Estelle's body felt like it was on fire, every nerve screaming in pain. Her mind, however, was numb, barely able to process the agony that threatened to consume her. Her vision blurred, the world around her reduced to vague shapes and muted colors. She could hear voices, distant and muffled, as if they were coming from underwater.

“...sir,” one voice said, hesitant and anxious, barely breaking through the fog of pain in her mind. The tone was deferential, laced with fear. It was a voice that knew its place, one that had been trained to obey without question.

“She refuses to speak,” another voice replied, more authoritative. There was no sympathy in it, only a chilling detachment. “So useless,” another voice spat, colder, his voice dripping with disdain.

The words barely registered in Estelle’s mind, her thoughts too scattered to fully grasp their meaning. But then she felt a hand under her chin, rough fingers lifting her face. The touch was cold, impersonal, as if she were nothing more than an object to be examined.

“No wonder you look familiar,” the cold voice said, almost to himself. There was a note of twisted amusement in his tone, as if he found the situation darkly humorous. “You could have been my child, but your worth is now no different than a worm.”

The words cut through the haze in Estelle’s mind like a knife, the insult stinging more than the physical pain. She wanted to pull away, to fight back, but her body refused to obey her commands. She was too weak, too broken.

“But even a worm can make for good bait,” the man added, his tone casual, as if discussing the weather. He released her chin, letting her head fall back limply.

Estelle’s breath hitched, her mind struggling to comprehend what he meant. Bait? What was he planning?

The man turned to the soldier who had spoken earlier, his voice taking on a tone of cruel satisfaction. “Here,” he said, pressing something into the soldier’s hand. “Use this. It’s been a useless piece of junk for some reason, but it can still be used as a tracker.”

A tracker? Estelle’s thoughts raced, though they were muddled by the pain. A sword—what is it for? She couldn’t tell, couldn’t see the features clearly, but something about it felt familiar. Before she could gather her thoughts, the man’s voice cut through the haze again.

"And since that is also useless, might as well remove it too."

A sudden, sharp pain shot through her mouth, causing her to cry out weakly. The world tilted, and she could feel the blood rushing. The pain was overwhelming, too much to bear. Her consciousness began to slip away, the darkness closing in once more.

When Estelle awoke again, the world was too bright, the light searing into her eyes. She blinked, trying to clear her vision, but everything was still a blur. She could make out a crowd in front of her, but their faces were indistinguishable, mere shapes and shadows.

The man’s voice echoed in her ears, loud and clear this time, as he gave a speech. His words were filled with venom, calling her a vicious, murderous Aeth, a threat that needed to be eliminated. Estelle’s heart pounded in her chest, the words slicing through the fog in her mind.

The commotion around her grew louder, a rising tide of unrest and fear. The man’s voice became more insistent, as if he were trying to regain control of the situation. Estelle’s head throbbed with pain, her mind barely able to process what was happening.

And then, in the midst of the chaos, a cold, sharp pain ran through her body. She gasped, her breath hitching as the pain cut through the fog of her mind. Her vision darkened, and she could feel herself slipping away again, the world fading into nothingness.

But then, through the pain and the noise, she heard it—a voice that cut through everything else, a voice she would recognize anywhere.

“Estelle!”

Alaric’s voice was filled with desperation, and the sound of it pierced through the fog in her mind, anchoring her to consciousness. She felt his arms around her, pulling her close, his warmth a stark contrast to the coldness that had consumed her. The pain was still there, gnawing at her, but the familiarity of his embrace, the sheer force of his presence, kept her from slipping away.

Estelle’s vision flickered, the world a shifting blur of light and shadow. But through the pain and confusion, she held on to the one thing she knew—Alaric was there, and he was trying to save her.

Estelle could feel the warmth of Alaric’s arms around her, but the pain was overwhelming, pulling her deeper into the darkness. Strangely enough, she could feel a weak but gentle, familiar Essence slowly flowing into her. It was from the blade that was supposed to take her life, instead now keeping her awake.

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Still, each breath was a struggle, but she fought to stay with him, to hold on to the connection that had always been her anchor in this chaotic world. The sound of his steps was quick and desperate, as if he was trying to outrun the cruel reality closing in on them. She could hear the tremor in Alaric’s voice, the pain that mirrored her own. As if he was trying to will her back to life with every word he spoke.

“I shouldn’t have given you that necklace,” Alaric murmured, his voice thick with regret.

In her mind, Estelle wanted to respond, to tell him that the necklace had been a comfort, a symbol of his love and protection. Don’t be, she thought, I treasured it. But the words wouldn’t come; her voice was lost to the void, trapped behind the heavy weight of her injuries.

Alaric’s grip tightened as if he feared she would slip away at any moment. “I should have run away from everything with just the two of us,” he whispered, his tone laced with desperation.

I know that you could never turn your back on responsibility, Estelle thought, as she knew, deep down, that such an escape was never possible for them. Alaric could never turn his back on the people who depended on him, and neither could she.

“I should have... I should have at least done something. It’s all my fault...” Alaric’s voice cracked, the guilt evident in every syllable.

It’s not your fault, it was my decision. Estelle felt a surge of sorrow for him, knowing how much he would blame himself for what was happening. But she also had made her choices willingly, knowing the risks.

“Please stay with me,” Alaric pleaded, his voice breaking. “You are my shining star, the only star even in the darkest of the night.”

Al... Her heart ached at the sound of his words, the depth of his love and despair wrapping around her like a blanket of sorrow. She wanted so desperately to comfort him, to tell him that she would stay, that she would never leave him alone in the darkness if she could.

“Let’s go back to our home,” Alaric continued, his voice filled with a fragile hope. “I promise I will keep you safe this time.”

Home... The word reverberated in her mind, stirring something deep within her. Home—the place they had built together, the sanctuary they had created for those they loved. But the thought of home, of their shelter, reignited a small flicker of determination within her.

Gathering the last remnants of her will, Estelle tried to push against Alaric’s embrace. She couldn’t let him take her back to the shelter, not like this. Not when she could bring danger to them all. Noticing her movement, Alaric slowed down, confusion and concern in his eyes.

“Estelle, what’s wrong?” Alaric’s voice was filled with alarm as he felt her resistance. He stopped running, concern etched on his face as he looked down at her. Her attempts to free herself were feeble, but the intent was clear. She couldn’t go back with him, not now, not like this.

Finally, after a moment of hesitation, Alaric gently lowered her to the ground, his eyes searching hers for an explanation as the reality of the situation began to dawn on him. Estelle’s heart broke as she saw the pain in his gaze, but she knew this was the only way. For the sake of their home, for the safety of those they cared for, she had to stay behind.

Estelle slowly shook her head, a slight, almost imperceptible movement, but one filled with a firm resolve. She knew what needed to be done, even if it meant defying the desperate hope she saw in Alaric’s eyes. Her body was growing colder, the strength in her limbs fading rapidly, but she had to make him understand. There wasn’t much time left, and she couldn’t let him carry the burden of false hope.

"Estelle..." Alaric’s voice trembled as he squeezed her cool hand, trying to anchor her to the world, to him. He was holding on as if his will alone could keep her alive. His usually steady voice was now laced with panic, a rare crack in his otherwise calm demeanor. "You will be fine!... You definitely will be fine... Lydia will heal you... Yes, Lydia!... Lydia and the kids are waiting... so please, let’s us go home..." His words were desperate, almost pleading, as if saying them aloud could make them true.

But Estelle knew better. She could feel the life draining out of her with every passing second, the warmth slipping away from her body like sand through her fingers. She could no longer stay with him. She had to ensure their safety. The sword, embedded deep in her body, was more than just a weapon—it was a tracker. It would lead their enemies straight to them if it wasn’t removed. She couldn’t allow that.

Alaric’s voice grew more frantic as he watched her, understanding dawning on his face as she made the small, painful motion to reach for the sword. "Stop!.. Estelle!... Please!.." His hands moved to stop her, his fear palpable, knowing that pulling out the sword could hasten her end. But even in his desperation, he saw that her mind was made up. The urgency in her eyes was something he couldn’t ignore.

With a strength she didn’t know she had left, Estelle’s hand guided the hilt of the sword. She had no more strength to pull it out herself, but it was as if the sword understood her resolve. Slowly, painfully, it began to slide out, guided by her will alone. Alaric could only watch in helpless horror as the blade, slick with her blood, withdrew from her body, each inch leaving her weaker, paler.

The world around her started to blur, the edges of her vision darkening as night began to fall. The pain was intense, but there was also a strange sense of peace. She had done what needed to be done. The danger to her loved ones was now lessened, even if it meant she could no longer be with them.

As the last remnants of light faded from the sky, her thoughts drifted to Alaric, to Lydia, to the children she had protected for so long. She wished she could have stayed longer, wished she could have seen them all grow up, live in peace. But most of all, she wished she could have said goodbye properly, without leaving behind so much pain.

Please don’t be sad... Her thoughts were a whisper in the wind, a final plea to the universe as her consciousness slipped away. The world turned dark, and with her last breath, she hoped that Alaric would find the strength to carry on, to protect their family, to live for both of them.