Stella only realised on her way back that she'd never been to the Halaima Pass.
And she even grew up in this duchy, not that she could go wherever she pleased. She was still a child when she lost her family and left their burned-down estate behind.
That's when Otto Ostfeld and the Church took her in. They gave her a purpose.
And that wasn't to visit Kasserlane's landmarks but its dungeon cells.
How many heretics did she execute?
She was still young when she lit her first stake alone—and already dead inside. Dozens? No, at least a hundred men died by her hands. Way more than cities she had visited, for sure.
And then, twice as many from her magic when she went on that rampage. Gone in an instant.
It would have been more, if not for Konrad Ostfeld—no, Duke Halstadt, the Prodigy.
A bastard like her former master, and someone whom Otto designated as the Church's enemy.
So many have earned that title for crossing the Inquisitor's path. Most committed no greater sin than being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or they had something he desired.
Yet nobody dared to oppose him.
She, too, had worshipped the murderer of her family for so long.
Thinking back now—how could she live like that? Why didn't she try to face reality?
Of course, between Otto and the voices, she couldn't have survived if she tried too hard.
She had a job. A purpose. It didn't have to be a good one.
If it were to execute people, she'd execute them all.
And while she tried to inflict as little suffering as possible in the beginning—
She was way beyond redemption by the time Konrad came along. So why did he still—
No, not him alone. His harem, too. And Father Alastair. The Silver Mage.
She didn't deserve their trust. She was a terrible person.
And also terrible at finding her bearings now.
The chilly wind still carried the smoke left from their battle, but it was no longer suffocating.
The cold itself was refreshing, too, not the howling weather she'd expect from a mountain.
But she was alone up there with her thoughts and had no steps she could retrace. It was the Silver Mage's portal that sent her into battle. She had no idea which way led back home.
Or, what was the right way to live her life?
Not that many options existed.
There was only one road winding up and down the Pass. She followed the king's retreating men to reach it. And now she only had to walk, hoping she went the right way.
And, also, that she'd follow Lady Liliana's orders.
Hold down the fort, no matter what.
So many things went through her mind, from fear to hope, confusion to purpose.
Depression. Longing. Lamenting her past and planning for the future.
Who would've thought that without the spirits filling her head, she could still have her own chaos? And what a chaos it was. She felt everything and nothing at once.
Well, since she had a new task now, she'd better focus on that first.
She had to defend Kasserlane from the nomad hordes—and even against the king if she had to.
She, Stella Nord, of all people.
When the first wife called her the most powerful sorcerer she'd trust, her heart exploded. It made her proud and acknowledged for the first time in her life, but—did she deserve it at all?!
She was a mere abomination, practicing taboo arts without a proper understanding.
Even after the countless hours Gabrielle had coached her—
Whom she could no longer trust, by the way.
She had no control over mana—although she could have syphoned it all away until the world froze over. Or let it all burst out, engulfing everything in flames. No in-between.
But fire and ice were only the byproducts of her real magic, which was way more terrifying.
What she had an affinity for was the essence of life itself.
She could drain it, redirect it, fill a vessel, and take it under her control.
Everything that ordinary people would have called necromancy.
Use that to defend the pass?
Even if she found a way, the Church would have taken her out before the nomads arrived.
She didn't have an army. Not that she had the vaguest idea about logistics or the organisational side of things. She was tall and might've looked strong, but she never held a sword in her life.
Once she stripped away her curse and the taboos that came with it, she had nothing.
So why did Lady Liliana trust her with this task?!
"Stella—? Sister Stella?!"
She froze mid-step. It was a voice she recognised; Liliana's redheaded brother.
How long did she walk? And talk about tall, Welf was a tower of wiry muscles, the definition of strong and valiant, and—
Was he talking to her? He did say her name, staring her straight in the eyes.
"Y-yes?" she stuttered, blinking like lost sheep.
She was at a stone barrack built into the cliffside with soldiers standing at the ready.
If she had to guess, this must have been the checkpoint.
Kasserlane's border that Konrad had defended, and the place she'd have to make a stand, too.
"How'd you end up here?" Welf asked whether it was the first time or again. "You were still there when we left camp, and now you're walking back? Have you met the king's men, too?"
He was the first wife's brother. She could trust him with the truth, right?
"I, uh, saw them," she said, still hesitant as she looked at the warriors. Tribesmen, neither the king's garrison nor the knights she followed for a while. Yeah, it should have been safe.
"What was all that fuss?" he urged her, eyebrows furrowed.
Stella lowered her voice, taking a step closer.
"The king, uh, Lord Ronald wanted to surrender Kasserlane to Maou Midori." It wasn't a secret, right? They wouldn't tell her otherwise. "Konrad fought the Demon Lord to stop that."
The blacksmith's eyes widened before he could clear his throat to compose himself.
"Did, did the kid win?" he asked.
He might try to sound casual, but his gaze looked nervous as he scanned the distance.
And how could she even answer that question?
"According to your sister, uh, well, he didn't lose," she fumbled with the words, "but—he's gone."
He grabbed her singed, grey robes before she continued.
"What do you mean, gone?" he gritted out, his strained breath tickling her face. "Did he die?!"
"No, no, he's alive," Stella yelled in a fit of panic. "But he's no longer in this world. And neither are Maple and Lady Liliana. She told me to hold down the fort while they're all gone."
Welf paused to let her go, even dusting off her robe with a long sigh.
"Did Liliske take him somewhere?" he asked, his voice much more gentle now.
"No, he disappeared mid-fight. With the dragon and Maou Midori," she claimed, trembling from the memory. "And, and your sister said she'll be out chasing angels, or something."
"And you're to hold down fort until then?" Welf didn't sound convinced. But when she gave him a weak nod, he rattled his sword. "Then we'll fight—no matter what."