Carriage wheels crunched over the gravel of Halaima's ruined streets.
They rattled to a halt by the blackened Church annex, metal protesting beneath them.
It scraped at Stella's nerves.
Even if Gabrielle's scheme was necessary, she was back where she belonged.
If she could only warn the Inquisitor in time—she could set things right.
She pushed the door open herself, legs unsteady. The air hung thick with smoke from the battle—a bitter tang clinging to the ruins and her memory.
Soldiers clustered at the entrance, their red markings a stark contrast to the ruins.
Their eyes tracked her—not with respect, but wary, cold suspicion.
Inside his office, Inquisitor Otto Ostfeld waited. Incense curled in the air, familiar and heavy.
But beneath it all, his anger was sharp, biting.
He didn't turn as she entered.
"The bishop's carriage arrives, without the bishop." His voice was a low rumble. "Instead of him, a lost lamb returns, unharmed from heretic captivity. Explain this, Sister Stella."
She straightened, summoning the last shreds of dignity.
"Your eminence, Konrad, he—" The words felt like ash in her mouth. "He handed me to Lady Gabrielle Schwertburg, who released me on the highway. She must've taken the bishop, and—"
"You mean the sickly daughter of the duke of Aset, who never leaves her bed?"
Otto turned, face unreadable, but his eyes blazed.
"Enlighten me, Sister—how could she make a bishop from the capital disappear?"
Her throat tightened.
"She's not what you think, she and that bastard—"
"I'm well aware of their engagement," the Inquisitor said, voice icy. "You left with him, only to return at the most suspicious moment—and with a story all too convenient."
The silence that followed was almost suffocating.
Did he think she was also with that bastard now? After all those years of service—
"Gabrielle, she—I don't even understand what she did—"
She tried to piece together what had happened—the carriage, the highway, then nothing but a blank void. Teleported? Memory erased? Stopped time?
She grasped for anything.
"The Green Mage—the tower in Eytjangard is an illusion, I saw it when Konrad—"
"The Green Mage, too? Your story borders on absurdity, Sister."
Otto's humorless smile was thin, brittle.
"The Halstadt heir captures you. You vanish and return under mysterious, convenient circumstances. A noblewoman—one with tribal sympathies—helps you. This is your tale?"
He stepped forward, shadow looming over her.
"You reappear as a bishop vanishes," he scoffed. "Telling a story that would undermine the only force keeping the tribes at bay."
Her voice shook. "It's the truth."
Even she heard the weakness in it. The image of her family's manor burning flickered through her mind. He'd been there too, always watching. Loyalty suffocated her, but fear held her silent.
"Truth's a tool," Otto whispered, voice sharp as a knife. "And yours? Rusted, broken. So, were you fooled, or are you a part of their conspiracy? Which is it, Sister?"
The question hung in the air, his judgment inevitable.
She had nothing. No proof.
Only a story that reeked of desperation—a traitor's plea, after years of loyalty.
All wasted, crumbling beneath Otto's cold, condemning stare.
"Return to your cell." A flick of his hand dismissed her. "I'm finished with disappointments."
***
The carriage jolted, snapping Konrad's gaze away from Gabrielle.
They sat in brittle silence, tension thick between them.
"You wiped my memories." He spoke first, his voice flat and cold. The fog in his mind had vanished, leaving only the bitter clarity of two lifetimes' betrayal.
The archangel met his gaze, unflinching.
"It was necessary—the spirits treated your existence as an anomaly, and we needed you."
"We. You and Lu." He leaned forward, fighting the urge to lash out. But all his spells felt useless against an archangel. "You reincarnated me to be no more than a tool?"
"No. That was Lucifer's rebellion, not mine." Gabrielle's eyes were cold. "He'll face his punishment soon, but it's too late now—"
"A rebellion?" Konrad couldn't make sense of her words. "Too late for what?"
"You said he'd warn you about me," Gabrielle said, glancing over his shoulder. "To not get involved—but you did, because he's an idiot. You and Lilith ruined our plans."
"Plans, rebellion, too late—stop talking in riddles," Konrad snapped.
She fixed him with a cold glare, then turned away, refusing to answer.
"She wanted Eyna dead. That way, the dragon could kill a Demon Lord, right?" Lily's voice was smug from the back seat. "And you flipped their whole plan—Eyna's alive, the dragon's dead."
"What?" He turned, unsure what to make of her explanation.
Worse, he couldn't trust her—not the woman he'd loved in both lives.
All he could do now was pit their mysterious powers against each other.
"So there is a Demon Lord in this world now?" he asked, watching Gabrielle's hands, ready to stop her at a twitch. "And by saving Eyna, I helped him?"
The archangel nodded, relaxing her hands.
"You were never supposed to matter. But your choices? The mess you've made ripples across worlds."
"What choices?!" His voice was sharp, slicing through the cabin's tense silence.
Behind him, Lily stretched, the popping of her joints the only sound for a moment.
"She won't. They wouldn't let me tell you, either." Lily's voice sounded cheerful, her hazel eyes wide and guileless. "It's stupid if you ask meow. You want him to kill Maou Midori, so why—"
"Maou?" Konrad's brow furrowed. "That's only a myth."
"What you believe doesn't matter," Gabrielle said, leaning close enough he'd feel her breath. "That's part of why I kept silent. We're almost at the Tribal Council—focus on that now."
"Wha—when did we—"
The carriage rolled to a stop at a sprawling encampment.
Tents covered the windswept hillside like bright patches on gray earth.
A tribesman hopped down from the driver's bench—not Welf, but someone with the same red hair and broad shoulders.
"Where's your brother?" Konrad glanced at Lily.
In the movement, Gabrielle took her chance to break his loose grip.
She shoved his arm aside—though made no move to cast any spell.
"The smith?" Lily still refused to call him his brother. "He's still at the forge, lost in that ore you brought him. Once he starts, it takes days—and there was a lot to keep him busy."
Welf had been the one person Konrad trusted—but now, even that felt uncertain.
And facing the tribal council without him sent a chill down his spine.
Then he saw her.
Eyna stood at the entrance to the largest tent, her silvery-violet hair catching the dim light. She met his gaze—purple eyes wide—and smiled with pure, unguarded relief.
How could he forget her?
With Gabrielle wanting her dead, and him still clueless about the why, Eyna was the closest thing he had to an ally.
Father Alastair appeared at Eyna's side and offered a stiff, distracted wave.
But the relief in their eyes drained away as they looked past Konrad.
Their faces tightened with a fresh, wary fear.
A second Schwertburg carriage unsettled the dirt behind them, its crest unmistakable.
Who else was traveling in Gabrielle's colors?
The world spun.
His mirror-image stepped out into the sun—a man with Konrad's face, his build, but none of his warmth.
Nimrod.