Not exactly a side story, but still linked to White Eyes. About Mindfang and the Summoner.
Story 3 – Making of history
When Mindfang opened her eye, the Summoner was by her side, quietly weeping. She frowned.
"Why are you crying, dear matesprit of mine?"
No reply. She extended her arm to hold his hand.
"There is no reason to cry."
"Of course there is!" he cried.
His free hand clenched into a fist and hit the ground ferociously.
"How could I not shed tears in this situation…?"
She let out a sigh.
"You are still too kind" she calmly said, inteweaving her fingers with his. "You need to toughen up, even if you are still in your prime. Because if you do not, you will only get yourself killed…"
A cough followed.
"I don't care! What's the point to carry on this rebellion anyway? What am I fighting for? This is a losing battle! I can't go on like this… Not on my own!"
Her claws dug in his hand.
"I will pretend I did not hear any of the words that have come out of your mouth." she hissed. "Consider yourself lucky that I cannot move, or else I would have slapped you so hard your horns would have fallen off your head."
He bit his lower lip, looking away.
"I'm sorry, Mindfang… That was foolish of me."
"That is better."
Cough.
"Promise me you will fight this battle until the bitter end, as befits your role as one of the leaders of the rebellion's troops."
Cough.
"Mindfang…"
"Do it." she ordered through her teeth, gripping his hand.
He wiped away his tears, and took a deep breath.
"I will."
Cough.
"Swear it on my tomb."
"You're not dead yet!" he faltered.
"Come on, -cough- who are we kidding?"
She wore a sarcastic smile, despite her coughs. Despite the lance sticking out of her heaving chest. Despite the pool of cerulean blood in which she was lying.
"I didn't want this to happen…!" he finally said, brown tears once again welling up in his eyes. Cough.
"It was bound to happen. I -cough- knew it all along."
Her breathing was becoming increasingly labored, and some blood was dripping from the corners of her mouth.
"This is why… I want you to take -breath- your lance, and fight for what you believe in -cough-. The Signless is counting on your strength."
Cough. Breath.
"But if I take it out, you will die almost immediately…!"
"I would rather have -cough- a swift death. This lance does not even look good in me. I liked having your own better -cough-, if you know what I mean…" she said, trying to wink.
The shadow of a smile appeared on the Summoner's face through the tears, and he brought her hand against his lips, kissing it, a laugh stuck in his throat.
"I'm going to miss you so much, Mindfang…!" he whispered, his shoulders agitated by his cries.
She didn't say anything in reply – she just coughed, holding his hand tight.
"It… hurts… Take out your lance…"
Cough.
He knew he had to – so he did. A splash of blood stained his clothes. He threw the lance away, falling to his knees.
"Thank you… love… I'm happy it was…you…"
A last breath escaped her blue lips, putting an end to Mindfang's story.
The Summoner went on to fight many battles with his lance, with Mindfang's spirit of rebellion. They would reunite sooner or later, and this time, he wouldn't hurt her anymore.