, how do I put this politely…”

“An asshole?”

“Yes, that! Geese, it feels strange to hear you be so vulgar. I was expecting a ‘bastard’ instead.”

“He deserves the lowest words I could muster.” He let out another breath, then clenched his fist and aimed his gaze directly at Elena. “Speaking of which, I have something to ask of you.”

She tilted her head. “Of me? Sure, not like there’s much that I can do.”

“I want you to come with me… to save someone we both care for.”

At his vague statement, Elena pulled back her head, and faced him directly in the eyes.

“Our family once consisted of my father, my mother, me of course… and my younger sister.” He paused, clear that even mentioning his sister was excruciating to his tongue. “But after mother passed away, that asshole sold my sister into slavery to pay off gambling debts.”

Elena gasped, not just from the horrible deed being described, but because her brain had finished making the proper connections. Miles had mentioned his sister before, but as far as Elena knew, she’d never met her. But now, he was saying that this sister of his was someone she too cared about.

The pieces were put into place. Someone who needed saving. Sold to slavery. Someone they both cared for. She didn’t need to hear the name, because it already wrote itself before within her lips.

“Cordelia! Cordelia is your sister?”

“I only caught a glimpse of her in that dark alley… but I know it was her. She had my mother’s blue eyes and silver hair. And her Water Magic had the same touch as hers.”

The girl whom Elena had sworn to protect, and the man whose protection she hoped to always have. The two of them were siblings, meant to grow together and share their youths together, but were separated by the shameful greed of their father.

Immediately, a single thought crossed Elena’s mind as that weighty revelation seeped in.

Is everyone in that family destined to look hot?

She then shook her head, and with it, shook off that silly, inappropriate for the situation thought.

“Miles…” Elena said, raising her head and straight of shoulders. Miles stared back intently. She then pounded her chest, right underneath her breasts, before pointing at him dramatically.

“You can rely on me.”

The pain she’d endured last night would never fully go away. It’d carved a permanent spot within the depths of her mind, waiting for the moment to resurface, to bring her back to that moment of agony.

But just because a wound leaves scars, doesn’t mean it can’t heal.

These invisible wounds she carried…albeit slowly, they had started on the process of healing. Thanks to Miles’ caring heart she could, if only for a moment, cast aside the pain she’d endured, and look forward to life.

Thus, she could not refuse to pay back the favor.

“I promise. Whatever it takes, I’ll help you patch your family back together.”

There remained no doubt that behind that wall of aloofness he put up, hid a soul tarnished by wounds. The way he spoke of his family; it carried a sorrow too palpable to be unreal.

Elena couldn’t even fantasize of fully removing those wounds. Nothing was that powerful, not even healing magic. His mother would remain dead. Cordelia’s past of forced servitude could not be erased.

But if she could at least bring brother and sister together at long last— then his healing was sure to begin.

----------------------------------------

“Oh, there you are. And you found the missus!”

Stepping out of the cave, Elena and Miles were met by Bronson, who waved his arm from a distance. Before long, his large frame rushed toward them, but not before signaling the rest of the crew to follow him.

“Nice to see ya again, big guy,” Elena said nonchalantly, hitting him with her elbow.

He crossed his arms and said, “Hopefully this time you won’t disappear on us immediately.”

Elena scratched the back of her neck. “Yeah… that does tend to happen when I’m with you guys, doesn’t it? Screw whoever’s writing this script.” She laughed.

“Unfortunately, we won’t have much time to relax,” Miles chimed in, serious-minded, “We need to save my sister.”

“Right!” Elena gave a determined clap of her hands. “But wait, do we have any idea where she is?”

“We don’t,” Bronson replied, “but we do have a little prisoner who I’m sure is willing to spill a bean or two.”

“Prisoner?”

Not a second after Elena finished her pondering, Leila and Galen caught up. But what was most important was who they brought along; with his hands tied and made to walk by way of knife, the one who accompanied them was, a young, blonde man. Albeit possessing handsome features, his hair was in a complete scramble and his skin was showered in mud.

Nonetheless, he was impossible to misidentify. Elena’s pupils shrunk at the sight. “Charles?”

“We meet again, Elena… shame it’s under these circumstances.”

The one who was meant to guide them to the whereabouts of Cordelia—it was none other than the very crown prince of the Kindgom of Luzterna.