When Elsword and Aisha made it back to Wilma's abode, the snow was falling harder, the wind transforming the horizon into thick curtains where the other farms hid, save for the lights of an approaching chariot. With the snow, it would take it another ten minutes before it made its way in the farm.

Luciela was already in the living room, sitting as close as she could to the fireplace, warming her reddened fingertips. She turned around at the sudden chill that entered when Elsword opened the door, covering her arms with her numbed down hands.

"Welcome back," she greeted them, raising an eyebrow at Elsword's sword, "you could finally get it out?"

The boy nodded, "Yes. Is Lowe already here?"

"No, not yet. He will soon come here, so I figured I could make some tea for everyone once I unfreeze my fingers."

Though she had said so casually, Luciela was already fuming at the thought of what kind of attitude Ainchase would give her the moment she served him a cup. At this point, she might just have poisoned his tea, but Ciel was so adamant about her trying to be nicer that she humoured him. The priest would still spit on her face, but since Lowe was going to come, they better show a façade of happy-go-lucky teamwork.

At least, that was the only reason Ciel had, in her mind, to nag her so much about making tea.

Aisha raised an eyebrow at her as she slowly took off her coat, "Wasn't he coming to Rena's and Ain's room? I don't think they can walk this much, let alone sit."

The demoness shrugged, turning her hands near the fire so the back of her reddened fingers got also warmer, "Apparently, they both insisted on coming here."

"Lu, I'm grateful that you use your time to do odd jobs to keep us afloat, but, don't you think it'd be just as important to check on Ain?" the red-haired boy asked.

Luciela scoffed, "There are more chances to see the sun rise west than for that priest to let me in. And I have been doing better now that I cannot hear him as much. I still cannot believe Ainchase has not kicked Ciel out, knowing how much of an ass that priest is."

"Lu, why do you hate Ain so much? He came up with the plan to-"

Luciela took a deep breath, "Yes, Aisha, I know that he risked his life to rescue Rena, drew the map and came up with a plan to get us out, but that changes very little to how things stand. I despise him, he despises almost all of us. And he is not the kind of person who would stop being rude to everyone but Elsword."

Elsword and Aisha looked at each other silently, for one moment too many in Lu's mind. She raised an eyebrow at them, "What? I am only saying the truth, you know it."

The young boy hesitantly nodded, "Well, Lowe should be coming any moment now. I'll go see if Ciel needs any help."

The mage nodded and soon followed him to the corridor straight ahead, leaving her to contemplate the quiet crackling fire and the muffled howl of the snowstorm. The demon countess groaned and, with a frown, got up and made her way to the kitchen. The tiled floor was recently scrubbed clean and the cupboard where the tea was laid above the counters, way too high for her current height. The demoness looked around for any stool she could use to climb up, but found none. To make matters worse, she knew for a fact that Wilma kept her kettles in the cupboard right next to the tea. The way she was now, Luciela knew she had no other choice. There was only one way to reach out that high without breaking the floor with her gauntlets.

"May Sult curse your sudden urge to scrub everything here clean, Wilma," Lu seethed as she clenched her teeth, her body shining as her demonic energy was unleashed in a brief explosion of blue.

The deep indigo blue dress that covered her was made of her mana and she had to focus to keep it around her body, just like the small dress she had thorn through with her sudden change of height and curves. Her back was scarred with the stab wounds left by the undead and phorus she had fought. While her flames made every part of her body glow with outworldly power, her lower back, right on her spine, was a spot of weakness. There, the scarred skin, burnt to cut an infection, was a serpent that cut the mana circuits and nerves which were crucial for her wings to grow. Though she could not have known it at the time, similar wounds scarred Ainchase's shoulder blades, wounding his spiritual essence more deeply than what anyone could have imagined.

Luciela took out what she needed swiftly: a spoonful of tea leaves, a steel strainer, a kettle, cups and a tray. There was no sugar. No cream. No sweets. The demoness frowned at the thought, but quickly shook it off.

"The priest does not deserve that much anyway," she heard herself mutter as she put the kettle over the coal stove and turned back to her childish appearance.

She leaned on the wall on the opposite side of the stove, waiting for the water to boil. Until she heard slow steps creaking their way to the living room she had left minutes ago. There was Ciel, naturally accompanied by Elsword and Aisha. Her servant was helping Ain walk and, surprisingly, not only was the priest letting him do so, but he did not have any remarks for him. Rena was being helped by Aisha, Elsword only walking by in case any of the two injured tripped over.

The priest's hair had grown longer, she noticed, and he was combed differently too. His side tress was smaller, though it followed his bandaged shoulder, hanging like a rope like the other locks of his grey hair. Like everyone else, he had not had a haircut in a while and it showed in his long bangs, which, from where she stood, covered his eyes. The moment he sat, however, Lu saw him push his long bangs slightly back with his bandaged hand as well as combing the rest of his shoulder-length hair over the clothes Lu could only assume Ann had given him.

It was almost an exact replacement of his previous attire, though there were no golden highlights to be seen and just half as many carefully sewn details as those he had before. Still, the way he looked now was as haughty as ever before. Now, he had long and surprisingly well-kept hair like the so-called princes who polluted all novels Aisha had lent her. Even with his more humble clothing, he fit perfectly that trope. Luciela had disliked those chivalric princes in the books, even if she still ended up binge-reading them one after the other. Still, seeing that trope in the flesh was annoying.

The kettle whistled and Luciela got back to the task she had begun, dropping the filled strainer in the kettle before hurriedly taking out of the fire and cooling the flames instantly with a simple ice spell. As she was getting the cups on the tray, the conversations she heard seemed to be out of an imaginary world.

"Are you sure you're ok, Ain?"

"It's a little uncomfortable, Aisha, but I can't stay bedridden forever. We still have a mission to fulfill."

"Even so," she heard Ciel say, "if your fever spikes again, we-"

"I can assure you, Mr. half-demon, that I have taken better care of myself so my fever stays down. I'm seriously concerned by the El's whereabouts, specially after what we faced. Who knows if that spirit was not an indirect consequence of the El's absence."

Did she hear that right? Was Ainchase Ishmael, of all people, calling Aisha by anything else than Wizard? No, that was not the most shocking thing. He had called Ciel Mister. And he had not simply called him demon like he did to her, but he had specifically called him a half-demon. He had made that distinction on his own. Why?

Once all the cups were served, Luciela took the tray and walked carefully out of the kitchen, making sure not to spill anything on herself. There, everyone was gathered around already.

Wilma's living room had been rearranged with extra chairs in a semi-circle around the fireplace and, of course, the bloody stool she had been looking for was there. Ain and Rena sat side by side, on two separate chairs in front of the fireplace, Ciel to their right and Elsword to their left.

Rena grunted weakly, straightening herself over her chair's back. And, just as Luciela walked closer to the group to offer them tea, Ainchase's arm reached out to Rena's to support her. His injuries were, even now, worse than Rena's and yet he had completely disregarded that to help the elven woman.

"Don't overexert yourself, Miss Rena."

"It's fine, Ain. You shouldn't push yourself either. You've had it worse."

Luciela stared at them, blinking a couple of times at what she had just witnessed. Ain had not only called someone other than Elsword by their name but he was helping someone other than himself. Earnestly. As if he had always been that kind of person.

"Who are you and what did you do to Ainchase Douchebag Ishmael?", she asked shamelessly.

The priest turned slowly around and frowned at her after Rena stabilized on her chair, "Well, aren't you a rude one?"

Everyone's eyes were on her, Ciel's had a spark of anger while the rest were surprised. Soon after, three strong knocks on the door caught everyone's attention and Ciel got up to answer the door, giving her only a glance to order her to give out the tea in the meantime.

"Anyhow," she said, clearing her throat and walking next to Elsword first and foremost, changing her voice to the tone Lowe and the other visitors were used to "I brought tea for everyone!"

She had forgotten how her innocent smile was painful to replicate, but she trusted her skills. That was enough to, once again, not raise suspicions. The cups were taken one by one, until only Ain's, hers and the visitors' were left on it. Hagus and Ann were the first ones to sit down, talking briefly about the cold, but neither the demoness nor the Celestial were paying attention to it.

"Don't you want some?", Lu asked between her teeth, widening her smile ever so slightly to stop a frown from souring her expression.

The priest looked down at the tray, his sharp green gaze as dark as she had ever known it. That was the first step back to normalcy. Good. Whatever had taken over him before was gone. Actually, now that she thought about it, it was because of his long bangs that his gaze looked darker. He pushed away the hair over his eyes, revealing his true expression. Then, he slowly took the cup and she realized his gaze was shining with heartfelt gratitude.

"You made tea for all of us? Thank you, little elf."

He took a sip and smiled softly, "It's really well-filtered. It mustn't be your first time making tea and it shows."

"No...problem," she muttered, flabbergasted by his sudden change. Was he doing it on purpose? It had to be. That priest had to be amused beyond his mind by seeing her so confused. Once there was only her cup left, Lu noticed there were no chairs left. She figured she could as well sit on the floor, like all kids did. As she sat, she saw it: that smirk Ainchase had as his bangs covered his eyes again. It was the irrefutable proof to her theory; Ainchase had only acted this way to mess with her.

She coldly glared at him, mentally cursing him, but once Lowe called everyone's attention, she looked away. Whatever the man would tell them right now would change their plans, she felt it.

The newly appointed captain began by informing them of the reasons behind his visit. He had already expected them to be in Elder by now and before he could say anything else, Elsword nodded gravely.

"We would have reached our destination if it weren't for a spirit that took us hostage."

Ann's and Hagus's eyes widened.

"The Ancient Phoru? Why would it do such a thing?" the pink-haired woman worriedly asked, warming her hands clasping her cup as if it were going to fall.

Ainchase shook his head, "No, it was not a Phoru. Far from it."

"It was..." Rena began, gritting her teeth, looking down at her cup in silence before looking again at the people around her, "It was a dark elf. A threat I should have dealt with before. The Elder of my village had sealed her away, but that was only a temporary solution."

A dark elf? Lu raised an eyebrow at that explanation. The energy that oozed from those ruins was far closer to the ones of a powerful undead spirit. The demoness looked down, taking a sip of her beverage, realizing suddenly why Rena had said it was a sacred place: those ruins were the grave of hundreds of elves. Elves Rena herself had, most likely, once known.

"Rena, it wasn't something anyone could have dealt with on their own," Aisha said, "What's important is that we defeated her."

Lowe shook his head, his grey eyes colder than ever before, sharply looking at them despite the tiredness that ate away the youth of his twenties, "I disagree. Explain exactly what went on back there. We can't ignore anything just because it isn't there anymore."

Once again, Elsword was the one to answer him, talking with a surprising confidence. It made her wonder how distant she had grown from everyone else, perhaps even from Ciel. The demon countess tossed that thought away, reassuring herself that Ciel and her had a lot more history that some kids, an elf and a priest could not change. Their fates were bound and she would never lose that. It was inconceivable for their friendship to fade away when, at the end of the line, they could only have each other.

Hagus sighed heavily underneath his beard, closing his eyes as Elsword finished to tell them how fearsome Lua and her Phorus had been. He was considerate enough to omit the mention of her true nature and Luciela reminded herself to thank him for it. Lowe frowned, covering his mouth with his fist, glancing down before clicking his tongue and finishing his tea. Ann's shock only transformed into sadness, or perhaps pity. Lu could never tell which one it was when that woman closed her eyes and her eyebrows curved over her forehead, suffocating a sob.

"Captain," Hagus began, "If Elsword and his friends are still here, it's possible that what we retrieved-"

"Then who got that shard out there? Banthus had it. If that was the place he died, how did the huntsman see the shard near-"

"You found...Ca-Banthus's whereabouts, captain?", Elsword timidly asked, lowering his head, turning his thumbs for warmth under their bandages, his red hair falling over his eyes. Aisha and Rena looked worriedly at him, though their broken limbs didn't let them show their support. Ciel looked to the side, frowning. Luciela was the only one who knew why Elsword's pain towards Banthus was almost his own. Though their stories would certainly have a different outcome, Ciel, when he was Elsword's age, had lost someone very precious to him by trusting the wrong charismatic man. He had refused to tell her more than that and she had not insisted, knowing all too well that treason left deep wounds. However, Elsword's heart was too noble or perhaps too innocent to change his grief into something more sinister. Luciela could only hope it stayed that way. Demonic justice did not suit that child at all.

Lowe's cold mask broke after a heavy sigh and he looked at Elsword the way a father talked to his child, "Elsword, we only found the empty carriage he took, which had bloodstains on it. Two horses were given to the huntsmen in Haden. The last one, Solare, we don't know where it is."

Elsword managed to look back at him, the fire of determination still burning in his eyes, "That's Banthus's favourite. He must have taken his stallion somewhere. Where did the huntsman see the El?"

The three members of Ruben's council glanced at each other and Ann took a small pouch out of her dress' pocket. It contained pieces of a map, so old some of the Elrian runes were unrecognizable from their modern writing. It got Aisha's and Ain's attention and the mage put them together with a divination spell.

Rena's eyes widened at the location it depicted, "This is the path to the White Mist Swamp. How could he have gotten such an old map?"

"The path to that natural temple was thought to be lost centuries ago. Who gave him that?" Ain added.

Hagus nodded, "That's what we don't know. But we believe the guide he was seen with is the one that gave it to him."

Ciel squinted at Lowe, "A guide? What did he look like? If he knew the path to a forgotten temple, there's good chances it's a clandestine sorcerer. With a brief description, I could find out the name."

Ann straightened up in her chair and looked at him, her eyes full of hope, "Oh, that might just be our best clue! There can't be two like him. The huntsman told us it was a dwarf with a wooden wolf mask. He heard Banthus call him Toto. There can't be too many clandestines like that in the Church's records, I'm sure of it!"

Ciel's blue gaze lowered, seemingly deep in thought, but Luciela knew it was completely the opposite. That description did not fit any of the major clandestine sorcerers who were still on the run. Ann got a sketch she had made out of the huntsman's description and that only made things more confusing for everyone. The man was not only a dwarf, but his face seemed to stretch towards his mask and he only had four fingers, all aligned and sharp like claws. The man on the black stallion to his side was certainly as tall as Banthus, but he was drastically different from him. His strained, thinned out figure underneath the muddy fur coat could have been from any other brigand. He had Banthus's horse and his sword, but it was a stretch to say the one-eyed bearded man who had clearly not taken a bath in months was Banthus.

"This is becoming quite bizarre," Lu said, forgetting to change the tone of her voice.

"Lu?" Ann asked, "have you caught a cold?"

Realizing her mistake, Lu cleared her throat and took a sip of her tea, "My throat is bugging me sometimes, Ann. But Ciel is helping me get better!"

Lowe's grey gaze stayed on her for a long moment, doubting her more than ever before. The demoness had no one to blame but herself for letting her guard down. It had been too long since she had seen those three and she had hoped to never see them again. For their own good. Hagus was also looking at her, though with much less coldness than Lowe.

"Did you have something to say, Lu?"

Luciela let out a long 'hmm', childishly furrowing her eyebrows, but she was thinking not so much on repeating what she had thought before, but on how much she should say. Lowe had clearly not completely bought her act yet, and she was not sure now if he would be fooled. Something bad had clearly happened in Ruben if they were this far and had found out more than what they had done in the same time lapse. Somehow, she had to turn that conversation to that.

"I just thought the men in Ann's drawing are weird. Ann, is your shop still open? Or did you close it while you came to visit us?"

It was a very roundabout way to get the conversation into the right direction, but anything else would get Lowe too suspicious. They all knew Ann and her were like sisters and that question was innocent enough. The shopkeeper's reaction, however, was worrying on its own. Once again, she had that look that could have been pity or grief.

"Lu...things haven't been going so well in the village."

The demoness had half-expected that answer, but nothing could prepare her for what Ann and Hagus would unveil to them. The last shards they could extract from all sorts of broken equipment were not strong enough to remain pure for more than two days. And so, more and more farmers, the hunters and even the fishermen had to throw away about half of their work because it had become affected by the Plague. Not only that, but some villages had to evacuate to the poisonous air that had surrounded them. Those who remained or stayed a day too long died of a sickness no doctor, nor healer nor priest could cure. They had to bury them far away from the surviving farmland, sometimes weeks of travel into the forests because their corpses spread the Plague even faster.

Under such dire conditions, Hagus had kept sending letters to Hoffman - a rich Velderian merchant he had known for years - and he had sent them grains and supplies for cheaper prices than what any merchant would ask for. Once every two weeks, a small pouch of El Shards came along, powerful enough to make the Plague step back for two yards. It was not a big difference, but some plants did not need much space to grow. Everyone thought they could endure those hard times just like that.

Until a final letter came to Hagus's door.

Hoffman wrote, angrily, about the situation in Elder: paid brigands vandalizing the commercial district, Wally borrowing money from the bank of Senace as if ED were mere gambling chips. He imported Sanderian silver and Lanoxian gold with ED to refill the coffers of his State. Of course, the conversion from ED to the Sanderian coin and tariffs left only more debt to the town's name. The people of Elder were starting to have to bring two handfuls of gold Elderian Royals to pay for a single loaf of bread. And, because of this, Hoffman had two choices: cut his help to Ruben or pay astronomically high prices to get the same ressources from Feita or Velder. The second one would not keep himself, his commerce guild nor the remnants of the Elderian economy afloat. So, with a heavy heart, Hoffman had to let them down.

However, the supplies Hoffman had sent them the last time he wrote were more than enough to keep Ruben and the refugees from other villages alive. It was his parting gift, in a way, and it could suffice. As long as they took away Wally's crown soon enough.

"Crown?" Aisha asked, a frown on her face, "Elder is, as far as I know, a city. Not a kingdom."

"Wally did something very...questionable," Lowe answered, "He decided to pass an act of independency from the Velder Kingdom and proclaimed himself king of Elder and the Northern Lurensian forests. Of course, with brigands working for him, I'd assume his court had no choice but to accept."

"Velder shouldn't accept the decision," Ainchase intervened, his quiet voice poorly hiding a hint of anger, "Wally might perhaps be a noble, but he certainly cannot secede from the kingdom. They'll send their forces to take him down."

"I'm afraid the central kingdom's final decision will not help us, even if we knew for sure that they sent troops our way." Hagus replied, "If they take their new airships with them, it'd take them theoretically two months, but there's nowhere to land an airship safely. We live in the middle of mountains, lakes, swamps and miles of virgin forests. Reaching Elder from Velder takes more than half a year by land and it can take even more than that by the sea if the winds are not in their favour."

"That means we're stuck with Wally doing what he pleases for the next year, huh?" Elsword gritted his teeth. It was the first time anyone had seen him this black hatred burning in his red eyes, who were usually so bright, "I can't let him ruin my village and Elder like that. As a knight of the El Search Party, I can't stand it!"

"Elsword, for that, you have the support of my troops," Lowe added coldly, "We will march as soon as spring comes again. We have to make sure everyone can make it through the winter before we strike."

Ann nodded, "It's important that you follow those two to the White Mist Swamp, even if it's not Banthus. But please, don't harm the Ancient Phoru. It may be the only thing that's making the Plague slow down."

Lu's eyes widened, "It's slowing down?"

"We don't know if it will keep doing so," said Lowe, "but we can only hope that, after this storm, you can still follow the trail of those two and take the El Shard from them. Neither of us has any time to waste. Ruben and Elder need you now, adventurers. We can only buy you time."


Their meeting with Lowe, Ann and Hagus had dragged on until past midnight, when the storm calmed down. Although they could have stayed the night, they had still a half a day to go before they reached the last village that between Ruben and Elder. They only left them with two health extra health potions and not much more, given the village's precarious situation. Luciela went to sleep in the room she shared with Ciel, who had agreed to leave his nightly vigil to Elsword.

From the forgetful darkness, a dream emerged; Lanox's alleys emerged from the fog around her. It was not Lanox, she soon noticed that. The paved streets had fields on both sides, long and endless as the ones of Ruben. It was a village in the suburbs of Lanox, close enough to see the fiery lights far away on the paved road she was walking on, but far enough so that the noise and filth from the town of blacksmiths did not even come. Though Luciela had no idea why she was in a place she had never known, she walked on and on, hearing the birds chirp and the breeze carry the smell of the fields of garden centres and the vineyards around her. It was peaceful even if the evening sky was blood red and the moon was already up, a white and ominous observer that shed its light over Lu's shadow.

After a hundred steps or so, she saw him; A young boy with navy blue hair, no older than ten, carry happily a cart full of cut firewood to a home made of stone to her right. She was in Ciel's dream, she thought, and when she looked at the open door waiting for him, Luciela understood it was no dream. This was Ciel's nightmare. That home was the one he lived a normal life. The man who was about to step out was the man who betrayed the family's trust inevitably.

A young girl with curly sky blue hair held in two loose pigtails screamed, her childish voice was so high-pitched that all the birds around the house's yard fled.

The young boy's eyes widened, his boyish voice hoarse as he ran, screaming back his sister's name.

"Terre!"

The cart's contents dropped on the ditch of the road, clobbering away the last remnants of innocence in Ciel's eyes.

He crossed the yard, running frantically, tears in his eyes until the culprit stepped out, his arms, forehead covered in countless runes traced with blood. He held the little Terre by her hair, a dagger close to her neck. Ciel stopped, his sister's eyes were red from how much she had screamed and cried.

"Lefaucheur," Ciel stuttered, calling the name of the man who had given him a job, his mentor, the one who had made him discover magic and the organization who did things right when the government could not.

"Caelum," Terre quietly called out, "Caelum, brother..."

"Shut up or I cut your throat," Lefaucheur hissed. Then, he looked at Ciel with a demented smile, his violet eyes shining with bloodlust, "Caelum Thaxra, my best lad. The young prodigy! The Organization thought I was suddenly gutless, worthless. But I just came up with the right ritual to surpass even the strongest necromancer!"

"Let my sister go, you sick bastard!"

A strong wave of mana swept like the wind the fields around him, Caelum's eyes were filled with rage.

"Sick bastard? Caelum, you, out of all people, should know there is no more potent blood magic than the one made with a young maiden's blood."

Luciela looked away, Ciel's cry echoed in the darkness, blood splattered on the grass and the sound of a punch to the back of the head ended the scene. But she was still there, her heart beating with fear as another dreamed emerged.

She was again in the mansion she had grown up in. A toddler slept peacefully in the cradle in front of her, his hair wavy like hers, horns dark like his father's and, behind those peacefully closed eyelids, eyes as blue as the ocean. It was Belegor, her child to a man she had been forbidden from marrying. As was the custom, her father had to clean her honour and kill the man she had loved. Her only comfort, back then, was her son and her closest ally: Barkat.

Luciela heard three weak knocks on the door behind her and allowed whoever was behind her to come in.

Barkat stepped in, smiling as he always did. He stepped quietly as soon as he saw the sleeping boy.

"Good evening, Madam Mara Russiela Lurelle."

Lu nodded at her with a smile, "You ought to call me only Russiela, Barkat. We've known each other for four and a half centuries now."

"That's certainly true, madam," the green-haired servant said with a smirk. It was the first sign of treason, but Luciela could not have known that yet, "How is the little Belegor Zimeri doing?"

The demon countess looked at her child, patting softly his head, mistaking his soft breaths for a deep sleep, "He's starting to speak more nowadays. He can't quite pronounce everything right, of course," the memory brought her a smile, "So, to him, mommy's name is Luciela. And we're both part of the Sourcream family, because we make the best sour cream cakes."

A few seconds of silence ticked by and before Luciela could ask her how her day had been, Barkat got up, his voice suddenly cold, "Don't you think you've had enough time pretending you're a worthy leader of the Soulscream clan?"

"What do you mean, Barkat?"

"You had a child with a servant, Russiela. You sullied the clan's reputation in the court, to all of our allies."

Luciela glared at him, "You are a servant yourself. Don't overstep your bounds, Barkat. Our allies depend on my power and will not speak ill of me nor my son as long as we protect them."

Barkat's grey eyes grew even colder, "That's where your logic fails. Your son is your only weakness and your only downfall. The spell should have taken over by now."

The demoness exploded, unleashing her demonic flames, "What did you do to my child, you bastard?!"

A ray of demonic energy was charging itself in the palm of her hand and just as she was about to reduce Barkat to atoms, chains imbued with Celestial magic wrapped around her palm, nullifying her spell, absorbing her power.

"You...How dare you-" Luciela hissed before dozens of chains pierced her chest, leaving her breathless.

Luciela fell down, noticing that the divine energy Barkat had forced on Belegor had reduced him to a skeleton as more chains emerged from his corpse to pierce her body. She could not speak with a chain through her throat, but tears rolled down her cheeks. Barkat walked closer to her, a victorious grin on his face.

"How dare I what, Russiela?" he sneered, "How dare I use taboo magic from the grimoires you keep? Simple. It's because it's the only thing that can bring you down. I will bring this clan to the very top without you and your sentimentalism. I'll be the new Demon King."

"Release me...", Luciela gagged, using her unstoppable strength to fight against the chains that tied her down, "Untie me right now...and I'll at least spare your life."

"Kuhahaha! You don't understand it, do you, former Steel Queen? The more you move, the quicker you'll die. You're helping me by fighting uselessly like that!"

Luciela opened her eyes wide, sitting suddenly on the hammock next to Ciel's. He had also woken up, though his fear was only reflected through teared-up his eyes.

"That was..." Ciel whispered, "Was that...how you-"

"Yes, Ciel," she answered, laying back down to hug her covers, trembling like a leaf, fighting against her tears, "but don't ever call me by my real name. That name...that name will inevitably doom us. And it always, always reminds me of that night. Luciela or Lu...those are safer names and they bring fonder memories."

Ciel nodded and swept the tears away from his eyes, "Did you see my dream or was I only in yours?"

"I saw. And I suppose calling you Caelum is not something you want me to do."

Her servant weakly nodded, "My parents thought giving me a name in ancient Lanoxian and one in modern Lanoxian for my sister was aristocratic. We were poor, but that was apparently enough for them to pretend to be rich. I always wished to have a name in the same tongue as my sister's, given how close we were."

Ciel took a pause, sweeping tears away again, "So she came up with it, one day. When we were out on our own, playing, she would call me that because she knew I...I liked that. And that was the alias I took ever since."

"Did you get that sick bastard?"

Her voice was trembling and her vision was blurred by tears, but after seeing the most painful memories they had hidden away from each other, there was no other appropriate reaction.

"I did. But no matter how much harm I did to him, how much I heard him scream and degrade himself in that basement for days, the pain...the grief...it never left. It stayed right here, more alive than ever before."

He took a deep breath, broken by the tears he could no longer hide, "And that's why I tell you, Lu...revenge ain't worth shit. It won't revive your son Belegor, it won't bring back things to what they were. It leaves nothing. The only cure...is just having more good people around you. People that'll make you laugh, regain your faith in the good side of the world and let time heal those wounds."

Lu nodded, moved by how close their minds were at that moment. She could see what he was feeling and so could he. Though she knew it would be hard to change, there was an undeniable truth to Ciel's words. Killing Barkat and burning her empire to the ground would never bring her peace. And, maybe, feeling the same way towards Celestials and their magic was not the right answer either.


Ainchase had trouble falling asleep again, especially after all he had heard from Lowe, Ann and Hagus. How could he sleep when things were so many possible threats to the El around them and he could not trust everyone around him?

Almost like every other night since his sudden fever almost three weeks ago, Rena called him, softly so Elsword would not wake up when he did not need to.

"Miss Rena, you don't have to shorten your sleep for me every time, you know?"

"Last time you turned me away, you woke up with a fever. Ain, I'm not sure why, but your emotions have worsened your health when they're too negative. Talking things out has helped you, has it not?"

The priest sighed, "Yes, I suppose so. For the most part, your counsel has been the right one. Although, not when it came to that demoness. I told you their kind is just the lowest kind of scum. My kind is fated to exterminate hers."

The elf sighed, "I know that you can't help hating each other because of your shared history. But, aren't you wording it too strongly? Fate...fate is your decisions, it's what you make out of life."

Ainchase squinted at her in the darkness. What a strange idea, thinking that fate was malleable. No, the goddess thought and created every being with an ultimate goal in mind. Only mortals unaware of her divine design could foolishly believe that their choices made up their fate.

"The goddess gave life to this world. Naturally, she'd give an ultimate purpose to everyone living in it. Miss Rena, fate is not malleable."

"You told me you were afraid to stray away from your mission by growing closer to us. It's been half a year and you're having fun with us, you've saved us and you've ultimately grown closer to us. Does that mean that Ishmael changed your fate or that you took conscious decisions to make your fate change for the better?"

The goddess had always told him to stay away from the matters of the mortals to accomplish his mission. Yet, had he done so, he would be either dead in Lua's trap or trapped in Ruben by the snow, unsure of where to go next to find the El Shard or how to travel to Elrianode and restore the El. He would not have met Elsword, the boy who had such strange affinity for the El.

The goddess had left him with one fate: the fate of the lone servant. That fate should have been absolute no matter what he did. And yet, here he was, in a group of mortals that, while incompetent in battle, had little by little pulled him closer to his goal.

"Well, Ain? If Ishmael changed your fate, couldn't that mean that she can change it again so you can reconcile that deep-rooted hatred for two out of the hundreds of demons out there?"

"Why would I benefit from reconciling with a demoness?"

"That demoness broke the curse that held us back and she and Ciel the best fighters that can still move, you and I being better than them in some regards. If there's anyone who can protect Elsword and Aisha in the White Mist Swamp, it's them. Specially Lu. And she has protected those two kids already."

"...Changing my fate in that regard is a small, very minuscule, possibility. Good night, Miss Rena."

The priest turned around and pulled his woollen covers over his head, unaware of the smile Rena had on her face as she wished him good night.

The following day would be the day where the tiniest of possibilities given by fate would be put to the test.