image [https://i.imgur.com/WxgkjSv.png]

The wagons rumbled closer to the town of Grecht, nestled peacefully amidst the expansive plains southeast of Octavia's daunting mountains. Stretching out before Contii's gaze was a city atop flat landscapes surrounded by mountainous ranges.

Grecht bore the unmistakable aura of a place untouched by the ravages of war. Its lack of fortifications spoke volumes, a testament to its serene history. No guards lined its perimeter, no barriers that barred entry. While such openness might typically be perceived as a virtue, in their current predicament, it served as a vulnerability. It was all too easy to imagine the Demon Cultists clandestinely executing their nefarious designs within the town's borders, shielded by its unassuming façade.

As the wagons rolled into Grecht, the townsfolk paused in their daily routines to make way. Despite the undercurrent of tension, life in Grecht thrived. Sunlight bathed the scene in a warm glow, infusing the city with vitality. Laughter of children echoed through cobblestone streets as they played, their innocence a poignant contrast to the horrors they had faced.

Mila's gaze lingered on the serene and peaceful sight from within the confines of the wagon, a wistful smile gracing her lips. Here, in this moment, it felt as though evil itself had been banished—a tranquil sanctuary in a troubled world.

A sudden jostle as the wagon traversed a rough patch in the road caused Yarine's slumbering form to nudge against Mila. Despite her irritation, Mila stifled her reaction, her composure unbroken. Samille observed with amusement, a knowing grin playing on her lips as she witnessed Mila's silent forbearance.

Samille's gaze drifted over the thriving town, her voice soft but determined. "This is why I've dedicated myself to our cause. To witness people living without fear, that's what gives me purpose."

Her smile, though warm, held a hint of sorrow, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I've lost so many, those who bravely gave their lives to protect others. It's because of their sacrifice that we have moments like these."

Mila listened, feeling the weight of Samille's words. Unsure how to respond, she shifted the focus. "Do you think... we can truly protect them?"

Samille's smile wavered, her gaze locking with Mila's. "We must. Our duty is clear—to shield them at all costs. Failure is not an option."

Mila nodded, heartened by Samille's resolve. "I never doubted it, boss."

Samille sighed, closing her eyes and resting her head against the wagon's wooden frame.

Mila's thoughts drifted to her own past, to her quiet hometown. The contrast with the bustling town before her was stark, almost surreal. Her journey, her experiences, all of it was thanks to Arbious. In a way, she was grateful; without his intervention, she might have never ventured beyond the familiar confines of her small village. There was so much she had to find answers for, but it was up to her to fill things in for herself.

Mila turned her gaze to Samille, who appeared at peace in her rest. "You mentioned earlier that we'd be meeting someone important?"

Samille replied, her eyes still closed. "Yes, the Earl of Grecht. He's the town's governor and will be hosting us. We're to stay here for two weeks to ensure the town's safety."

"Why exactly two weeks?"

"Didn't you read our mission briefing?" Samille asked with a hint of amusement.

Confusion clouded Mila's expression, prompting Samille to chuckle softly as she explained, "I suppose not. Our objective here is not only to secure the town but also to retrieve your uncle, who is due to visit soon."

Mila's eyes widened in surprise as she processed the information. "My uncle?"

The wagon came to a halt, and Samille rose to her feet, rousing Yarine from her slumber. As Samille exited the wagon, Mila followed suit, questioning, "Wouldn't his arrival endanger the town?"

"It would," Samille confirmed, stepping out of the wagon.

Yarine, now awake, joined Mila outside. The three of them, along with Contii, gathered before the grand mansion of the town's governor. As they conversed, Yarine struggled to keep up, feeling a bit unsteady on her feet after the long journey. She listened intently, until Contii directed a question her way, snapping her attention back to the conversation.

Contii chuckled at Yarine's evident bewilderment. "Earth to Yarine, are you with us?"

Yarine snapped back to attention, her focus returning to her. "Yeah, what is it?"

"I was just saying, while Samille talks to the governor, we should search the town together," Contii suggested.

Yarine raised an eyebrow. "Search for what?"

"Anything unusual," Samille interjected. "We're dealing with an unknown threat here. We need to ensure this town hasn't been compromised by the demon cult first and foremost."

"I agree," Yarine replied thoughtfully. "But I think it's best if I join Samille. I'd like to meet the governor myself."

Samille's expression hardened slightly at Yarine's request. She placed a hand on Yarine's shoulder, and they moved to a more secluded spot. In the alleyway, away from prying eyes, Samille whispered, "You sense it too, don't you?"

Yarine met Samille's serious gaze. "Yes, I felt it as soon as we arrived," she replied.

"Keep your voice down," Samille urged in a hushed tone. "Is that why you wanted to come to the mansion?"

Yarine nodded quietly. "Partly, yes. I wanted to see things for myself."

"I understand," Samille murmured. "We might as well follow your plan. But what about Contii? he seemed adamant to spend some time with you."

"What are you trying to say? He clearly has no feelings for me." Yarine spoke softly with a flustered look.

Samille scoffed, her expression somewhat serious, "I'm just worried for him you know... It's just that, he—"

"What about him?" Yarine asked. "Are you worried he'll act recklessly?"

Samille leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly. "Yes, that's my concern. He has every reason to despise them."

"And to prevent any impulsive actions, what do you suggest? You know as well as I do that I need to meet this governor in person. Not just because I'm curious, but as a representative of the Holy Empire." Yarine pressed.

"Yes, yes... I understand that. So, what should we do then? Do we pair him with Mila?" Samille pondered aloud. "Is that wise?"

"It could work," Yarine agreed. "Let's have them search the town together. We don't want to make a fool of ourselves in front of the governor, and the two of them are hardheaded."

"Good point," Samille nodded in agreement.

The two rejoined the group, and Samille wasted no time briefing Mila and Contii on their assignments. As they approached, Mila and Contii awaited with patience etched on their faces. "Listen, you two," Samille began, directing her words to the two, "We're sticking to the original plan, but Yarine will accompany me to the governor's estate. Meanwhile, the two of you will explore the town."

Mila and Contii exchanged a glance before nodding in agreement. "Got it," Mila responded, though she couldn't help but wonder why Yarine was joining Samille. "Any specific instructions for us?"

"Not really," Samille replied. "Just stay alert and keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Trust your instincts—if something feels off, investigate further."

Two guards approached, clad in chainmail armor, their weapons sheathed at their sides. "Lady Samille, we've been informed of your arrival. Please, follow us," one of them said respectfully.

Samille looked at the guards and jokingly questioned. "Since when do the guards of Grecht carry weapons?"

The guard who seemed to be in charge, a rather large man, jokingly responded. "A cutting knife and no more. Trust me on this."

Samille and Yarine exchanged a nod before following the guards. Left behind, Contii and Mila stood in silence as Mila attempted to make sense of the guard's joke, until Contii broke that silence. "So, what's the plan?"

Mila, feeling a bit anxious, replied, "Well, we're supposed to explore the town, right?"

Contii shrugged. "Seems like a random task. Doubt we'll find much. We never do..."

Mila's eyes widened at Contii's nonchalant attitude, sensing something amiss. However, Contii's gaze remained fixed on the horizon. "The thing is, the demon cultists aren't stupid. They won't be easy to find. Besides, I'm starving. Haven't eaten all day."

Contii's sudden chattiness struck Mila as odd, but her stomach protested loudly in agreement. Contii chuckled at the sound. "Looks like there's a bakery over there. Want to grab something?"

"But I don't have any money," Mila confessed.

"Nonsense. I'll cover it," Contii replied with a smile. "Consider it my treat."

The aroma wafting from the bakery was simply irresistible, drawing Mila in as she watched the baker deftly extract freshly baked loaves from the oven. The bustling crowd around the bakery indicated its popularity, a sure sign of its delectable offerings. After enduring the military's bland gruel during her travels, Mila longed for the simple pleasure of a freshly baked loaf, eager to savor every bite.

Before she could voice her desire, Contii seized her hand, and together they dashed towards the bakery. Joining the queue, they watched as others ahead of them eagerly grabbed loaves, the pile dwindling rapidly. Mila's heart raced with anticipation, hoping they wouldn't miss out.

Finally, their turn came. The baker, a large and imposing figure with a surprisingly gentle demeanor, looked at them from behind the counter. To Mila's relief, there were still plenty of loaves left. Contii placed coins on the counter and requested something called an "Omrati," a term unfamiliar to Mila.

The baker placed two sizable, freshly baked loaves into a paper bag, handing it over to Contii. The aroma was divine, and Mila's mouth watered at the sight. Contii promptly handed her one of the loaves as they exited the bakery, after expressing their gratitude to the baker.

Not far from the bakery, a small park bustled with activity, drawing the attention of Contii and Mila. "Some special event, perhaps?" Mila speculated, eyeing the gathering of about a dozen people.

"Could be," Contii observed. "Want to sit down? There seems to be some empty tables at the park."

"Sure,"

Curiosity piqued, they approached the park, the warmth of the freshly baked bread still lingering in their hands. Mila's anticipation grew, eager to taste the mysterious Omrati. Finding a table, they sat down as the sun began its descent, casting a gentle shadow over the park. With eager hands, they unwrapped the Omrati. Mila took in its sweet aroma before taking her first bite.

"How is it?" Contii inquired, genuinely interested.

"It's... sweet," Mila replied between bites. "I've never tasted anything quite like it. What exactly is Omrati?"

"It's a type of sweet potato bread, more or less," Contii explained.

"Why call it Omrati, though? Wouldn't it make more sense to name it after what it is?" Mila questioned, taking another bite and awaiting Contii's response.

Contii shrugged, taking a bite of his own. "No idea. If I knew, I'd be a chef."

Mila chuckled, her gaze wandering to the crowd in the distance. They seemed unusually loud, but she had yet to pay them much attention. A man stood on a podium, surrounded by listeners, his voice carrying over the park. "By divine providence, as marked by Michael himself in the gospel, we are called to aid those in need. It is no secret that under the false flag of the Southern Empire, a nefarious demon plots his sinister schemes. This is not mere speculation but a concealed truth, meant to deceive the ignorant."

"Rubbish!" A voice from the crowd interjected, followed by another shouting, "Nobody cares!"

Undeterred, the man continued his speech. "Is it not our duty to—"

The man on stage was suddenly struck by an egg thrown from the audience. "Get out of here with this nonsense. We don't want to hear your gospel," a voice shouted from the crowd.

The man, visibly shaken and defeated, scanned the audience before stepping down from the stage. In his place, another man took the stage, lightening the mood with jokes to ease the tension. Mila leaned towards Contii and whispered, "I feel terribly sorry for him."

"It was certainly something," Contii replied softly. "I've never seen a crowd react so harshly before."

"But is what he said true? About Arbious plotting something in the south?" Mila asked.

"No one really knows for sure. It's just speculation, but things don't look good," Contii explained.

Mila finished her bread, feeling surprisingly full despite the small portion. Her gaze shifted back to the crowd. "Is this kind of behavior normal?"

"Unfortunately, yes. These preachers aren't usually well-received," Contii answered.

"Why is that?" Mila inquired.

"If I approached you and started preaching about the need to take up arms for strangers, would you listen?" Contii posed.

"I suppose not," Mila admitted.

"Exactly. Most people feel the same," Contii replied with a smirk.

"I still feel bad for him, though. I wouldn't want to listen, but I wouldn't go so far as to throw things at him," Mila mused.

"You have a kind heart, Mila. Not everyone is as compassionate," Contii remarked, brushing crumbs off his lap as he stood up. "But since you're so sympathetic, why not go talk to him? It might lift his spirits."

Mila agreed, and together they ventured into the streets. The roads sprawled in various directions, but Contii had an inkling of the man's likely path. Relying on his senses, they tried to track down the man from earlier, yet the town's size soon led them astray. They found themselves hemmed in by towering buildings in an alleyway that appeared deserted.

Mila wondered why they were there; in her mind, Contii couldn't possibly know the man's whereabouts, so what drew them to this place? She kept her thoughts to herself and silently trailed behind him. There was an eerie ambiance to their surroundings, with spiders weaving their webs along the building frames and locked doors hinting at abandonment.

Contii surveyed their surroundings, and Mila followed suit. He approached one of the houses and forcefully kicked the door open. Mila almost gasped at the resounding thud of the door against the wall as Contii entered, seemingly transformed.

Hurrying after him, Mila found the man inside, huddled in a corner. He looked up as Contii neared. "What do you want with me?" he asked, his voice quivering.

Contii gazed down at him. "Are you a member of the Demon Cult?"

The man's eyes widened. "The Demon Cult? Are you insane?"

Contii pressed, his fist clenched. "Answer me, are you one of them?"

"If I were, do you think I'd be hiding here?"

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"Who can say," Contii retorted. "Their kind revels in deceit. If you're involved, I'll end your suffering."

Mila tugged at Contii's hand, diverting his attention. "Aren't you being too harsh? This man seems innocent."

"Innocent?" Contii scoffed, his piercing gaze locked onto the man. "What do you think? Are you truly blameless?" he demanded of the man.

The man remained silent, goading Contii to seize him by the shirt and hoist him upright. Mila interjected urgently, "What are you doing? Why are you accusing him?"

"I've never seen a priest without a cross or holy scripture. Why preach the word of God if you're a non-believer?" Contii's tone was accusatory.

Mila observed the man, noting that, as Contii had pointed out, he bore no cross. In stark contrast, Yarine always wore her silver cross, whether in combat or before bed. While Mila pondered the man's oddity, Contii pressed on with his interrogation. "Tell me, Father, are you perhaps a member of some nefarious cult, or something else entirely?"

"Let go of me!" The man struggled against Contii's grip; his voice strained.

"Who are you?" Contii's tone grew more menacing, his hold tightening.

Scared for his life, the man defensively raised his hands, prompting Contii to release him. As the man fixed his clothes, Contii spoke, "He's not a member of the Demon Cult, but I had to be sure."

Perplexed by the abrupt change, Mila asked, "What makes you so certain?"

Contii's gaze was set on the man, "If he were a member, he'd try to kill me, but he only tried to defend himself. Nonetheless, I'm curious, who he is."

"You're mad!" The man panted, then reluctantly answered, "You want to know who I am? I'll tell you. I'm not a priest; I'm a researcher."

"What's your purpose? Why advocate for aid to the south?" Mila questioned.

"Terrible things are happening in the south. The political landscape is shifting, and I fear the worst. Though I can't be certain, a great evil lurks there as we speak." The man explained as he produced a small vial containing a dark substance resembling soil like texture.

"What's that?" Mila asked, intrigued.

"Blighted grounds," he replied.

Contii's expression darkened further. "Blighted soil from the south? That shouldn't be possible with the divine protections in place. Only one thing could have caused this. The presence of a power greater than the protections, the Demon God..."

"Yes, which is why I've come to warn—"

"That's not your role," Contii replied intently. "Your actions only spread panic and disorder in these lands. If you truly wanted to help, you'd convey this information to our leaders."

The man scoffed. "Even if I wanted to, I was turned away at the gates. I couldn't even enter the city."

Mila's eyes widened. "They turned you away?"

"No surprise there," Contii remarked. "With the increased security in Octavia, getting in and out has become much harder. You can thank the Demon Cult for that."

The man remained silent, Contii pressed on for information. "What's your name?"

"Marod." the man replied.

Contii gestured to Mila. "This is Mila, and I'm Contii." He then added, "I'd like to invite you to join us."

"Huh?" Marod questioned.

Contii explained himself, "We could escort you to Octavia so you can deliver your message."

"How do you plan to get me in?" Marod questioned.

"We're soldiers from Octavia, and this young lady here is Lady Grismala's niece."

The man's eyes widened with shock at his words, and Mila looked puzzled. He knelt before her; his sight set on the ground averting his gaze. "Then the rumors are true, and Lady Aela's daughter lives."

The mention of her mother's name made Mila's heart sink. "You knew my mother?" Mila questioned.

"Yes, my lady," Marod replied as he looked up. "If we could speak in private, it might be for the best."

Mila glanced at Contii, who understood and left the room. Once they were alone, Marod stood up, "Please, tell me, what do you know about my mother?"

"Lady Aela was kind to my people," Marod began. "She embodied kindness. She was the only one who truly cared about us Demi-Humans. In this world, our kind is not well-regarded, thanks to the Church. I was one of those rescued by your mother, and I pledged my eternal loyalty to her." His tone grew somewhat sarcastic as he added. "We called ourselves her elite guard. What fools we were."

"When things became dire, we couldn't protect her," Marod continued, with heaviness in his voice. "They were Lucius's men, I'm sure of it. On that fateful night, they took her from us. She fought bravely, but their armor was blessed and enchanted. Our magic was no match. They slaughtered us. Only I survived."

"But your mother was taken," Marod's hands shook with anger. "I failed to protect her. None of us could. The horrors she endured are only whispered in tales. And yet, here you are."

His eyes glinted with renewed purpose as he continued. "My lady, if you would allow it, I would be honored to aid you. I failed your mother, and it's the least I can do for my incompetence."

Mila had never been addressed as "my lady" before, nor by any title. It was confusing and made her feel like she was royalty. Was she royalty? Was her mother truly so beloved?

What scared her the most was the thought of not meeting his expectations. She felt weak, barely capable of the magic Grismala or the others could wield. What if she were to disappoint?

Mila mumbled to herself, her voice barely audible, it was clear she was having doubts about it. "My lady, please, I beg of you to let me remain by your side."

His stern eyes conveyed a man who wouldn't back down. His insistence and connections to her mother made her even more hesitant to turn him away. He claimed to be a researcher, and he knew magic. Perhaps he could mentor her. Her practice with Samille would only take her so far; she had yet to delve into magic.

Mila ultimately decided awkwardly. "Okay. You can come with me then."

His eyes lit up. "I promise you will not regret this!"

With their dealings over, the two headed outside. The bright sun set on their faces as Contii noticed Marod's enthusiasm. "What's got him so happy?" He questioned.

Mila glanced at Marod as they descended the steps. "It's nothing," she replied.

Marod stood by Mila's side, and Contii eyed them both. "Okay... I guess?"

"So, what do we do now?" Mila questioned, wanting to sway from the topic.

"We still have no evidence of Demon Cult activities in this town. I suppose we continue as we were while remaining alert," Contii answered.

Hearing their plans, Marod spoke. "If I may be so bold as to ask, why are you searching for Demon Cultists here? This is the last place they would visit."

Mila and Contii exchanged glances, their mission had to remain hidden for the time being. Contii offered an explanation. "We know that already, but we are a task force assigned to ensure the safety of the villages bound to Octavia."

"So, this is a regular checkup... Huh, we've never had something like this in the south."

"You wouldn't need it, considering the south was left untouched by the demon army and their followers," Contii retorted with annoyance.

As he spoke, his eyes widened at a noise. His attention was drawn to the building they had exited; the floor creaked as if something was walking atop it. Unsheathing his sword, he stood guard in front of the two, while Mila and Marod looked bewildered.

A dark fog hurled at him, throwing him to the ground and phasing through his body. It reemerged behind them, taking form.

The being before them took the form of a wolf with an ethereal dark fog surrounding it. "A shadow wolf?" Marod questioned.

Contii struggled to move, and Mila turned urgently to Marod. "You know what that thing is?"

"Yes, these creatures are creations of dark magic. They can phase through practically anything in their ethereal form."

Mila unsheathed her sword as Contii slowly stood up, his knee hurt badly from the fall. "You won't be able to kill this beast with a sword," Marod explained. "This beast can only be harmed with magic."

The shadow wolf growled furiously, maintaining its distance. "Mila, use your magic against it!" Marod urgently yelled.

Mila conjured her magic with a gesture, releasing multiple bolts of energy at the wolf. However, the wolf remained unfazed. "What was that? Use a stronger spell! Hurry!" Marod pleaded urgently.

The wolf took its ethereal form and charged at Mila. Seeing that she was not prepared, Marod bravely stood in front of her as the wolf pounced, sacrificing himself to save her. The wolf landed on Marod, taking physical form and biting at his neck, its teeth held back just barely by Marod's strength.

Mila looked around in desperation, feeling fear grip her. Marod growled in pain as the wolf attacked him. Though he was holding off, the sharp teeth of the wolf had made many cuts on his hands. Contii, barely able to stand, watched with anger but was unable to act. Mila's magic seemed too weak; she struck the wolf with her sword, but it had no effect.

Time was running short, and in her desperation, Mila shed a tear of frustration as she charged and swung her sword down at the wolf. Her sword began to shine brightly. Everyone's eyes averted at the intense light emanating from Mila's sword. With a powerful impact, her sword cut right through the wolf's body, cleaving it in half.

The shadow wolf's body began to dissipate into the air. Marod's hands had many sharp cuts on its surface, yet he stood up from the ground, his eyes glowing with joy. "You really are just like her."

Contii approached Mila, leaning in to whisper. "What on earth was that?"

Mila herself didn't understand what had happened. Was this really her angelic powers at work? But Arbious had taken away her powers, so how could they resurface like this? Her mind raced with possibilities until she was brought back to the present. "You mind explaining?" Contii asked.

"I... Don't know," Mila muttered in disbelief.

Contii, seeing that Mila was overwhelmed, turned his attention to Marod who was wrapping his hand with a piece of white cloth. "Was that wolf your doing? You certainly knew a lot about it!"

Marod scoffed. "Are you going to accuse me at every turn? What must I do to prove my loyalty?"

Contii clenched his fist, feeling suspicious of Marod without quite knowing why. Taken aback by Marod's response, Contii whispered to Mila, "I don't trust him."

Mila, already struggling to make sense of everything—her powers, Marod, her mother—was irritated by Contii's suspicion. "You don't trust anyone. Maybe that's your problem."

Contii remained silent, his eyes colder after what Mila said. As she spoke, Mila felt a twinge of regret, but it was too late. His clenched fist softened, and after a moment of silence, Contii spoke. "I'll go... look around."

Contii left, and though Mila wanted to stop him, Marod intervened, suggesting that Contii needed some time to himself. She questioned herself, wondering if she was right to say what she did to him. By the time she had decided, it was already too late; Contii had left, and the two were standing together in the eerie neighborhood. Marod's words, however, brought her back to her senses. "This power you wield is a great burden, Mila. Much like your mother, you are gifted with magic, but you lack discipline."

"I already know that." Mila responded bitterly as she turned to face him. Her tone hinting that she argued against Contii for his sake. "So, what can you exactly do for me?"

"This power you have is divine in nature," Marod started as he paced around her, thinking out loud. "Normally, an elf shouldn't be capable of this, but considering your circumstances, you've inherited such powers... Anyhow, while I do know how to control the run-of-the-mill arcane powers, I can only wonder how divine magic works. From how it looks to me, your emotions trigger your arcane powers. Knowing that... I can only make one assumption."

"And what would that be?" Mila questioned.

"Your powers have been sealed."

Right on the mark, Marod got exactly what Mila was thinking. He continued, "What I can't understand is why your powers would be sealed so tightly. If there is something you aren't telling me, it would be best to let me know."

He had already guessed everything Mila was capable of through a single battle. There was no point in hiding what happened. "The Demon God took away my powers."

Marod stopped pacing around, his facial expression hinting caution. "I see," he mumbled. "If that's the case, then it does make sense. In order to protect your own life, your powers sealed themselves to prevent him from taking it in its entirety... If that's even possible."

"Is it?" Mila questioned.

"No," he replied, looking right at her. "Magic shouldn't have the ability to make decisions for you... or at least, that's how it's always been."

Mila remained silent, cautiously listening to Marod. "There may be a way to remove the seal on your divine magic, but it would be best not to go down this route."

"I want to get rid of this... whatever seal placed on me," Mila urged. "Please, if you can remove it, I would be grateful."

"I would if I could, but even my magic capabilities aren't powerful enough to undo a seal like yours. Though we can weaken its powers over time, the process will be painful, excruciating even."

"Do what you have to do," Mila urged.

Marod's eyes widened. "You mean here? Right now?"

"What better place to do it? We're isolated."

"And you trust me with this?" Marod questioned, his eyes narrowing.

Mila nodded. She had already suffered enough; whatever little pain she was to feel now would be nothing compared to her desire to get stronger, to reach her potential.

Clearing his throat, Marod spoke, his voice softer. "Then... if you would, would you show me your... back?"

Mila turned around, her faith fully placed in Marod's hands. As she faced away from him, she looked at the building before her as he approached from behind. He placed his hand onto her back where her wings once were. Mila almost gasped at how cold his hands were, and before long, he began. Marod's voice echoed ominously as he recalled upon ancient power through his chant, "De'erme erinstet mahrit mashat! De'ermeee! de'erme! de'erme sokh! bakh! nakht!"

With each word, each intricate incantation, Mila felt her consciousness sinking deeper and deeper. To a point she could no longer hear his words. Her body grew colder, her heartbeat and breathing slowed. She felt a pressure on her back, the place where her wings once were.

In her consciousness, she was falling with no end in sight. Everywhere she turned to was nothing but darkness. Devoid of light and life.

After some time, she reached the ground. Or at the very least what felt like the ground. As she stood up , she looked beneath her yet there was nothing there. She was standing on nothing. How was that possible?

There was a massive gate in the distance. Rough iron bars and reinforcements locked its passage. As she approached, she placed her hand onto the gate. Before her eyes materialized a being of white, resembling her own form. She took few steps back as she questioned. "Who are you?"

The voice was ethereal, carrying a softness and a tone of emotionless in its voice. "I am Mila Ashenhaul."

"But that is my name."

"Then I am you." The white being replied.

Mila did not understand, was this a representation of herself that she was witnessing? "How can I open the gate?" Mila questioned.

"This gate must not be opened." The being relied.

"And why is that?" Mila questioned.

"You seek to transgress upon powers beyond your understanding. I am the guardian of this gate and yourself. Should you open the gate, only pain you will find."

Mila questioned what she was hearing. Could this being be trusted? "Why was I able to use my powers earlier? Was that also your doing?"

"I am not here to provide you with answers; that is for you to ultimately decide. This gate will only open once you've proven yourself worthy of wielding its powers."

"What must I do?"

"You have fears deep within you. You must purge yourself of these emotions if you seek to attain the unattainable," the being replied. "You fear not being worthy and letting others down around you. Is that not so?"

Mila couldn't deny the being as it continued. "You fear being a disappointment, a fear you must overcome. But that is only a step closer to unlocking this door. Your fear of failure is a mere steppingstone to what is to come."

"Such as?" Mila questioned defensively, irritated by the being's deceptive nature.

Mila's surroundings darkened, and she felt herself falling deeper into her consciousness. Visions flashed before her eyes, experiences and memories clouded behind darkness. She found herself reemerging in her memories, observing her duel with Arbious.

She witnessed Arbious defeat her with absolute certainty, his attacks tearing through her body. With each hit, her pain resurfaced. She clenched her fist, gritted her teeth, and turned away from the gruesome sight.

"You must look, Mila," the voice whispered.

Mila reopened her eyes, watching the duel unfold. It was a pathetic display. How could she ever hope to defeat someone like him? The power difference seemed insurmountable; the odds impossible. The duel was nearly over, and Arbious had complete control, choking her with magic as he siphoned her own magic to himself.

"That's enough! I don't want to see any more of this!" Mila exclaimed.

"You must," the voice echoed in her head.

As Arbious finished siphoning Mila's magic, he released her body, and she collapsed to the floor. He loomed ominously, a dark aura surrounding him, appearing emotionless, menacing, and terrifying. He was unlike anything she had ever seen before.

Arbious's gaze pierced through the veil of memory, locking onto Mila's true self with a chilling intensity. With a subtle gesture, he began to weave a dark magic, cloaking Mila's visions in a shroud of uncertainty and confusion.

Mila felt her mind being pulled into a whirlpool of distorted memories. The scenes of her duel with Arbious blurred and twisted, merging with other moments of her past, creating a chaotic montage of images before her eyes.

She tried to focus, to push through the haze, but the magic was overwhelming. Shadows danced at the edge of her vision, whispering doubts and fears into her mind. She struggled to maintain her composure, but the darkness was relentless, suffocating her senses. The pain in her body intensified greatly, her muscles contorted causing excruciating pain which released screams from her lungs.

As Mila's consciousness faded, a glimmer of light appeared before her, a silver thread in the vast darkness. She felt herself sinking deeper and deeper, the voices of the being fading into the background as Arbious's magic tightened its grip.

Desperate, Mila reached out and grasped onto the thread of light with all her strength. She focused all her willpower on that single point of brightness, using it as a beacon to guide her out of the suffocating darkness.

Slowly but steadily, she felt herself being pulled towards the light, the darkness receding around her. With each passing moment, the silver thread grew brighter, leading her towards light.

With a sudden jolt, Mila's eyes snapped open, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She found herself lying on the floor, her body drenched in sweat. The concerned faces of Contii and Yarine looked down at her with Yarine shaking her by her shoulders. "Mila! Mila! Are you listening to me?!"

Mila's mind was foggy, clouded, she registered Yarine's words yet was silent. They were concerned for her life as if she were on the brink of death.

Contii stood over Marod, who lay on the ground, crumpled in agony. Yarine shook Mila, trying to rouse her. "Are you listening? Mila!"

Mila's heart raced; terror evident in her wide eyes. "What's wrong with her?" Contii asked with concern.

"I told you not to leave her! Are you stupid?" Yarine snapped, frustration evident in her tone. "Mila, say something!"

Mila tried to speak, but her voice was barely a whisper, lost in her fear. "What dark magic did you use on her?" Contii grabbed Marod, his tone accusing.

"Leave him," Yarine intervened, focusing on Mila.

Contii released Marod, returning to Yarine. "What did he do?"

"I'm not sure what spell he used. But something isn't right. My magic was barely able to reach her just now. The darkness that held her was powerful enough to even get to me." Yarine explained, concern etched on her face.

"Let's take her with us." Yarine suggested, looking at Contii. "Can you carry her?"

"What about him?" Contii gestured towards Marod on the ground.

"Leave him be for now. Whoever he is, he wouldn't have been capable of a spell with such magnitude. If what you told me is true, he will come after us anyway."

"You want us to leave him? What if he runs away?" Contii questioned with hesitation.

"He won't," Yarine stated firmly.

Contii lifted Mila gently into his arms, her body limp with fear and confusion. He felt a surge of protectiveness for her. Yarine led the way, her steps filled with frustration as she navigated through the city. Contii noticed how Mila trembled in his arms, her breaths shallow and rapid. He whispered soothing words, hoping to calm her, but she remained unresponsive, lost in her own world of terror.

For now, all they could hope was for Mila to regain her senses, and to those ends, they made their way to the place they were to stay for their journey.