With her arms crossed, Seren leaned against the wall next to the window. She watched as Caelus made his way onto the sunny courtyard.
Then, a voice. A gentle, lulling voice that inspired tranquility.
"I'm surprised that you let him go."
Seren didn't need to turn around to know who was there. It was a lady with black hair like the starry night, clasping her hands together as if praying. She wore a thorny dress and a blindfold. Unlike the real thing, there was no presence. Not even the slightest trace of mana.
"Three years later, and still... you haunt my every thought, Commander Ophelia," Seren sighed. "Till when will you decide that I've suffered enough?"
"I am merely a culmination of your every regret," Ophelia said. "From your past to your present — that which was once lost and forgotten, now surfaced like the tides upon a full moon. All because of that young man."
"You believe that the child, Caelus, has something to do with this?"
"It is not a belief, Lady Seren. I am your thoughts. I know it, and you do too."
"Hah. Since you claim to know every single thing about me, then answer me this. Why do you choose to take that form?"
"This form? Do you truly not know? Or are you just pretending for the sake of your sanity?"
Seren paused to ponder that question. Of course, she knew. She had always known, for the past tends to catch up one way or another. Always.
"...Then, Lady Seren..." Ophelia's voice rang in her ears, "Shall we perpetuate this endless cycle of Strife?"
In the end, Seren's blade pierced through Ophelia's heart, though she felt no joy in doing so. As the banshee lay in a pool of her own blood, Seren walked over and knelt beside her.
"You... You didn't try to kill me," she muttered. "Why?"
Ophelia coughed before speaking with a weakened voice.
"Asking such foolish questions. I fought... with everything I had. You were just too powerful. As expected of the Gilded Maiden."
"Don't start spouting nonsense so close to your death, Commander Ophelia. I saw the way you massacred the crusaders with my own eyes. No hesitation whatsoever, yet with me..."—she lifted her bare forearm—"I only sustained one cut. Do you really expect me to believe that this was all you were capable of?"
"Hehe... I always doubted the intelligence of humans. Perhaps I let... my judgement get the better of me this time."
"Answer my question, Commander. Why did you kill my students yet saw it fit to spare me?"
Through her blindfold, Ophelia could see the anguish in that silvery gaze. It was a sight she had longed to see — not because she reveled in it, but because she had hope. With her voice coarse and fading, she spoke.
"May I tell you something, Lady Seren?"
"...What is it?"
"My colleagues always believed me to be a fool, and the reason? I always... believed that humans could understand us... if they would only remove their blindfolds and witness. Ironic, isn't it? It is because of that hope... that I wear my own blindfold. Because I do not wish... to see the faces of those whose lives I must take. Yet, here... I can see yours, Lady Seren. Your face."
"My face...?"
"Indeed. Now, I've answered your question... so allow me to ask one of my own. You achieved your goal. You slayed... the murderer of your students. So why is it... that you are crying?"
"Crying? What are you talking about? I'm not—"
Before she could finish, her vision grew blurry. A trail of cold trickled down her face. She reached for her cheek, and there, she felt it.
Tears.
"Hehe~" Ophelia giggled softly before she let out a series of violent coughs. "I am... a banshee, Lady Seren. I could sense the lament in your heart... long before you... had realized. And now, we are presented with yet... another perplexing question. Are you crying for the young ones you lost? Or... as outlandish as it may sound... are you crying... for me?"
"W-what?" Seren muttered. "Why would I ever..."
Despite no interruptions, she stopped. Her hands were stained in blood — not red, but blue. Her blood. Ophelia's.
Why were her hands shaking so intensely? Why was her heart pounding so violently? Why... did she feel so sad?
Just then, she saw them. Upon the sea of blood were the bodies of not only the crusaders and her students... but also children. Banshee children.
"Do you... see it now... Lady Seren?" Ophelia asked. "Humans seek to protect their lands and their people, but tell me... How are demons any different? What am I expected to do... when my children are being slaughtered by your kind? Nonetheless... I always... had hope. For a mother's only wish... is a future where her children... may bask in the light. Is that... so wrong?"
"...So, what?" Seren mumbled. "Am I to forget what you did to my students? Along with every war you waged and every drop of blood you spilled?"
"No. I do not wish for you... to forget anything. Because what you remember... will forge your path forward. That... is my hope. That is... my dream. Alas, that is all it will ever be. A dream. Perhaps, when you are met... with a glimpse of fleeting red... you will un... der... stand."
"Red? What do you mean?"
But it was useless. Commander Ophelia, the seventh seat of the Malevolence, had let go of her final breath.
For a while, Seren sat perfectly still, her gaze never leaving the fallen banshee lying before her. Even behind that blindfold, she could tell that she was at peace. Even her smile never dissipated upon her death.
It was here that finally Seren understood what Ophelia wanted her to see, and as the sun began to set, a boy came rushing out from an underpass while screaming her name.
"Ophelia!"
He darted past Seren and fell to his knees next to the dying banshee. His hands raised above her, though he did no more than hover them as if careful not to touch her. By then, she had already let go of her final breath.
The boy cried out in sorrow and agony, his tears conjoining the blood-soaked soil. He lifted his head and glared at Seren, his face carrying a burning desire for vengeance.
She saw it. Though his lavender eyes illuminated a sharp glow, there was an unmistakable glimpse of fleeting red. By then, her realization had come far too late. The cycle of strife had been born anew in the flesh of this young boy.
Thereafter, the news spread like wildfire. The crusaders fell, and so too did the students of Rhodeia who joined them. In return, the seventh seat of the Malevolence had been slain. Across the Vectis Empire, her name had become the subject of praise and glory.
"Seren! Seren! Seren!" they cheered, though she found no joy in hearing it.
Even today, she looks upon those times, wondering what she could've done differently. Yet, the answer always remained the same. Nothing could be done. This was her fate. It always had been, and no amount of running could ever escape it.
Seren turned from the window of her office to face the image of Ophelia, dragging the skirt of her dress aside.
"Begone, Commander Ophelia," she said as she walked past her, "for you are no longer of this world."
"That may be so, but your heart still screams, Lady Seren. To this day, you have many a reason to regret. That much, I can tell."
Seren stopped at the open door, resting her hand on the frame. Too long had she burdened herself with meaningless history. The path forward had already been forged. This time, she resolved to see it through.
"Regret... is an extravagant emotion to me."