Chapter 17 – Dark Revelations II
Zelretch watched Corrin's torn expression with quiet patience, waiting for the right moment to continue.
"You want answers," he said softly. "Answers about Abel, about why he struggles with his darker nature… and why he was so drawn to you."
Corrin flinched slightly at those last words but said nothing, her gaze fixed on the ground.
Zelretch's voice lowered, his tone becoming more somber.
"To understand Abel's burden, you must first understand the woman who shaped him. Her name was Elesia. But she wasn't always a monster."
Corrin looked up, her curiosity piqued despite herself.
"Elesia…" she repeated quietly.
Zelretch nodded.
"She was born a common girl," he began. "The daughter of a baker in a small town. By all accounts, she lived a happy, ordinary life. She helped her father in his shop, went to school, played with the other children… There was nothing remarkable about her, except for one thing."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.
"She possessed a high degree of magical potential. Far more than any ordinary human. And for that reason, she was chosen."
Corrin frowned, confusion flickering across her face. "Chosen?"
Zelretch's gaze darkened.
"Yes. Chosen to be part of a twisted fate. Elesia was born as the seventeenth incarnation of Michael Roa Valdamjong."
Corrin narrowed her eyes. "The same Roa that we fought against?"
"Yes." Zelretch's expression grew grim. "Roa is an immortal entity who reincarnates into new bodies. His soul latches onto those with strong magical potential, using them as vessels to continue his existence. Elesia was one such vessel."
Corrin shivered at the thought. A girl born with a cursed fate, destined to become a monster.
"Everything changed around her twelfth birthday," Zelretch continued. "That's when Roa began to manifest within her. And with him came the curse of vampirism."
Corrin's shivered. "She became a vampire…"
"Indeed," Zelretch confirmed. "Her transformation was gradual at first. She struggled to understand what was happening to her. But as Roa's influence grew stronger, so did her thirst for blood… and her darker impulses."
His voice grew quieter, more solemn.
"Elesia, the cheerful girl who once dreamed of becoming a baker like her father, was gone. In her place stood a creature of the night—a sadistic, cruel monster."
Corrin felt a pang of sorrow for the girl Elesia had once been.
"She built her own covenant," Zelretch said, "gathering followers and turning others into vampires to serve her. And it wasn't long before she found someone who intrigued her beyond all others."
Corrin's heart skipped a beat.
"Abel?"
"Yes," Zelretch confirmed. "Back then, his name was Kyo Hirasawa, and he was a transfer student from a distant land."
Zelretch's gaze sharpened. "Kyo was a talented boy. But he was reckless… and vulnerable. Elesia saw his potential and became fascinated by him. And vampires, Corrin, are creatures prone to fascination."
Corrin tilted her head, confused by the sudden shift in Zelretch's tone. "What do you mean… 'fascination'?"
Zelretch clasped his hands behind his back, pacing slowly as he spoke.
"Vampires are not like humans. Their desires, their emotions… they are far more intense. When a vampire becomes intrigued by someone, that intrigue often grows into something far deeper. It becomes an obsession."
Corrin's chest tightened. "Obsession?"
"Yes," Zelretch said quietly. "It resembles the passion of love, but it is far more consuming. It borders on madness. A vampire who fixates on someone will pursue them with a relentless fervor. And in many cases, that passion takes the form of an artful courtship."
Corrin felt a chill run down her spine. "Courtship…?"
Zelretch nodded.
"Even the act of drinking blood, for them, becomes more than just feeding. It is an expression of love, of possession. They crave not just sustenance, but connection. Sympathy. Consent."
His words hung heavily in the air.
"Elesia was overcome with these urges. And she directed them at Kyo."
Corrin's mind spun with conflicting emotions. "And… he reciprocated?"
Zelretch's expression grew somber.
"At first, no. Kyo resisted her advances. He was afraid of her, horrified by what she had done to him. Turning him into a creature of the night. But Elesia was relentless. She played on his insecurities, his fears, his loneliness… until, slowly, he began to give in."
Corrin's heart ached at the thought.
"She manipulated him," she whispered.
"Yes," Zelretch agreed. "But there was also genuine affection between them. Elesia's obsession with Kyo was twisted, but it was real. And Kyo… he was drawn to her power, her confidence. She made him feel invincible. Unstoppable."
Zelretch's gaze softened.
"He loved her, in his own way. But that love came at a terrible cost."
Corrin's hands trembled.
"So… Abel became what he is because of her."
"Yes," Zelretch said quietly. "Elesia turned Kyo into a Dead Apostle like her. And together, they caused unimaginable suffering."
Corrin's mind flashed back to Abel's words.
"'When you start regaining your humanity… and you remember all the things you did as a vampire…'" she murmured, her voice cracking.
Zelretch nodded.
"That guilt weighs heavily on him. He's spent years trying to atone for his past. But the scars left by Elesia run deep."
Corrin's gaze fell to the ground. "And now… he's drawn to me."
Zelretch was silent for a moment.
"Yes," he finally said. "He is."
Corrin's heart pounded in her chest. "Why? Why me?"
"Because you represent something he lost long ago," Zelretch said softly. "Humanity. Compassion. The part of himself that he's desperate to reclaim."
Corrin's vision blurred with tears.
"But he's dangerous," she whispered. "I saw what he became. I felt it."
Zelretch's expression grew stern.
"Yes. He is dangerous. And he must learn to control himself. But that doesn't mean he's beyond redemption."
These revelations weighed heavily on her, pressing down like an invisible force. The evening air was cool, but she barely felt it. Her mind was fixated on one thing—on him.
Abel.
She looked up at Zelretch, her gaze searching, filled with confusion and sorrow.
"Why does Abel hate Roa so much?" she asked quietly. "If Roa… if Elesia was his lover, why is he hunting him? Shouldn't there be some part of him that still…" Her voice faltered.
Zelretch met her gaze with a steady, knowing look.
"That is precisely why he hunts Roa."
Corrin blinked, startled by the calm certainty in his voice.
"I don't understand," she murmured.
Zelretch walked slowly toward her, the faint glow of the castle's lanterns casting long shadows across the garden.
"Abel knows that Roa's blood flows in his veins," he said. "The darkness that once claimed him still lurks within, waiting for a chance to resurface. His hunt isn't just for the safety of others… it's his way of trying to break the cycle that binds him to the monster he was—and to the monster who made him so."
Corrin's heart clenched at those words.
"He's trying to… break free?"
Zelretch nodded.
"Yes. Abel hunts Roa because he knows that as long as Roa exists, the cycle will never end. The curse will never end. Each time Roa reincarnates, he leaves behind a trail of destruction, corrupting everyone he touches."
Corrin felt a shiver run down her spine.
"But… Abel isn't like Roa," she whispered. "He's not the same as him anymore."
Zelretch tilted his head slightly, regarding her with a thoughtful expression.
The Wizard Marshal sighed softly. "Abel carries Roa's legacy within him. He may have broken free from Elesia, but the darkness that once consumed him is still there. It whispers to him in moments of weakness. It calls to him when he's most vulnerable."
Corrin's thoughts flashed back to Abel's breakdown in the crypt. The way his curse marks had glowed, the monstrous thirst in his eyes.
"That's why he lost control," she murmured. "That's why he…"
Her voice trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
Zelretch's expression softened slightly.
"Yes. Abel has spent years fighting against that part of himself. But it's not an easy battle. The curse is insidious. It doesn't simply disappear."
Corrin closed her eyes, her mind racing.
"And Roa?" she asked, her voice trembling with dread. "I already have fought Zio. He was overwhelming. But Roa probably always was a serious threat… am I right?"
Zelretch's gaze darkened.
"Roa is more than just a being of power," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "He is an anomaly—a force that defies life and death itself. Each time he is defeated, he reincarnates, choosing a new body, stronger and more cunning than before."
Corrin's blood ran cold.
"So he can't be killed," she murmured.
"Not permanently," Zelretch confirmed. "And each time he returns, he grows more dangerous. His mastery of sorcery and reality manipulation makes him a foe unlike any other. To face him is to confront an enemy who can never truly be destroyed—only delayed."
Corrin felt the weight of those words settle in her chest, heavy and unrelenting.
"And Abel is the one who has to stop him," she whispered.
Zelretch nodded solemnly.
"Yes. Abel's fight isn't just against a monster. It's against a curse that refuses to end. A vicious cycle that has carried on through countless lifetimes. He hunts Roa to break that cycle. To end the legacy of darkness that has haunted him—and the world—for far too long."
Corrin sat in silence, her mind reeling from everything she had learned.
"But why him?" she asked quietly. "Why does it have to be Abel?"
Zelretch's expression was unreadable.
"Because Abel is the only one left who understands what Roa is capable of," he said. "He's the only one who's lived through it. He knows the temptation, the madness, the pain of losing himself to the Serpent's curse."
Corrin's heart ached at the thought.
"But at what cost?" she whispered. "How much more does he have to suffer before it's enough?"
"That," Zelretch said quietly, "is something only Abel can decide."
Her thoughts drifted back to Abel—his cold, tired eyes, the weight of his guilt, and the quiet sadness that always seemed to linger around him.
"He's fighting so hard," she whispered to herself. "But is he fighting for the right reasons?"
She clenched her fists, her heart aching with a mixture of sorrow, anger, and longing.
"Abel… what are you really searching for?"
And deep down, a quiet voice in her heart whispered a truth she wasn't ready to face.
The silence between them lingered, a soft rustling of leaves in the evening breeze did little to dispel the suffocating tension. Corrin waiting for Zelretch to speak, feeling he has more to say. So she waited for him to continue.
The Wizard Marshal, usually so flippant and mischievous, seemed burdened by the weight of what he was about to reveal. His eyes, sharp and ancient, softened ever so slightly as they met hers.
"Abel was... reluctant to accept my request," Zelretch said at last, breaking the silence. His voice, stripped of its usual levity, carried a rare note of solemnity.
Corrin's brows knit together in confusion.
"Reluctant?" she echoed softly.
Zelretch nodded.
"He questioned whether he would ever be strong enough to match Roa, whether his efforts could truly end the cycle. He doubted his ability to stop the man who made him what he is—a man who refuses to die, who grows stronger with every incarnation."
Corrin's heart quickened, her chest tightening at the thought of Abel battling such despair. She clenched her fists in her lap, her knuckles turning white. If Abel, who had endured unimaginable horrors and fought so fiercely to redeem himself, harbored such doubts… what hope did anyone have against Roa?
"Why did he agree, then?" she asked, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper. "Why would he take on something so hopeless?"
Zelretch's gaze darkened.
"Abel isn't just hunting Roa because of the blood on his own hands, because of the monster he once was. However, there was one thing Abel requested in return for agreeing to help," Zelretch continued, his voice softer now, as if wary of the impact his next words would have.
Corrin's gaze sharpened. "What did he ask for?"
Zelretch hesitated for a moment, as though debating how to phrase it. Finally, he spoke, his words measured and deliberate.
"He wanted me to use my power to erase his very existence from the Akashic Records."
The air seemed to grow colder.
Corrin blinked, confusion flickering across her face. "The… Akashic Records?"
"They are the stories of all existence," Zelretch explained. "A cosmic archive that holds the memories of every being, every soul, every moment in time. To erase someone from them isn't just to kill them—it's to erase them from history itself. To erase their very being from the fabric of reality."
Corrin's breath caught in her throat.
"He asked you to erase him?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Why would he… why would he want that?"
Zelretch's expression grew heavier, a shadow of sadness crossing his features.
"Because he believes that as long as he exists, he will never truly be free of Roa's curse," he said. "He knows that the darkness he once succumbed to—the monster he became—still lurks inside him, waiting for a chance to resurface. And he fears that no matter how hard he fights, he will never fully escape it."
Corrin shook her head, disbelief and anguish swirling in her chest.
"But that's… that's not true!" she said, her voice rising with emotion. "He's not that person anymore. He's trying to make things right. He's trying to…"
Her words faltered, her mind flashing back to Abel's haunted eyes, the weight of his guilt, the quiet resignation in his voice when he spoke of his past.
"He doesn't see it that way," Zelretch said with a somber expression. "To him, his existence is a reminder of the monster he once was—and the monster he fears he might become again. His hunt for Roa is about breaking the cycle that binds him to that darkness. And he believes that the only way to truly break it… is to erase himself from existence."
Corrin's chest tightened, her heart aching with a mix of sorrow and frustration. She could feel tears stinging the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away, refusing to let them fall.
"That's not fair," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "He doesn't deserve that. He doesn't deserve to carry that burden alone."
Zelretch sighed softly.
"Life is rarely fair, Princess," he said. "Especially not for those who've walked the path Abel has."
Corrin sat in silence, her mind racing with memories of Abel—the man who had saved her, who had fought by her side, who had carried the weight of his past with quiet dignity. She thought of his rare smiles, the way his eyes softened when he spoke of simpler times, of the person he had once been before darkness consumed him.
And she thought of his words, spoken in moments of vulnerability:
"I know you're all wondering if I'm still that monster. If I'm still Kain. And the truth is… I don't know. I've spent years trying to make up for what I've done. Doing anything I could to prove that I'm not the same person I was. But I can't erase my past. I was a tyrant, a killer, and a fiend. I can't change what I was. But I want to believe I've changed who I am."
"Every life I took, every betrayal, every dark thing I've done… it follows me. It will always follow me. I can't live with it, Corrin. All I can do is keep moving forward, one step at a time. I don't ask for forgiveness or trust, not anymore. I just… I just want the chance to make things right, even if I know I'll never fully succeed."
"Thank you… all of you. I don't expect trust overnight, and I don't deserve it either. But I promise, I'll do everything I can to prove to you that I am not that monster anymore."
"Miss being human...? Sometimes, I do. But those moments are few and far between now. I've lived this way for too long to want to go back. What's gone is gone, Corrin. I can't change it."
"But I suppose, in a way, it's why I live the way I do now. The quiet moments like this... with you and the others... they're the closest I get to what I once was."
The memories hit her like a blow, the raw pain in his voice echoing in her mind.
"He's fighting so hard to redeem himself," she murmured. "But he doesn't believe that he's worth saving."
Zelretch's expression was serious—almost mournful.
"Abel believes he can never atone for what he has done," Zelretch said, his voice low and measured. "Even if he were to defeat Roa, the curse inside of him—dark and everlasting—would always remain, a silent reminder of what he is and the horrors he once inflicted. If I granted his request, Abel Deville... Kyo Hirasawa... And Kain. They all would vanish—not just from this world, but from every timeline, every reality. He would become a ghost that never was. No one would remember him. Not even you."
Corrin's heart clenched painfully in her chest. The thought of Abel disappearing like that, without a trace, without even the memory of his existence left behind, made her stomach twist with grief. She clutched the fabric of her dress, fingers trembling.
"But... if Abel erases himself, what will become of him?" she asked, her voice unsteady, laced with fear. "Will he be at peace?"
Zelretch's lips pressed into a thin line, and for the first time, his gaze wavered.
"To some, the idea of being erased is inconceivable—a horror beyond imagining," he said softly. "But to Abel, it is freedom. Freedom from a life defined by guilt, from the unending influence of Roa's curse. Whether it's the right choice... I cannot say."
Corrin shook her head, struggling to process the enormity of what she was hearing.
"No," Corrin whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. Her fists clenched at her sides, her nails biting into her palms as if the pain would steady her. "No. That's not right. Abel isn't a monster."
Zelretch stood silent, watching her with a gaze that held centuries of wisdom—and sadness. The wind stirred around them, rustling the leaves in the garden, but the silence between them was heavier than any sound.
Corrin's lips trembled as memories surged unbidden into her mind. She thought of Abel, standing beside her in battle, his sword steady, his eyes burning with quiet resolve. The way he carried himself, always pushing forward, always protecting those who couldn't protect themselves. That was the Abel she knew.
But then… she remembered that moment.
Her heart twisted painfully as the image resurfaced. Abel, his body trembling, his face twisted with agony as he lost control. His eyes glowing golden, fangs bared. The way he lunged at her, wild and unthinking, driven by bloodlust and madness.
It wasn't Abel who stopped himself.
It was Trishanku.
The memory of Abel's madness, his loss of control, haunted her. She had tried to reach him, to pull him back from the brink, but it hadn't been enough.
Yet…
"He doesn't deserve to disappear," she said fiercely, her voice breaking with emotion. "He doesn't deserve to be forgotten like that."
Zelretch's gaze didn't waver, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—perhaps pity, or understanding.
"Perhaps not," he murmured.
Corrin's chest tightened, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The weight of Zelretch's words pressed down on her like a crushing burden. Her thoughts spun, torn between the man Abel used to be, the monster he became, and the man he was fighting to become again.
The determination in his eyes when he spoke of protecting her. The rare moments when he let his guard down, revealing the guilt and sorrow he carried. And the pained expression he wore when he realized what he had almost done to her.
Corrin wiped at her eyes with trembling hands, but the tears kept coming.
"He's willing to give up everything," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Just like that?"
Zelretch watched her in silence for a long moment.
"And why shouldn't he?" he asked gently. "He knows what he is. He knows the darkness that lives inside him. It will always be a part of him."
Corrin shook her head, her tears falling faster now.
"But he's changed," she said, her voice trembling with desperation. "I know he has. I've seen it."
"Have you?" Zelretch asked quietly. "Did he change, or did he simply bury the monster deeper inside himself? You saw what happened when he lost control. That wasn't a moment of weakness, Corrin. That was the truth of what lies beneath his surface."
Corrin pressed her hands to her chest, her heart aching with the weight of it all. She remembered the look in Abel's eyes when he realized what he'd almost done to her. The horror. The shame. The way he had collapsed to his knees, trembling, unable to meet her gaze.
"He almost…" Her voice faltered, the words catching in her throat. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to continue. "He almost hurt me. He almost…"
Her hands clenched into fists.
Zelretch tilted his head, studying her.
Corrin continued, her voice unwavering. "I know what he's done. I know what he's capable of. But I also know that he's fighting. He's trying to make things right. And I won't let him throw that away."
Her tears spilled over, streaking her cheeks, but she didn't care. The ache in her heart was unbearable, but it fueled her resolve.
"He doesn't deserve to disappear," she said again, more forcefully this time. "Not like this. Not when he's still fighting."
Zelretch sighed softly.
"And what will you do, Princess?" he asked. "If Abel truly believes that erasing himself is the only way to break free from his curse… what will you do to change his mind?"
Corrin stared at him, her heart pounding.
"I'll find him," she said quietly. "I'll find him, and I'll make him see that he's not alone. That he doesn't have to do this."
Her voice trembled, but there was a fierce determination in her eyes.
"I won't let him go," she whispered. "Not like this."
Zelretch's gaze softened, a hint of warmth creeping into his ancient eyes.
"You care for him deeply," he said gently.
Corrin's heart ached at the words. She didn't know what she felt—whether it was love, guilt, or something in between—but she knew one thing for certain.
"I can't let him go," she said again, her voice breaking. "Not when he's still fighting. Not when he still has a chance to make things right."
The wind stirred around them, rustling the leaves, carrying away the distant sounds of the city. But Corrin stood firm, her resolve burning brighter than ever.
"I'll save him," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Even if it's from himself."
Corrin's gaze drifted upward, toward the sky. The sun had fully set by now, replaced by a pale moon hanging low in the sky, its silvery glow casting long shadows over the garden.
She thought of Abel—the weight of his choice to erase himself, the torment he carried from his past. But as she reflected on his pain, her thoughts inevitably turned inward.
Her own journey had been marked by sacrifice and sorrow. Choosing Nohr had meant turning her sword against those she once called family. The people of Hoshido—her birthright—had seen her as a traitor, a puppet of King Garon's tyranny. She had fought their soldiers, stood firm even when their hatred pierced her heart like daggers. The battlefields of Hoshido were forever etched into her memory: the screams of the fallen, the looks of betrayal from those who had once welcomed her with open arms.
She had chosen to fight for Nohr, not out of blind loyalty, but out of love for her siblings. For Xander, for Leo, for Camilla, for Elise. She believed there was a way to change Nohr from within, to bring peace to both kingdoms without succumbing to the cycle of vengeance.
But that path had demanded everything from her.
"I had to make impossible choices," she whispered, more to herself than to Zelretch. "I fought for Nohr, even when it meant becoming the villain in someone else's story. Even when it meant sacrificing innocent lives for the hope of a better future."
The memories came in waves—Hinoka's fiery anger, Ryoma's unwavering resolve, Takumi's bitter hatred. She remembered the way Takumi had looked at her during their battle, his eyes filled with pain and betrayal...
"You betrayed us. You betrayed everything we stood for."
Corrin's hands clenched at her sides, her knuckles whitening. The guilt still lingered, a shadow she could never quite shake. But she had made her choice—and she had to live with it.
"I thought I could carry that burden alone," she continued, her voice steadying. "But I wasn't alone. My siblings stood by me. Even when the world saw me as a traitor, they believed in me. They reminded me that the person I was in that moment didn't define me forever."
Her gaze dropped back to Zelretch, her eyes shining with tears, but burning with newfound resolve.
"And now I see… Abel is carrying that same burden. He believes his past defines him. That no matter what he does, he'll always be that monster he once was."
Zelretch regarded her in silence, his expression inscrutable.
"I understand now," Corrin said, her voice soft but resolute. "But this… this is not a choice that should be his alone. We're all bound by our pasts, by what we've done. But to choose to end everything because of that… it's too much, isn't it?"
She swallowed hard, her voice trembling as she pressed on. "I've made mistakes. I've hurt people. But I've also saved people. I've fought for a better future. And I've learned that no matter how deep the darkness, there's always a way forward."
Her hands tightened into fists, her resolve hardening with each word. "If Abel truly believes this is his only path, then I must show him that there's another way. That he is not alone. That his past doesn't have to define him forever. Even if he feels he can never atone, perhaps I can help him see that his actions now are what matter most."
Zelretch tilted his head slightly, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"You are a very brave woman, Corrin," he said softly. "You seek to protect, to heal, even when the wounds run deep. But know this—sometimes, no matter how hard we fight, the choices we make cannot be undone. Abel's journey is his own, and you can only offer him the hope that there is still light, even in the darkest of paths."
Corrin nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. Her voice was quiet, but unwavering. "Then I will fight for him, just as he fights for others. He may want to erase himself from existence, but I will not let him forget that he's not alone. And that even in the face of darkness, there's always a reason to hold on."
The night air swirled around them, cool and crisp, carrying the scent of rain on the wind. Corrin shivered slightly, but the weight of her promise settled into her bones, grounding her.
"Abel's story is a tragic one," she said softly. "But it's not the end I will allow."
Zelretch stepped closer. His expression was thoughtful, almost weary, as he reached into the folds of his cloak.
From within, he pulled out a small, crimson bag that seemed to pulse faintly, as if alive with the energy of its contents. The subtle metallic scent of blood permeated the air, sharp and undeniable.
"Take this," Zelretch said, his voice low and measured. "If Abel is pushed too far… if his urges become too strong to resist… he'll need this. It will help him quench his thirst, to stave off the darkness that gnaws at his will."
Corrin hesitated, her gaze locked on the bag. The sight of it—the smell of it—brought back memories of Abel's loss of control. The way he had looked at her, eyes crazed with hunger. The way he had lunged, claws bared, the monster within him unleashed.
Her fingers trembled as she reached out, taking the bag from Zelretch's hand. It was heavier than she expected, the contents shifting slightly inside.
She held it close, her grip tightening.
"I'll give it to him," she said quietly. "But not because I think he needs it to survive. I'll give it to him because he needs to know that someone believes in him. That someone trusts him to make the right choice."
Zelretch's smile softened, the hint of mischief in his eyes returning for a brief moment.
"You truly are remarkable," he said. "Few would show such unwavering faith in someone who nearly destroyed them."
Corrin met his gaze, her eyes burning with determination.
"Abel hasn't given up yet," she said. "So I won't give up on him."
The night stretched on, the moonlight casting silvered light across the courtyard. And as Corrin stood there, the crimson bag in her hands, she made a silent vow.
No matter what it takes… I will save him.
With a final nod, Zelretch's figure shimmered, his form fading as if he were being swallowed by the very night around him. His voice, carrying a note of finality, echoed through the air: "Good luck, Corrin. You'll need it."
And just like that, he was gone—vanishing into the shadows as though he had never been there at all.
Corrin stood alone beneath the moon's cold gaze, the night air heavy with the weight of the promise she had just made. Her fingers tightened around the crimson bag, its weight now a solemn reminder of the battle ahead, of the delicate thread between Abel's salvation and his destruction.
Her heart pounded, determination flooding her veins like fire. Tomorrow, she would begin her search, tracing every clue, every whisper, every shadow that could lead her to Abel. She wouldn't rest. She wouldn't stop.
No matter how far she had to go or how long it took, she would find him.
She glanced up at the sky, her resolve unwavering, as she whispered to the night itself. "I won't let you fade away, Abel. Not like this. I'll find you. I'll bring you back."
With the promise etched into her soul, Corrin turned and walked into the castle, her steps resolute. The journey ahead would be perilous, but she was ready. She had to be.