Sasha

--- Tenth Entry ---

Well, Edgar told me these diaries would be like a map for you. So I figured a map should show places, right? And I have seen some, at least. Of the world, I am giving everything and more to protect. And I had a chance to see just a little bit of it. Carefully arranged, meticulously secured pieces, because stars preserve, they would've let anything happen to me before they let Chaos destroy me completely.

But still.

The World Council

My first trip beyond the ACC facility, where I spent my last months, took me to Serenia's capital, Luminara. I’d been there briefly when I met Edgar for the first time, in the ACC wing of the World Council Palace. This time, I was invited—or requested—to step into the main chamber itself.

Edgar didn’t insist I come. “It’s up to you,” he said softly. “They need to see you, but if you’d rather not…”

I said yes. I was curious. And some part of me wanted to feel important, I think.

Spoiler: I didn't. Not really. Mostly, I felt small. And angry.

Serenia’s Grand Hall is the kind of place that exists to remind you who holds power—and that it’s not you. Gold filigree climbed the marble columns, polished floors gleamed like mirrors, and banners from every nation hung heavy with pride.

I stood at the center of it all, a girl from Lovenia’s outskirts with frayed nerves and a suit more expensive than all the clothes I’d ever owned before… all of this. Edgar was beside me, calm and unshakable, in his ACC dress uniform, his presence more commanding than ever.

The moment we entered, the murmurs stopped. They all stood. For me.

A girl not even eighteen, who couldn’t even vote yet. Their Savior.

They bowed their heads, one after the other, murmuring about honor and sacrifice. “We owe you everything,” one of them said, and the rest echoed the sentiment. Their words were perfect, rehearsed, dripping with respect and gratitude.

But what they really felt was relief. That’s what I saw in their eyes. Relief that the end of the world wasn’t their problem anymore.

The Lovenian representative, a tall man with too-perfect hair, smiled like my existence was his personal achievement. “Mistress Irving,” he said, “we are so proud to call you one of our own.”

Proud. Of what? That I happened to be born in a freezing mining town on the edge of nowhere? That I was unlucky enough to have just the right energy in my soul? He talked as if my being Lovenian elevated our entire country. Like my sacrifice belonged to them. To him.

He looked like he’d never gone out in minus 30-degree frost to gather firewood because the gas line froze, again. Or chose the cheapest coffee when he wanted a latte. Or wondered how he’d pay for anything.

I wanted to scream.

The others weren’t much better. They offered gifts—small, subtle things, expensive and tasteful, I guess. A book of poetry, an enchanted crystal, a scarf from their finest fabric. Tokens of appreciation, they called them. I wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or throw them all back in their faces. What would I do with books and scarves where I was going?

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Edgar stayed beside me the whole time. Silent, steady, a presence that filled the room more than the Council members ever could. When they pressed too hard or spoke too much, a glance from him was enough to quiet them.

He exuded power as effortlessly as he breathed. And I don’t just mean his magical powers—although no one in the room could forget that Edgar could level Luminara with a thought—but something deeper. He told me he hated politics, but he seemed so natural, like a fish in water.

I wondered, focusing on him instead of the speeches if it was because while he recovered from nothing, he was surrounded by fame and adoration? Or was it deeper? Was it because he was born into it, this life of power and privilege, one of the Millers, and maybe it was something so ingrained that even Chaos couldn’t destroy it completely?

Would I become like that? Or would I always feel awkward and out of place in these polished halls with intricately waved words flying around me, pretending they meant something?

At least this trip was… educational.

The Petting Zoo

My next trip was special. It happened on my 18th birthday.

For some reason, I didn’t think they’d know. It felt so small, so unimportant compared to everything else. But they did.

Edgar took me and the cadet squad to a petting zoo. Seriously, a petting zoo. I, the “most important person in the world,” spent my 18th birthday at a petting zoo.

It was perfect.

Of course, it wasn’t a normal trip. The entire place was closed off, crawling with security. The caretakers had been replaced by soldiers, and every corner was watched. It should’ve felt suffocating. But somehow, it didn’t.

The alpaca was the first to catch my attention. Huge, like three of me stacked together. Its fur was impossibly soft, like I imagined clouds would feel if they weren’t just frozen water. When it leaned into my hand, I froze, overwhelmed by the warmth of it. It looked at me with these big, soulful eyes. I swear, we had a moment.

The cadets were as ridiculous as I was. Mira made a big show of pretending to ride one of the miniature ponies, while Ron, awkward and endearing as always, tried to coax a stubborn goat into following him.

The geese, though... they were another story. What's wrong with these birds?

One honked, flapping its wings too close, and I yelped. Before I could even react, the cadets rushed forward like knights, shielding me from the supposed threat.

It was ridiculous.

“Yeah,” I muttered, watching them scramble, “protect me from geese today so you can throw me at Chaos tomorrow. Makes total sense.”

That awkward silence that followed? Edgar broke it with a quiet chuckle.

The Sea

After the zoo, Edgar handed me a coat and a thermos of coffee and beckoned me to follow him.

He took me to the sea.

His family’s estate—because, of course, he had a family estate—stretched along the cliffs, private and untouched. He timed it perfectly; we arrived at sunset. The horizon blazed with gold and crimson, and the air smelled of salt and something untamed.

I’d only seen the sea once before, from the air. Seeing it like this was… breathtaking.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

“Yes,” Edgar said. “It is.”

We sat on the rocks, bundled against the cold, the waves roaring below us, stretching endlessly into the horizon. I felt small again, but not in a bad way. Small, like a part of something infinite and beautiful.

“I grew up here,” Edgar said. “Summers, mostly. I don’t remember it, but I really wish I could. Sometimes, I even feel I almost do.”

I studied his face, the lines of exhaustion, the weight he carried so effortlessly. He’d been shattered once, and yet here he was. Whole, or close enough.

“Do you think I’ll be like you?” I asked suddenly.

He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was steady. “You’ll be you, Sasha. That’s all you need to be.”

I wanted to believe him.

For a long time, we just sat there. And that’s when I knew.

I knew I wanted to keep Edgar as one of my anchors. Not just as a mentor but as something more. Someone who understands and, as... hope.

His expression changed when I told him. For a moment, he looked… fragile, more human than I’d ever seen him. “Thank you,” he said softly, his voice almost trembling. “That means more than you know.”

We stayed until the last light faded, the stars glittering above and reflecting in the velvet-black sea.

For the first time since I learned my fate, I felt something close to peace.