"The morning of that day... it's etched deeper than most memories. I remember the sunlight filtering through the high windows of the knight's quarters—modest, grounded, unlike the gilded wings of nobility. I felt at ease, for once. Unburdened. But fate doesn't grant peace so easily."
A glint of happiness flickered in his eyes—one that stirred an ache of nostalgia in Elysia, though she couldn't explain why.
"Then Francesca appeared—as usual, without sound, like a passing breeze that leaves only a ripple. She said you were waiting in the back garden. Just that. No reasons, no tone. Just a knowing look, and a half-smile that said she knew more than she let on."
Elysia was not surprised, as it was just how Francesca behaved. She was a reserved woman, quiet and distant to most—but with Elysia, she had always been open, almost sisterly.
Alric cracked his knuckles quietly, as if releasing some invisible pressure, then continued.
"I knew. I knew that moment would come. So I did what any man in my position would. I returned to my room and took out a small box—a pair of rings I had crafted in secret. For us. The ones we are wearing right now. I slipped them into my coat and left to the garden."
"You were already there, standing like you carried the weight of the entire day on your shoulders. By the garden swing—pacing, torn between courage and restraint."
Alric's expression shifted—boyish and unguarded, like a child caught in a fond memory.
"And you... Gods, you were pacing. Muttering to yourself. Furrowing your brows, looking one moment resolved and the next like you might flee. You weren't dressed for a formal gathering—just simply, comfortably. But the look on your face, Elysia..."
"You were terrified."
Elysia couldn't understand why her past self had looked so afraid. She opened her mouth to ask—but instead, simply nodded for him to go on.
"I stood watching from the archway for a while. You didn't see me, not until I chuckled at your... expressive antics. You were so easy to read when you thought no one was watching.
You froze, turned bright red, and turned your back to me like a child caught misbehaving. You refused to look at me—just pointed stiffly at the swing and said, 'Please Sit.' I did."
His voice softened as he leaned slightly closer, a near-whisper laced with tenderness.
"You followed after a beat, still refusing to meet my eyes. You were trying to say something— it was obvious—but you didn't know where to begin.
So I gave you an out; told you to wait. To let me speak first."
Elysia leaned back subtly, trying to quiet the rush in her chest stirred by his words.
"And when you nodded... I stood, took out the ring box, and knelt."
Alric suddenly laughed, startling her. She got to know, just by his expression, that she did something unthinkable.
"You froze. For a moment, I swear your soul left your body and returned—just to scold you for not preparing for that moment."
"I opened the box, let the sunlight catch the stones, and said, 'Will you share your precious life with mine—from now, until all our days run dry?'"
"You didn't answer."
"You stuttered, waved your hands, told me to stand, looked like you were about to faint."
"And then, just as I began to rise, thinking perhaps I had misjudged the moment—"
"You hugged me. Tight. And you cried."
"'I was going to ask the same,' you whispered. 'I thought you might be playing with me. That you had someone back home. That I was a distraction.'"
Elysia caught the emotions in Alric's words. They were too heartfelt and filled with happiness. But his face showed otherwise. He looked sad, as if he lost his treasure.
"I told you the truth—that I never wore a mask with you. Never once lied."
"We sat again. Quiet. You took my ring. I took yours. We slid them on each other's fingers in perfect silence."
"And then... you kissed me."
Elysia's face turned scarlet, and she buried it behind the pillow in her lap. Expecting this, Alric paused, and waited for her to calm down.
"You caught me off-guard. I froze. But I kissed you back. Harder."
"That moment... " Alric's hand knocked his glass, and he caught it just before it tipped—his focus shaken by the memory.
"If I could've frozen time, I would've done it there."
His expression became more serious than ever.
"But then—it struck, like a tremor beneath our feet. A rupture in the world's calm. Not just mana—but something primal. Wrong. A breath held too long by the earth itself."
Elysia understood the reason for his mood shift. She feared to know what happened, but continued.
"A surge of mana. Wild. Violent. From the palace. We felt it like lightning crawling up our spines. You and I—we knew. Magic was forbidden inside those walls.
No words. No questions. We simply ran—because our instincts screamed louder than reason ever could.
And what we saw... Elysia, no nightmare, no battlefield, no alchemical madness could compare. It haunts even the silence that follows my deepest sleep."
His features darkened—not just with sorrow, but with quiet, burning rage. Not at the attackers—but at his own powerlessness.
"The hall... was a slaughterhouse. Blood painted the floors, the walls, the ceilings. People were torn apart. Limbs strewn. Faces melted. Children. Elders. Nobles. Guards. Priests.
Everyone. Gone.
Men in blood-drenched white robes stood among them. Calm. As if they hadn't just murdered your entire world."
Elysia clenched her fists. She could almost see them—those white-robed monsters—standing there, unrepentant.
"You didn't even speak. You turned and ran to alert the guards, while I drew my blade.
My aura condensed before I even knew it. My body moved on instinct. They rushed me. I didn't kill. I incapacitated. I broke bones, not necks. I made sure they could answer for what they did.
When the guards arrived, the white-robed devils were on the floor—silent. Defeated.
And then came the part I had feared since the moment I saw the blood—when I realized what losing truly meant.
You returned. Alongside a few who were not present then.
Searched the corpses for anyone—anyone—who might still be alive."
His expression turned grim—harsher than anything she'd seen before.
Elysia reached out and held his hand, and caressed it with the other. He smiled slightly, as if he buried the emotions.
"But there weren't any.
Your father. Your mother. Your brother. His Fiancée. The royal court. Your so-called friends. The people who you knew. All of them were gone.
You fell to your knees. You screamed.
And I came to you. Held you. Said nothing. Because there was nothing to say.
You cried in my arms until the Sun set.
And when morning came, it was as if the gods themselves had forgotten the night that tore your world apart. The sky was clear. Birds chirped. A perfect day for a wedding.
But Almeida was dead."
Alric's fingers tightened around hers, wordlessly promising he would never let go.
"The kingdom imploded. Nobles scattered like flies. Peasants rioted, confused, desperate. And you and I—we buried your family.
Before Sunset, I deployed Arzest's forces. We evacuated the orphanages. The monasteries. The places you loved. The places and people you still had in your life."
Elysia blinked, stunned. He had done all of this—not just to save her life, but to protect the pieces of it she held dear.
"And by dusk, under skies too golden for such a broken day, we crossed the border—not as Grand Duke and Princess, not as envoy and noble, but as two souls with nowhere left to return to. I promised you, that day... that you would never be alone again."
The afternoon had passed by. Alric stood up, patted her in the head and left. And yet—when he patted her head before leaving—Elysia found herself pouting. She hated how he treated her like a child. Even more, she hated how safe it made her feel.
----------
Dinner had come and gone, or at least, it was meant to. Elysia had expected, perhaps without realizing it, that she would dine with Alric. A part of her—a quiet part, she wasn't sure existed until now—had longed for his presence. But when the maid arrived with a tray and politely informed her that she was to eat in bed to avoid unnecessary strain, something within her quietly deflated.
She pouted, almost like a child, confused not by the change in arrangement but by her own reaction to it. Why did she care so much? She wasn't sure.
Alone, she picked at the food for a while, then set it aside. Her thoughts kept drifting—spooling back through the chaos of the day, through Clara's words, Alric's steady narration, his sorrowful eyes, and the feeling of being both known and lost at once. She tried to force her mind further—back across the void of her missing years—but it was like grasping at fog. Every time she reached for something concrete, it slipped between her fingers.
Eventually, weariness took her, and she sank into sleep.
----------
The dream was strange from the beginning.
Elysia found herself seated in an armchair, clothed in her nightgown, inside a room dimly lit by a light source she couldn't locate. There were no windows. No doors. No walls, even—just darkness beyond the immediate space around her. She tried to stand but couldn't move. Her arms, legs, even her fingertips, refused to respond. It was like being caught in an invisible web—a bind spell with no caster in sight.
Then, without warning, the atmosphere shifted.
A silhouette began to form in the chair opposite hers, shadows gathering into shape with unsettling clarity. Her breath hitched.
Count Æther.
His appearance alone stirred unease, but it was the stillness that made her heart race. He moved with eerie precision—every blink, every tilt of his head calculated like a blade finding its mark.
When he spoke, his voice was low and measured, dragging time itself with each word.
"So… you remember your past life," he said, the observation falling heavy in the air. "What was the reason to hide it?"
A cold sweat prickled across Elysia's back. Her throat went dry. She swallowed, desperately trying to form a response, but he raised a hand before she could even part her lips.
"It doesn't matter," he continued, unmoved. "What you should be asking is—why do you remember it? How do you remember it?"
He leaned slightly forward, and though the motion was minimal, it felt oppressive.
"Use your memories. Stop holding yourself back. Cease this… self-restraint. Will you?"
There was no menace in his voice, and yet, she felt utterly cornered. Her mouth refused to cooperate. Her thoughts spiralled. So instead, she simply nodded—small, uncertain, afraid.
His eyes—those unsettling, near-glasslike eyes—regarded her for another beat.
"Good," he said at last, rising from the chair with liquid smoothness. "We'll discuss more on our next meeting."
And just like that, the world collapsed into shadow.
----------
Her eyes snapped open. She was staring at the ceiling of her room, her breath shallow.
She sat up slowly, heart pounding not from fear but from clarity. That wasn't a dream.
It couldn't have been.
The memory of Count Æther's voice still echoed in her skull, each syllable laced with an undeniable weight. Perhaps now, she thought, she finally understood why Alric—so warm, so careful—never seemed truly at ease around the Count.
Count Æther was not a man to keep close. He was a man to endure.
Elysia turned to her side and realized it was still dark out—dawn had yet to break. Sleep refused to return, so she rose, wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, and walked to the window.
Outside, beneath the ghostly sheen of pre-dawn light, a large black horse wandered the front garden, its hooves silent against the mist-kissed grass. It looked at peace, unlike her.
She leaned against the window sill and watched the horse, her breath fogging the glass faintly. The silence wasn't oppressive this time—just still.
And there she remained, until the first amber rays of sunrise pierced the sky.
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