The room seemed to close in on her as the weight of her decision settled heavily on her shoulders. She had promised to rest, to stay, and to rely on her family more, but these promises were ones she could no longer keep. The sense of responsibility gnawed at her, and the realization that she had to act, regardless of the promises made, began to crystallize in her mind.

Lydia, who had been watching Estelle closely, must have sensed the shift in her resolve. She moved closer, her expression a mixture of concern and frustration. "Estelle, you need to believe in Alaric," Lydia urged, her voice calm but firm. "He knows what he's doing. You have to trust him and wait for his return."

But Estelle shook her head, the resolution in her eyes growing stronger. "I can't, Lydia. I know he’s capable, but this... this is something I have to take care of myself. I can't sit here and do nothing."

Lydia’s frustration bubbled to the surface, her calm demeanor slipping as she tried to reason with Estelle. "You’ve just recovered, and you’re still not fully healed. You need to rest, not run off into danger again. Why can’t you just rely on everyone for once?"

Estelle’s heart ached at the desperation in Lydia’s voice, but she couldn’t let it sway her. "Lydia, I have to do this. I can’t explain it, but I know I’m the only one who can."

The words only seemed to inflame Lydia further. Her eyes grew red, tears threatening to spill over, though she stubbornly held them back. "Do you know how powerless I feel? How useless it is to stand by while the people I care about are always one step ahead of me?" Lydia’s voice trembled with emotion as she continued, "First, it was my parents, and now it’s Alaric and you. I’m always chasing behind a shadow, a shadow I can never reach. And then, you all just slip away from my arms…"

The raw pain in Lydia’s voice tore at Estelle’s heart. She had never seen Lydia like this, so vulnerable and exposed. It made her want to stay, to be the anchor Lydia so desperately needed. But this moment also solidified something in Estelle—there was a line she had to draw, not just for these people she had come to care for, but also for herself.

With gentle resolve, Estelle took Lydia’s hands in hers. "Lydia, you’re not powerless. You’re not useless. You’ve saved more lives than I could ever count, including mine. The people here depend on you—the kids, the resistance members. Your skills, your strength, they’re what keep this place together. You’re a strong pillar to everyone around you, including me."

Lydia looked down, tears finally spilling over as she tried to process Estelle’s words.

"But," Estelle continued softly, "I’m not the Estelle you lost. I can’t be her. And as much as I want to be here for you all, there are things I have to do, things that only I can handle. Please understand, Lydia."

Lydia’s breath hitched as she absorbed what Estelle was saying. The words stung, but they also rang with truth. Lydia knew, deep down, that Estelle was right. But the pain of losing someone she cared about, again, was almost too much to bear. She looked at Estelle, seeing the determination in her eyes, and realized that nothing she could say would change her mind.

As if on cue, the infirmary door creaked open, and Dante, Iris, Mira, and Finn stepped inside. Dante and Iris had just returned from their duties and wanted to check on Estelle. Finn and Mira, who had been lingering nearby, saw it as an opportunity to visit her as well. The moment they entered, Estelle could feel the weight of their concern pressing down on her.

Dante, with his brows furrowed and arms crossed, immediately demanded, “What were you two talking about? And where do you think you’re going? Your injuries haven’t even healed yet.”

Estelle’s heart ached at the sight of their worried faces, especially seeing how Mira clung to Iris, her eyes wide and filled with fear. Finn, usually so full of energy, looked subdued, his gaze flicking between Estelle and Lydia as if trying to decipher the unspoken tension in the room. Iris, ever calm and composed, stood back, observing, but the worry in her eyes was unmistakable.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Estelle swallowed hard, knowing that what she was about to say would hurt them. But she had made up her mind—she had to leave. There was a pull, a certainty in her heart that told her this was something she had to do, no matter the cost.

“I have to go,” Estelle said, her voice steady but soft. She could see the immediate protests forming on their faces, so she quickly added, “This is something I need to do. I can’t explain it fully, but it’s important, and I can’t stay here.”

The room fell into a tense silence, the air thick with unspoken objections. Before anyone could voice them, Estelle continued, her gaze sweeping over each of them. “I’ve treasured the time we’ve spent together. It’s been… more meaningful than I can put into words. But instead of thinking of this as another goodbye, I hope you can see it as the opportunity it was—an opportunity for me to meet you, to help you, to lessen your burdens. But I’m not your Estelle. I never was.”

Her words hung in the air, and she could see the impact they had on her siblings. Dante clenched his fists, his jaw tight as he struggled to contain his emotions. Iris looked away, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, while Mira’s grip on Iris’s hand tightened, her small frame trembling. Finn, who had been so quiet, finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“But you are Estelle,” Finn said, his voice thick with emotion. “You may not be the same, but… you’re still our sister.”

Estelle felt her resolve waver for a moment, but she pushed through the pain. “I care about you all deeply,” she replied, her voice cracking slightly. “But this is something I have to do. I don’t know what the future holds. But I believe that by doing this, I’ll be able to protect you in a way I couldn’t before.”

Mira, now standing close to Estelle, cried out weakly, her voice trembling with fear and confusion. “What are you talking about? Where are you going?” Her wide eyes searched Estelle’s face, pleading for answers, for reassurance that everything would be alright.

Estelle took a deep breath, the weight of her words pressing heavily on her heart. “Mira,” she said gently but firmly, “I’m not the Estelle you’ve been waiting for. I’m not your sister, not in the way you remember. But there’s one thing I know for certain—both she and I are where we need to be, based on our own choices. Even if that means not being by your side, so you don’t have to wait for us anymore at that cliffside.”

Mira’s tears welled up; Estelle’s resolve nearly broke at that moment. The urge to stay and comfort Mira is overwhelming. But she knew that staying would only cause more pain in the long run. She had to help them find their own strength, just as the other Estelle had done before. “You’re not alone, Mira. You have Finn, Dante, Iris… and Lydia. You have each other, and together, you can protect what you’ve all built. This shelter, this home—it’s yours to safeguard.”

She paused, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I trust you all to do what you’ve been doing so well in the other Estelle’s absence. To protect what she built, what you all built together. And I need you to trust me to do what I have to do.”

The room was quiet except for Mira’s soft sobs. The others looked at Estelle with a mix of sadness and understanding, realizing that this might be the last time they saw her. Estelle herself was struggling to hold back her tears, but she forced herself to stay strong, for their sake.

“It’s time for me to go,” Estelle said, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her heart. “I’ve already healed enough to move around without much pain, so I’ll leave right away. But please, know that I’ll always carry you all in my heart, no matter where I am.”

The atmosphere was thick with sorrow as they prepared a small vehicle with supplies for Estelle’s departure. The silence was heavy, filled with unspoken words and emotions too deep to express. Each movement was deliberate, the weight of the impending farewell hanging over them like a storm cloud.

When it was time to go, Estelle exchanged a brief but heartfelt farewell with each of them. She hugged Mira tightly, whispering words of comfort and love, though she knew they could never fully ease the pain of this parting. She clasped Finn’s hand, giving him a nod of encouragement, silently urging him to continue being the strong, dependable brother he had always been. And finally, she turned to Lydia, Dante, and Iris, sharing a look that spoke of trust, of gratitude, and of the deep bond they had formed, even in such a short time.

As Estelle climbed into the vehicle, she felt a bittersweet relief wash over her. It still hurt deeply to say goodbye, but there was a sense of peace in her heart. She had done something the other Estelle had longed for the most at the last moment of her life—to properly say goodbye to the people she loved.

The vehicle’s engine rumbled to life, and as she drove away from the shelter, Estelle glanced back one last time. The figures of her newfound family grew smaller in the distance, but their presence remained with her. A constant reminder of the love and hope that had been born in the midst of darkness.