A deep sadness settled in her gaze. "The only resentment I ever held was against this cruel world… for allowing such suffering." She closed her eyes for a moment as if gathering her final strength. When she spoke again, her voice was barely audible. "But then… I met people like you. And I realised… not all of this world is cruel. There is still kindness… still light."
She took a shallow breath, staring up at the vast sky. "The only thing I ever hated was my fate. But at least it's coming to an end. And that's enough for me."
A long silence stretched between them. Then, her gaze softened. "Can you… Tell me your name?"
Ronan hesitated, his voice caught in his throat. Then, with a quiet resolve, he whispered, "…Ronan. Ronan Greystone."
A smile graced her lips, peaceful and free.
Mr. Alden stood at the entrance of the village, his presence carrying a heavy weight of responsibility. The other seven boys and girls who had been saved by them on this journey had already returned to their parents, their faces pale with exhaustion and sorrow. But one girl remained, standing alone in the chilling night.
Mr. Alden gently placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her forward. She walked with hesitant steps, her body trembling from both physical and emotional exhaustion. As they reached the centre of the gathering, she knelt, pressing her forehead to the cold, bloodstained ground.
"I... I apologise on behalf of my brother," she said, her voice raw with grief. "He... he was not himself. Someone—something—took control of him. I know that does not undo the pain, nor does it bring back those we have lost. I do not ask for forgiveness. I do not deserve it. I only beg of you..." She raised her tear-streaked face, her hollow eyes searching for mercy. "Please, allow him a proper burial... beside our parents. That is all I ask. I have nothing to offer in return... nothing at all. Just... please."
She repeated her plea, bowing deeply until her forehead touched the dirt once more. Her frail body shook as sobs wracked through her, her desperation raw and unfiltered.
Ronan took a step forward, instinctively reaching out to stop her, his heart aching at the sight. But before he could, Mr. Alden placed a firm hand on his shoulder, silently urging him to wait.
Moments passed before the mayor and several villagers stepped forward. Tears glistened in their weary eyes as they gently lifted the girl from the ground. "You do not have to beg," the mayor whispered, his voice thick with sorrow. "Your brother and you... You are both children of this village. No matter what has happened, we will not abandon you."
The girl swallowed a sob, her gaze searching his, disbelief and gratitude warring in her expression. "Where... where is my brother?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Without a word, the mayor led her to where her brother's body lay. When she saw him, she collapsed beside him, exhaustion making her limbs weak. She tried to reach out, her fingers barely brushing against his cold cheek before her strength failed her.
Mr. Alden, silent and watchful, knelt beside her and took her trembling hand in his. With gentle care, he guided it to rest upon her brother's face. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she let out a soft, broken whisper. "Now we will always be together, brother."
Ronan, who had been silently channelling his mana into her, suddenly felt her body grow cold. Her breathing slowed, and then it stopped.
"Ronan..." Her lips parted in a final breath. "You really are... the light in my dark world."
As the last word left her lips, her body fell still. The world seemed to hold its breath at that moment.
Ronan swayed, his vision blurring. The strain of using all his mana finally caught up with him, and his body gave out. Darkness crept at the edge of his consciousness as he collapsed, but before he could hit the ground, Mr. Alden caught him.
"He exhausted every last bit of his mana," the doctor from Eldergrove assessed, placing a hand over Ronan's pulse. "There are no external or internal injuries. He'll be fine once he replenishes his mana."
"Let him rest," Mr. Alden murmured, stepping back as they carried Ronan inside. One by one, the villagers left the room, their grief hanging heavy in the air.
The next morning, Ronan awoke to the scent of fresh flowers. Weak but determined, he forced himself out of bed and stepped outside. The sight before him made his chest tighten.
Every coffin in the village was adorned with flowers—lilies, daffodils, and wild blossoms. And at the heart of it all, side by side, lay the graves of the brother and sister, resting beside their parents as the girl had wished.
Standing at a distance, Mr. Alden turned to Ronan and Orin, his expression unreadable. "You both wish to protect something—or someone. That is why you seek strength. But listen to me, and listen well. No matter how hard the path, never seek power from something or someone that twists your will. If you do... You will become like that brother and sister. Lost. Broken. Consumed. Lost. Broken. Consumed."
He placed a firm hand on their backs, a gesture of both support and warning, before walking away.
Ronan stood in silence, his fists clenched at his sides. His mind swirled with doubt, with questions that had no answers.
Fate is irreversible... He stared at his trembling hands, his fingers curling into tight fists. Is this my fate? To always be weak? To always lose what I wish to protect? Is there truly no way to defy fate?
The morning sun rose higher, yet the cold in his heart remained.