The days following the monster attack passed in a tense quiet. The shelter, usually a hive of activity, seemed to move in slow motion as its inhabitants dealt with the aftermath. Estelle, now fully adopting the persona of Lily, spent her time helping where she could. She carefully navigates the web of relationships within the resistance. But the atmosphere was heavy with an unspoken worry, and Estelle could feel the weight of the uncertainty pressing down on everyone.
As she moved through the shelter, she encountered a variety of resistance members. Some greeted her with warm smiles, curious about the newcomer. While others watched her with suspicion, their eyes lingering on her masked face a little too long. She didn’t blame them—trust was a rare commodity here. Still, she made a point of offering her help with small tasks, hoping to build rapport. She helped carry supplies, organized food rations, and even assisted in repairing some of the makeshift equipment that kept the shelter running.
The more she engaged with the resistance members, the more she noticed the cracks in their facade. Resources were stretched thin; conversations about food shortages and dwindling medical supplies were common. Morale was low, and she overheard more than one conversation about other cells being compromised. The realization hit her that this resistance, as determined as it was, was fighting a losing battle against an overwhelming force. The thought unsettled her, and she wondered how much longer they could hold out.
One afternoon, while assisting Iris in organizing a shipment of newly acquired supplies, Estelle found herself in a small storage room surrounded by crates of food and medical essentials. The task was straightforward—labeling and categorizing the items—but the monotony provided her mind with too much space to wander. She worked alongside Iris, who was efficiently checking inventory and ensuring everything was accounted for. Estelle felt a sudden, sharp pain shoot through her head. Iris, noticing the shift in Estelle’s demeanor, turned to her with concern. But Estelle couldn’t focus on her words.
Her vision blurred, and she was overwhelmed by a flood of memories that weren’t her own.
This time, the images were sharper, and more defined. Estelle found herself standing in the midst of chaos—the orphanage collapsing around her, children screaming for help. But it wasn’t her—it was the other Estelle, making a fateful decision. She had known what was coming, had sensed the impending disaster. But instead of fleeing, she had stayed to guide the children to safety. Estelle felt the agonizing weight of that choice as if it were her own. The deep, gut-wrenching fear that came with the knowledge that she might not survive.
The memory shifted, and Estelle saw Finn, injured and bleeding, his small body crushed beneath the rubble. She knelt beside him, her heart pounding in desperation. She reached out, her hands glowing with a soft, pale light as her healing ability manifested for the first time. The relief on Finn’s face as the pain ebbed away was palpable, but there was something else—something darker. Each pulse of healing energy drained her, the Essence consuming her vitality. Estelle could feel her strength waning, her hair, once vibrant, gradually losing its color as the power coursed through her, turning it white.
Despite the exhaustion that gripped her, the other Estelle continued to pour everything she had into saving him. The healing power that had saved Finn couldn’t be turned inward, and it slowly drained her life away, leaving her frail and vulnerable. The weight of it all crashed down on Estelle—the guilt, the sorrow, and the helplessness of that moment—as if it were her own burden to bear.
The headache subsided, leaving Estelle gasping for breath. She realized she was on her knees, still gripping the crate for support. Her body trembling from the intensity of the memories. Iris was immediately beside her, a hand on her shoulder, her expression a mix of concern and wariness.
"Are you alright?" Iris asked, her voice steady but tinged with worry.
Estelle quickly gathered herself, trying to push the emotions down, to bury them where they couldn’t reach her. She nodded, attempting to shake off the lingering disorientation. But the guilt remained, gnawing at the edges of her mind. The other Estelle had tried her hardest for her siblings, but she had been taken from them too early, leaving them to face this harsh world without her. The knowledge weighed heavily on her heart.
"I'm fine," Estelle finally managed, her voice a little shaky. She avoided Iris's gaze, not wanting her to see the turmoil beneath the surface. "Just... a moment of dizziness. It’s passed now."
Iris studied her for a moment, her eyes sharp and assessing. “If you need to rest, you should say something,” she said, her tone softening slightly. “There’s no shame in taking a moment if you need it.”
Estelle shook her head, forcing a small smile. “No, I’m alright. We still have work to do.”
As Estelle steadied herself, Iris's hand remained on her shoulder, a silent gesture of support that Estelle deeply appreciated. The storage room was quiet now, the sounds of the shelter’s activity muted by the walls around them. Iris didn’t press for details, but Estelle could sense her concern lingering.
"Iris," Estelle began, her voice still a little shaky, "thank you."
Iris nodded "We look out for each other here. It’s what we do."
Before Estelle could respond, the door to the storage room creaked open, and Finn peeked in, his usual energy subdued. "Everything okay in here?" he asked, his eyes flicking between Estelle and Iris.
"We’re fine," Iris replied quickly, giving him a reassuring nod. "Just finishing up."
As Finn stepped into the room, Estelle noticed the scars on his arms—remnants of the injury he had sustained during the orphanage collapse. The sight of those scars filled her with a deep sense of guilt, even though she knew she wasn’t directly responsible for them.
“Finn,” she asked softly, trying to keep her tone casual despite the emotion welling up inside her, “how did you get those scars?”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Finn glanced down at his arms, his expression darkening slightly. “I was trapped under some debris when the orphanage was attacked,” he replied quietly. “Sis saved me… but it cost her.”
He didn’t elaborate, and Estelle didn’t press him, but the weight of his words hung heavy in the air. She could see the pain in his eyes, the lingering guilt that he couldn’t quite let go of. It mirrored her own, and for a moment, she felt an overwhelming urge to confess everything—to explain the strange connection she felt to the other Estelle. But she held back, knowing that now wasn’t the time.
Instead, she reached out and gently touched his arm, her fingers brushing against the rough texture of his scars. The cold wave of confirmation settled over her—it was the same as in the memories she had seen, the same pain she had felt in those visions. “She did what she had to do,” Estelle said, her voice barely above a whisper. “To protect you.”
“Yeah… I know. But I wish things could have been different,” Finn murmured, his voice filled with a quiet longing that tugged at Estelle’s heart.
Estelle nodded, understanding the unspoken grief that they carried. As they finished organizing the supplies, Iris and Finn exchanged a few quiet words before Finn left to handle another errand. As he walked away, Estelle found herself watching him with a heavy heart, reflecting on the differences in each of her siblings. It was clear that her siblings had adapted to this harsher reality, and the differences in their personalities were stark reminders of the world they lived in.
Dante, once the dependable but light-hearted older brother, was now hardened by loss and responsibility. He carried the weight of their survival on his shoulders, and it showed in his every action. Iris, always the sharp and analytical one, had grown more reserved. Her calm demeanor masked a deep-seated fear that Estelle could sense but couldn’t yet understand. Finn, once so full of life, had become reckless. Driven by a need to prove himself, to protect those he loved at any cost. His once bright eyes now held a shadow of determination tinged with guilt, and his tiny figure seemed to carry the weight of that lingering regret. And Mira—sweet, innocent Mira—had grown dependent on Estelle’s presence, clinging to her as if she were the only thing keeping her grounded in this brutal world.
The next day, Estelle made a conscious effort to cheer Finn up, a lingering guilt gnawing at her for having brought up a painful memory the day before. She noticed the weight he carried, the heaviness in his demeanor since their conversation. It was his turn to keep watch on her, and she saw it as an opportunity to try to lift his spirits. Hoping to make up for the discomfort she had unintentionally caused.
They spent the morning moving supplies to different areas of the shelter. And as they worked, Estelle made small attempts to lighten the mood. Slowly, he started to engage more in their conversation, the tension in his shoulders easing as they joked about the makeshift equipment they had to work with. Seeing him smile again, even if just a little, made the knot of guilt in Estelle’s chest loosen slightly.
As they finished moving a final stack of crates in the main hall, Finn noticed that his toolbox had been left behind in another room. “I’ll go grab it,” he said, giving Estelle a quick nod before heading off. Left alone, Estelle began to organize the remaining items when she sensed a presence nearby.
Turning, she saw Alaric approaching, “You seem to be getting along well with the kids,” Alaric commented, his tone carrying a hint of curiosity. “Especially Mira. She’s usually so shy and keeps to herself. It’s rare to see her so close to someone new.”
Estelle felt a knot of anxiety tighten in her chest. She knew that explaining why she was so close to them would be tricky, especially since she was still maintaining her cover as ‘Lily.’
“I’ve always been good with kids,” she said with a small, forced smile. “In my old group, there were a few younger ones who needed a bit of extra care. I guess I’m just used to looking out for them.”
Alaric’s gaze remained steady, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to gauge the truth of her words. “It’s a good quality to have,” he said finally, though there was a hint of skepticism in his voice. “But don’t forget, everyone here needs looking out for—no matter their age.”
Estelle nodded, feeling the weight of his words. “Of course. I’ll do my best to be there for everyone.”
Alaric didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he seemed to study her, as though searching for something deeper beneath the surface. The tension between them was palpable, each word laced with unspoken questions.
“You’re settling in well,” he said finally, his tone neutral. “How are you finding things here?”
Estelle hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “It’s… different,” she replied, keeping her voice steady. “But I’m getting used to it.”
Alaric nodded, his expression unreadable. “I’ve been meaning to ask… about your past. You said you were part of a resistance cell in the eastern region. What was it like there?”
His question caught her off guard, and she had to quickly fabricate an answer. “It was tough,” she said, her mind racing. “We were always on the move, trying to stay ahead of the regime. But we did what we had to do to survive.”
Alaric’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if weighing her response. “Survival is important,” he said slowly. “But trust is even more so. You’ll find that trust is hard to come by here.”
“I understand,” Estelle replied, feeling a subtle tension in the air between them. “I’m here to do whatever it takes to help.”
He studied her for a moment longer before nodding. “Good. Just remember—actions speak louder than words.”
As he walked away, Estelle couldn’t shake the feeling that he was testing her, probing for weaknesses in her story. The fact that they had been attacked so soon after her arrival hadn’t escaped his notice, and she knew he was quietly trying to figure out if she posed a threat.
But there was something else, something she hadn’t anticipated. During their conversation, Estelle had unconsciously begun tapping her fingers against the crate in a rhythmic pattern—a habit she had picked up whenever she was deep in thought or trying to stay focused. Alaric’s eyes flicked to her fingers, his gaze sharpening as he noticed the movement. He didn’t comment on it, but the brief pause in his demeanor was enough to unsettle her. She wasn’t sure if the other Estelle had shared this habit, but if she had, it could raise questions she wasn’t prepared to answer.
When Finn returned, Estelle forced herself to push aside her unease. The exchange with Alaric had left her rattled, but she knew she had to keep her focus. As they continued with their tasks, she made sure to stay upbeat, determined not to let her worry show.
As they finished organizing the supplies, Finn glanced over at her, noticing the tension that lingered in the air. He had seen Alaric speaking with her earlier, and curiosity got the better of him.
“What did Alaric want?” Finn asked.
Estelle quickly masked her apprehension with a small smile. “Oh, nothing major,” she said, keeping her voice light. “Just checking in, making sure I’m settling in okay.”
Finn studied her for a moment before nodding. “He’s always like that—wants to make sure everyone’s pulling their weight. Don’t let him get to you.”
Estelle nodded, grateful that Finn seemed to accept her explanation without pressing further. “Thanks, Finn.”
Finn gave her a reassuring smile, though she could see the lingering concern in his eyes. He seemed satisfied with her answer, but Estelle knew she had to be careful. The last thing she wanted was to worry him, especially when he had enough to deal with already.
As they continued with their tasks, Estelle couldn’t shake the feeling that she was walking a tightrope. Balancing between maintaining her cover and keeping her siblings safe. But for now, she focused on the immediate task at hand, determined to keep moving forward—one step at a time.