Chapter 20: Two Shadows
The remnants of the Templar camp were eerily quiet, the once-organized tents and banners now reduced to smoldering chaos. Cid crouched by a supply wagon, rifling through crates for anything useful. He worked quickly, his sharp eyes scanning for food, weapons, and clothing. Beside him sat the amnesiac elf girl, her knees pulled to her chest, her gaze distant and unfocused.
Her once-violet, stormy eyes had returned to a striking, crystalline blue. The intense mana surge that had overwhelmed her was now contained, thanks to Cid's painstaking efforts. She was no longer the volatile force that had destroyed the camp, but she seemed smaller now, fragile—like a piece of glass that had been shattered and hastily glued back together.
Cid exhaled and handed her a blanket he'd found. "Here. For now, at least."
The girl blinked, startled from her thoughts, and took the blanket hesitantly, wrapping it around herself. Her voice was soft, uncertain. "I... don't know where I am. Or who I am."
Cid paused, watching her carefully. Minoru's voice chimed in from the depths of his mind, sharp as ever. Temporary amnesia, most likely from the mana whiplash. Her system's been rewired to the point of overloading her memories. She'll get them back... probably.
Cid frowned. "Probably?"
Hey, I'm not a miracle worker. Fixing mana pathways is one thing. Memories? That's complicated. Its not like you and me, I am pretty sure she doesn't have a genius in her head that can put things together like I can. It'll come back to her in time. Or it won't. Either way, we need to keep her moving.
Shaking off the conversation in his head, Cid focused on the girl. "We're in a mess, that's where. This camp belonged to people who clearly had no idea what they were doing with you. You... went berserk."
Her brow furrowed, her fingers tightening on the blanket. "Berserk?"
"Yeah," Cid replied, his tone as gentle as he could manage. "You lost control. But it's not your fault. They were messing with things they didn't understand."
Her hands trembled. "I don't remember... any of it."
"That's fine. For now, let's just focus on getting out of here."
As they scavenged the remains of the camp, Cid found a decent set of plain clothes: a simple tunic and trousers. While they weren't exactly tailored for an elf, they were far better than nothing. He also found a pair of sturdy boots that looked like they might fit her, along with some dried rations and a few canteens of water.
"Here," Cid said, holding up the clothes. "They're not fancy, but they'll do."
The girl hesitated before taking them, her cheeks flushing faintly as she glanced at him. "Thank you."
Turning his back to give her privacy, Cid busied himself by inspecting a nearby crate. Minoru's amused voice echoed in his mind. Look at you, all gentlemanly. Who would've thought?
Cid rolled his eyes. You're not helping.
Oh, come on. She's cute, isn't she? Minoru teased.
Ignoring him, Cid focused on the supplies. He didn't have time for distractions—not with the possibility of more Templars returning to investigate the destruction of their camp.
When the girl finally emerged, dressed in her new outfit, Cid turned to assess her. She still looked uneasy, but at least she wasn't shivering anymore. Her blond hair was tangled but still gleamed faintly in the moonlight.
"Better," Cid said with a nod. "Now we just need to get out of here before anyone shows up."
As they moved away from the camp under the cover of darkness, the girl struggled to keep up at first, her movements clumsy and uncertain.
Cid slowed his pace, glancing back at her. "You okay?"
She nodded quickly, though her breathing was labored. "I... I think so. Where are we going?"
"West," Cid replied. "To the Barony of Kagenou."
She tilted her head, a flicker of curiosity breaking through her confusion. "Is that where you're from?"
Cid hesitated, memories of his family and the life he'd been ripped away from flashing through his mind. "Yeah," he said finally. "That's home. And it's where we're headed. You can stick with me until we figure out what to do."
The girl's expression softened, and she gave him a small, hesitant smile. "Thank you."
Minoru's voice broke in, more serious this time. She's going to be your responsibility now, you know. She might not remember it, but she owes you her life.
Cid sighed internally. Yeah, I know.
As they pressed on through the forest, Cid couldn't shake the feeling that their journey together was only just beginning—and that the mysteries surrounding the girl, the Templars, and their cruel experiments were far from over.
~A Few Days Later~
The trading post was alive with the chaos of midday commerce, a maze of wooden stalls and canvas awnings that stretched across the crossroads. Merchants called out over one another, advertising everything from dried meats to enchanted trinkets, while travelers and mercenaries haggled over prices. The air was thick with the mingling smells of roasted food, leather, and the faint metallic tang of freshly forged weapons.
Cid and the elf girl moved quietly through the bustling market, sticking to the edges of the crowd. Cid's tattered prisoner garb—a dull-gray outfit torn and smudged with dirt—drew a few curious glances. The girl fared little better, her ill-fitting clothes marking her as someone displaced. Whispers followed them, but the sharp look in Cid's eyes quickly discouraged any lingering attention.
"This place is lively," the elf girl murmured, her voice low but curious. She kept close to Cid, her blue eyes flicking nervously between the faces around them. "Is it safe?"
Cid scanned the crowd with a calculating gaze, noting the cluster of mercenaries lounging by a weapons stall and a group of traders arguing over the price of grain. "Safe enough," he said evenly.
"As long as you don't look like an easy mark."
A merchant, a burly man with a thick beard and an apron stained with grease, caught sight of them and frowned slightly. His eyes lingered on Cid's worn garb, his mouth twitching as though he wanted to ask a question.
Instead, he barked, "Looking for something or just gawking?"
"Both," Cid replied smoothly, stepping toward the stall. His tone was casual, but his movements were deliberate, his sharp gaze never leaving the merchant. "We're here to get outfitted. Basic adventurer gear. Durable, nothing fancy."
The merchant grunted, giving them a long, appraising look. "You look like you've had better days," he said, his tone gruff but not unkind. "But coin's coin. Let's see what you need."
The merchant gestured to a rack of leather armor hanging from a beam. The pieces were simple but well-crafted, designed for practicality rather than flair. Cid ran a hand over the stitching of a chest piece, testing its flexibility.
"This'll do," he said, handing it to the girl. "Try it on."
She hesitated, her hands brushing over the smooth leather. "It's… better than what I've been wearing," she said softly. Sliding it on, she adjusted the straps awkwardly until it fit snugly.
The merchant nodded approvingly. "Not bad. Lightweight and sturdy. Good choice for someone her size."
Cid glanced at the elf girl, his sharp eyes taking in the way she tested the fit. "You'll need more than armor," he said. He pointed to a row of short swords hanging on the wall. "Something you can handle."
The girl moved to the swords, her fingers brushing over the hilts. She picked up a simple short sword, the blade well-balanced and unadorned. Testing its weight, she gave it an experimental swing. A flicker of confidence crossed her face.
"That one," Cid said decisively. He turned back to the merchant. "And a hunting bow. Something sturdy, with a decent draw."
The merchant retrieved a modest bow and a quiver of arrows, setting them on the counter. "Not top-of-the-line, but it'll get the job done."
The elf girl watched as Cid selected his own equipment. He picked up a sturdy longsword, testing the weight with a few deliberate swings. A pair of daggers followed, their blades simple but sharp.
The merchant raised an eyebrow. "Planning to take on trouble?"
Cid smirked faintly. "Just staying prepared."
Satisfied, he handed over a pouch of coins. The merchant weighed it briefly in his palm, his earlier wariness fading into something more professional. "Good doing business with you," he said. "You'll blend in better now, at least."
As they moved through the trading post, their new gear drawing less attention, the elf girl's nervousness began to ebb. Still, Cid noticed the lingering stares from some of the other merchants and travelers.
A woman selling cloth wrinkled her nose as they passed, leaning toward a companion to whisper something. Cid caught the words "runaways" and "trouble," but he kept walking, his expression calm.
By contrast, a scarred blacksmith gave them a curt nod, his soot-streaked face impassive. "Got the look of folks who've been through hell," he muttered as they passed. "Good luck to you."
The elf girl glanced at Cid, her ears twitching slightly. "Do they all think we're… criminals?"
"Does it matter?" Cid replied, his tone cool but not unkind. "We're just passing through. Let them think what they want."
The last stall they visited was tucked into a quieter corner of the post, its shelves lined with cloaks, boots, and travel gear. The elf girl's gaze was drawn to a deep green cloak embroidered with subtle leaf patterns. She picked it up hesitantly, running her fingers over the fabric.
"If you like it, take it," Cid said simply.
She nodded, draping it over her shoulders. "It feels… right," she said, her voice softer now.
For himself, Cid selected a dark-gray cloak, its sturdy material suitable for both travel and stealth. Along with fresh boots and sturdy clothes, he gathered other essentials: rope, flint, and a few provisions.
The merchant didn't ask questions, only nodding briskly as Cid handed over the payment. "Travel safe," he said gruffly.
As they left the bustling market behind, the elf girl adjusted her new cloak, her movements more relaxed. The tension in her posture had eased, and there was a faint lightness to her step.
"Better?" Cid asked, glancing at her.
She nodded, her blue eyes steady. "Yes. I feel… like myself again."
"Good," Cid said, his tone calm but approving. "We'll need that confidence for what's ahead."
The two disappeared into the forest, their gear now marking them not as bedraggled outcasts but as adventurers with purpose. The faint hum of the trading post faded behind them as they pressed forward, ready for whatever came next.
The forest stretched out in every direction, its towering trees swaying gently in the breeze. The canopy overhead filtered the sunlight into soft patches of gold that danced across the forest floor. The sounds of the trading post had long since faded, replaced by the quiet rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of birds.
Cid led the way along a faintly worn path, his steps purposeful but unhurried. Beside him, the elf girl walked with her new cloak wrapped tightly around her, her expression a mix of concentration and uncertainty.
It took Cid a moment before he realized he was going home, and didn't know what to do with his new charge. Would she even want to come with him? He should've asked her if she wanted to go home.
"I know I said I was going west to the Barony, but you don't need to come with me. I'm sure you have family missing you." Cid said, breaking the silence. His voice was calm but probing. "Do you recognize anything around here? Anything that feels familiar?"
The girl slowed her steps, her blue eyes scanning the forest as she tried to focus. She closed her hands into small fists, as though willing her memories to surface. "I don't know," she said quietly, frustration lacing her tone. "I've been trying, but it's like… there's a wall in my mind. Every time I think I'm close, it slips away."
Cid's gaze softened slightly, though his tone remained practical. "It doesn't have to be exact. Landmarks, places you might have passed through before—anything at all."
The girl closed her eyes and stood still for a moment, letting the faint breeze brush against her face.
She took a deep breath, her ears twitching slightly as she strained to recall something—anything.
"There was a girl," she said finally, her voice soft and hesitant. "She had short silver hair, like… like the moonlight. She was about my age, maybe a little younger, but not by much, I do remember she's the same age number as me."
Cid's expression didn't change, but he leaned slightly toward her, encouraging her to continue.
"What else?"
The girl furrowed her brow, her frustration growing. "There was also a woman. She was tall and… strong. Platinum blond hair, like sunlight. She looked like… me, but older. A warrior."
Cid raised an eyebrow slightly, his sharp mind turning over the details. In the quiet of his thoughts, Minoru's voice chimed in.
"Sounds like they're related," Minoru opined, his tone measured. "If the older one looks like her, the girl could be part of a larger family—maybe even nobility. Could explain why the Templars were interested in her."
Cid's frowned thoughtfully.
"Or they saw her as a threat. Either way, it's worth considering."
The elf girl opened her eyes, her expression a mixture of sadness and irritation. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "That's all I can remember. Everything else is… blank."
Cid shook his head, his tone firm but not unkind. "Don't apologize. We'll figure it out. It's a start."
She looked up at him, her blue eyes searching his face. "But what if I can't? What if I never remember who I am or where I came from?"
He met her gaze evenly, his voice steady. "Then we keep moving forward. You're not alone in this."
As they continued down the path, Cid pulled the map he'd bought from the trading post out of his cloak. Unfolding it, he studied the markings and landmarks, his sharp eyes scanning for anything useful.
"We're here," he said, pointing to a crossroads marked on the map. "Not far from a place called Bramble Hollow. It's a small settlement, probably farmers and woodsmen. They might know more about the area—or who you are."
The girl nodded, her expression steadying slightly. "Then we should go there."
Cid folded the map and tucked it away, his smirk faint but confident. "Let's hope it's more welcoming than the trading post."
As they walked, Cid let his thoughts turn inward, Minoru's voice providing a quiet commentary.
"The silver-haired girl and the platinum-blond woman stand out. They're not common traits—especially if they mean a lot to her that she remembers them. That makes them significant."
"Agreed," Cid thought back, his pace steady. "If they're related, they could lead us to her home—or at least her past."
"But that means they'll also attract attention," Minoru added. "If someone's looking for her—or them—it's only a matter of time before we're caught in the middle."
Cid's smirk deepened. "We'll handle it."
Minoru chuckled softly in Cid's mind. "I doubt it anyone could take us out."
The two pressed on, the faint outline of Bramble Hollow beginning to appear in the distance. The elf girl adjusted her cloak, her grip on her short sword firming as her confidence grew. She glanced at Cid, her expression still uncertain but tinged with hope.
"Thank you," she said suddenly, her voice soft but sincere.
Cid raised an eyebrow, glancing at her. "For what?"
"For not giving up on me," she said simply.
Cid's smirk softened into something almost resembling a smile. "We're not done yet. Let's keep moving."
The path ahead stretched into the horizon, and with it, the promise of answers—or more mysteries.
The warm hum of Bramble Hollow surrounded Cid and the elf girl as they navigated the bustling village. The elf girl's wide eyes took in the artisans at work, the carefully carved wooden homes, and the scent of freshly baked bread drifting from the communal ovens. Cid, however, remained focused, his sharp gaze scanning the village for anyone who might provide useful information.
As they passed a small cluster of stalls displaying everything from jewelry to woven tapestries, a voice called out.
"Excuse me!"
Cid turned instinctively toward the sound, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword out of habit. A young elf girl was waving at them from behind a stall filled with carved wooden animals and intricate beadwork. Her dark blue hair shimmered in the sunlight, tied loosely with a simple ribbon, and her matching blue eyes sparkled with recognition as she stepped around the counter. Cid noted that she almost tripped on nothing but air.
Wait…
She tilted her head, studying Cid curiously. "You look… familiar," she said slowly. "Have we met before?"
Cid's brows furrowed slightly as he observed her, and a flicker of memory surfaced. Back when he was still Kageno, he recalled a slightly younger version of her, tripping over her own two feet in the polished streets of Lys Anorel. She had tumbled headfirst over air or some invisible object for some reason, her embarrassment clear even then.
"I remember you," Cid said, his tone calm but laced with faint amusement. "You were the girl who tripped in Lys Anorel. I helped you up."
Her eyes widened as realization dawned. "You're that boy?" She blinked a few times, then smiled brightly. "You were shorter than me back then!"
Cid smirked faintly, crossing his arms. "Human boys grow fast."
She laughed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I suppose they do. I remember that day—my cousins never let me hear the end of it. But you…" Her eyes narrowed playfully, before shaking her head and giving a bright smile.
The elf gestured proudly to her stall. "Anyway, welcome to Bramble Hollow. I've been here for a few years now, working with my family. All of this—" she motioned to the carvings and beadwork "—is our craft. What do you think?"
The elf girl stepped forward, her gaze lingering on a small carved fox with a glossy finish. "It's beautiful," she said softly, picking it up.
The blue-haired elf beamed. "Thank you. My family taught me the importance of telling a story through art. It's not just about skill—it's about putting something of yourself into your work."
Cid ran his fingers lightly over a carved wooden wolf, his expression thoughtful.
As she studied him more closely, her smile faded into something softer, more curious.
"You've changed," she said, tilting her head. "Your presence feels… sharper. More commanding. But your eyes…" She leaned forward slightly. "They're the same as back then."
Cid's smirk flickered, his tone turning neutral. "A lot's happened since then."
She nodded slowly, though her eyes lingered on him as though trying to piece something together. "I believe it. You have the look of someone who's seen more than they should."
The elf girl, silent until now, glanced between the two of them. "He's not exactly the same as before, but he's still kind," she said quietly. "He's been helping me."
The dark blue-haired elf smiled gently at the girl. "Then you're in good hands." She turned back to Cid, her grin returning. "Even if you were short back then."
Cid smiled, then redirected the conversation. "We're looking for someone named Lysera. I heard she lives near the old elm and might be able to help with memories."
The blue-haired elf's smile dimmed slightly as she considered his words. "Lysera's one of our village's wisest. If anyone can help with memories, it's her. But she's… particular."
Cid raised an eyebrow. "Particular how?"
"She values honesty and intent," the elf explained. "If you're seeking her wisdom, you'll need to prove your purpose isn't shallow. She doesn't like time wasters."
Cid nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Noted."
The elf girl tilted her head, her curiosity evident. "Have you met her?"
"Only once," the blue-haired elf admitted. "But I know where to find her. Just follow the main path to the old elm. You can't miss it."
As they prepared to leave, the blue-haired elf picked up a small wooden carving of a bird and handed it to the elf girl. "Here. Take this. It's a gift—for luck."
The elf girl's eyes widened, and she accepted the carving carefully. "Thank you," she said softly, her voice tinged with gratitude.
The blue-haired elf waved them off with a grin. "Come back anytime. And you? Try not to outgrow the trees next time I see you."
Cid chuckled faintly. "No promises."
As they walked away, the elf girl glanced up at him, her expression curious. "You really did know her back then?"
"Barely," Cid said, his tone casual. "But some people stick in your memory."
"Do you even know her name?" She asked.
Cid paused.
Huh.
He'll probably ask her the next time he sees her.
The path ahead led them toward the edge of the village, where the old elm waited, and with it, perhaps the answers they sought. Cid ignored his companion's inquisitive stare.
The dark blue haired girl returned to her stall before realizing that she forgot to ask him his name!
"Oh shoot! I knew I forgot to ask!"
She'll ask him next time!
The narrow dirt path wound its way through the outskirts of Bramble Hollow, flanked by tall, ancient trees that seemed to whisper in the wind. The hum of the village had faded into the background, replaced by the softer sounds of nature—the rustle of leaves, the distant chirp of birds, and the occasional creak of wood swaying in the breeze.
The elf girl clutched the small wooden bird given to her by the blue-haired elf, her fingers tracing its delicate carving as they walked. Her steps were lighter now, though her eyes still darted toward Cid occasionally, as if searching for reassurance.
"You're quiet," Cid remarked, glancing at her.
She looked up, startled, before nodding. "I'm just… thinking," she said softly. "That elf—she remembered you. It felt like she trusted you right away."
Cid smirked faintly. "Sometimes helping someone out sticks with them. People don't forget kindness, even if it's small."
Her gaze dropped back to the carving in her hands. "I hope I can repay everyone who's helped me someday."
As the path turned a gentle corner, the old elm came into view. Its massive trunk was gnarled and twisted, its roots sprawling out across the ground like veins. The branches stretched high into the sky, their leaves casting dappled shadows that danced in the afternoon light.
At the base of the tree sat a small cottage, its wooden walls adorned with carvings of stars, moons, and flowing rivers. A thin trail of smoke curled from the stone chimney, and the faint smell of herbs hung in the air.
Cid stopped a few paces from the door, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings. The place felt old, not in a decrepit sense but in a way that carried weight—a history woven into its very foundation.
"This is it," he said, his voice low.
The elf girl shifted nervously beside him. "She might not want to help us," she murmured.
Cid looked at her, his gaze steady. "We'll find out."
Before Cid could knock, the door creaked open, revealing an elf woman with silver-streaked blond hair. Her sharp green eyes studied them intently, and her expression was one of calm observation, as though she already knew their purpose.
"I wondered when you'd arrive," she said, her voice smooth but tinged with curiosity. "The winds have been whispering of travelers seeking answers."
Cid raised an eyebrow, his posture relaxed but cautious. "You're Lysera, then?"
She nodded, stepping aside and motioning for them to enter. "Come in. You've brought questions, and I may have answers—if your purpose is true."
The interior of the cottage was cozy but cluttered, with shelves lined with jars of herbs, old tomes, and small carved figures. A faint glow emanated from a crystal set in the center of a wooden table, its light casting soft shadows across the room.
Lysera gestured for them to sit, taking a seat herself across from them. Her piercing gaze settled first on Cid, then on the elf girl.
"You've been through much," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied the girl. "Your spirit is fractured, but it hasn't given up. That speaks to your strength."
The elf girl shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. "I don't even know who I am," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "I was hoping you could help me remember."
Lysera leaned back, her fingers steepled as she considered. "Memories are like threads in a tapestry. When one unravels, the rest can loosen. What do you recall? Anything specific?"
The girl hesitated, glancing at Cid before answering. "I remember a silver-haired girl my age and a tall woman with platinum-blond hair. They felt… important, like family. And a forest—its trees were pale, almost silver themselves."
Lysera's expression softened slightly, a flicker of recognition crossing her face. "The silver forest," she murmured. "That could be near Lys Anorel, the capital of elven lands. The silver-haired girl and the platinum-blond woman… They may be your kin. Such features are uncommon, even among elves."
The elf girl's eyes lit up, though her voice remained hesitant. "You think they're my family?"
Lysera nodded slowly. "It's possible. But memories often surface in pieces, and the mind can be stubborn when it feels pain. You'll need to be patient—and willing to explore what frightens you."
Cid leaned forward slightly, his tone calm but probing. "Do you know of anyone who might fit her description? Anyone in the region who could lead us closer?"
Lysera considered this, her fingers brushing the edge of the crystal on the table. "Perhaps," she said finally. "But there are whispers of danger near the silver forest. If you pursue this path, you may find more than just your past."
Lysera's gaze turned back to the elf girl, her expression unreadable. "Before I tell you more, I must know: Are you prepared to face what you've forgotten? Even if it's painful?"
The girl swallowed hard, her grip tightening on the wooden bird in her hands. She looked at Cid, finding reassurance in his calm presence, before turning back to Lysera.
"Yes," she said firmly, though her voice wavered. "I want to remember."
Lysera smiled faintly, the first true warmth she'd shown. "Then we will begin."
She stood, moving to one of the shelves and retrieving a small vial filled with a shimmering, silver liquid. "This will help loosen the threads of your mind. But be warned—it may bring forth memories you're not ready to face."
As Lysera prepared the vial, Cid's sharp eyes followed her movements, his thoughts turning inward.
"This feels too convenient," Minoru's voice echoed in his mind. "Be ready for anything."
"I always am," Cid thought back, his smirk faint but unwavering.
The elf girl took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. The room seemed to grow quieter as the weight of the moment settled over them, the answers they sought just within reach—but at what cost?
The room was cloaked in a heavy stillness as the elf girl stared at the shimmering silver liquid in the vial. The soft glow of Lysera's crystal illuminated the lines of worry etched on her young face. Cid sat nearby, his sharp gaze fixed on her, his presence steady and grounding.
"Are you certain you want to do this?" Lysera asked, her tone calm but tinged with caution. "Memories can be as painful as they are enlightening."
The elf girl tightened her grip on the vial, her trembling hands betraying her resolve. "I have to know," she said softly. "Even if it hurts."
Cid's voice cut through the tension, measured and steady. "You're not alone in this. Whatever you find, we'll face it together."
She nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line, and tipped the vial to her lips. The liquid was cold as it slid down her throat, sending an icy shiver through her body. Her vision blurred as the world around her faded, plunging her into darkness.
Darkness enveloped her, a void that felt suffocating and endless. Then, like the flicker of a candle, images began to surface—fragments of a past she hadn't known she'd lost.
She stood in a forest of towering trees with pale silver bark, their leaves shimmering as though touched by moonlight. Laughter rang out nearby, clear and bright, as a silver-haired girl darted between the trees. The girl's short hair gleamed in the light, and her eyes sparkled with mischief.
"Come on, you're too slow!" the silver-haired girl called, her voice teasing but warm.
A figure emerged from the trees behind her—a tall woman with platinum-blond hair and sharp, commanding features. She was clad in light armor that glinted faintly, and her expression, though stern, softened as she looked at the two of them.
"Don't stray too far," the woman said, her voice calm but firm. "Stay where I can see you."
For a moment, warmth filled her heart as the memory unfolded. The sense of safety, of belonging, was so vivid that she almost reached out to touch it.
The comforting glow of the forest gave way to cold stone walls, dimly lit by flickering torches. She stood alone in the center of a grand hall, the sound of her own breathing loud in her ears. Around her, shadowy figures whispered harsh words that cut like knives.
"She's possessed," one voice said, sharp with disgust. "The disease will spread to the rest of the family if she stays."
Another voice, colder and more distant, added, "The bloodline cannot be tarnished. We must act swiftly."
She looked up, her eyes wide and pleading, as a woman stepped forward. The resemblance was unmistakable—this was her mother. But the warmth she had once seen in her mother's face was gone, replaced by a cold, unyielding expression.
"She is no longer of this house," her mother said, the words cutting deeper than any blade. "Take her away."
The memory twisted further. Rough hands grabbed her, dragging her from the hall as she cried out. "Please! I didn't do anything wrong! Don't send me away!"
But her pleas were met with silence. Her family didn't look at her as she was taken, their backs turned as though she had already ceased to exist.
The scene shifted again. She was standing in a dark marketplace, her wrists bound with rough rope. Around her, other elves stood in chains, their faces hollow with despair. Voices rose around her, haggling over lives like they were commodities.
"Possessed," one merchant said, eyeing her like an object. " Most likely unstable, but manageable for now. A strong willed one too—she'll fetch a good price."
Her heart sank as she was pushed forward, her captors boasting of her features to potential buyers. Her voice broke as she tried to protest, but no one listened.
The last thing she remembered was a knight looking at her through their helmet.
The final memory was of the Templars. Their pristine white and gold armor shone cruelly as they loomed over her. Their voices were calm but devoid of compassion.
"The possessed are a blight upon this world," one of them intoned. "Their existence is a sin that must be purged."
She remembered the iron chains that bit into her wrists, the cold floor of her cell, and the chanting of the Templars as they prepared for her execution. The suffocating weight of hopelessness pressed down on her chest, and she screamed silently into the void.
Her body jerked violently as she was pulled back into the present. She gasped for air, clutching the edges of the table as tears streamed down her face. Her whole body trembled, and her breaths came in ragged sobs.
Cid was beside her instantly, his hand firm on her shoulder. "It's over," he said quietly, his voice steady. "You're back."
She shook her head, burying her face in her hands. "They abandoned me," she choked out. "My own family… they gave me away because of this curse."
Lysera's expression was somber as she watched the girl. "You returned from possession," she said softly, awe in her voice. "I have never seen that happen before. How was it possible?"
Cid's gaze hardened slightly, though his tone remained neutral. "It happened. That's all that matters."
Lysera's sharp green eyes flicked to him, her curiosity unquenched. "You know something, don't you?"
Cid didn't respond, his expression unyielding. "We're not here to answer questions. Just to get hers."
The elf girl's hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the table. "I didn't want this," she whispered, her voice breaking, and unconsciously using mana to power her words. "I didn't ask for any of it. Why would they do this to me? Why didn't they fight for me?"
Cid's hand stayed on her shoulder, his presence steady.
She looked up at him, her tear-streaked face filled with anguish, her mana fading. "I don't know who I am anymore."
Cid met her gaze, his voice quiet but firm. "You're still you. What happened doesn't define you. What you do next does."
"We'll be going," he said simply to the shocked Lysera, guiding his companion toward the door.
As they stepped out into the cool air of the forest, the weight of her memories hung heavy between them. But for the first time, the girl's steps, though hesitant, were her own.
The heavy wooden door of the cottage creaked shut behind Cid and the elf girl, leaving Lysera alone in the dimly lit room. The faint hum of the crystal on her table filled the silence, its light casting shifting patterns across the walls. She remained seated, her fingers lightly brushing the smooth surface of the table as her thoughts churned.
Her sharp green eyes stared at the spot where the girl had sat moments before, trembling and broken from the weight of her memories. A girl who had been abandoned, sold, and condemned to die—marked as possessed, the ultimate curse among her people.
And yet, she had returned. Against all odds, the girl had emerged from the depths of possession, her spirit intact and her mind still her own. Lysera pressed her hands against her temples, trying to reconcile what she had just witnessed.
"It shouldn't be possible," she whispered, her voice trembling as it broke the silence. "Once the spirit is fractured, the darkness consumes them. That's what we've always believed. That's what we were taught to believe."
Her hands fell to the table, her fingers curling tightly against the wood. The image of the girl's tear-streaked face haunted her. Lysera had heard countless stories of the possessed—damned souls whose only escape was death. She had pitied them from afar, comforted herself with the idea that their suffering was inevitable, beyond her power to change.
And yet, here was proof that she had been wrong.
Lysera stood slowly, her movements unsteady. She crossed the room to the shelves lining the wall, her fingers brushing the spines of old tomes filled with histories, myths, and elven teachings. Her gaze lingered on one book in particular—a worn volume she had read countless times as a child, its pages filled with warnings about the possessed.
"A blight upon our kind," she murmured, reciting the words she had memorized so long ago. "A disease that must be excised to preserve the purity of the bloodline."
She closed her eyes, her hands trembling as she pulled the book from the shelf and let it fall onto the table. The sound echoed in the quiet room, a sharp punctuation to her growing sense of guilt.
"How many have I turned away?" she asked herself, her voice cracking. "How many did I let suffer because I believed there was nothing that could be done for them?"
Her fingers gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She thought of the faces she had seen over the years—families torn apart, loved ones condemned. She had told herself she was powerless, that it was beyond her reach to help them.
"I was a coward," she whispered, the words bitter in her mouth. "I pitied them, but I didn't act. I let myself believe it was easier to turn away."
Lysera sank into her chair, her composure crumbling as the weight of her past inaction settled over her. She buried her face in her hands, her voice trembling as she spoke to the empty room.
"To all those I failed… to all those I turned away… forgive me."
Her tears fell freely now, dampening her hands as she clung to the edges of the table like a lifeline. "If I had known… if I had believed that there was a way…"
The memory of the girl flashed in her mind—the way she had clutched the wooden bird as though it were her only anchor to this world, the raw pain in her eyes as she relived her abandonment and betrayal. Lysera's heart ached, the guilt clawing at her chest.
As the tears subsided, Lysera's breathing steadied, and she wiped her face with trembling hands. The guilt still lingered, but beneath it, a new resolve began to take root.
"I can't change what I've done," she said quietly, her voice firmer now. "But I can choose what I do from this moment forward."
Her gaze turned to the crystal on the table, its faint glow seeming to pulse with life. Lysera reached out, placing her hand over it. "No more turning away. If there's even a chance to save those who've been abandoned, I will find it. I owe them that much."
She straightened, her shoulders squaring as she rose from her chair. Her heart still ached with guilt, but it now burned with purpose. The girl's survival was a miracle, but it was also a challenge—a call to question the truths Lysera had once accepted without doubt.
As she moved to extinguish the light in the room, her thoughts lingered on Cid and the girl who had carried the weight of a shattered past.
"May you find the peace I couldn't give to others," she murmured softly. "And may I be strong enough to make amends."
The room fell into darkness, but Lysera's mind burned with determination. For the first time in years, she felt the stirrings of hope—and the painful, necessary weight of accountability.
As Lysera extinguished the light of the crystal, the cottage fell into a quiet dimness. Yet her thoughts remained restless. The girl's miraculous survival, her return from possession, defied everything Lysera had ever known. But it wasn't just the girl who intrigued her—it was the human boy who accompanied her.
She moved back to her chair, sitting in the dim light cast by the moon filtering through the window. Her sharp green eyes narrowed as she recalled Cid's demeanor. He was calm, controlled, and far too composed for someone his age. There was something about him—a quiet power that wasn't born from arrogance, but from experience. He carried himself like a man who had walked through fire and come out tempered.
"He didn't just protect her," Lysera murmured, her fingers tapping lightly on the table. "He knew something. Something he wasn't willing to share."
Her gaze drifted toward the empty spot where they had sat.
"Who are you, boy?" she wondered aloud.
"And what role will you play in what's to come?"
Lysera closed her eyes, letting out a slow breath. The question lingered in her mind, but for now, she had no answer. The only thing she was certain of was that the boy was no ordinary traveler. He was a catalyst—one that might be the key to changing everything she thought she knew.
The moon hung high in the night sky as Cid and the girl walked along a narrow forest path, the faint crunch of leaves underfoot the only sound between them. The silence stretched, heavy with the weight of her newly restored memories.
Cid kept his gaze ahead, his sharp eyes scanning the shadows. Beside him, the elf girl walked slowly, clutching the wooden bird in her hand as though it were the only thing keeping her tethered to the present.
Finally, she broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. "They sold me."
Cid didn't respond immediately, giving her space to speak. She continued, her words trembling with pain. "My own family. They didn't fight for me, didn't even hesitate. They just… gave me away."
He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "Fear makes people do terrible things," he said quietly. "It doesn't make it right, but it explains it."
Her grip on the bird tightened, her knuckles white. "I hate them for it," she said, her voice cracking. "I hate them for what they did to me."
Cid stopped walking, turning to face her. "Good," he said simply.
She blinked, startled by his response.
"Good?"
"You're allowed to feel that way," he said firmly. "You're allowed to hate them for abandoning you. Pretending otherwise won't help. But don't let that hate control you. Use it to remind yourself why you're stronger now."
Her blue eyes filled with tears, but she nodded slowly, his words sinking in. "It's just… everything I was, everything I knew—it's gone. That name, that life… it doesn't belong to me anymore."
She stopped walking, her gaze dropping to the ground as tears rolled down her cheeks. "I can't bear to call myself by that name," she said, her voice trembling. "It's tied to a life I'll never have again. A life I don't want."
Cid watched her for a moment, his expression calm but thoughtful. "Then leave it behind," he said simply. "Choose a new name. One that's yours, not theirs."
Her head lifted slightly, her tear-streaked face turning toward him. "Will you… help me?"
He smirked faintly, the faintest flicker of warmth in his otherwise sharp demeanor. "I'm not great with names," he admitted. "But if it's yours, it'll mean something."
The girl stared at him for a long moment, her expression softening. "Then… can I borrow one from you? Just until I can figure out who I want to be?"
Cid raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing.
"You want me to name you?"
She nodded, her gaze steady despite the vulnerability in her voice.
"I don't trust anyone else to give me one that fits."
Cid considered her for a moment, his mind turning over possibilities. Finally, he shrugged lightly. "Alright," he said. "But don't hold it against me if it's not perfect."
She let out a shaky laugh, the first hint of levity breaking through her sorrow. "I won't. I promise."
They continued walking, the weight of the past still lingering but the faintest glimmer of hope flickering on the horizon.
The forest was quiet, the only sounds the soft crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional rustle of the wind in the trees. Cid and the elf girl walked side by side, the weight of their conversation still hanging in the air. She had asked for a name—a new identity to replace the one tied to the life she no longer wished to claim.
Cid's sharp gaze flicked ahead, but his mind turned inward. "Minoru," he thought, his tone calm but deliberate. "You've got a better knack for this than I do. What do you think?"
Minoru's voice, always smooth and thoughtful, chimed in almost immediately. "You're asking me to name her? Didn't think you'd ever pass off a decision like this."
"I'd rather avoid giving her something that sounds like I pulled it from the first thing I saw," Cid replied dryly. "So, what've you got?"
Minoru chuckled softly in Cid's mind. "Well, if we're doing this, let's do it properly. I've always been partial to Greek and Latin names. They carry weight and meaning. A bit of grandeur never hurt."
"Greek?" Cid asked, his brow furrowing slightly. "You mean, like… ancient names? The kind tied to myths and old stories?"
"Exactly," Minoru said, his tone warming. "Greek names have depth. They often symbolize something—strength, wisdom, beauty, or even tragedy. It's poetic in a way."
Cid mulled over Minoru's words. "Alright, then. Give me some examples. What kind of Greek names are we talking about?"
"Well," Minoru began, his voice taking on a slightly instructive tone, "you've got names like Athena, tied to wisdom and strategy. Or Nike, symbolizing victory. There's Calliope, the muse of epic poetry, and Selene, the moon goddess."
Cid's expression remained neutral, though his mind turned over each name. "Athena and Nike sound like names for warriors, like maybe that platinum blond lady" he thought. "But Calliope and Selene... those feel more artistic. None of them truly fit her."
"You're catching on," Minoru said, his tone amused.
"We want something that speaks to her identity—or who she could become. She's someone rebuilding herself from the ashes, starting over." Cid continued… what was a good name?
Minoru thought some more before snapping his fingers. Well, what counts for fingers in a metaphorical, mind sense.
"How about the Greek Alphabet?"
Cid turned to the elf girl, who had been walking quietly beside him. She looked up at him, her blue eyes filled with both curiosity and apprehension.
"I got a name for you," he said simply, his voice steady.
Her eyes brightened,
Cid's smirk deepened slightly as he reached into his cloak, pulling out a small knife. Kneeling down by the side of the path, he carved a single symbol into the bark of a tree—a simple, clean letter.
"This is where it begins," he said, rising to his feet.
"From now on, you're Alpha."
~!~
Extra Chapter: Remembrance
Time: Deep Night
Date: Unknown
Location: Cid's Mindscape
Cid lay serenely, the rhythmic cadence of his breathing resonating in the stillness of the camp. But this was no ordinary rest; Minoru was not merely nearby—he was within. The quiet corners of Cid's mind provided a peculiar sanctuary, a shared mental space where Minoru existed as a faint yet conscious echo of his past self. Here, in the recesses of Cid's psyche, Minoru reflected, his thoughts untouched by the waking world. It was only when Cid slept that Minoru could wander freely, undisturbed by the subconscious hum of the present host.
Fragments of his past life surfaced with painful clarity. He could almost hear the soft timbre of his parents' voices, exchanging casual conversation over the dinner table. The faint clink of chopsticks meeting ceramic bowls was a sound etched into his memory. He envisioned the gentle steam wafting from his mother's miso soup and the subtle way his father adjusted his glasses while stealing glances at the evening news. He could even recall the way his mother scolded him gently for skipping his chores, her voice tinged with both affection and exasperation. How many years had passed since he'd seen those familiar faces? Were they still searching for him, hoping against hope for his return? Or had time dulled their grief, forcing them to accept the cruel reality of a son lost without explanation?
"Mom... Dad..." Minoru's voice barely rose above a whisper, a fragile utterance absorbed into the void of the mental space. "I never even got to say goodbye." His hands curled into trembling fists, nails biting into his palms as guilt intertwined with frustration. "You always told me to be strong... but is this strength? Would you even recognize me now? Would you even want to? Or would you turn away?"
And then there was Akane. Her laughter played in his mind like a melody from a bygone era, warm and reassuring. He could see her vividly: her long hair sometimes tied in a loose ponytail, her sharp, determined gaze. She had always been a constant source of encouragement, her unwavering belief in him carrying him through moments of doubt. She would tease him about his lack of punctuality, her smirk equal parts endearing and maddening. Did she still think of him? Or had life swept her along, forcing her to leave behind a memory too painful to hold onto?
"Akane," he murmured, a faint, wistful smile flickering across his lips before fading. "You believed in me even when I couldn't. Do you still? Or have you moved on, like you should? Do you laugh like you used to, or has time taken that away too?" He shook his head, as though trying to dispel the thought, but it clung to him stubbornly, an unshakable shadow.
The camp remained still, broken only by the steady rise and fall of Cid's chest. Minoru cast a glance at the ethereal projection of his former self, caught in a strange duality. Before this life, he had been a genius hacker and inventor, his skills honed in a relentless battle against his world's version of the Cult of Diabolos. They were an insidious force, their influence spreading like a virus, and Minoru had spent every waking moment unraveling their schemes.
His final battle had been nothing short of cataclysmic. The Cult's base, a sprawling fortress of cutting edge technology and malice, had been on the brink of unleashing a catastrophe capable of ending the world. Minoru had infiltrated it with painstaking precision, sabotaging their systems even as their forces closed in. In the chaos, he'd faced Olivier, the Cult's most formidable soldier—a woman whose strength and cunning had pushed him to his limits. Their battle had ended in a draw, interrupted by the overloading core of the Cult's base. As the energy engulfed them both, Minoru had made his peace, believing his sacrifice would secure a future for Akane and the rest of the world.
He wondered if he should tell his counterpart any of this? Would he understand? Can he even understand it all?
No.
"You wouldn't understand," Minoru said softly, the words tinged with a melancholic acceptance as he glanced at Cid. "This world is all you've ever known. You don't carry the weight of a past you can't forget."
A bitter chuckle escaped him, devoid of humor. "I don't even know why I'm talking about this. It's not like anyone's listening." His gaze dropped to his hands, hands that bore the scars of battles fought in a foreign land. They felt alien at times, as though they belonged to someone else—a stranger forged by necessity.
"What have I even become? The person you all knew is gone. Maybe forever."
The night's breeze slipped through the partially open window, carrying the faint scent of dew-laden grass. The curtains swayed in gentle rhythm, their rustling offering an odd sense of comfort, as though the world itself sought to console him. Minoru closed his eyes, allowing the memories to wash over him like waves lapping at the shore. He could see them clearly: his mother's kind, patient eyes; his father's steady, reassuring smile; Akane's gentle grin that spoke volumes without words. Their voices wove together into a symphony, one he feared he might forget yet yearned to hear again.
He could almost feel his mother's hand on his shoulder, her voice whispering, "Take care of yourself, Minoru." He wanted to reply, to tell her he was trying, that he wasn't giving up. But the words caught in his throat, silenced by the void that separated them. The ache in his chest grew sharper, more insistent, as if his very soul were crying out for what he had lost.
"I hope you're okay," he whispered, his words so faint they barely carried beyond his lips. "All of you. Wherever you are."
The breeze strengthened momentarily, ruffling his hair and brushing against his skin like an ephemeral touch. It felt like a message, an intangible encouragement from somewhere beyond his understanding. He straightened his posture slightly, a spark of determination igniting in his chest.
"I'll find a way back," he vowed, his voice firm despite the emptiness around him. "One day, I'll see you again. No matter what it takes."
His gaze shifted back to Cid, whose serene demeanor masked the quiet hum of shared thoughts. Minoru knew his musings would echo faintly when Cid awoke, though he doubted the younger version of himself would ever fully grasp their depth. "For now," Minoru said quietly, "I'll keep going. If only to make sure I'm ready when the time comes."
Outside, the stars dotted the vast canvas of the night sky, their faint shimmer offering a reminder of the enormity of existence. The world slept, wrapped in its tranquil embrace, but Minoru's mind refused to rest. He remained caught in the liminal space between two worlds—one he had left behind and another that refused to feel like home. In that in-between, he resolved to carve a path forward, no matter how uncertain the road ahead might be.
Minoru's thoughts wove through the labyrinth of Cid's mind, their usual confines within the shared mental space expanding tonight in an unprecedented way. A subtle hum of resonance rippled outward, as though the intensity of his longing breached the dimensions between worlds.
Unbeknownst to him, these thoughts, carried by the depth of his connection, bent reality like waves distorting the surface of water. It was a rare moment, a convergence of longing and latent power that transcended ordinary barriers.
Tonight, his words would not simply vanish into the void.
Time: Early Morning, before Dawn
Date: Unknown
Location: Messiah, Akane's Room
In a shattered Japan, far removed from Cid's world, Akane lay restless in her quarters within Messiah—a citadel of humanity's defiance against desolation. The fortress, built on the ruins of what had once been a thriving metropolitan center, now served as a beacon of hope. Its steel-reinforced walls and sprawling underground networks were both a sanctuary and a reminder of humanity's fragility. Here, survivors of the Cult's destruction clung to life, piecing together a semblance of normalcy amid the chaos.
Akane's body twitched, trapped in a vivid nightmare born of the Cult's apocalyptic machinations. The dream played out mercilessly: cities consumed by fire, towering shadows suffocating the land, and the haunting cries of those she could not save. The stench of ash and the oppressive heat of the flames felt almost tangible, as if her mind had fully transported her into the horrific moment of her greatest failure.
At the nightmare's center loomed a faceless monster, clad in menacing black armored scales that exuded dread. Their voice, sharp and venomous, pierced through the chaos. "You failed," they sneered. "You let them all die."
Akane collapsed to her knees in the dreamscape, her breaths shallow as despair wrapped itself around her like a vise. The oppressive atmosphere thickened, the darkness pressing in from all sides, threatening to crush her completely. She clawed at the ground, her fingers meeting nothing but shifting shadows, her mind screaming for an escape that felt impossible.
But as the void threatened to consume her, a faint warmth emerged, delicate but unyielding. It pulsed with steady resolve, cutting through the dream's suffocating grip. Minoru's voice, calm yet resonant, rippled into her consciousness.
"I hope you're okay... All of you. Wherever you are."
The words reverberated across the dreamscape, destabilizing its oppressive foundations. The shadows wavered, and the monster's looming figure flickered like an unsteady flame. Akane's breathing slowed, her mind grasping onto the voice she thought she'd never hear again. Light seeped into the edges of the darkness, peeling away its hold. She felt her muscles relax, the weight of the nightmare loosening as her heart recognized the presence behind the voice.
From within the growing brightness, a figure emerged. Initially indistinct, the presence solidified into the familiar form of Minoru. His expression was soft yet firm, embodying the quiet strength that had once inspired her. "Akane," he said gently, his voice unwavering. "This isn't the end for you. You've always been stronger than this."
Tears slid down her cheeks as she stared at him, her heart a tangle of disbelief and yearning. "Minoru," she whispered, her voice breaking. "How is this possible? Are you... really here?"
He didn't answer directly but extended a hand toward her. His gaze was resolute. "Wake up, Akane. They need you. And I'll always be with you."
The warmth swelled, enveloping her entirely. The nightmare shattered into fragments, dissolving like mist as she awoke with a start. Her heart pounded, but her mind felt light, unburdened for the first time in weeks. The dim reality of her room welcomed her, imbued with a sense of clarity she hadn't known in ages. She could still feel the lingering presence of Minoru, faint yet undeniably real, like an ember glowing in the ashes of her despair.
She sat upright, her gaze falling to the desk where her laptop rested. Its faint glow illuminated the archive of files Minoru had stolen from the Cult's databases and uploaded before everything had collapsed. These files were more than data; they were revelations of the Cult's depravity, detailing their experiments, global reach, and chilling objectives. Though horrifying, they had become her arsenal—a weapon forged by Minoru's foresight. Each file she'd decoded had painted a clearer picture of the Cult's insidious plans, and each revelation fueled her determination.
She learned to be an inventor, a warrior, and a scholar all at once. Survival depended on it.
She looked to Minoru's legacy: Umbra-03, charging batteries.
"You left me the tools to fight," she murmured, her hand brushing the laptop's surface. "And I'll keep using them. I'll finish what you started."
Swinging her legs over the bed, Akane rose with deliberate movements, each step filled with newfound purpose. She stepped outside, where the cool night air embraced her. Above, the stars burned brighter, their light cutting through the darkness like silent sentinels. For the first time in years, hope flickered within her—a fragile but tenacious spark she was determined to protect.
Her gaze shifted toward the horizon, where the ruins of the city seemed to merge with the night sky. She knew the road ahead would be grueling, fraught with dangers and uncertainty. But she also knew she wasn't alone. Minoru's presence, however distant, was a reminder that her fight mattered.
"I'll keep fighting," Akane said softly, her voice carried by the night breeze. "For them, for you... for all of us." As she turned back toward Messiah's inner sanctum, her resolve solidified. She would not falter—not until the Cult was eradicated and humanity had a chance to rebuild.
Inside her quarters, the laptop screen flickered, casting a faint glow that illuminated a small photograph taped to its side: a snapshot of Akane and Minoru, taken long before the world had fallen apart. It was a reminder of what had been lost—and what still could be saved.
Author's note: Hope you enjoy this chapter, as I have certainly writing, editing and presenting it to you all.
Please let me know if you spot any errors, as I am just one person doing this!
Q and A is almost done! I'm gonna go and gather any questions here and on AO3 and make a big answer Author's note! I won't name any spoilers, but I'll be happy to expand on anything that has already been said or alluded to!
As a side note: Does the page break work for everyone? Or does me putting ~!~ symbols to be page breaks work for readers? I got a reader review and a DM asking about that with two different opinions. Would like to hear yours!
Finally: Someone asked me if there was a fic or fics that would be a pleasure to see updated. I instantly thought of "But I made it up", by The Real Lee, "Eminence of Alexia", by LOTLOF, and "The Shadows hiding within the Red Flower" by Lanceron2Writes.
Some of my favorite fics, honestly.
Anyways! Signing off!
Yours sincerely,
Terra ace