—Infirmary Chamber, Gaia Academy, Early Morning—
The rain pounded fiercely against the crystal window, creating a rhythmic tapping that mirrored the turmoil within Rinoa's mind. She lay on the sterile bed, her eyes wide open, the ceiling above her blurred by the tears she hesitated to shed. Cold sweat clung to her skin, sticking like an unwanted shroud. Beneath the thin blanket, every muscle quivered as if the very world was unstable ground, teetering on the brink of chaos.
"I should not have touched that device...," she murmured softly, her voice hoarse and laden with regret. "What compelled me to reach for the unforeseen?" Her thoughts raced wildly, ensnared in darkness. Echoes of voices reverberated within her mind—Elise's hopeful tone, Elbert's burdened guilt, and a somber resonance that did not entirely belong to this realm. "This is all my fault... I am the one who has cursed us." Despite the protective web woven tightly around her, she felt adrift, her soul loosely tethered to her body like a tapestry beginning to unravel.
Whispers trembled at the fragile edges of his awareness. The voices were not words but rather urgent prompts filled with longing: a profound yearning to reclaim those memories, to become entwined in the chain binding Elise and Elbert to the nameless predator. His heart raced as he recalled the disappointed faces of the educators. Professor Sera's sharp words echoed in his mind, like a bell tolling: "Within you lies a talent, yet darkness shall find such talent, like blood draws leeches." The weight of her gaze felt like chains binding his soul. The judgment of Dean Vaelion swirled in his thoughts—"One more mistake, and you shall be expelled—or worse, delivered unto the Tribunal." That sentence wrapped around him like an iron collar, threatening to crush his hopes.
Rinoa turned her head, her fingers weaving through her hair as she tried to escape the guilt gnawing at her soul. Yet, she found herself staring at her palm—a palm still marked by ghostly imprints of blue necrotech light. Fear consumed her from within like a ravenous beast. "What if this hunger never fades?" she gasped, choked by despair. Her breaths grew shallower, each inhalation reminding her of the darkness lurking just beneath her skin.
A shadow darted by the door. For a fleeting moment, her heart skipped a beat—the ominous echo, challenging her to utter its name! Yet this presence felt different. Familiar.
A whisper, soft yet piercing, filled the oppressive silence. "Still chasing shadows, Rinoa?" His voice was low and smooth, like dark velvet, resonating with memories they once shared.
She sprang upright, her heart racing as recognition dawned upon her. There, leaning against the wall, was Fitran—raindrops dripping from the tattered cloak clinging to his body, his hair tousled as if he had just emerged from a storm, his eyes darker and deeper than she remembered. He appeared weary yet resolute, an unyielding anchor amidst the tempest of her thoughts.
"You shouldn't be here," he gasped, his words spilling out, thick with worry and fear. "They will come looking for you, you know that! It's not safe. This place…" He swallowed hard, his fingers trembling at his sides. "It's a trap."
She gently interrupted him, her tone steady, filled with unyielding resolve. "Let them try, Rinoa. I have a way to escape the snares they have laid for us. I've faced the darkness before; I will not retreat again." She stepped closer, placing herself in a chair beside his bed, the wood creaking beneath her weight as she leaned in, her gaze unwavering and steadfast, searching for the truth hidden behind the fear in his eyes. "What have you seen? What shadows still haunt your steps?"
He shook his head, fighting against the wave of emotions threatening to overflow. "I almost released it, Fitran," he whispered, his voice barely rising above a sigh lost in the chilling air that seeped in. "Something ancient. Something hungry." His breath caught for a moment as memories surged back, etched in profound pain. "I... I heard the voices of Elise and Elbert. I fear they are trapped. Yet, it goes deeper than we imagined. The device possesses a will of its own. It craves a name—it even tried to take mine."
Fitran nodded, showing no signs of faltering despite the weight of those words. His face darkened as shadows danced across his features, familiar lines of anxiety now apparent in the flickering light. "I understand, Rinoa. I can feel it, the relentless pull," he said, moving closer, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "We must not let it win. We must gather the strength within us and fight. The desires it holds can only be satisfied by our despair."
He trembled, his voice little more than a gentle breath of the night wind. "I almost let it go, Fitran. Something ancient, something that gnaws at the edges of my mind. I can hear Elise and Elbert, and I fear... they are trapped in this nightmare. Yet, all of this runs deeper than we suspect. This device, it harbors a will of its own. It yearns for a name—and it has already sought to claim mine."
Fitran nodded slowly, his face calm yet serious, as if he were braced for the moment. "I understand," he replied, his voice steady, not betraying a hint of fear. "I feel that disturbance too, like ripples in the air. It's exceedingly unsettling. This desire… I have faced it before. And you, in your own unique way, have sensed it as well." He reached out, his gloved hand sweeping a loose strand of hair back behind his ear, his touch more reassuring than intrusive.
Rinoa grasped his hand tightly, battling back tears that threatened to spill over her eyelids. "I am not strong enough," she confessed, her voice trembling as she fought to maintain control. "I thought… if only I could amend something, anything, then perhaps they would forgive me. I believe it would end this pain." Her gaze fell, her eyes filled with deep regret and an overwhelming sense of shame.
Fitran leaned in closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a heavy secret. "You must understand, pain does not simply vanish by offering it what you possess, Rinoa. It will only fade when you confront it head-on, when you name it for what it truly is—and choose not to let it govern your life."
He shook his head firmly, despair evident in his gaze. "But this is not mere pain. It is a deep yearning, a throbbing ache that will not release me. I wish to comprehend the meaning of healing, to understand what binds us as humans. Yet, the more I reach for that knowledge, the more I feel like a vessel for forces that I cannot hope to control."
Fitran smiled gently, a hint of bitterness clouding the glimmer in his eyes. "That is why I am here, Rinoa. I do not come to judge you; I am here to reveal the truth that many choose to avoid. You are not alone in this struggle. Each of us who matters stands at the brink of that yearning abyss. The key difference lies in your choice; will you retreat, or will you step forward with full awareness into the depths of the unforeseen?" He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle in Rinoa's heart.
Rinoa's voice trembled, laced with profound doubt. "And what if I cannot find my way back?" She gazed into Fitran's eyes, yearning for certainty amidst the turmoil that roiled within her soul.
Fitran redirected his gaze—strong yet gentle. "Then you allow someone to pull you back. As I have done in the past, over time. As I now do for you." He clasped Rinoa's trembling hand, the warmth of his touch colliding with the cold seeping through the cracks of the broken window. "Trust me, Rinoa. Trust in the bond we share. We cannot endure by shutting ourselves away from the darkness; we endure by recognizing its form—then binding it with the names we choose for ourselves." His voice was steady, heavy with the weight of his past struggles.
For a moment, the room fell silent, the only sound being the soft patter of rain against the stone walls. The tension in the air felt palpable, as if the room held its breath, awaiting Rinoa's response.
Rinoa exhaled shakily, grasping Fitran's hand as if she wished to tie herself to the strength he offered. "Will you... help me face this reality, should it return? I need to know that I will not be alone when that time comes." Her voice trembled, betraying the vulnerability she had fought so hard to conceal.
Fitran gazed at her with a gentle, sincere smile, a smile that touched his eyes and illuminated his face. "I shall be by your side, Rinoa. Even if—no, when—the world deems you to have fallen too far. For those who truly fall are only those who allow themselves to be forgotten." His grip tightened slightly, conveying a promise deeper than mere words. "You are worthy of being seen, of being remembered."
She nodded, his declaration seeping into her soul, stabilizing her for the first time since the trial began. "I will not let darkness name me. Not yet. I refuse to grant it power over me." Her resolve strengthened, accompanied by a flicker of light piercing the shadows within her mind.
Fitran's shadow fell over her like a cloak—protective, understanding, sharing the burden while opening the path to forgiveness. The rain continued to whisper its rhythm, a soothing backdrop that helped to calm the turmoil swirling within her.
She rose to depart but paused at the threshold, turning to him with a voice soft yet clear, resonating with sincerity. "You are stronger than you realize, Rinoa. Even stronger than I was in those pivotal moments. Remember that in your darkest times."
Thus, he stepped into the dim corridor, leaving Rinoa behind with her fears—yet also with the memory of her strength, a guiding star that would lead her back each time darkness encroached. He stood beneath the flickering light, the echoes of their conversation swirling around him, igniting a fierce resolve within the recesses of his heart.