Night did not return to its prior stillness. It grew thin and unsteady, as though the very sky had become a membrane stretched too tightly. Along the edges of the ravaged battlefield, the winds whispered, carrying tales of dread and names that were nearly lost to the annals of time.
Far from the site of Elbert's destruction, in a forsaken corner of the Academy, Rinoa Alfrenzo knelt beside a flickering candle, her body tensed with an unnamed feeling. She pressed her palm to her forehead, her breath quick and shallow. "What is happening to me?" she whispered, her voice barely rising above the shadows, as if she hoped the darkness itself would offer an explanation. An ache hollowed out her chest, gnawing at her resolve—one that no charm or spell could alleviate.
Just moments prior, she had been engrossed in her reading, hastily writing notes in defiance of the chaos outside, clinging to the comforting rituals that defined her days. Then—darkness arrived. It was the kind that suffocated, quenching the solace of sleep and replacing it with something far heavier, more oppressive. "It felt… like something was taken from me," she murmured, her voice scarcely a whisper. A memory had been snatched away. A presence had disappeared.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed in the hallway. They were neither hurried nor stealthy—simply there, reverberating through the silence, as if reality itself were stitching together the missing notes of a forgotten melody. Rinoa braced herself, a coil of dread tightening in her chest, each step sending jabs of anxiety coursing through her. "Who goes there?" she called, her voice laced with both challenge and fear.
A figure lingered in the doorway. It was neither the grotesque form of a monster nor a mere wisp of shadow, but Fitran. The weight of grief hung heavily upon him, his eyes haunted as if they sought a truth long buried in the depths of his soul. "Rinoa..." he murmured, his voice raspy and faltering as he took in her fragile presence—a delicate silhouette cloaked in the remnants of her daily life, knuckles whitening against the wooden desk. "I never wished to return. Not in this manner."
"Yet here you stand now," she asserted, though tremors of emotion marred her voice. "You cannot simply linger in the shadows and expect me to pretend that all is well! Why did you forsake me?"
Fitran took a step forward, a flicker of remorse gleaming in his eyes. "I thought—" he hesitated, a torrent of thoughts clouding his expression. "I believed it would be safer for you. The ritual of Elbert... it was designed to consume you, to seize not just your physical form but your very essence. I feared you would be trapped."
"Safer?" Rinoa's brow furrowed in exasperation, a storm of fury and despair rising within her. "I can take care of myself. I am not just a pawn in this dreadful game. I deserve the truth!"
He reached out a hand, only to pull it back, tension coiling in his fists at his sides. "You do not understand the weight of this, Rinoa. This darkness... it alters everything. You feel it too, do you not? The echoes of what has been lost?"
"I do," she breathed softly, the heaviness of those words hanging thickly in the atmosphere. "And I must comprehend its significance."
"I was never meant to be here tonight," Rinoa confessed, her voice a trembling whisper in the quiet. "I saw you on the stairs, lurking in the shadows. Your double. You wanted me to keep my distance, didn't you?"
Fitran nodded, regret flickering in his eyes like dying embers. "You would have faced annihilation, Rinoa. Elbert's ritual… it was created to ensnare you. Not just your magic, but the very core of who you are. The cost was everything."
Looking up at him, Rinoa's defiance radiated fiercely, her lips trembling under the weight of her determination. "Then why do I still stand here? I can feel…" She hesitated, her throat tightening painfully as she swallowed hard. "Something vital has been taken from me. I cannot fully grasp what it is, yet I know it bears immense significance."
Fitran hesitated, the air thick with truths left unspoken between them. "Your presence here is a miracle, though it comes at a great cost." His gaze searched hers, imploring her to understand the gravity of his words.
"Elbert no longer exists," he said softly, reverently. "Not merely dead—he has been erased from existence itself. His body, his essence, even his influence over this realm… I have obliterated all." His confession settled heavily in the air like a dense fog. "You stand before me because you resisted the fate of becoming an empty vessel. You were stronger than his grip, unyielding against his insatiable hunger."
"And yet I feel so empty," Rinoa protested, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. "It's as if a crucial part of me has been severed, carved away, and I cannot even begin to seek it out."
"And therein lies the cost," Fitran murmured, taking his place across from her with an air of solemnity. He regarded the fragile barrier created by the flickering candlelight that lay between them. "The realm has suffered a loss as well. A piece of our Academy's storied past, the warmth that once filled these hallowed halls, and the laughter that echoed off the cold stone walls. It feels as though this wound may never truly heal."
Rinoa's eyes widened, understanding dawning upon her face. "You carry that burden, don't you? The emptiness—the ghost of what has been broken. It clings to you like a shadow, refusing to relent."
He nodded slowly, the weight of his memories pressing heavily upon him. "Indeed, I shall always bear it. This void has a strange ability to fill itself with new sorrows—more memories, more names that linger in the deepest corners of my mind. But, Rinoa, someone must remember what has been lost. Someone must tend to this anguish, so that others might find a path toward healing."
Rinoa's gaze deepened, a single tear carving a shining trail down her cheek, glistening in the soft glow of the candlelight. "Yet, what if the pain lingers endlessly? What if it becomes the only remnant we possess?"
Fitran hesitated, the silence wrapping around them like a heavy shroud filled with unspoken fears. He observed the flickering candle flame, mirroring the erratic rhythm of their shared breaths. Finally, he turned to her, a quiet determination settling in his voice. "I believe… I believe that is why we must make a choice, Rinoa. We need to find it within ourselves to forgive—release our burdens, even just a little—to venture forth once more. If we do not, the void will consume our very essence."
Her hands trembled as she reached for his, yearning for connection in the midst of the encroaching darkness. "Please, tell me it isn't all shadows. Promise me there's light beyond this—something worth striving for."
He managed a tentative smile, though it felt fragile; it barely stood against the oppressive shadows looming around them. "I cannot offer grand promises, but hear me: as long as we hold dear what we once shared, as long as we dare to create something anew—even in the aftermath of our losses—hope exists. Hope is always there, waiting for us."
Rinoa nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. They were not only for what had been lost; they held the promise of what might yet rise from the ashes. "Then let us commence this very night. Let us craft something—something that is ours alone."
He squeezed her hand gently, warmth flowing between them, a silent vow in the dim light. "Indeed. Let us."
Outside, the storm finally unleashed its wrath. Rain cascaded from the heavens, beginning as a gentle drizzle, but quickly swelling into a vast roar—a cleansing, a sacred offering for their deep-seated wounds. Within the hallowed confines of the Academy, two figures huddled together, enveloped in a cocoon of flickering candlelight. With every whispered word, they began to weave, thread by trembling thread, the delicate framework of a new existence, casting their individual shadows upon the wall, illuminating the gathering darkness with fleeting glimpses of hope.