The blizzard swept through Matterhorn like a wrathful specter— snow blowing sideways across the encampment's walls, and piling in thick drifts around the military base.
Cauldrons filled with burning logs illuminated clusters of soldiers that were gathered around with gloved hands extended toward the flames— steam rising from their breaths, as they muttered to one another. Some drank from flasks, exchanging grim stories, while others tightened the fur around their hoods— bracing themselves against the cold.
Further along, knights on patrol conjured small flames in their palms— lighting their way and warming themselves, as they marched along the stone ramparts encircling the camp.
A dark-skinned half-elf cleric, her cheeks flushed from the cold, moved quietly through the snow-covered streets. Wrapped in a thick white peacoat that hugged her plus-size, curvy figure, and with a knit snow hat pulled over her head, she cradled a tray of steaming coffee and a plate of cookies.
She passed a squad of patrolling soldiers— exchanging a nod with the officer leading them before continuing her way. Along the path, wolfkin and snow foxkin dressed in slave attire shoveled snow into piles— their movements slow and weary. They looked up at the cleric, their eyes wary, and with a subtle nod, she signaled them; at once, they glanced over their shoulders and dispersed, before finding places to take cover— sensing something was about to change.
The cleric soon arrived at the repurposed town hospital— an imposing building with traditional woodwork and quaint carvings that gave it an old-world charm. Snow clung to its timbered exterior, while the windows were frosted from the storm outside. She entered the lobby, where soldiers were stationed, with their rifles strapped across their shoulders.
The knight in charge sat behind the reception desk, pen in hand, and with a novel lying open beside his paperwork. He looked up as she approached, with his eyes brightening with a playful glint.
"Are those cookies and coffee for me?" He asked with a grin.
"Only if you're well-behaved," she replied, while smirking back as she passed him.
The knight laughed and offered a casual salute before waving her on, with his focus returning to his papers.
The cleric slipped through the double doors and down the narrow corridors of the hospital, where doctors, nurses, and clerics bustled about. Electric cables were taped along the wood-paneled walls— feeding into flickering fluorescent lights installed in the ceiling that added an odd modernity to the traditional architecture.
Reaching the end of the hall, she opened a door to a narrow spiral staircase and carefully began her descent, all while still holding the tray close to her ample breasts. Her plump curves jostled slightly as she took each step, and she adjusted the tray, her breath steadying as she finally stepped into the crowded basement.
The room was lined with hospital beds, each occupied by a woman rescued from earlier horrors— their faces weary but grateful. Clerics and nurses moved between the beds, tending to wounds and offering soft reassurances.
The half-elf cleric walked to the far corner, where a tall woman lay with pale skin, gray eyes, and long, unkempt green hair. She was athletic, though lean, and exuded an aura of poise even while reclined.
"Your Highness," the cleric greeted through a barely audible whisper, before bowing as she set the tray on the woman's bedside.
The woman looked up, her enigmatic smile stretching across her face. She began unwrapping a roll of bandages, while methodically binding her chest. "Ah, so you've brought me a little refreshment. Very thoughtful," she murmured, her tone rich with amusement. And without looking away from her task, she asked the dark-skinned half-elf, "Has the prince and his royal court reached Evergreen?"
The cleric straightened and nodded, with her voice dutiful. "Yes, Your Highness."
The woman's eyes gleamed with approval, while her smile deepened. "Perfect. The stage has been set; the players assigned their parts. And now, the final act of this grand play awaits its unveiling— each scene unfolding as it must… Each step toward the culmination of fate itself."
She then finished wrapping her chest and poured herself a cup of coffee, dunking a cookie before taking a bite— savoring the boiling liquid without so much as a wince.
She stood, stretching her arms high above her head— her slender yet powerful form radiating control. "Give these poor girls my best in my absence— ensure that they have safe passage when I'm through," she commanded with a hint of mockery, though the cleric nodded obediently— bowing before stepping back.
The woman then wrapped more bandages around her waist, covering her pelvis with practiced precision. She picked up another cookie, devouring it in one bite before striding across the crowded basement— her expression almost contemptuous, as she waved at the traumatized women around her.
A nurse hurried over, with concern evident in her eyes. "M-Ma'am, please, you need res-"
The woman paused, and began studying the nurse with a hint of approval. Her voice dropped into a softer tone, almost reverent, as she began speaking to her.
"Ah, how little we appreciate restoration magic; the hands that mend when all else falls to ruin. If only the Pendragon Empire had raised its soldiers in the ways of rebirth and resilience, perhaps Azura would never have abandoned her only begotten daughter— leaving her to gather the scattered pieces of this broken world." Her words were a melody, as if plucked from sacred scripture.
The nurse stared back at her— baffled. "I… I don't understand. W… Wh-What are you saying, ma'am?"
A cryptic grin crossed the woman's face, as her voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "So long as you and the others remain within these walls, no harm shall find you."
The nurse proceeded to step back— left stunned, as the woman brushed past her.
In one smooth motion, she pick-pocketed a roll of gauze from the nurse's apron— winding the fresh bandage around her face, as she ascended the staircase.
The bandaged woman strode down the hospital corridors upon reaching ground level— her hidden expression serene yet charged with something fierce. Doctors and medical staff rushed to her— their concerned voices calling after her, some attempting to stop her.
"Miss, do you need help? You shouldn't be up-"
Another doctor stepped in front of her, with his hands raised in a gesture of caution. "Please, let us examine you. This isn't safe."
The woman's grin widened behind the bandages— her eyes flashing. "Safe? Safety is for those who fear the end. But, what of those who crave it?" Her cryptic response left them silent as she swept past them— leaving the medical staff to exchange bewildered glances as they followed her, with the weight of her words unsettling them.
She continued her steady pace until she reached the lobby— pushing through the double doors with the doctors and nurses still trailing in her wake. The soldiers stationed there looked up, with attention drawn to the unusual sight of the bandaged woman marching with purpose, and medical staff following anxiously. The knight behind the desk glanced up, brow furrowing, and straightened in his seat.
One doctor moved forward, pleading with the soldiers. "Subdue her, please! I believe she's in the throes of a psychiatric episode!"
The woman chuckled, a rich, sinister sound that filled the room. She tilted her head, her bandages hiding her expression save for the flash of her eyes. "Mad? Why, I've always been a little unhinged— this isn't new for me, I assure you all," she purred.
Her eyes then gleamed behind her bandages, and with a horrifying swiftness, the soldiers' heads exploded in unison— a burst of red painting the walls and ceiling as their bodies slumped to the ground.
Even the knight behind the desk slumped forward with his eyes empty, and chunks of his gray matter splattered against the wall behind his chair. The unreal sigh of death made doctors and nurses shriek, with their terror driving them to flee back through the double doors— vanishing down the halls as the woman stepped calmly into the raging blizzard outside.
Barefoot and unfazed by the snow, she made her way across the encampment— the ice crunching beneath the soft soles of her petite feet. With a roll of her shoulders, she popped her neck— a low, amused growl slipping from her throat as she fixed her sights on the nearest patrol of soldiers led by a knight.
Her steps, though measured, exuded confidence and power that sent a shiver through the knight, as he took in her nearly naked figure bound in little more than bandages.
He raised a brow, tightening his grip on his revolver. "Halt! What bloody nonsense is this?! Return to your quarters, woman," He commanded, though his voice was wary as he spoke, with his eyes flickering with a mix of confusion and suspicion.
She said nothing, her silent smile widening beneath the bandages. The knight scowled, motioning for his soldiers to take aim with their rifles. "I said halt! If you move any closer, I'll be authorized to open fire!" he barked, with his revolver pointed squarely at her.
She tilted her head, with her mocking laughter carrying over the wind. "I do hope you don't miss your shot then, sir knight!"
He then steadied his hand, with his finger brushing the trigger. But before he could fire, the woman released a massive mana burst— a high-yield explosion of cyan and pink light erupted from her, casting a pillar of shimmering energy that shot through the clouds and into the atmosphere, illuminating the entire Iron Flower Mountains with a radiant glow.
In an instant, the knight and his squad were reduced to nothing more than charred silhouettes against the snow. The ground around her lay scorched, the snow melted, and everything within a fifty-meter radius lay in ruins— save for the hospital, which remained untouched.
Knights and soldiers across the camp looked up in horror, with their mouths agape as they looked up in the wake of the massive burst of mana, where they bore witness to the colossal dragon that hovered above them on blackened wings that radiated cyan light.
The soldiers gasped, their hands trembling as one among them managed to stammer, "A… A-Albion…!"
Others echoed his words, with. their voices filled with dread. As they scrambled to engage, Albion let out a mighty roar; her body a massive force of power cloaked in metallic black scales, with each scale edged with cyan light that glowed between the gaps. Her hundred-fifty-meter-long frame floated effortlessly above them, with her aura oppressive and unyielding.
The knight at the forefront steadied himself, raising his rifle in a shaky hand. "Hold your ground! Aim for its eyes!" His men, though visibly terrified, took aim— unleashing a barrage of gunfire and spells, each shot rattling the air. Yet Albion barely flinched. Her throat began to pulse with an intense pink glow, and she soon let out a guttural growl while charging a powerful spell.
Time seemed to slow, and the very fabric of reality trembled around her, as Albion unleashed a devastating beam of cyan and pink energy. The beam cut through the soldiers— vaporizing them where they stood, with their bodies and the snow beneath them melting away.
The ground itself cracked open, fissures forming and widening as magma bubbled up— pouring out in fiery rivers that streaked across the icy landscape.
Albion darted across the sky at a speed faster than sound— tearing through the air and leaving distorted trails in her wake that slowly mended themselves as she flew.
Her beam swept over the encampment, turning its buildings and defenses to nothing but rubble and ash. The soldiers on the ground scrambled, with some standing their ground to fight, while others attempted to flee. But wherever they ran, Albion's gaze followed— her devastating beams reducing them to smears across the earth.
By the time the last soldier was reduced to nothing, Albion's beam had carved a smoldering crater in the Iron Flower Mountains where Matterhorn once stood.
The blizzard continued to rage, with snow swirling around the remnants of the base, and yet the hospital and the surrounding ground remained untouched— the sole monument left standing amid the devastation, just as Albion had promised.
Remi's typhoon continued to rage over the Evergreen Forest— causing lightning to crack through the dense treetops, followed by roars of thunder that seemed to shake the very ground. Sheets of rain fell hard, cascading down from the pines in cold rivulets, as thick plumes of wet ash clung to the dark green needles. Under the relentless downpour, a small band of figures made their way silently through the woods.
High Elf Archer took careful steps near the front of the group, with her longbow at the ready, and her sharp gaze piercing through the shadows. The hood of her brown cloak was pulled low over her mint-green hair, which curled damply over her pointed ears.
She moved with a hunter's grace— pausing to listen to the unnatural silence between the drumbeats of rain and distant rumbles of thunder. The darkness cloaked the forest in near-total blackness, save for the occasional silver flash that highlighted their faces for a brief, surreal moment.
Ahead of her, D'Arce marched in the lead— her armor gleaming faintly even in the storm, with each raindrop tapping steadily on her helmet, as she moved with determined strides. Her red-glowing broadsword cast a faint light against her form— just enough to show the slick surface of her shield strapped across her forearm.
She carried herself with muscular confidence, with her powerful frame moving in smooth, battle-tested motions. As she led the way, her robust figure was hard not to notice— Dwarf Shaman, bringing up the rear, occasionally found his gaze drifting to the impressive curve of her toned backside.
Beside the dwarf walked Lizard Priest, his bone saber gripped firmly in his clawed hand, and his yellow, reptilian eyes alert. His bare scales glistened in the rain as he scanned their surroundings— a primal awareness evident in his every move.
In the center of the group, a petite figure in a purple hooded cloak kept close— head bowed to keep the storm from soaking her concealed face. The green hue of her skin was just visible under the shadow of her hood, her mouth a thin, silent line beneath the silhouette of elongated ears that poked through the fabric.
High Elf Archer narrowed her eyes, with her senses honed for the slightest movement. The rain softened her footsteps, and her bow was raised and ready as she murmured, "It's too quiet. No animals, no night sounds."
Dwarf Shaman nodded, adjusting his grip on the slingshot in his hand. "Aye, it's unsettling. With the storm like this, ya'd think we'd at least hear the crashin' of some poor beast." He glanced at D'Arce's armored back, brow furrowed. "What d'ya think? Could the Royal Army have pulled back?"
The captain glanced over her shoulder, with her expression masked beneath the shadow of her helmet. "The flares would indicate retreat, yes. But with Storm Lord conjuring this monsoon after the fire, and Aldric's many contingencies in place… I can't be sure." She replied with her voice steady— a calm authority that kept the others focused, even in this haunted silence.
Lizard Priest cocked his head, his forked tongue darting out momentarily as he scanned the shadows. "What exactly are we looking for here?"
"Any sign of light," D'Arce replied, her eyes trained ahead. "The Prince and his Royal Court wouldn't be sneaking through the woods. They'd want the Royal Army— and anyone else nearby— to know exactly who they are." Her jaw was set with determination, and though her posture was stiff and wary, she kept her steps measured and soundless.
They continued on in silence, each step swallowed by the soft earth beneath the trees. The dark woods seemed to press in on them from all sides— the usual life and rustling leaves replaced with an oppressive stillness. Occasional whispers of lightning illuminated their surroundings— casting distorted shadows and briefly highlighting the drenched branches, heavy with the weight of water and ash.
High Elf Archer's grip tightened on her bow, while her eyes scanned the silhouettes around them. Her senses strained, with the only sounds of their own breathing and the relentless patter of rain as the storm raged on, as lightning flickered like a distant reminder of the fury just beyond the trees.
Suddenly, her body went rigid, and her eyes widened as she caught the faintest brush of fabric against a hard surface in the near distance— a noise so soft that it was nearly lost beneath the roar of the typhoon.
"I hear-" she began to whisper, only to jolt violently as a gunshot rang out directly behind them— echoing like a crack of thunder.
All of them spun around just in time to see the purple glow of a bullet suspended mid-air— embedded in D'Arce's force-field. The bullet hung there, spinning slightly, held back by a thin shimmer of golden light that pulsed in the rain-soaked darkness.
Lizard Priest stepped closer, his eyes wide as he marveled at the sight of the bullet frozen in place. "By the scales..." he muttered, while mesmerized by the unnatural way the bullet remained lodged in the thin film of the captain's magic.
D'Arce's eyes narrowed with sudden awareness. "Mel! Fire of eight arrows, one-hundred twenty degrees— seven o'clock, now!"
Without hesitation, High Elf Archer raised her bow, before releasing a burst of eight arrows in a sweeping arc aimed blindly into the direction D'Arce had called. Just as the arrows left her bow, they pierced through the shimmering shield from the inside— shooting into the rainy shadows of the forest.
In that instant, the faint sound of whirling sliced through the rain.
High Elf Archer's sharp eyes caught the briefest glimpse of six white, angular shapes zigzagging through the forest. "What in the-!" She gasped, with her voice laced with fear as six beams of yellow light shot out— intercepting her arrows mid-flight. They exploded in bursts of light, with each arrow obliterated in an instant, though D'Arce's powerful force-field held firm against the chaotic blasts that crashed against it like waves on a rocky shore.
The captain's expression hardened, with fury simmering in her eyes even as she held herself composed. "Haman!" She roared, her voice echoing through the storm. "Stand down— that's an order!"
Only silence answered her, but D'Arce's instincts screamed a warning as the remaining rounds from Haman's invisible weapon fired with lethal precision into one single point of her force-field.
The glow around the impact site wavered, with the barrier weakening as the force intensified, and the power coalescing into a single, deadly strike. Just as D'Arce processed this, a barrage of beams fired from the six floating shapes— all directed at that one vulnerable spot in her shield.
"Hit the deck!" D'Arce shouted, before lunging forward with lightning speed to shield the hooded green-skinned girl from the incoming attack.
High Elf Archer and Dwarf Shaman barely had time to register her words before a piercing beam of mana tore through the air— searing toward them in a blinding arc of yellow light.
Lizard Priest's eyes went wide, with horror dawning on his face as he registered the concentrated blast aimed directly at him. The beam struck him with a devastating impact— driving him backward as it burned through his chest.
His gaze filled with shock and fear, helpless as the searing energy blew through his torso, tearing flesh from bone in a gruesome display. High Elf Archer and Dwarf Shaman could only watch in horror as their comrade's body was blasted apart— scorched fragments of him scattering through the drenched forest.
A silence hung in the air, broken only by the muffled drum of the typhoon as the rest of the team struggled to process the brutality of the attack. The rain washed over them, with the smell of scorched flesh lingering amidst the ash and storm, as D'Arce tightened her grip on her shield, fury blazing in her eyes.
High Elf Archer lay on the ground, shell-shocked, her breath shallow and her body numb. Her wide eyes, glistening with silent tears, were locked onto the smoldering remains of Lizard Priest— his mutilated body spread across the wet forest floor.
She wanted to look away, but the shock anchored her in place— her mind swirling with anguish, fear, and a gnawing guilt. Her chest ached with the weight of it all, unable to even process the brutal loss of her friend.
"J… J-Jaree…?"
In front of her, D'Arce was already in motion— a golden aura blazing around her armored form. She muttered an incantation, her body glowing as her defense spell marked her as a target. Her eyes burned with fierce, white light, honing in on Haman's silhouette in the distance, a figure made clearer against the dark as her summons—those cursed funnels—began circling D'Arce, weaving unpredictable patterns of deadly light.
"Bhaston, get them out of here," D'Arce commanded, with her voice steely as she deflected a hail of beams with her shield— each strike shuddering against her force-field. "Go now— I'll hold her off!"
High Elf Archer remained frozen, but the captain's voice cut through the fog— urging them to move. "DOUBLETIME, MELIAMNE!!" She shouted from the top of her lungs, before sidestepping and parrying beams. With a powerful leap, the captain slashed through one of the funnels— the burst of yellow mana exploding around her, but her defense spell held, absorbing the impact.
Not far away, Haman cracked open her revolver before calmly loading six rounds into the chamber with a telekinetic flick. She locked eyes with D'Arce from across the battlefield, a concentrated scowl appearing across her blue eyes, as she wrestled against the spell's grip compelling her to engage in single combat.
Dwarf Shaman turned to High Elf Archer, his expression torn between anger and heartbreak as he helped her to her feet. He managed to keep his hands steady, though his heart was pounding with fear for their friend.
As they took their first steps to retreat, the sudden crack of a gunshot sliced through the rain-drenched air. The bullet whizzed toward High Elf Archer's head, but D'Arce intercepted with a swift shield parry, and deflected the bullet— only to be struck from behind by a funnel's beam.
The blast melted through her armor— carving a molten hole, and revealing her broad, muscled shoulder. Her defense spell held just enough to protect her skin, though the scorched metal still radiated with heat— searing close to her flesh.
"GO!" D'Arce barked, while gritting her teeth as she cleaved through another funnel in one sweeping motion. "Don't come back for me!"
Dwarf Shaman's face contorted with frustration and pain— his voice breaking as he cursed under his breath, "D-Damnit…!" He then gathered High Elf Archer and the hooded green-skinned girl— gripping their arms tightly. Feeling both fury and shame gnawing at him, he turned and began to pull them away, with his heart shattering as he left D'Arce and Lizard Priest's scattered remains behind.
Each step through the storm-filled forest felt heavier than the last, with his guilt nearly overwhelming. He shed silent tears, feeling like a coward. Yet he knew it was the only way— the only chance they had of ensuring their sacrifices weren't in vain— even as the sounds of battle faded into the raging storm behind them.
D'Arce moved with unyielding precision, sidestepping through the torrents of light and fury as beams fired from Haman's circling funnels— each deflected by her shield or splintered into sparks by her enchanted blade.
Her sword, glowing red with searing magic, cut the air in arcs— each swing tearing through her opponent's magic like a song of steel and fire. With a swift twist, she shattered the final funnel, but her senses stayed sharp, with her eyes locking onto the dark forest as the lieutenant's form flickered in and out like a shadow— her invisibility cloak stuttering with the strain of her speed.
Ahead, Haman's voice seemed to echo from all around, mocking and angry. "Do you know how long I looked up to you? How much I wanted to be like you?" Her tone turned dark, edged with venom. "And yet here you stand— faithless, a traitor to those you swore to protect!"
But D'Arce only narrowed her eyes, her stance poised, centered. "I know where my loyalty lies, Haman," she answered, her voice a low, resolute calm. "And it's with the people we've been condemning to suffer. But it doesn't have to stay that way— we can change that."
With a scream of frustration, the lieutenant flung herself forward— her soul blades igniting like twin pillars of golden flame. But her charge was a mirage— D'Arce's instincts caught the illusion before it faded, with her shield snapping back to deflect Haman's true attack from behind, a move so swift it struck with a shower of sparks.
Haman stumbled back, gritting her teeth. "You always did know my every move," she spat, with her face twisted with raw hatred and hurt.
"That's because I taught them to you," D'Arce said, her voice still steady— her eyes fixed on her pupil with an unwavering sadness. "But you've blinded yourself to the things that matter… And I have myself to blame for th-."
"-Shut your mouth!" Haman snarled, before striking out with a savage intensity. Her soul blades clashed with D'Arce's shield— each blow a mix of rage and agony. "I followed you for years! You gave me something to believe in! To fight for! And now you just throw it all away?! TO THROW ME AWAY?!"
D'Arce's voice softened. "I used to believe what we were doing here was delivering justice. But I've failed to see the truth, until it was too late— I've failed you, Haman. I have failed you. But I won't let you destroy yourself for a lie!"
The lieutenant 's face twisted further— raw emotion breaking through her mask of anger. "What gives you the right to decide that for me?!" She retired with a shaky voice— her eyes bright with unshed tears. "You raised me to be strong, to push my emotions down deep inside, all them wither inside for what you said was for the greater good— and now you tell me that's all wrong?!" She swung her blades furiously, each strike stronger and sharper— driving D'Arce back step by step. "THAT I'M ALL WRONG?!"
D'Arce countered, with her blade dancing between each attack— their weapons clashing in a symphony of steel and light. "No, Haman! I was the one who was wrong for raising you that way! I was wrong to make you believe that duty to the Empire was everything!"
Haman let out a bitter laugh, her face twisted in anguish. "And where was that wisdom when I needed it?! When you filled my head with oaths and vows?! When you said we'd stand together, no matter what?!"
"Look around you!" D'Arce shouted, her voice ringing with conviction as she parried another relentless strike. "Do you see what the Empire's become? What it's doing to the people we swore to protect and serve?! What it's doing to you?"
Haman's jaw clenched, with her eyes ablaze with fury. She lunged forward with a desperate speed— pressing D'Arce back as her voice broke with anger and pain. "I don't care about the people! They never cared about me when I needed them! This-" She gestured furiously between them, her soul blades crackling in her hands. "-This is what matters— this is all that'll ever matter to me, because this is all I have left, Captain!"
D'Arce's gaze softened, and her next words were barely above a whisper. "Haman… You're more than a soldier or a pawn in someone else's war. Your sins aren't yours to carry— they're my burden for me to bear, not yours…"
"I… I did this to you. I turned that poor, heartbroken little girl you used to be into… Into what you've become. I twisted your need for love, your need for a mother, against you— transformed you into a reflection of my own hubris… I'm sorry, Haman— I'm sorry."
Haman's rage faltered for a moment, with her expression shifting as if the words struck somewhere deep— somewhere raw. But the bitterness returned just as quickly, her hands tightening around her soul blades. "Y-You don't get to say that…! You don't get to tell me you love me like a daughter, and then throw me away when it's convenient!"
"I never meant to throw you away," D'Arce said, her tone even but laced with regret. "I left because Zemuria needed me to act on its behalf… And beyond the scope of what I've done wrong— what we've done wrong— you and I still have a duty to protect these people. We can fix this, Haman— we can fix what the Royal Army's done to us, and to those living on the frontier."
Haman's response was an anguished scream, as she brought her soul blades down with a force that shook the ground. D'Arce raised her shield, but the impact reverberated through her— the soul blades blazing dangerously close to her face. For a moment, D'Arce caught the glimmer of tears in Haman's eyes.
"DON'T YOU GET IT?! Y-YOU CAN'T FIX US, CAPTAIN!" Haman yelled, her voice raw. "Because of you, my hands are stained forever with the blood of those who YOU told me were my enemies! Who YOU told me were all just collateral damage! That doesn't go away, Captain— no matter how many sorrys you throw at my feet!"
D'Arce pushed her back, her gaze unwavering. "Haman, enough! You were just following orders— those deaths aren't on you! None of them are! You don't know better— let me help you!"
"Don't talk you DARE down to me!" Haman's voice was cracking now— the anger mingling with a hurt that seemed to bleed from every word. She took a step back, and D'Arce watched her, heart heavy, as the lieutenant's hands began to tremble.
"You can't just say you're sorry, and make it all better with sweet words," Haman whispered— her voice nearly breaking. "You raised me for this… This is all I have, Captain… This is all I'll ever have."
"Haman…" D'Arce took a step forward, her face soft with regret and compassion. "I've… I've hurt you— I've hurt you… Please, just… Let me help you. I can get you the help you need— I can kill that monster inside you that my hands sowed."
Haman's hands tightened on her blades, with her face twisting with a mixture of rage and heartbreak. "You think your regret means anything…?! You think it changes what horrible things we've done…?!" Her soul blades began to crackle with energy, and D'Arce braced herself—- eyes meeting the lieutenant's with a steady gaze.
Haman's voice came out choked, her words nearly breaking under the weight of her own anguish. "Y-You may have found a way out, but what about me…? Where's my salvation…?"
For a moment, they stood there, a chasm of pain and betrayal between them, with both of them holding weapons yet restrained by memories, by regrets, by something neither could fully say. And in that silence, it was as if the forest, the storm, the violence— all of it had faded, leaving just two people who had once meant everything to each other, who now found themselves on opposite sides of a war that had fractured everything they had shared.
D'Arce lowered her sword just slightly, her voice barely a whisper. "Then let me be your way out, Haman… Let me take you away from all of this."