Emilia's Perspective
"Well then, I'm heading out early! See you later, Mili!"
Subaru's cheerful voice rang through the quiet house and vanished the moment the door shut behind him. The soft click echoed into silence, a silence that seemed to reach deeper than Emilia expected. She stood frozen in place, her violet eyes still fixed on the wooden door as if expecting it to open again. But it didn't. Subaru was gone, and with him, the atmosphere seemed to lose all its color. It felt as though a breeze had blown through, stealing away the last bit of warmth left in the room.
A strange hollowness settled in her chest. She took in a slow, deep breath, but the weight in her heart didn't lift. If anything, it deepened. There was a strange restlessness stirring inside her—something fragile and uncertain, like the feeling right before a storm breaks.
She turned to Puck, who had been floating lazily near the window. Her gaze shimmered with a mixture of worry and quiet sorrow. "I can't shake the feeling that he's keeping something from me," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "Something important. What do you think, Puck?"
The small spirit drifted down and gently settled onto her shoulder. His soft fur tickled her skin, warm and familiar like a childhood memory. She welcomed the comfort, but it was not enough to calm the churning doubts.
"Everyone has their secrets, Lia," Puck said with a tranquil hum. "Even those closest to us carry things they're not ready to share. Some truths... they don't come easy. And sometimes, revealing them only adds to the pain. Maybe Subaru is just trying to spare you from that. From something heavy."
Emilia wrapped her arms around herself, as if shielding against a chill only she could feel. "But I don't want him to protect me by shutting me out. That's not what love—or even friendship—is. If he's hurting, I want to know. If he's scared, I want to be scared with him. Not knowing anything... watching him drift further into silence... It's like he's being swallowed by something I can't see, and all I can do is stand here."
Puck gave a thoughtful blink, his tail curling around her neck like a scarf. "Sometimes, to walk alongside someone, you have to match their pace—even if it means standing still for a while. For someone like Subaru, who's already been through more than he lets on... tearing down his walls won't happen overnight. He's not ready to let the light in just yet."
Emilia's lips pressed into a thin line. Her hands curled into light fists at her sides. "But what if time runs out before he's ready?" she asked, her voice trembling with restrained frustration. "What if one day, the chance to speak just... disappears? Words unspoken don't wait. They rot. And then... it's too late. And you can never tell them how much they meant to you."
There was a long pause. Puck's expression softened. He looked at her not just as a guardian, but as someone who had watched her grow through both light and shadow.
"You have such a gentle heart, Lia," he said quietly. "But gentleness can easily be mistaken for fragility—by others, and sometimes even by yourself. Don't forget that your light matters too. You can't chase after someone else's pain so far that you lose your own reflection. Subaru might need someone. But you need yourself just as much."
Emilia turned away, her eyes stinging, though no tears fell. With a huff, she puffed her cheeks and walked slowly toward the door. Her movements were small but deliberate, as if the weight she carried resisted every step. "I get it. I do. But... why does he still act like he's alone in this world? Like no one else could ever understand what he's going through? He's not alone. He has me. He has all of us. Why does he pretend otherwise? It must be a lonely way to live. Watching him sometimes... it's like he's fading into his own shadow, piece by piece."
She opened the door slowly, letting in the crisp morning air. The light of dawn had already spread across the landscape, painting the sky in shades of pink and amber. Birds chirped from the treetops. The wind stirred the leaves in a soft rustle. Nature greeted her with its quiet embrace, yet none of it could dispel the ache in her heart. Even the stones beneath her feet seemed to carry a trace of Subaru's absence—as if the world itself had grown quieter in his wake.
She stepped outside, letting the wind run its fingers through her silver hair. Her eyes drifted upward, toward the sky that stretched endlessly above them.
Puck yawned, stretching his little limbs before fluffing up his fur once more. "Subaru doesn't come from this world, remember? He's like a leaf caught in a strange current, drifting toward a shore he can't even see. You're right—he's likely carrying burdens we can't fully understand. But that doesn't mean he's alone. My master, the Great Sage, is watching over him. He may seem stern, but his heart... it's not as cold as it looks. If he's chosen to stand beside Subaru, then it's because he sees something worth believing in."
Emilia nodded slowly, her hand clutching the fabric near her chest. She still felt the ache. But she also knew she wouldn't stop trying. Not now. Not ever.
The wind continued to blow. Somewhere, far beyond the horizon, Subaru was walking a path she could not see. But she would wait. And when he was ready, she would be there—light in hand, ready to guide him back home.
Emilia tilted her head slightly, a conflicted expression blooming in her eyes like morning mist over a quiet lake. Her gaze drifted into the distance, settling on the path Subaru had taken moments ago. Thoughts circled inside her mind like restless birds, each one tangling more tightly with the next instead of offering clarity.
"I find it hard to believe him..." she whispered, her voice barely louder than a sigh, just soft enough to be carried away by the breeze. Then, turning to the small spirit curled on her shoulder, she added with quiet frustration, "I know he doesn't want to hurt me. He's trying to protect me, I can feel that. But... sometimes, trying to protect someone too much ends up building a wall between you. You push them away without even realizing it."
Puck didn't respond with words. He simply looked at her, his pale blue eyes glimmering with a tenderness that only deepened her ache. His silence was a comfort, not a dismissal—the quiet affirmation of someone who understood more than he let on.
Emilia's voice trembled as she went on. "I don't want to keep talking about it... Because every time I do, every word I speak feels like a wedge driving us further apart. Maybe this path he's chosen is one he has to walk alone. Maybe the solitude isn't a punishment, but something he believes is necessary. Or maybe... maybe he doesn't know how to let anyone in anymore. Still, I wish I could be there. I wish that when I held his hand, he would feel the warmth of it—know that he wasn't alone."
When she finally closed the door behind her, the emotion rising inside her chest wasn't just worry. It was a twisted blend of guilt, helplessness, and quiet sorrow. Subaru's pain had shaped him, and the burden he carried wasn't just about the present. It was forged by the shadows of the past, each scar etched deep into his heart. Emilia wanted to see those shadows, to understand what haunted him so persistently. She wanted to know why he always chose to bear everything alone. But every time she reached out, she met an invisible wall—cold, distant, immovable. And perhaps that was the cruelest part: knowing there was a wound she longed to heal, a part of him she ached to hold, but could never quite touch.
About an hour later, preparations were complete. Everyone had gathered outside the Roswaal mansion, the early rays of morning just beginning to stretch across the sky like golden ribbons. The air was crisp, brushing against their skin like a gentle whisper. The dragon carriage sent by Roswaal stood ready at the gates, its enormous wheels creaking softly as it shifted in place.
Elsa was the first to board. With surprising gentleness, she lifted the still-sleeping Meili into her arms and carried her into the carriage, settling into the farthest, shadowed corner. Though her eyes were half-lidded with the haze of morning still clinging to her, the aura around her was alert and poised—the ever-ready instincts of a seasoned killer, always watching.
At the front of the carriage, Ram and Rem had taken their positions in the driver's seat. Their expressions were composed and focused, eyes set straight ahead. With an unspoken synchronicity that only twins could share, they moved in tandem, preparing for the road ahead with calm efficiency.
Inside the carriage, Hikari and Beatrice were seated beside one another, heads bent close together as they murmured back and forth. Between them were several sheets of parchment, each filled with meticulous sketches and notes. From their intense concentration and the occasional sharp gestures, it was obvious they were working through something quite significant.
Just behind them sat Emilia and Puck. Puck had nestled against Emilia's shoulder, his tiny frame rising and falling with soft purring sounds as he dozed in and out of consciousness. Emilia, though smiling gently as always, couldn't keep her eyes from drifting toward the drawings Hikari and Beatrice were pouring over. Her curiosity flickered quietly beneath the surface of her calm demeanor.
Finally, Roswaal stepped into the carriage. His long, flamboyant cloak danced lightly in the wind behind him, the colors catching the morning light in mesmerizing waves. With that signature sly grin tugging at his lips, he cast a glance over everyone seated inside. "Is everyonnnne readyyy~? Well then, let us set offfff~" he drawled in his usual theatrical tone, and with a subtle jolt, the dragon carriage began to move.
The interior of the carriage quickly filled with a low hum of activity. It wasn't long before everyone's attention began to gravitate toward the blueprints and sketches Hikari and Beatrice were analyzing. Hikari held one of the papers up to the light, her eyes scanning it with excitement as if imagining the mechanisms springing to life.
Emilia leaned forward slightly, drawn in by the scene. Her voice was light but sincere. "Hikari-chan, what is that?"
Hikari looked up with a grin, her eyes shining. "Oh, this? We're sketching out one of Onii-chan's new ideas. His drawing skills are a disaster, so Beako and I took over that part. We're the engineering team, you could say. All the technical stuff—that's our job!"
With a sense of pride, she passed one of the drawings to Emilia, who took it gently and examined it. Her brow furrowed almost instantly. The page was filled with intricate designs: gear-like structures, interwoven symbols, layered machinery drawn in perspective lines. It was an overwhelming sight.
"Um... Hikari-chan? What does this do, exactly?" she asked, holding the paper up like it might start explaining itself if she stared long enough.
Hikari stepped in closer, her movements careful and deliberate, and gently retrieved the sheet of paper from Beatrice's hands. She glanced at the intricate lines for a second, then began tracing them with her finger, one shape at a time. "This one's called a 'train,'" she explained calmly. "It functions using a complex system of gears, pulleys, and a large boiler. Its main energy source is coal, which is burned to produce steam. This steam powers the machinery that drives it forward. It's a mechanical invention from another world—one that doesn't rely on magic. In fact, it might spark an entirely new era in transportation."
She paused, letting the others catch up. Then she tapped a pair of long, parallel lines on the page. "These gray lines here are called rails. They're essential. They provide a stable path and keep the train moving in a straight direction. Without rails, the train would simply lose balance or go off course. It wouldn't move at all."
Emilia leaned forward, her violet eyes wide with amazement. "But... don't we already manage travel and transportation with dragon carriages or even through portals and flying magic? Isn't that easier? Why would anyone want to use something this complicated and... mechanical?"
Beatrice let out a soft scoff and folded her arms. Her expression bordered on annoyance. "Of course it's easier for people like you, who have mana practically oozing out of their pores. You act like everyone's born with a personal reservoir of magic. But guess what? Most people can barely use a spell or two. Some can't even light a candle with magic, let alone teleport across the continent."
Hikari nodded solemnly. "Exactly. That's why a system like this could be transformative. If we could build something like this, people wouldn't have to rely on magical ability to travel. They could get from one city to another, all while preserving their mana—or without needing any at all. And because of its scale, a train can carry dozens, even hundreds of people at once. It's not just transportation—it's accessibility."
As the others digested this, Roswaal had already begun poking his long fingers into Beatrice's satchel, snatching a few more illustrated pages without hesitation. His two-toned eyes glittered with mischief and curiosity. "Ooooh~ What magnificent drawingggggs~ Such technical precision... Such... delicious imaginationnnn~" He ran his fingers along the sketches like a scholar admiring ancient texts. "And this idea of an entirely new transportation system... oh, how delightfully efficiiiient~ huhuhuhu~"
A visible vein twitched on Beatrice's forehead. "Oi. Roswaal. Those are mine. Give them back before I turn you into a pile of ash."
Roswaal, however, was too entranced to care. He studied the diagrams like they were sacred. "Just a bit more tiiiiime~ I want to absorb every detail of this... this visionary brilliance~"
Beatrice growled but held herself back, though her fingers trembled slightly in anger. "If you so much as smudge the ink, Roswaal, I swear I'll rewrite your face with a fire spell."
He laughed in his usual exaggerated manner, bowing dramatically. "Ahahahaha~ Fear not, sweet Beatrice. My hands are as steady as ever."
A brief, quiet lull followed. Hikari rubbed her temples gently and closed her eyes for a moment. Her shoulders slumped as she exhaled a long, fatigued breath—but there was a small smile at the corner of her lips.
"Onii-chan... please, come back soon..."
Elsewhere, Elsa stood quietly in the distance, having watched the group from the shadows for some time. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, remained fixed particularly on Hikari, whose reserved demeanor and emotional weight had not escaped her notice. After a few minutes of silence among the group, Elsa saw her chance. With calm and eerie elegance, she stepped forward, her boots almost soundless against the ground, and silently took a seat beside Hikari.
She tilted her head slightly, her voice soft but laced with an unsettling chill. "You look troubled. What's weighing you down, little lady?"
Hikari turned to her slowly, her gaze meeting Elsa's without hesitation. Her eyes carried a heavy fog of fatigue and contemplation. It was clear she hadn't slept well in days.
"Ah... no, it's nothing serious. Just thinking too much again. About the past year—everything we've seen, the people we've lost, and the things we've barely survived. It's... silly stuff, I guess."
Elsa's expression didn't change much, but her voice deepened slightly. "Doesn't sound silly to me. You wear those thoughts like chains around your soul. And believe me, too much thinking... it can rot you from the inside out. Sometimes it's best to let go, or at least let time carry some of the weight. Otherwise, you'll end up drowning in your own mind, alone."
Hikari looked down. The sharp edge in Elsa's words had hit something fragile in her. After a short pause, her voice returned, quieter now. "Thanks, Elsa-nee. I think... sometimes just hearing someone say that is enough."
Without warning, Elsa reached over and gave Hikari's cheek a gentle pinch. It wasn't hard, but firm enough to catch her off guard. Hikari blinked, her eyes narrowing in confusion, but she didn't flinch away. Elsa offered no further explanation, standing back up and walking off with her usual indifference, as if nothing had happened.
Still holding her cheek, Hikari sighed inwardly. "Elsa-nee is really strong... If she just learned how to be even a little more gentle, she might be... kind of nice."
The rest of the day passed with quiet stillness. The group's pace was slower than usual, but their steps were sure and determined. The tension of the previous days seemed to settle into something more stable—calm, but cautious.
Then, by the next afternoon, the landscape shifted.
Far in the distance, the towering silhouette of the Mathers estate finally appeared—like a grim monument looming over the land. At first, the sight might have been comforting, a promise of shelter and rest. But instead, it had the opposite effect. Each step closer made their hearts sink a little more.
Thick, stormy clouds had gathered overhead, turning the sky a deep, foreboding black. The wind had picked up, howling through the trees and rocks with an almost unnatural cry. And the very air around them had become heavy—oppressive, charged with something unseen and ominous. It was as if the world itself had sensed what awaited them beyond those mansion gates... and was trying to give them one final warning.
Elsa was the first to react. Without a word, she reached for the car window, cracked it open, and leaned her head outside. Her sharp eyes, usually gleaming with thrill or bloodlust, now held a different glint—calculated, serious, and alert. Her gaze swept across the eerie quietness of the surrounding area, a place that should've been full of life but now felt like a hollow shell of itself.
Just moments later, Meili's grumbling voice echoed from the back of the vehicle. She pressed her face close to the glass and narrowed her eyes, searching.
"Weird... It's not usually like this. This place should be crawling with birds and bugs. Something's... something's off. Really off."
Her tone wasn't one of mere complaint—it was tension wrapped in habit. Even she, a girl far too used to blood and chaos, could feel the unnatural stillness in the air.
Hikari closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply, drawing the ambient mana into her senses. Tapping into her Authority, she cast her awareness outward like a net. Within a radius of a kilometer, there was no life—no birds, no animals, not even the buzzing of insects. It was as if everything had been vacuumed out. In its place remained only a dreadful pressure, dense and suffocating, like standing beneath the weight of a coming storm.
When she opened her eyes again, the tension in her posture spoke volumes. She immediately moved next to Beatrice, who stood still but clearly unsettled.
"Beako," Hikari said, lowering her voice, "do you feel anything? This... this sensation... it doesn't feel like ordinary mana. It's almost like—"
"Like something old is breathing beneath the ground," Beatrice finished, her voice unusually soft. Her tiny hands clutched the hem of her dress tightly. "Betty definitely feels something. It's being held back, but only just. Mana, yes—but also something more primal. Something hungry."
Roswaal remained a statue of silence, yet his presence loomed. He stood with his eyes closed, arms relaxed at his sides, as if already prepared for what was to come. The familiar, infuriating curl of a smile danced at the corners of his lips. He gave nothing away, and that calm made him even more suspicious.
Elsa flicked her gaze toward him, muscles taut beneath her cloak. If Subaru had been there, if he'd only given the word, she would have sunk her blades into Roswaal without hesitation. But now wasn't the time. She had to wait. Subaru would come. He had to.
Quietly, carefully, she approached Emilia. Without warning, she leaned in and whispered, her voice a mere breath against Emilia's ear:
"Roswaal's up to something. Watch him closely. Don't sleep tonight unless you absolutely have to. Stay awake."
Emilia blinked, caught off guard. Her first instinct was to object—but the gravity in Elsa's voice, her tone cold and absolute, silenced her. She swallowed and nodded in quiet understanding.
Meanwhile, Puck's voice chimed in from his crystal, muffled by magic yet unmistakably drowsy. "Mmh... Lia, I'm getting really sleepy. I don't want to strain you too much. I think I'll rest for a while."
Emilia smiled gently, though her heart still beat with unease. "Of course, Puck. Take it easy. Rest as long as you need."
The moment the spirit withdrew into the crystal, Roswaal's eyes cracked open just a sliver. A faint, nearly imperceptible smile formed. The enchantment he'd quietly embedded into Emilia's crystal had activated. With Puck dormant, a major obstacle had been neutralized.
The first move of his carefully orchestrated game had been made.
Above them, the sky grew even darker. Heavy clouds crept across the heavens, and the still air thickened with unspoken dread. As the group neared the mansion, each step seemed to carry a weight it shouldn't. A silence as sharp as blades surrounded them, announcing that the night ahead would be anything but peaceful.
When they finally reached the estate, the tall stone walls framed the familiar silhouette of the Roswaal mansion. Its windows flickered dimly with firelight, but no warmth radiated from within. Frederica and Petra stood near the entrance, both visibly relieved to see them, but their smiles were brief and strained. Concern hung heavy in their eyes.
Ram and Rem were the first to step forward, eyes darting across the area. Their steps were slow, calculated. Every shadow was an enemy waiting to emerge. Elsa brought up the rear, deliberately hanging back, placing herself where Roswaal couldn't watch her. Her every movement was deliberate. Her senses, honed by years of killing, screamed that danger lurked beneath this calm.
Luggage was quickly unloaded. Words were kept to a minimum. Each person retreated to their assigned rooms. Ram and Rem took adjoining quarters, prepared for anything. Petra had guided Meili to a guest room—small, but safe. Elsa was led to a room that hadn't been used in years. Dust had been swept, sheets replaced, but the air still held a stillness she didn't like.
She stepped inside and slowly closed the door behind her. For a moment, Elsa just stood there, silent, allowing herself to breathe. But even the stillness felt staged. These walls had seen too much, and she knew better than to be fooled by their pristine appearance.
Roswaal was a formidable sorcerer. On the surface, he appeared elegant, theatrical, and flamboyant—a man cloaked in color and charm. But beneath that façade lay a calculating mind that never slept, operating like an endless machine. Elsa could sense it. She had seen enough to know when someone was dangerous, and Roswaal was a storm waiting behind a smile. A storm with a mask, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
But she wasn't the same Elsa anymore.
After two months of hellish training, her skills had evolved far beyond mere blade work. She had honed her instincts, sharpened her mind, and turned her very reflexes into lethal tools. Her muscles remembered pain like scripture, and her movements had been reduced to pure efficiency—quick, quiet, deadly. She knew what to look for: the brief moment when a mage focused to cast, when their mind disconnected from the now. That instant was life or death—a narrow opportunity she could exploit to strike before the spell was born. But if she missed that sliver of time? Then she would lose. Because Roswaal's power was not a bluff; it was overwhelming. In the clash between sword and sorcery, speed might offer a chance, but it never guaranteed victory. And she knew all too well how thin the line was between confidence and recklessness.
After a brief dinner, as everyone retired to their rooms, Elsa quietly followed Rem down the dimly lit hallway. The air in the mansion was still, heavy with an eerie calm. There were words she had shared with Emilia earlier that day—words she now felt compelled to repeat to Rem. It wasn't obligation that moved her; it was something heavier. A debt she felt in her bones. A lingering instinct she couldn't silence.
Rem's posture was careful yet natural, her awareness always tuned to her surroundings. She walked like someone who never truly rested, who carried vigilance in her spine. Elsa could feel her own unease deepen in the face of that quiet strength.
"I don't think Roswaal-sama intends to do anything reckless," Rem said, frowning slightly as Elsa's words reached her. "But... like you said, I'll stay alert tonight. I'll warn Nee-sama too."
Elsa's eyes narrowed, a chill lacing her words. "I don't trust that clown. And neither should you. In my opinion, he sees you all as tools. Replaceable. Sacrificial. The kind of man who moves people like chess pieces—calculating, distant, and cold. You never know what someone like him is planning. And if you wait until he shows his hand, it'll be too late."
Rem closed her eyes. The doubt Elsa voiced echoed her own quiet fears, ones she had buried for too long. But she didn't answer right away. The hope Subaru had given her, the belief in something better, was the thread she clung to in the chaos. It was fragile, and yet, it was hers.
"You might be right," she said softly. "But I can't think about that now. Not until Subaru-kun returns..."
Elsa gave a short nod, sighed, and turned to leave. Her footsteps were tired, but silent as ever. The hallway seemed darker as she walked back. When she opened the door to her room, Meili was already sitting upright on the bed, arms crossed, staring at her like a cat that had sensed something long before anyone else.
"So, what now?" Meili asked, her voice steady but tinged with curiosity.
Elsa walked to the window and glanced into the darkness beyond. "Now? We wait," she replied, her words simple yet weighted. A truth both tedious and exhausting. Waiting was always the hardest part.
Meili looked like she wanted to object. Her mouth opened slightly, then closed again. Her expression was unreadable, like a child trying to act older than she was. Instead, she lay back down, pulling the blanket over herself and shutting her eyes with practiced ease. The silence in the room felt unnatural, like a pause before a storm. The darkness was still, but Elsa's nerves burned with unease.
Hours passed.
Night deepened. The entire mansion had gone still, submerged in sleep. Elsa sat half-awake in her room, exhaustion dragging at her limbs. Her eyelids drooped, thoughts clouded with the heavy fog of fatigue. She didn't want to sleep, but her body was reaching its limit. Her breathing slowed, and the warmth of the room dulled her senses.
"Maybe I should just rest," she thought, turning toward Meili. She took one slow step, eyelids nearly closed—
BOOOOM!
The ceiling exploded.
A thunderous detonation shook the mansion to its core. The roof above Elsa's room blew apart in a violent eruption of wood and stone. Splinters and dust rained down in a storm of chaos. The silence of night shattered in an instant, replaced by a deafening alarm of instinct and panic.
Elsa moved on instinct. She leapt backward, eyes darting upward to the gaping hole above. Her gaze sharpened. Smoke and debris clouded the room, shadows danced across the walls.
"Tch... You've got to be fucking kidding me," she muttered.
From the cloud of dust and falling debris, figures emerged—masked, silent, and lethal. They weren't here by chance. This was a hit. Coordinated. Deliberate. Meili sat up instantly, eyes wide but not frightened—just focused.
Elsa didn't hesitate. The daggers Subaru had given her were already in hand, cold steel catching the light of the moon. Her expression flattened, instincts roaring.
Her eyes narrowed with deadly focus, mind abandoning sleep and snapping into full clarity. Her body, honed by weeks of brutal training, moved without conscious thought. The first attacker fell before she even exhaled. The second was a blur of motion—then gone. The third barely had time to react. Her blades danced like extensions of her will, elegant and brutal.
Elsa had entered the kill zone.
And she had no intention of letting anyone leave it alive.
Not tonight. Not in her home. Not while Meili was watching. And certainly not before she got her answers.
The room resounded with the wet, visceral sounds of blades carving through flesh, punctuated by guttural, muffled groans. The coppery scent of blood mixed with the metallic edge of sharpened steel, soaking into the wooden floorboards like a grotesque perfume. Elsa danced through the chaos like a living shadow, her form barely visible in the gloom. Every move she made was calculated, every slash a testament to years of merciless precision. Her eyes were narrowed, expression blank—a perfect predator in her element.
Each target fell wordlessly, their bodies crumpling to the floor in broken, lifeless heaps. She didn't pause. She didn't hesitate. By the time the last foe collapsed, the silence that followed was suffocating. The only thing that remained was the stench—blood, sweat, and something else. Something foul and unnatural.
On the bed tucked into the far corner, Meili stirred. Her small frame twitched as her consciousness clawed its way back from the depths of sleep. Her eyelids fluttered open—and her entire body recoiled. The stifling air struck her first: thick, suffocating, almost physical in its weight. Her nostrils flared instinctively against the overpowering reek of blood and steel.
And then—
"YOUR MOMMY HAS RETURNED, ELSA~!"
The voice pierced the silence like a dagger of glass. Shrill, mocking, high-pitched and twisted—there was something fundamentally wrong in its tone. A voice that tried to mimic affection but reeked of rot and mania.
Every fiber in Elsa's body seized. Her muscles tensed, her senses flared, and for the briefest of moments, even her breath stilled. Danger. Instinct screamed it. Something vile had entered the scene.
Meili shot upright with a gasp, clutching her blanket like a lifeline. Her wide eyes darted around the dark room, trying to locate the source of that voice—of that presence.
Above them, the ceiling groaned.
A jagged opening in the roof let in streaks of cold moonlight, which cut through the darkness in silver rays. Through that opening, a silhouette descended, framed by the broken remnants of the ceiling. It didn't fall—it slithered, hovered, glided downward with an unholy grace. The light struck it just enough to reveal the grotesque reality.
A twisted figure emerged, limbs flapping like malformed wings, joints bending at unnatural angles. Her body twisted and arched like a serpent mid-hunt—grotesque, yet disturbingly elegant. Her skin shimmered like oil on water, a sickly luster that made it hard to tell if she was beautiful or horrifying.
She landed soundlessly, arms stretched wide like she was offering a divine gift.
Her eyes glittered with madness. Her mouth stretched into a smile far too wide for any human, exposing too many teeth. And her voice dripped with cruel delight.
She radiated the kind of presence that made the air taste poisonous.
Capella Emerada Lugnica. Archbishop of Lust.
The title alone carried enough weight to freeze the blood of any sane person. Elsa, however, was not frozen.
Her pupils contracted into sharp pinpricks. She took a slow breath, steadying her body, her stance widening slightly. Emotion fled from her face. What remained was not fear—it was focus. Lethal, unblinking focus.
The recognition of danger had already become resolve.
Her lips parted, and a single word slipped out—quiet, but as biting as frost.
"Ah... fuck."
It wasn't just a curse. It was the moment a hunter sensed another predator enter the field. It was the instant instinct turned into readiness.
She knew what was coming.
And she would meet it head-on.