Unnamed Memory

 5. The Side of Me Unknown to You
The boy stood frozen before the gates to his city. He’d returned from running an errand in the next town over. The streets looked no different. They should’ve been bustling with people, however. The boy couldn’t spy a single person out on the thoroughfare. Shops were empty, as was his own home.
Wandering the city in search of someone—anyone—the boy eventually came to the conclusion that the place was completely deserted. He was at a complete loss. The whole thing felt like some bad dream. Maybe he’d just found his way into a different city that looked identical to his?
Everything looked familiar; the graffiti on the walls that had been there for years, the old dolls decorating the storefront windows.
He went back to his house, clinging to the smallest glimmer of hope.
On the kitchen table, his mother had laid out lunch for him.
It smelled like home, and he felt tears well up. The food was still fairly warm.
He ate, tears pouring down his cheeks, and then ran to the next city over on weary legs to let them know what had happened.

The extremely gruesome battle of Asdra Plains exceeded almost all expectations.
All of the ten thousand soldiers Tayiri had were lost, save for the five hundred or so who deserted. Cuscull ended up losing just under fifty mages. Such a gruesome outcome forced those neutral countries to reevaluate the power of magic, as well as the danger that Cuscull posed.
The battle of Asdra was not the only thing to prompt such reconsiderations, however.
At almost the same time as the battle, one city in each of the Four Great Nations was attacked.
These assaults were similar to the ones the Tayiri cities suffered: The buildings were left intact, while only the people vanished. Only big cities were targeted, and the countries that had considered themselves mere spectators in the conflict now had to seriously consider the letter Cuscull had sent.
Oscar, his coronation now only four days away, received a report on the attacks and grimaced.
Normally, his being made king would be a grand affair with all the important people from each country in attendance. With the looming crisis, however, it was set to be a simple event for domestic guests only. Along with coronation plans and preparations, the royal council was busy attempting to get a handle on the political situation.
“So how bad was it?” Oscar asked.
Suzuto, standing before Oscar, nervously gave his report on the vanished city denizens. “Just like the attacks on Tayiri cities, the buildings suffered no damage. Inside them… Well, it really was as if everyone simply vanished without a trace. Some restaurants even still had steaming hot bowls of soup on the tables.”
“A very bizarre phenomenon,” commented Oscar.
“While I couldn’t find any signs of human life, I sometimes…got the feeling that something was there.”
“What kind of feeling?”
“It was like I felt a presence or a sensation. It struck me rather often, but never did I actually see anyone there.”
“…I…see…,” Oscar said, dubious. This story got stranger and stranger the more he heard. He wanted to go and take a look for himself but knew that’d only upset everyone.
Oscar dismissed Suzuto, then turned to Doan, who had been waiting in a corner of the study. “What do you think?” Oscar asked.
“To be honest, I have no idea how such a thing could be done,” Doan replied.
“Could it be her doing?”
“I’d say it has to be. Her not being responsible poses its own problem, because it means there’s another mage capable of impossible things.”
“I guess that’s true. None of the other witches are involved,” Oscar reasoned.
After half a year, he thought he’d witnessed and understood how exceptional Tinasha was, but the truth was that her power on the battlefield was beyond anything he could’ve conceived. If that much was true of Oscar, who’d gotten to know her, one could only guess how ill prepared other countries were. Doubtless they were fearing for their lives.
“Ugh. She just doesn’t know her limits, and it’s making it hard for us,” groused Oscar.
“Actually, you could say that’s just how prepared she’s been for this,” Doan pointed out calmly. He was right. That was why she disappeared from Farsas.
Oscar sighed. Als, who was also in the room, spoke up. “Cezar has decided to dispatch troops, but Gandona is still hesitating.”
“I see,” Oscar said, putting his legs up on his desk and crossing them. He wet his dry lips with his tongue.
…The answer had been there all along.
Tinasha had only been searching for the right time, and now that time had come. Oscar huffed, swinging his feet down and standing up.
“Marshal the troops. We ship out after the coronation.”
Als and Doan bowed respectfully in response.

Ever since his gorgeous protector disappeared, Oscar had been plagued by a single lingering thought day after day.
How long has Tinasha been contemplating this exact situation we’re in now?
He was sure she’d figured out who the king of Cuscull was long before Farsas did.
That was why she got rid of her cat familiar after its job was done, and it had to have been the reason she’d rushed to break Oscar’s curse.
Oscar believed there was a different reason she’d trained him, however. She probably left him with a choice, so he wouldn’t end up like her—powerless and violated.
Tinasha was an emotional, self-sacrificing, awkward witch. She was stuck in time forever, but she’d finally chosen to take action. She’d jumped headfirst into her own fate.
As for the future Tinasha was envisioning… Oscar knew she wasn’t acting to safeguard her own future.
What choice did that leave him with, though?
Oscar pondered that question as he looked down on the city from a platform along the castle ramparts.
His coronation went off without a hitch, and the people welcomed their young king with wild, enthusiastic cheers when he was presented to the public. It was a scene Oscar himself had envisioned often. He’d known such a day would come ever since he was a boy, and yet he hadn’t imagined it would be nothing more than a simple milestone.
He was probably the only person in history to get cursed by one witch and then earn the protection of another. Both of those things, however, had come about as the result of the royal burden he’d carried as long as he could remember. Much of his own life was out of his hands; the path of a prince was set before he ever saw it.
That said—choosing Tinasha now was the one thing he did of his own free will.
Oscar had never imagined a future such as this when he was a child. That made what happened from this point on all the more important.
The new king waved to the people and returned to the castle. Without a moment’s delay, courtiers and staff clustered around him. As he paced, Oscar made his way down the hallway, giving orders to Chief Mage Kumu, Als, and Doan about the following day’s march to Tayiri.
“Make sure we can teleport away at any time. Our opponents are all mages, after all. Plan a way for me alone to be able to get out in the worst-case scenario. I may be able to manage something if I do.”
“Very well. Your Majesty shipping out as well is really our last resort, but…”
“Tayiri isn’t holding back, and neither can we. Farsas must use everything at its disposal to ensure its safety.”
Akashia—the Mage Killer. So long as Oscar held that sword, he carried a powerful advantage over mages. Of course, the bearer needed to be a skilled swordsman, too, but Tinasha had ensured that with her thorough technical instruction. Ultimately, Oscar knew he could even slay a witch if he wanted to.
…He could, but whether he would was another story.
As the group made their way down the hallway, solidifying plans, a boy popped out of the door to the lounge. He leaped in front of Oscar, waving his hands wide and shouting. “You’re going to kill the witch, right? I wanna go, too!”
The startling outburst left everyone in silence. As a faint frown crossed Oscar’s face, Suzuto came running up from the other end of the hallway.
“What are you doing? You’re speaking to His Majesty!” Suzuto scolded, pinning the boy’s arms behind his back. He bowed to Oscar. “I deeply apologize, Your Majesty. That was very rude.”
“Is this your little brother?”
“No, he’s a boy from one of the cities that was attacked… He was away when the tragedy occurred. He had nowhere to go, so I brought him back here.”
“Ah, I see.”
Evidently, while Suzuto had been out on his investigation, he’d found a boy from a city whose inhabitants had all suddenly vanished and had brought him to safety in the castle. His arms still pinned behind his back, the boy piped up, “I heard all about it. The witch killed everyone, right? I wanna go, too! I’m gonna get revenge!”
“No. Children should be in school,” the newly coronated King Oscar flatly insisted.
The boy didn’t back down, however, and escaped from Suzuto’s grip to shout at the king some more. “Then let me borrow your sword! I’ll go kill the witch.”
“Listen here…,” Oscar started. He grabbed the boy’s collar and lifted him off the ground so that the two were eye level. The boy kicked his legs, and Oscar fixed him with an astounded glare. “No normal person is a match for the witch, even if you did have this sword. Got it? If you do, then behave yourself.”
“You’re just saying that ’cause you don’t wanna kill her! Take me with you!”
All those around were frowning at the child’s wild behavior. Kumu glared at the boy. “How dare you speak to His Majesty like that…”
“It’s fine. Besides, he’s saying some funny stuff. I don’t want to kill her, do I? You’re absolutely right,” Oscar admitted.
“But you’re supposed to be the king!” cried the boy.
“Listen up… If a mage or a witch wants to shoot down a city, they’ll just fire a few huge attacks from above without caring about the buildings and be done with it. Think about how complicated it must have been for her to make the people vanish but to leave everything else untouched. If you don’t use your head, you won’t be able to see them again.”
When the king pointed that out, the boy’s eyes grew wide and he fell silent. After thinking for a bit, he spoke up timidly. “My mom’s…alive?”
“Probably. I’m going to get the witch to tell me,” Oscar said, setting the boy back down on the floor.
He was wobbling with the faint hope he’d been given, but he was equally afraid of possible disappointment. Rather accusingly, the boy inquired, “But what about if they really are dead?”
It was obvious he was afraid to even ask, and Oscar’s eyes narrowed. His handsome face went blank.
He surveyed the boy with the eyes of a king seated on his throne—someone who bore a long history and a heavy responsibility.
As the irrepressible majesty of a king pressed down on him, the boy gulped.
Oscar cast his sky-blue eyes down as he spoke.
“If that truly is the case, then I’ll kill her.”
Oscar’s tone sent a chill down Als’s spine.
It wasn’t a lie. He meant every word.

At midnight as the moon glimmered like a pearl, Pamyra entered her lady’s chambers to find her drawing a long-distance transportation array.
“Lady Aeterna, where are you going?” asked Pamyra.
The woman standing in the middle of the room flinched and turned around. “Oh, Pamyra. Don’t sneak up on me. Also, don’t call me that.”
“My apologies, Lady Tinasha.”
After hearing the revised term of address, Tinasha stuck out her tongue like a child caught making mischief.
At present, only Pamyra knew of Tinasha’s true nature, which ran completely counter to the personality she assumed when acting as the king’s bride.
Several days after becoming Tinasha’s attendant, Pamyra noticed that the witch seemed to be hiding something. Once they were alone, she questioned Tinasha mercilessly while pledging her loyalty. After much pleading and reassurance, she finally seemed to win the witch’s trust.
“No matter what happens, I am on your side. If you ever find you cannot trust me, cut me down where I stand.”
When Pamyra first pleaded with her, Tinasha glowered at her in silence. She was quickly worn down by her attendant’s persistence, however.
“All right, all right… To begin with, don’t call me Aeterna when it’s just the two of us.”
Tinasha had conceded with a faint, exasperated smile, and her demeanor turned much more calm and polite than it had previously been. Pamyra supposed this was the witch’s true self, and she thrilled to see it.
Now was not the time for exultation, however. While Tinasha’s power was certainly immense, she only had herself and she was exceedingly isolated in Cuscull. Pamyra wanted someone who the two could trust a little more and had recently been wondering if Renart would be that person.
Ignoring Pamyra’s fretting, Tinasha resumed work on her array. “I’m heading out for a bit. If someone comes by, cover for me.”
“Wait, ah—” Pamyra tried to ask where she was going, but a moment later the witch vanished from the room without a trace.
“I can’t believe this woman!” Pamyra cried, but there was no one to hear this. The moon hung silent and pallid in the sky.

From the balcony, the moon looked red.
It looks like it’s dyed in blood, mused Reust, the crown prince of Tayiri, quite cynically. His hair was bound up and cast a long shadow down his back.
Nearly ten thousand soldiers had perished on the Asdra Plains, because of his own poor judgment. Something bitter was roiling in Reust’s stomach as his eyes remained fixed on the heavens.
Tayiri had a long history of persecuting mages.
Over the past one thousand years, the country had seen more than its share of blood. Not once had Tayiri’s belief that Irityrdia was the one true god ever been shaken.
World-Splitting Blade and Sleeping Paleface were among the other names for Irityrdia, who decreed that humans with magic were greedy, impure, improperly sprouted, and shouldn’t have been born. It was said that those with magic could not keep hold of their minds or bodies in front of Irityrdia and would go on mad rampages that brought harm to innocents. The ancient people of Tayiri bore witness to this truth, feared their god, and shunned mages. It was a tradition that had survived into the modern day. Many mages had attempted their own uprisings, only to be quelled time and again by the overwhelming royal army.
When Cuscull declared independence, no one thought it would last long. Everyone assumed its existence was because the king of Tayiri was too lax.
Reust had felt the same way, and yet the soldiers he had insisted on sending out were annihilated.
Regretting his underestimation for not having marshaled a larger force, Reust cursed himself for not taking command himself. It was much too late for that now, though. In a week, troops from Farsas, Cezar, and Gandona would arrive at the Tayiri capital. Having criticized his royal father for calling in reinforcements, Reust secretly still hoped to achieve something on Tayiri’s strength alone before aid could arrive.
“Tomorrow I’ll marshal the troops again and command them myself…”
Reust looked up at the sky, bitter determination in his heart. But as he looked out, the moonlit sky suddenly warped.
“…!”
Reflexively, he drew his sword.
That warping was the sign of a mage appearing after long-distance teleportation. He’d seen it many times by now, and he was always able to cut the mage down the instant they appeared. This time, however, it came from the sky, a place his blade couldn’t reach. Reust wished he’d brought his bow, but it hardly mattered now.
As he grit his teeth in frustration, the warped space widened.
In the next moment—a witch appeared.
He recognized her right away as the witch who had attacked Tayiri’s cities.
She had been so bold as to show herself before striking and announcing that she was indeed a witch. Her hair and eye color were true to the reports, but her beauty far exceeded what Reust had imagined.
She was like moonlight given form. It defied all the laws of the heavens, and he didn’t understand why she was blessed with such features. Her long eyelashes stirred slowly. From beneath them, she flashed a piercing look down below.
“Prince Reust?” she called in a voice as clear as cold water.
The darkness in her eyes was so deep it felt like Reust could fall forever. Something about them drew him in.
She was so vivid and striking that Reust thought he might stop breathing. One glance was all it took to utterly captivate him.
Reust’s voice was hoarse, and he couldn’t answer right away. After a span of some moments, he finally eked out a reply. “What do you want, witch?”
She gave a little nod, floating in midair. The way she spoke suggested she was choosing her words very carefully. “It’s pointless to keep attacking Cuscull. I’d like you to call off your march.”
“Utter shameless nonsense. What’s your aim here?”
The witch sighed a little at his outright scorn and hostility, then pointed one ivory finger at him. “This will all be over in another two weeks. If possible, I don’t want you deploying your reinforcements until then.”
“…What did you just say? What does that mean?”
The witch didn’t answer. Reust was at a loss as to how to interpret her words.
Was she just wasting his time, or did she have some other intention?
Floating in the air, the witch gazed back at Reust impassively. Her black sheer silk dress fluttered in the breeze; she seemed about to disappear any minute now.
Reust was struck by an odd feeling that the witch wasn’t even really there.
He cleared his dry throat and took a step forward. “If you’re asking for favors, come down from there, pathetic mage.”
“Pathetic mage? Don’t you people understand that attitude landed you in the current situation?” the witch asked rhetorically, one side of her mouth quirking up in a cruel smile.
The sight of it made a jolt of fear and excitement course through Reust. He had the distinct sense that her white, wholly inhuman hand could cast him down into unending darkness.
He wondered what to say in reply. Silence was as good as admitting defeat, so he pasted a sneer on his face. “Mages disrupt our god’s world with their selfish desires. Such power is a sin. Come down. If you do, I’ll listen to you.”
Reust didn’t think she’d obey his order, but to his surprise, the witch zipped down swiftly until she was floating at eye level with him, though still beyond his reach.
Now beholding her at an even height, Reust acknowledged that the witch had a startlingly petite frame for someone so strangely intimidating. A wave of light dizziness crashed over Reust as he felt that she’d fit perfectly in his arms if he were to hold her.
A slightly bitter smile twisted the witch’s features. “You’re much taller than I am. You’re probably also that much more flexible, too. But wouldn’t you find it ridiculous if I envied you and tried to cast you out just because of that? Using a god’s name to hunt down those who are different only shows how weak humans are.”
Shadows cast by the moon threw into relief a terrible sadness on her face.
The witch’s dark eyes appeared to be floating and bobbing along a sea of night. Reust wanted to know if he was reflected inside them.
“…You’re trying to use words to deceive me. The power that creatures like you possess is unnatural.”
Everyone in the world was different; that much was to be expected. Mages differed in a more significant way, however. A witch understood that better than anyone.
Snorting, the witch asked Reust, “Have you ever swung a sword down on a baby’s head?”
“…What?”
“Have you ever burned a mother and her crying baby at the stake?”
“What in the…?”
Reust’s throat grew dry. He had an idea what she was trying to say. As the blood drained from his face, the witch clarified, “Your country permitted all of that to happen. Not as madness but as routine. I’ve seen even more horrifying spectacles. That’s the reality of Tayiri.”
Reust was speechless. The witch’s tone wasn’t harsh or scornful at all, though. She spoke with detached indifference.
“As the crown prince, you surely know your nation’s history and about the governments of other countries. You must realize how unusual Tayiri is. Three hundred years have passed since the Dark Age, and no other country is still as relentlessly elitist as your homeland. You should be able to understand that what you’re doing is the same as cutting off your own foot.”
A certain ratio of children with magic were born to parents without any talent for the arcane. Tayiri ostracized those children, regardless of their circumstances. Those kids had been born in defiance of Irityrdia, after all. It wasn’t worth considering whether it was right or wrong. Put another way, it was something most were content not to think about… Reust did not have that option anymore.
The witch tossed back her long black hair. A white light glowed at her fingertips, then changed into a butterfly that flapped its lovely wings and disappeared into the dark of the gardens.
That done, the witch’s voice took on a remonstrative tone. “No matter what kind of a mage you are, there are still rules you are bound to follow. No matter how you struggle, you can’t bring people and nations back to life. That’s true of anyone—mages are no exception. You might think magic users differ from normal people, but the reality is they’re nearly identical.”
“…A witch’s nonsense.”
“No matter what I am, there still remains a man who can cut me down quite easily. Even my power has its limits,” said the witch with a smile. For a moment, she looked almost pleased to know that.
Her smile soon vanished, however, and her face became a stiff mask. Cold, dark eyes scrutinized Reust. “I’ve given you my warning. Think it over.”
Abruptly, she opened both arms wide. Reust realized she was preparing to teleport away and cried out reflexively, “If you want me to halt the reinforcements, come ask again tomorrow! Come to me! If you don’t, I won’t do as you ask!”
He received no answer.
Without an incantation, the witch created a magical array and vanished. No trace of the woman remained as the wind whistled past.
Left in the shadow of the witch who had so enthralled his soul, Reust spent a while refusing to budge from the balcony.
At long last, he returned to his room, bereft of the desire to marshal his army the next day.

When he first met her, she was just a baby sleeping in her crib.
Her skin was as white as snow and soft to the touch. He remembered thinking that her eyelashes were incredibly long.
It was the baby taken from her home to be his royal bride. It took several years before Lanak realized what all the sealing ornaments on her ears and fingers meant. By that point, she’d grown into a frighteningly beautiful young girl—and the strangeness of her talent was beginning to become apparent to all who met her.
He’d always thought of her as a girl he ought to protect, until their paths diverged.
“…The Allied Forces of the Four Great Nations? How very ostentatious,” the king of Cuscull commented lightly, as if this didn’t concern him in the slightest.
Sprawled on his throne, Lanak examined the ceiling languidly. The empty throne room had no furnishings. The Cuscull palace was splendidly crafted, but it was lacking in a certain sense of history that other countries had.
The same was true of its monarch. His face devoid of fear or anger, Lanak complained, “They struggle pointlessly. Everything will settle where it’s supposed to be in time.”
“Your Majesty. As ordered, we’ve completed all corresponding preparations,” reported a mage kneeling before the throne. Lanak pointed at the deserted hall. At once, blue lines drew up a floating map of the mainland. The other mages fell silent as they scrutinized it.
There were five glowing lights on the map. Each was connected to the others by glowing lines, which branched out into even more lines that spanned the entire continent.
It was a wondrous sight, and Lanak broke into a smile. “This shall be our new country.”
Upon hearing the king’s words, the mages gazed at the map with longing.
Most people could tell that the intricate lines overlaying the map were a magic spell. Once they did, they shuddered at the scale of it. No spell spanning the entire mainland had ever been attempted before. The proposal of such a thing would only earn the one who thought it up a chorus of laughter.
Lanak trusted himself to be the only one capable of bringing such an impossible feat into the realm of reality. Once it was done, the lives of all would change overnight. He regarded his spell map with great satisfaction. “This will erase all suffering and create a world far more suitable to live in.”
The mages gazed at their king reverently, overcome with emotion. One brought up a hesitant objection, however.
“B-but is such a spell really possible…?”
“It’s all right. We have Aeti,” the king replied.
Just then, the door to the throne room opened and the black-clad witch entered.
Her looks were so stunning, it was like she’d walked out of a painting. After realizing she’d attracted everyone’s attention, she lifted her long eyelashes and bobbed her head in a light bow. As expressionless as a doll, she asked the king, “What’s going on, Lanak?”
“I was just talking about you. Will you help me transform our land?”
“Help you? Of course,” she answered breezily, then crossed the room with perfect composure and sat down on a couch that lined the wall. It was a usual spot for her and was located only a dozen paces from the throne. Leaning against the armrest, she began to read a book.
Lanak gazed at her calmly. “No matter how complicated and large a spell is, it must still abide by the basic laws. As long as you have enough magic, all you have to do is cast each spell one by one. Isn’t that right, Aeti? I taught you that a long time ago.”
“Yes, because you were instructed on that principle long before I was,” she said with a smile, not looking up from her book.
The two had been raised in the same castle, both as potential rulers. While that had been four centuries ago, to Lanak it may as well have happened yesterday. Unlike the witch, who was very much aware of everything that’d happened in the intervening time, Lanak had spent much of the last four hundred years in a magically induced stasis. He was spelled to sleep while he enjoyed a light, all-but-eternal dream.
At times, Lanak could sense the witch’s familiar nearby but was unable to react. The powerful magic needed to fuel the stasis spell had left his body half-broken from the recoil.
Despite that, he had seemingly returned whole. The long sleep had made his memories and thoughts hazy, but he hadn’t forgotten what was most important.
Protecting her. That was his role, and it hadn’t changed since he was a child.
“You were such an obedient, good student that the tutors always praised you. During breaks, all you did was follow me around, but you learned everything I taught you right away…”
Aeti was five years younger than Lanak. In the early days, she was little more than a child clinging to him, but her talent had been undeniable even then.
It was more than just natural ability, though. She also put in fierce effort but so did Lanak.
“You were very clever. In just a few years, the tutors no longer had anything to teach you…”
By the time she was ten, she’d surpassed all her instructors. Her many tutors all withdrew voluntarily, and she was left in solitude. Lanak was the only one in the entire castle who dared to reach out to her.
“But compared with me, you were always so much more…”
The light in Lanak’s eyes dimmed. His gaze was hollow as he looked at the witch who had once been a potential ruler of the empire, just as he had been.
Tinasha was the first to notice the shift in Lanak, and she watched him intently.
As if poised to take action at any time, as if making sure of something…
The other mages stood petrified by the look in her eyes. Her voice alone was gentle as she asked, “Lanak? What’s wrong? Did you remember something?”
When he heard her voice, Lanak blinked slowly. At some point, his temples and hands had begun to sweat.
A lingering chill ran through his body, as if he’d stumbled across something deeply unpleasant, and he took deep breaths to calm himself. “It’s no good. It’s like I’m still in the dream,” he admitted.
“It wasn’t a dream,” Tinasha urged.
“I know.”
Lanak’s home country had been destroyed. Four hundred years later, he built a new one. That much was real.
From time to time, however, he had the oddest sensation that he was forgetting something. It was some sort of lingering emotion he hadn’t quite parsed.
Lanak asked the girl who was once so small, “Aeti, are you upset?”
“About what?” Tinasha said, her gaze back on her book. Long black locks swept over the floor, and she looked just like a blooming flower. This witch truly captivated all who looked upon her. She was all grown up now, and Lanak felt both pleased and somewhat lonely to see her as she was now.
Gazing at her, Lanak waved his hand lightly. Upon seeing his dismissive gesture, the other mages cleared out immediately. Once they were alone, Lanak started again. “About what happened four hundred years ago. On the last night we were together.”
It was a subject neither had broached since their reunion. Tinasha was a little surprised to hear him bring it up. With a panther’s fluid grace, she slowly sat up and looked at him. “Why now, after all this time? I thought you’d forgotten.”
“I’ll never forget.”
Even though most of his memories were a fuzzy jumble, that night was something he’d never forget. The shock and fear on her face when he’d cut into her stomach were seared into his mind. Screams, sobs, and pitiful begs echoed in his ears.
On the other hand, however, Lanak couldn’t recall how it had felt to look down on her then. It was all faint, worn away by the long sleep, and he couldn’t get that part of the memory back.
“I thought you might be upset. I’ve been wondering.”
“I’m not upset,” Tinasha answered curtly, as if to say that was the end of the conversation. She resumed her reading.
That was a clear rejection. Lanak had no choice but to change the subject. “Do you think if we suppress them with huge amounts of power, the fighting will end?”
“I think it will, but it won’t get at the root of the problem,” she replied.
“But we might be able to save the people who are unhappy now,” Lanak countered.
“Mm-hmm,” Tinasha answered.
Unable to order his thoughts very well, Lanak pressed his fingers to his temples. The man had the faintest sense that his memories and personality were snapping apart, perhaps because he’d slept for too long. Holding himself together as he felt like he was going to fly to pieces, he gazed at his bride-to-be. She was the most powerful person on the continent.
“Once you became a witch, did you not want to do something like that yourself?” Lanak inquired.
“I didn’t. That would just be self-righteous,” answered Tinasha.
“Even if that meant someone died?”
“Everyone dies eventually. If I interfered in the world and prevented something from happening, it might end up killing human thought.”
What Tinasha said smacked of a policy of everlasting total noninterference, and it sounded cruel. Such was the road she had chosen, however. Lanak, who only knew how kind and sweet she was to everything and everyone, felt a little lonely again.
“Is what I’m trying to do also self-righteous?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s cold.”
“Then you shouldn’t have asked.” Tinasha laughed, and then her face turned serious. “But because you summoned me, I was able to interfere in the conflict between Tayiri and the mages a little.”
“Aeti.”
“So thank you. I mean it,” Tinasha concluded, a smile on her face. If this was her real smile, then what wasn’t real?
Lanak broke into a smile, too. “If it made you happy, I’m glad.”
Breaking a cycle of tragedy required action. And the time for it is now, Lanak reminded himself. Heaving a huge sigh, he turned his gaze up to the ceiling.
“You don’t need to worry about a thing. I’ll protect you.”
Even if the whole world shunned and feared Tinasha for being a witch, he would be on her side. If he didn’t do that, then she would be all alone, just like when she was a little girl.
Lanak repeated his vow as though a command to himself. “I’ll protect you, Aeti.”
Perhaps that sentiment was the one thing that hadn’t faded from Lanak’s mind after four hundred years.
Tinasha was no longer a little girl, but things were still the same. Aeterna would forever be a weak and helpless person who existed for him.

“I’m going to sleep for a bit,” Lanak declared. He then retired to his chambers.
Tinasha departed from the throne room shortly afterward.
As soon as she reached the corridor, she was joined by her guard, Renart.
He looked concerned. “The king seemed a little…”
“He’s fine. I don’t think he’s awakened from his dream yet.”
“His dream?”
Among those in the castle, Renart and Pamyra were the only two mages assigned to serve Tinasha. They had won her trust and had a rough idea of what happened to her in the past. It was because of that knowledge that Renart had come to the throne room fearing the king had done something to hurt Tinasha, but the witch quickly brushed that concern aside.
“Renart, do you know why the witches of this land are all women?”
“What? Er… Is it not because they’re witches, not wizards?” he asked, anticipating that she was setting up a pun of some sort, but Tinasha laughed and shook her head.
“You’re quite a strong mage yourself, but the truth of the matter is that men’s bodies are unstable in terms of magical power. It’s difficult for them to survive for long periods of time with vast amounts of magic. A normal life span is not long enough for negative effects to manifest, but hundreds of years will take their toll on a man’s mind or body. It causes a breakdown. That’s why there are no men among witches. To come as far as we have would mean self-destruction for them.”
Tinasha said such frightening things so flippantly. Renart attempted a smile but found himself unable to muster one.
“Which means the king is…” He trailed off.
“His mental faculties have deteriorated. While he used a magical sleep, he still suffered quite a bit. His mind comes and goes, but it’s all focused around his mental state when he was fifteen. He’s very unstable. That’s why he’s being so sweet to me. To him, I will forever be the powerless child I was back then.”
A self-deprecating expression crossed Tinasha’s face. Renart frowned at the sight of it.
The witch only ever spoke of her past with a glibness to her tone.
Even that told him something, though. Namely that a long time ago, Tinasha adored Lanak as if he really was her family. Now that her big brother was back, as kind as he ever was, Renart wondered what Tinasha was thinking. While he was worried, he found himself incapable of discerning even some small part of the witch’s true intentions. Deciding on another course of action, Renart asked about something else. “Is what the king said really possible? A spell that spans our entire land…”
“It is, if we use my magic,” Tinasha replied. She answered so matter-of-factly that it left Renart stunned. With a hand, the witch flipped her long, braided hair back. “We’re talking about using magic to completely control the continent. People in the past may have conceived of this, but none saw it successfully realized. In terms of sheer ability, the first king of Tuldarr should have had the power to do it. He was the only one who had all twenty spirits at his beck and call, after all. But spell casting at that time was much more difficult than it is now. That may have been what prevented him. Spell-casting research didn’t know many advancements until the time of the fourth regent.”
“Ah, er, Lady Tinasha—” Renart cut in. If he let her continue unchecked, she’d go off on a tangent about the history of Tuldarr.
She realized what he meant and gave a little cough. “It’s possible; but if we do it, it will irreparably alter the mainland. Smaller countries might collapse, and it would mean all-out war with the Four Great Nations. Lanak would never stand for that, though. Depending on how things go, we could see a death toll that exceeds the Dark Age.”
“You mean…”
This was definitely an unprecedented state of affairs. Renart shuddered to realize he was standing at a turning point in history.
The witch remained unperturbed, however. Evidently remembering something, Tinasha suddenly changed the topic. “Oh yes, how are you coming along with what I asked you to do?”
“I’ll have the forty obsidian stones for you by today. Tomorrow at the latest.”
The witch had asked him to find stones of a deep color possessed of as few imperfections as possible.
Tinasha nodded. “Just to be safe, you should make yourself your own defensive array, too.”
Renart inclined his head in silence. While he wasn’t a suicidal man, he felt he should give priority to his lady, not himself. Despite the fact that he’d so brazenly thrust his vow of loyalty on her, she’d smiled and accepted it. Renart intended to repay Tinasha no matter what it took.
“Now what could you two be discussing?” wondered a new voice that slithered from behind the shadow of a pillar.
It was an oily, clinging sort of sound. As its owner emerged, Renart scowled without realizing it. There stood Chief Mage Bardalos. The king had forbidden people in the castle from having excessive contact with Tinasha, but Bardalos took every opportunity to engage with her.
For someone like him with such a bloody past, the fact that Tinasha had such immense magical power residing in such a slender body caught his attention and incited a sadistic interest. He made no attempt to hide his desire, and Tinasha stared him down with eyes as cold as ice.
“I’m thinking of making a necklace. I asked him to gather some stones,” she stated, inclining her head back at the foul man.
Bardalos’s lips curved up in a smirk. “A necklace, eh…? Yes, obsidian would look very nice against your hair and eyes. But shouldn’t a bride wear a different color? Like pearly white…or garnet red?”
“I’m not sure about red for a bride,” the witch replied, trying to pass by Bardalos. He stepped squarely in her path so as to bar her way, however. His already narrow eyes clamped down even further, giving him the countenance of a hungry reptile.
“I think red would look wonderful on you. It’ll match the color of your blood. I’m really very interested in knowing just how beautiful those organs hiding inside that lovely body of yours are.”
“Go ask Lanak,” Tinasha spat scathingly.
Even Renart didn’t quite understand what that meant. He glanced at her, but she appeared as cool and unaffected as always.
“Get out of the way,” ordered the witch. “Or if you’re a baby who can’t walk on his own, perhaps I’ll move you myself.”
A gleeful smile spreading on his face, Bardalos took a step back and cleared the way. Sensing that something was off about that, Renart shielded his lady with his body as they passed by.

After the defeat at the Asdra Plains, Tayiri ultimately decided to hold off on sending reinforcements to Cuscull. At Prince Reust’s orders, the troops were assembled but detained in the capital.
Additionally, armies from the other major powers that had heeded Tayiri’s call began to arrive.
For four days, Oscar had joined war conferences in Tayiri’s castle, and he was quickly growing fed up. He had suffered through many meetings, and not a single one had resulted in dispatch orders. Prince Reust was the biggest obstacle. Despite holding primary military authority, he merely parroted the words “We need to act carefully.” Oscar was close to the end of his rope and wanted to point out that it was Tayiri who asked for help fighting in the first place.
As if that weren’t bad enough, Reust’s younger sister, Cecelia, followed Oscar around every day, testing the limits of his self-control. Finally, he turned an exasperated look on the gorgeous princess and asked, “What do you think you’re doing here?”
“Am I not allowed to say it’s because I wanted to see you?” she replied with a sweet smile. Looking at her was enough to give Oscar a headache. His mind full of cynical thoughts, he stared back at the young woman.
The two were in his guest suite in Tayiri Castle. It was a little after sunset, and the sky had darkened to match the deep blue shade of Oscar’s eyes. Later, I am going to lecture the hell out of whoever let this woman into my room, thought Oscar as he bit back a sigh.
His obvious annoyance must have shown in his attitude, because Cecelia arched an eyebrow, got to her feet, and sauntered over to him. Leaning against the armrest, she moved her poisonous red lips to whisper in his ear, “Don’t make that face. When you act so cold to me, it gives me certain thoughts.”
“Oh? Like what?”
“That mage woman who followed you around in Farsas—that was the Witch of the Azure Moon, wasn’t it? It could be quite damaging to your position if I was to make that known,” she breathed. The look in her eyes was challenging, and Oscar pasted on a smile in return.
He’d known someone was liable to deduce that eventually, but how had Cecelia managed it? The eyewitness report Tayiri had received spoke only of a beautiful woman with dark hair and eyes. Women of Tinasha’s exact coloring were rare, but it wasn’t as if they didn’t exist. A single onlooker’s testimony wasn’t enough to go on.
“So? Feeling a bit differently now?” Cecelia purred. She peered at Oscar while gleefully enjoying her advantage. Looping her arms around his neck, Cecelia snuggled close to him. Her perfume was cloyingly sweet. Oscar tipped up her chin and drew closer. Then he pressed his lips to hers.
It was not a short kiss, and it was soul melting in its intensity. Intoxicated with her victory, Cecelia drank of it deeply. After a while, Oscar pulled back to murmur in her ear, his low voice reverberating through her body. “Why do you think that? It could have been someone who looks like her.”
“You won’t be able to weasel your way out that easily… I saw her myself. There’s no way I’m mistaken.”
Oscar trailed his fingers along Cecelia’s white neck. He could feel her blood pumping under her soft skin.
“Where? I don’t believe you,” he said.
At that, she let out a shrill laugh. “Do you truly desire that enchantress that much? She’s a witch, so I suppose she uses magic to make men into her slaves. She visits my brother every night, you know. What a trollop she is. I don’t think she even knows I’m watching.”
“…What?”
Oscar almost crushed Cecelia’s windpipe in his hands. Restraining himself just before he did, he pushed her off and got to his feet. Cecelia was left in a daze, and he grabbed her chin and forced it upward. He stared down at her, no trace of sweetness in his gaze at all.
“Tell me where Prince Reust’s room is,” Oscar demanded in a tone that was not to be disobeyed.
Reust had asked the witch to come back the next day, but in truth he hadn’t actually expected that she would.
Against all expectations, however, she did indeed return the following night and the one after. She floated beneath the moon, seemingly just out of reach.
Each time she visited, she explained to Reust how foolish it was to discriminate against others. Sometimes she used roundabout comparisons, while other times she was more direct and brought home how truly hurtful it was. Not once did she look down on Reust or plead with him. Her voice remained ever calm and plain. The witch never remained too long, either. When she was finished answering his questions, she vanished.
Reust never wanted their time to end, though. Each night he would insist, “If you don’t come tomorrow, I’ll send out the troops.”
How much better would it have been if he could have said, I want to see you again; I want to talk with you? Unfortunately, the woman he longed to see was a despicable mage of an enemy country. Saying such a thing was tantamount to betraying the history of Tayiri. Reust absolutely refused to cross that line, even if he’d been the one to set it for himself.
Despite that, even Reust himself could tell he was wavering. He didn’t know if it was because of her or because of what she told him, but as their conversations continued, he began to falter in his belief that mages needed to be killed.
Only three days remained before the two-week grace period the witch had set ended.
If he could hold off his troops until then, something would surely change.
Reust went out onto his balcony and looked up at the night sky. Just then, someone knocked on his door.
“Reust… It’s me,” came Cecelia’s voice. While he was suspicious of why she was visiting him so late, he went back inside and unlocked the door.
He tensed in shock.
Behind his pale-faced sister stood the young king of Farsas, sword in hand. A tiny red dragon was perched on his shoulder.
With effort, Reust squeaked out the words, “…What do you want…?”
“Was it not your country who asked that we slay the witch?”
There was a provocative look in Oscar’s eyes. Reust gleaned the man’s meaning, and his whole body froze. He stood there petrified, and Oscar slipped past him into the room. He went right for the balcony, and Reust chased after him in a panic. Sensing that Oscar’s attention was no longer on her, Cecelia beat a hasty retreat.
“Stop! What is the meaning of this?” Reust shouted at the intruder on his balcony.
“Play dumb, and this is only going to make you look bad,” Oscar replied indifferently, drawing Akashia. The blade caught the moonlight and glittered an argent shade. A sword that killed mages. Tayiri could not have wished to own a finer weapon.
In that moment, Reust regarded that blade as the most accursed thing he had ever seen. Everything inside him screamed not to let the witch face her natural enemy. How was he to warn her, though?
While Reust was thrown into confusion, Oscar stared up at the sky. The air beneath the moon began to twist and warp.
“Don’t come over here!” Reust yelled up at the sky.
Oscar opened his mouth to cry the witch’s name.
However, the woman with dark blond hair who appeared was one neither recognized.
“I wondered where you were going every night. Is that really what you were doing?!”
“Yes…”
Pamyra was appalled, while the witch looked disillusioned. Tinasha leaned against the back of her chair and grumbled replies to the woman hurling a litany of questions at her.
“He doesn’t seem that stupid. but he has some comprehension problems… He always says, ‘I don’t understand, so come back tomorrow.’ It’s proving entirely too difficult to change his beliefs. I give up.”
Pamyra watched Tinasha stretch as she voiced several complaints. A wave of heavy exhaustion crashed over her, and she let out a sigh. “You don’t have to listen to him, you know. You’re too easily swayed by pressure.”
“I’m sorry…,” Tinasha said, hanging her head guiltily. She picked up one of the obsidian stones laid out on the table. Next to her, Renart was polishing them as he shook his head in disbelief.
Pamyra planted both hands on her hips in a show of indignation. As soon as Tinasha told her the whole story, she knew that the crown prince of Tayiri had fallen for the witch. The only one who hadn’t realized that appeared to be the witch herself. Pamyra wanted to tell the prince off for daring to request continued meetings Tinasha. The witch was a busy woman. She didn’t have time for fools.
“But if I can soften his attitude, I’m sure it’ll help those mages of the future.” Tinasha mumbled as she turned over a piece of obsidian. “Mages can be born of non-magical parents. There will be no end to tragedy unless Tayiri changes its ways.” She lamented the situation even as she sighed.
Pamyra and Renart grasped their lady’s intent and felt heat rise to their chests.
If mages were born only to magical parents, Tayiri’s history of oppression would have ended a long time ago. All magic-using families could have left the nation, and Tayiri would be free of magic.
The trouble was, magical aptitude wasn’t determined purely by blood. About half of those children born with magic ended up hurting themselves or their surroundings if they didn’t learn how to control their powers. The seeds of tragedy could be sown anywhere in the world.
A faint smile on her face, Pamyra faced her lady with a gentle expression. “In any case, tonight you should focus on creating magic implements. We don’t have much time left, so I will go to the Tayiri prince and put an end to this. Tell me the transportation coordinates.”
“Put an end to what…?”
“………”
While baffled at just how clueless her lady could be, Pamyra succeeded in obtaining the necessary information for the teleport. Tinasha watched Pamyra with concern as she drew the array. “If something happens to you, I will come.”
“You don’t need to worry. Renart! Please keep a close eye on Lady Tinasha!”
“I would’ve done so anyway,” he answered.
With that, Pamyra transported herself to Tayiri’s royal castle. After appearing aloft in the night sky, she peered down and spied a castle, its gardens, and the crown prince’s balcony.
Two men stood on it—and one of them was holding a sword Pamyra had seen in books.
“The royal sword of Akashia…the Mage Killer…”
What strange string of events had led the wielder of such a deadly weapon here?
Pamyra didn’t have to ponder the answer.
“You plotted this!” she cried. Her head flushed with heated anger, and she threw her hands out in front of herself.
A powerful light bloomed before her palms and quickly began to spread.
The woman who’d teleported in had immediately recognized Akashia and was filled with rage. A white glow burst forth from her hands.
Clicking his tongue in irritation, Oscar swung his sword once and dispelled the magic. “Nark! Capture her!” he commanded the dragon on his shoulder.
Heeding the royal decree, the little scaly thing immediately began to grow larger. Mid-flight it expanded to the size of a small house, raking its sharp talons at the woman. Staggering in the sky, the woman threw up a short incantation to protect herself. At the same time, Oscar flung a dagger at her legs.
The hurled knife was one of Oscar’s usual maneuvers against mages who floated in the air. Its aim wasn’t to cause heavy injury. All it had to do was interrupt the woman’s concentration. Most magic users weren’t able to stay aloft after their focus was interrupted.
To Oscar’s surprise, the blond woman countered that upset with another spell. Clearly this was a fairly capable mage.
Nark seized upon its opportunity in that instant and battered her with one of its giant wings.
“Ngh, ahhh!” Although the woman shrieked in pain, she remained hovering. The dragon circled around to claw at her again. Just before its talons caught flesh, there came another rippling and twisting of air.
The next moment…a new woman appeared in the sky.
Throwing up a defensive wall to repel the dragon’s talons, she let out a cry of surprise. “Nark?!”
Her jet-black locks rippled in the evening breeze. Her slender body glowed a pearl-white shade in the moonlight.
Slowly, she turned to look at the balcony. Her eyes clearly fixed on one of the men there.
Looking thunderstruck, she spoke his name.
“Oscar…”
“Come here,” he insisted irritably, reaching out to her.
At the offer of his hand, Tinasha froze in midair.
She knew he was staying at Tayiri Castle but hadn’t expect to encounter him. Some small part of her had been anticipating that they’d run into each other like this, though.
Stupefied, she stared at the man she’d once shared a contract with.
His blue eyes had the power to arrest her. Entirely effortlessly, all her memories of when she’d smiled and laughed in his arms came rushing back. It hadn’t been that long ago, but it all felt incredibly nostalgic now.
Tinasha’s lips quivered. If nothing had happened, she might have taken his hand.
Before she ever had the chance, another voice broke her trance.
“Run! Now!”
Reust unsheathed his sword and slashed at Oscar, who parried it easily with Akashia. Tinasha remained unmoving. Pamyra hurriedly grabbed her lady’s shoulder and declared, “Lady Tinasha, we must go!”
Pamyra looked up at the sky, and a transportation array floated up. It was a gate meant to transport multiple people. Renart’s head popped out from the complex magic pattern.
“I can’t hold it for long! Please hurry!” he urged.
Pamyra seized Tinasha and ascended with her. Nark was confused by the appearance of its former owner and looked to Oscar for new orders. After knocking Reust’s sword out of his hands, Oscar shouted, “Tinasha!”
In the last moments before Pamyra and Renart pulled the witch into the array and out of sight, she threw Oscar a terribly anxious look.
Grinding his teeth in frustration, Oscar stared at the now-empty spot in the sky where the mages had vanished.
That was his one chance…and he’d missed it.
He needed to get her back. If he had her, everything else would work out. He’d talk to her, and they could come up with a compromise.
Unforeseen interference had sent Oscar back to square one, however. Tamping down the irritation burning him up from the inside, Oscar put Akashia back in its sheath.
Nark had miniaturized, and Oscar patted it on the head to thank it for a job well done. Then he glared at Reust. “Why don’t you explain what’s been going on?”
Reust licked his dry lips.
The moon was red.
A day of reckoning had come as silently as any other.

“Lady Tinasha, are you hurt?” Pamyra asked, looking Tinasha over with concern once they teleported back to the witch’s room in Cuscull.
All the blood had drained from the witch’s face, and she stared blankly at Pamyra and Renart. After a while, she answered, “I’m fine, but what about you?”
“The dragon’s wing just bumped against me a little. Please don’t worry about it.”
The witch heard that and sagged to the floor in exhaustion.
Renart rushed to kneel in front of Pamyra. “Are you really okay? You don’t feel unwell?”
“No, I’m fine… It was just a bit of a shock. That’s all,” assured Pamyra.
Frowning, Renart asked his lady, “You know the swordsman of Akashia?”
Tinasha gave a little jolt at that. Some unnamed emotion welled up in her dark eyes.
“That’s my… He’s a man I once signed a contract with. I trained him so he’d be…able to kill me.”
There was something Tinasha wanted to leave in this world, for the history that was yet to come.
Oscar had given that to her. He was the king who would build a new era.
The witch said nothing more. She closed her eyes and similarly shut out the feeling building within her.
The next day, the Allied Forces began their march to Cuscull.


Unnamed Memory

 6. The Dream Is Over
“Aeti, where are you?”
He called her name.
The spacious castle of Tuldarr was formed entirely of cold stone. The people who walked its halls were like crafted dolls. No one turned to look at him. They didn’t see him.
With one exception—her.
“Aeti?”
Lanak peeked into an alabaster hall. There was the girl who would be his bride, standing in the middle of an empty room.
Her slender arms were outstretched, and a finely woven spell burst forth like a flower blooming. Suddenly, it expanded to fill the entire chamber, and Lanak was struck breathless.
The spell was intricate and expansive, the height of craftsmanship.
No matter how Lanak stared, he couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t parse it. Her power far outstripped his.
It was all he could do to stand there in shock. Finally, she noticed he was there and turned around, giving him a sweet smile. “What is it, Lanak?”
“…Aeti.”
Lanak had come because he wanted to see her. In this cold and quiet castle, she was his only friend and ally.
His teachers had appeared unenthusiastic for a while now. After many days of feeling stifled, wondering what had changed, he learned that her tutors had all gone.
That’s why he’d wanted to see her. He’d planned to comfort her and tell her that he’d be the one to stick with her no matter how lonely she was.
But now…he knew.
Her power was the reason she was lonely. No one could teach her anything. That was why her tutors left, and it was also why everyone lost interest in him.
…She would be the one to inherit the throne of Tuldarr.
Surely everyone was thinking it. This delicate, lonely girl would be the next queen.
She’d shown up after Lanak, yet at some point she’d far outpaced him.
If that truly came to pass, he would—
“Lanak?”
She was looking at him with her dark eyes. The eyes of the powerful. The gaze of a pure person who knew nothing.
Lanak swallowed down the bile rising in his throat…and smiled. “It’s nothing, Aeti.”
Even so, he was the only one who could protect her. He had to.
She still knew nothing, after all, and she was so alone in this castle.
“…Lanak, wake up.”
Her voice was in his ears. She gently shook him awake.
Scenes of the distant past fading before him, Lanak blinked his eyes open. A woman was staring at him, and he focused on her.
“…Aeti?” he murmured by reflex, and she frowned the littlest bit. Her face was that of an adult, one he didn’t know. He always felt slightly uncomfortable looking at it. Letting out a deep breath, he straightened his posture on the throne where he’d dozed off.
“I suppose I was…dreaming,” he said.
“What kind of dream?”
“A dream of the past. When you were still a little girl…I think.”
He meant when she was still a helpless child. Lanak racked his brain trying to recall the rest of the memory that was growing hazy with each passing second.
At his words, the woman merely made a curious expression. “How odd. Anyway, it’s already a new day.”
All the preparations had been made for their move to reform the continent. Emotions ran deep in Lanak’s eyes as he looked at the woman. “It’s all thanks to you. Now the land can be at peace. Mages will live their lives without fear.”
Tuldarr had fallen long ago and would never return. There was no point in reclaiming its throne. That country had not chosen Lanak.
That was why he made a new country for himself. One that would ensure the oppressed could live peaceful lives in the future.
The witch, once a little girl, narrowed her eyes as she smiled. “If that is what you wish.”
If not for her, Lanak’s ideas wouldn’t have become reality. She had the power to change all his visions into something real. That was the one thing he hadn’t obtained, no matter how hard he’d wished—
“…Aeti.”
“Yes?”
The low timbre of his whispered call was answered quite innocently.
Her reply brought him back to himself. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking or what he was trying to say. Something bitter had been spreading inside his heart. That much he was sure of.
“I’ll protect you, Aeti,” Lanak said, as much to remind himself as the woman.
Now that she’d been reduced to a witch, he would protect her from others. He had to. She was now a wretched creature, shunned and despised by all.
Lanak nodded with satisfaction at his own answer.
However, the bitter taste in his mouth had yet to fully go away.

Nearly fifty thousand troops gathered from the Four Great Nations teleported to a fortress to the west of Tayiri.
The number might’ve seemed excessive considering they were only going up against a few hundred Cuscull mages, but when faced with an opponent of unknown strength, it felt necessary.
Oscar had successfully coerced the full story out of Reust and was livid to discover that the Tayiri prince had been so easily manipulated into wasting time. The day the witch had asked Reust to wait for was the following day. The only hope now was to move out immediately in the hope of catching Cuscull before its mages could enact whatever plan they’d concocted.
At sunset, Oscar, still fuming, met with the generals at the gates of the fortress. They discussed their marching route for the next day. During the meeting, Oscar glanced up and happened to spy Sylvia running toward him. Panting and gasping, she hurried to her king’s side and delivered a report.
“Your Majesty, the scouts recovered a civilian girl. Apparently, she was attacked by the mages on the road leading from here to Cuscull. Everyone’s gathering in the council room right now. You should come, too.”
The girl’s name was Luly.
She survived the burning of her village that sat near the Cuscull border. A kindly mage living secluded in the woods had taken her in, but the two had been separated after nearly being discovered by Cuscull forces. She was found by the enemy as she made her way to the fortress, and they gave chase. Oscar found himself deeply impressed as he listened intently to the tale on his way to the council room.
“I can’t believe she’s unhurt after all that.”
“Perhaps the Cuscull pursuers were merciful because she’s a child. In any case, you should hear it directly from her.”
When they reached the council room, Sylvia opened the door for her king. Oscar entered and joined a number of other royals and commanders from other countries.
Encircled by these powerful people was the young girl. Immediately, her eyes lit up as they fixed themselves on Oscar. “It’s the prince! You’re really here!”
“…I’m not a prince…,” Oscar muttered out of habit but then decided it wasn’t worth making a point of.
The girl had evidently heard his whispering, however. “Yes, you are! She showed me. She said you were really strong!”
“Showed you? Who showed you?”
“The lady who saved me from the bad magicians. She was really pretty. I couldn’t stop crying, so she told me all kinds of stories. She showed me lots of stuff. She put her hand on my forehead, and I could see all these scenes like they were really happening.”
It was a childish explanation, but a bell began to ring in Oscar’s mind. He sank to his knees and looked the child square in the eye. “Did she have black hair?”
“Yeah. And black eyes. With no light at all, like nighttime.”
He’d expected that answer and let out a little sigh. “Damn that elusive woman…”
Standing back up, he placed a hand on top of the thoroughly exhausted-looking little girl’s head.
She’d been chased by mages, saved by a witch, and found on a prairie an hour’s ride from the fortress.
The troops departed at dawn and paused their march almost immediately to send out mages as scouts. They couldn’t afford to walk right into a trap like what’d happened on the Asdra Plains.
Before long, the mages returned and expressed that nothing seemed peculiar or amiss.
Doan was one of the scouts, and Oscar gestured for him to come speak privately outside the tent.
“Is that true?” Oscar asked. “Nothing?”
“Actually, we could sense some faint magic in the vicinity but didn’t detect any spells. That said…if Miss Tinasha set a spell, I don’t think any of us would’ve been able to sense it anyway,” Doan replied.
“I see. I thought so,” said Oscar.
The others were wrapping up their discussion, having decided to press on straight through. If they detoured now, they wouldn’t be able to cross into Cuscull on the same day. Even if it was a trap, the best course was moving straight ahead.
As Oscar was deliberating over the situation, a young woman piped up from behind him. “I do wish you keep moving after asking me for a favor.”
“…Here’s just the person I was looking for,” Oscar said, turning around to find the Witch of the Forbidden Forest pouting.
Hands on her hips, Lucrezia glared at Oscar. “I went to look at all the towns and cities! It was a lot of trouble, you know!”
“Sorry. So what did you find?”
Passing soldiers and commanders glanced over with interest at the beautiful lady having a hushed conversation with the king of Farsas. Oscar and Lucrezia continued undaunted, though.
“A bit of this, a bit of that,” she answered. “It certainly looks like our girl has done something extraordinary. While the citizens appear to have vanished, she’s actually just delayed their time to the extreme and placed them in a pseudo time-suspended state. On top of that, she’s put up a defensive barrier around them and taken away their sense of awareness. They aren’t gone. They’re all still there, even now. Perceptive humans should be able to sense them.”
“Ah, I see…,” Oscar said, remembering how Suzuto had reported the feeling that something was there. Now that Lucrezia had explained it, Oscar understood the cities were essentially full of invisible, intangible people. Tinasha had somehow managed this incredible feat across eight cities simultaneously. He was struck all over again by how fearsome the Witch of the Azure Moon was.
Full of admiration for Tinasha, the king asked, “Can you undo it?”
“No way, that would be too much work. Besides, she’s arranged it so that it will wear off naturally with the passage of time. It’s due to expire in another hour, in fact,” Lucrezia explained.
“Seriously?!”
“Seriously. Okay, I’ll be going now.”
“Hold on a second.”
Lucrezia lifted her arms to teleport away, but Oscar grabbed one. She gave him a quizzical look.
“I’m sorry, but since you’re here, I’d like you to tell me if Tinasha has cast some sort of magic ahead.”
“Why me?”
“No one else can.”
Only a fellow witch possessed the skill necessary to detect Tinasha’s spell craft.
Lucrezia retorted coolly, “No matter what’s out there, you can’t afford any detours. So it hardly makes a difference. Rest assured, it’s not anything that will kill you.” Then she stuck out her tongue. Evidently, she already knew what sort of spell lay waiting on their path.
Oscar sighed. “So there really is something. Nothing good comes of having Tinasha for an enemy.”
“If you really understood that, you wouldn’t have asked me for help. You’ve got enough on your plate just dealing with her. If she finds out I was involved, too, things will only get worse. Do you want to wring your own neck?”
“I’m not in a position that affords choosiness. For now, I can only deal with things as they come.”
Oscar felt pretty sure he could find a way to silence the other countries. Lucrezia picked up on his implicit meaning and gazed at him in astonishment. “Stop acting so inflexible. It’ll backfire on you later. If anything, I’m giving preference to what she wants far more than you are.”
“Giving preference? She’s acting with total disregard for her own interests,” Oscar shot back.
“Even so, I can’t help you more than I have. You’ll have to figure something out on your own,” Lucrezia declared. Her words were harsh but fair. Oscar scowled.
Lucrezia gave him information but refused to get directly involved. That was her line in the sand. While it looked like she was forsaking Oscar, she was actually respecting human freedom.
Oscar understood that and nodded, accepting that he wasn’t going to get his way. “Fine. I’ll figure something out myself.”
“What a good boy you are,” teased the grinning witch. Her smile quickly melted away, however. She turned very serious, far more so than Oscar had ever seen before. In a low voice, she said, “She won’t protect herself. You must be her shield.”
“…I know.”
“I’m very glad she has you at this turning point,” Lucrezia admitted, a hazy fondness passing over her amber eyes. The emotion was gone after a single blink, and Lucrezia smiled as wide as she ever had. “Work hard and do your best.”
After issuing some rather light words of encouragement, she was gone. Oscar had the distinct feeling that two witches had him in the palms of their hands. He took a breath to recenter himself, and then he went back into the tent.
In the end, it was decided that the fifty thousand troops would proceed as planned along the original route, although they suspected a trap.
In expectation of the worst, the royals and commanders were to all ride in the very middle of the formation, however. This included Oscar, who let his other generals lead the march while he surrounded himself with Als, Meredina, Kumu, Doan, Kav, and Sylvia, among others. As long as he had them near him, he knew he’d be able to weather whatever happened. Even if it was a magical trap.
Much to the surprise of many, nothing extraordinary happened during the first hour of marching. The commanders gradually began to relax in the face of the uneventful monotony.
As the procession soldiered onward, a messenger came running from a battalion stationed at the vanguard.
“No matter how far we go, our surroundings stay the same.”
Upon hearing that, Kav murmured wonderingly, “Wow… To set up a blockade of such a huge chunk of space. We had no idea we were going in circles. Fairies use similar magic in forests a lot, but this might be the first time in history that one on such a large scale has been accomplished.”
More than half of what he said sounded more like a compliment than anything, and Oscar felt a headache coming on. It was almost as if he could hear Tinasha shouting Just go around and around in circles, then! at him.
“Her very existence should be illegal.” Oscar groaned. “How can we break the spell?”
“Locating its essence and destroying it is the quickest way out. Judging from the scope, Miss Tinasha is not actively maintaining it now. She’s set up sigils and something to use as a core to do that for her. That’s if we can find it first—it’s impossible to see this spell.”
“I can’t see it, either,” Oscar said.
They were at a complete loss. Privately, Oscar cursed Lucrezia’s heartlessness, though only just a little.
The soldiers had halted, and from Oscar’s position in the center of the march, they seemed to be in quite the disarray. He looked around and saw that the generals, royals, and aides-de-camp were trading information and ideas on how best to escape their trap. His eyes caught sight of Reust, and Oscar made a sour face.
It was all because of Reust’s time wasting that things had gotten this bad in the first place. Oscar felt a fresh wave of irritation threaten an angry outburst.
Just as Oscar bit it back…a guest arrived.
It was a man clad in black mage’s robes. He materialized in the midst of the crowd without any forewarning, and as everyone’s heads began to turn, he bent one knee and made a sweeping bow. In a full, ringing voice, he greeted the army with all due formality.
“I believe this is our first time meeting. I am the chief mage of Cuscull, Bardalos.”
“Wha—?”
Immediately, several soldiers drew their swords. In an instant, the air was crackling with tension, and Bardalos gave an exaggerated shrug. “Ah, don’t be too hasty. If you kill me, you’ll never get out of here. This is a fine work of art crafted by the bride of our very own king. I doubt you’ll be able to get out now that you’re inside it.”
“You clown… What have you come here for?” spat out a Cezar general.
Bardalos only smiled at the attempted intimidation. He answered with theatrical flourish, as if reveling in his assigned role. “On this fine day, you are all bravely gathered here to make an offer of subordination to Cuscull. I am most extremely and humbly delighted. I would be thrilled to allow you the chance to witness our king’s great act of bringing the entire mainland under his control. If I may be so bold as to escort you…”
Bardalos wheeled around to take in everyone surrounding him.
“However, I’m afraid that I am unable to invite each and every one of you. We do have limited seating. That said… Yes, I do believe we have room for those of you who are here in this vicinity.”
“Who would go along with that?!”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself!”
Angry cries rose in reply to Bardalos’s arrogant invitation. The man paid them no mind, a masklike smile painted on his face.
Akashia in hand, Oscar stepped forward. “Fine. Take me.”
“Your Majesty?!” shrieked Kumu. At once, Bardalos flashed Oscar a pleased grin. He spread his arms wide, black robes billowing. A complicated spell appeared before him.
“Of course, I can take you… But all the rest must go as well. No one has the luxury of saying no. I’m afraid I rather need you as an audience. After all, you’re—”
The transportation array activated. The gate widened to encompass around fifty people, with Bardalos at the center. Screams and shouts of fright filled the air, muffling the latter half of Bardalos’s sentence.
“—to be the bride’s hostages.”
Bardalos sneered ominously.
The transportation spell brought them to the middle of a huge, open wasteland.
Gritty, sandy air whipped past.
They were standing in the midst of decaying ruins. A round plaza thick with sand clouds was half-crumbled away, lined with a row of equally eroded white stone pillars. Much of the stone paving underfoot was cracked and peeling. Ten steps led up the center of the plaza to a raised section. Atop that sat an old stone altar and a suspiciously new-looking empty throne.
Oscar stood in the middle of the plaza, turning to observe everything.
“We’ve been ambushed, just like they planned,” he muttered.
Everything looked peaceful, appearing as some visage from the distant past. Along the outer edges of the plaza, an arena of circular stone steps towered over them imperiously. The weathered things looked just like petrified flower petals.
At present, the many rows of encircling steps were filled with several hundred Cuscull mages. Their chilling gazes were locked on their newly arrived guests. Mixed in among them were quite a few strange-looking creatures, including winged, mid-level demons. Presumably, these had been summoned and put to work.
Oscar gazed at the crowd calmly, but the others were frozen in place, whether out of astonishment or fear.
Keeping his eyes forward, Oscar called for one of his confidantes. “Als, what’s your take?”
“Not good. There’s way too many of them and way too few of us.”
With only fifty on Oscar’s side, a head-on battle seemed a poor choice. Oscar checked on how his other subjects were doing and then drew Akashia. Pitching his voice so they could hear, he ordered, “I have a defensive barrier, so don’t worry about me. Protect yourselves.”
No matter what happened, Oscar knew he would not die so long as Tinasha was alive. Oscar didn’t intend to let his team die, either, however, and he readjusted his grip on Akashia’s hilt.
At that moment, a man appeared at the top of the central stairway, flanked on either side by other mages.
His white hair caught the eye, and his robes were a magnificent finery unto themselves. He stepped forward with his retinue trailing in his wake. Next to the altar, Bardalos bowed to him and gave way.
Oscar fixed his eyes on the newly emerged man. “Lanak…”
When those around Oscar heard his growl, shock crossed their faces. Lanak was a historical figure from four centuries ago, but here he supposedly was looking not a day past twenty. With his abnormally pale hair and skin, it was like he’d walked out of a dream.
Lanak surveyed his audience and smiled. “Welcome to the ruins of Tuldarr’s cathedral.”
The involuntary guests all exchanged looks. Ruins of the famed Magic Empire, a country that prided itself on its exceptional power, had been sleeping here in silence throughout the centuries. Lanak took a seat on the new throne that rested amid the ruins of a country lost so tragically.
“I’ve brought you all here today to share a proposal. At our current place in history, people suffer cruel discrimination and strife. Tayiri, the foremost enemy of our nation, is the greatest example of this. Their god is unfair and fickle. His power does not reach you. Such is why people murder one another. Whether it be hate or love, they kill.”
Lanak’s voice was even, bereft of both sternness and compassion. The man appeared to be a doll parroting a learned phrase. His eyes even seemed to be made of glass as he cast them down. “But we can put an end to that. No more fighting. That will be the rule. Anyone who can’t abide by it will be punished immediately, no matter where they are on the mainland… I have the power to enforce this.”
“What?” Oscar cried without thinking. Many others were left speechless. Surely some of them doubted Lanak’s sanity. What he said was tantamount to declaring his own divinity.
Suspicion flickered in the eyes of some of the guests, who suspected Lanak of deception. The ruler of Cuscull laughed. “I’m sure you know of the five huge reservoirs of magic known as magical lakes. They are formed of natural life energy, magic, and the souls of countless humans. Right now, each one is divided, mindlessly drawing in the life force of its surroundings. But if we use a spell to connect the lakes into a network, it would form a giant web across the continent. Once we do that, I’ll be able to see everything that happens right from this very chair. Even the weather will bend according to my will. Magnificent, don’t you agree?”
…Surveillance of the mainland and control of the weather.
It was like some nightmarish future vision. If Tinasha were here, Oscar knew she’d object.
A vision of her doing just that popped into Oscar’s mind, and he let out a puff of laughter.
“Your Majesty…,” Als warned from his spot at Oscar’s side.
“Ah, I’m sorry. I’m fine. I’ll take this seriously.”
The magical lakes were formed upon Tuldarr’s destruction. Originally, they were the power that Lanak was supposed to inherit but had proven too much for him to control. Now he had fashioned a new method of doing so. The demonic beast incident had taught Oscar about the power of the magical lakes. Their wild and mighty energy accidentally created that terrible creature from something never actually meant to be a weapon. If Lanak could purposely bring all the magical lakes under his control, the potential he’d possess really would rival a god’s.
“He’s practically insane for even thinking to try this, though.”
No matter how noble Lanak’s ideals were, he couldn’t be allowed to spy on the entire mainland. No one knew when his self-righteousness would go off the rails.
Lanak stood from his throne and smiled. “The spell will take about an hour. Waiting might bore you, but I do want you to bear witness. This is the dawn of a new era, after all.”
The king of Cuscull made sure his audience gasped in shock before breaking into a wide grin. “Now then, allow me to introduce my bride. If not for her, we could have never performed a spell of this magnitude. I’ll be borrowing her power as the catalyst. Aeti, come here.”
Lanak waved his right hand, opening a teleportation gate next to him. A woman emerged with three mage attendants in tow.
She was a resplendently pale creature, signifying to all that she was the bride in question. Her radiance was such that it made it easy to forget the dire circumstances at hand.
Her dress was replete with a long train crafted of multiple layers of lace. Black flowers were strung into her long, ebony hair. Her fine features would have taken a sculptor a lifetime to re-create, and her dark eyes were cast downward in melancholy.
Slowly, her lashes lifted and she cast a glance at Lanak. As she did, the audience gathered at the bottom of the stairs realized who she was and a frisson of terror ran through the crowd. Two of the three mages at her side turned pale as well. The one who didn’t was a young woman who’d seen fewer years than her peers.
Bardalos smirked as he took in the bride’s expression. A smile on his face, Lanak inclined his head. “What’s wrong, Aeti?”
“Did you undo my spell?”
“I didn’t. I helped Bardalos bring them here. I wanted them all to see.”
“…Ah,” Tinasha said shortly, then turned back to give a reassuring smile to the attendants that flanked her. She moved to sit down beside Lanak’s throne. Midway through her motion, a rustic chair made of white stone popped into being to catch her.
Lanak placed a hand on her shoulder. Then he began to chant a slow and deliberate recitation.

As the sound of his incantation echoed off the ancient ruins, Oscar thought about what he should do.
There was only one hour until the spell was complete. He had to do something to stop it soon.
Simply trying to kill Lanak would incur retaliation from the surrounding Cuscull mages. The other captives would no doubt be dragged into the fighting, too. Worst of all, the enemy greatly outnumbered them, ensuring that Oscar’s side would lose.
“I just need an opportunity…”
Oscar looked to his shoulder and saw Nark let out a little yawn. He then turned back to stare at the woman who gave him the dragon. Her dark gaze had dropped to her feet; she refused to meet anyone’s eyes. Oscar wondered what her goal was in all this.

Pamyra didn’t let her inner turmoil show on her face and simply kept a close watch over her lady.
She’d never thought they’d summon an audience.
The mage couldn’t be sure whether that had been Lanak’s doing or Bardalos’s, nor did she want to think about how things were going to play out with this new change to the plan.
“Give me power… Protect us…,” Pamyra murmured to herself, praying to anyone who might be listening.
Lanak’s chanting echoed throughout the half-rotted sanctuary.

Four hundred years was a long time.
It was long enough to lose your mind, but Tinasha had overcome that.
For the first century, she hadn’t been able to stand to talk to anyone besides Lucrezia.
Her life had been an endless series of torments, from the loss of her country to the betrayal of the one she loved most. Even after she’d become a witch, there were those who still hunted her down, trying to gobble up everything she had. Tinasha despised everything about those who had let such terrible things happen to her.
Eventually, she succeeded in locking away her grief and resentment but gave up on trusting and loving other people in the process. Tinasha feared her searing hatred would return and bring the world to ruin if she ever dared to love anyone again.
After the completion of her tower, Tinasha began to grant audiences to those who overcame its trials. As time went on, she discovered she was starting to like people a little.
They were interesting.
Fiercely devoted.
She was envious of how their lives soared and dipped so beautifully.
So this is what humans are like, she thought. Why am I different?
How much more time would have to pass before she could die?
Was slowly whittling down her own soul really bringing her closer to what she wished for?
Life in the tower was peaceful and never changing. She was free and alone.
Tinasha never found what she was looking for, no matter how long she looked. Nor did she know why she was searching.
Her time was spent grasping at delusions.
Then it came. At last, she found the person she was searching for.
His humming voice was low and pleasant to listen to.
It was the voice that had often been her lullaby. His presence gave her the strength to bear her empty childhood. So long as that boy was with her, she could survive being driven into a detached wing of the castle for her studies.
It was a sweet voice, one that promised protection.
Tinasha closed her eyes and followed the magic that was being drawn out of her. She felt the enormous spell Lanak was weaving.
Once it was completed, everything would change. The spell he was chanting was the beginning of the end.
What she wanted lay just ahead.

The sight of his demolished homeland didn’t inspire any longing nostalgia in Lanak.
In the Dark Age, the Magic Empire spanned a large territory, yet was also impenetrable by other countries. The king at its head commanded multiple high-ranking demons, any one of which could decimate an army. Lanak had once believed in the future that ancient Tuldarr envisioned. He had vowed to see it done.
All those feelings for his nation had died out at some point, however. Perhaps they’d vanished when he realized he was not to be chosen as ruler, or perhaps it was when Tuldarr fell. Even Lanak couldn’t remember anymore.
A long sleep had worn his heart and mind thin. Even his very surroundings felt veiled and unreal as he sat on his throne. His one grip on reality remained the warmth he could feel coming off the witch he was clutching. He steadied his breathing and carefully wove together the words of the spell.
“Silence drifting on a sea of grief. Countless outstretched hands choose me. Neither morning nor night. Their eyes are everywhere.”
Borrowing from Tinasha’s inexhaustible wellspring of magic, Lanak crafted the spell by tying together strands of her power. As small spells threaded together, the creation turned massive.
At the same time, he reached out across the continent toward the five magical lakes, grasping and linking them. The growing spell sucked up even more magic from the lakes and urged them into harmony with one another. Quickly, Lanak’s conjuration began to extend out to every coast. Huge amounts of force pulsed and coursed, and winds began to eddy and swirl very slowly in the ruins.
Amid the growing storms, Lanak’s voice crackled like thunder.
“I command the first lake that was born. I am the one who defines. I command you under the name Compassion, which brought you into being. Your location shall be daybreak.”
…Lanak suddenly found himself wondering what he’d do once this was over.
He’d only ever thought to control the land through magic. He hadn’t considered what to do after. He glanced at Tinasha, who was still sitting next to him.
Perhaps he’d build her a mansion here. A place where she could live in peace. She used to love her birth country. Surely that hadn’t changed. Lanak wanted to grant her the relaxing days she deserved. He wanted to free her from her duties and loneliness.
“I command the second lake that was born. I am the one who defines. I command you under the name Jealousy, which brought you into being. Your location shall be morning.”
Magic of this scale had never been seen in all of recorded history. The ceremony required scrupulous care. There was meaning in taking the trouble to do so, however. Once completed, there would never again be war. People, no matter who they were, would gain the right to live their lives. When he thought about it that way, even his long years of sleep seemed worthwhile.
“I command the third lake that was born. I am the one who defines. I command you under the name Denial, which brought you into being. Your location shall be noon.”
At the moment, Lanak had no complaints about taking the throne.
If there was one regret he truly had, it was that he couldn’t quite recall the sort of person he was in the past. He didn’t know what he loved, what he hated, or why he committed such a terrible act against Tinasha. He was still the same person, but his own self felt formless and unmolded.
“I command the fourth lake that was born. I am the one who defines. I command you under the name Longing, which brought you into being. Your location shall be twilight.”
When he thought of the past, the first thing to come to mind was always her as a lovely young girl. In his memories, she was always blushing shyly. He had to protect her. She existed solely for him to protect.
“I command the final lake that was born. I am the one who defines. I command you under the name Hatred, which brought you into being. Your location shall be midnight.”
Why had he lived for four hundred years? Why hadn’t he died?
He didn’t know what he’d been thinking, putting himself into a magical sleep, but suspected it was so he could see her again.
Calm feelings surging within him, Lanak gazed down at his bride.
She was staring up at him and perhaps had been for some time.
There was a challenging glint in her dark eyes.
For some reason, that look made him flinch and recoil.
A sneaking feeling began to grow.
He stopped chanting.
A smile flickered across Tinasha’s face.
Lanak had never seen her make such an expression before.
Cuscull mages were abuzz with speculation as they watched the king’s bride suddenly stand up.
She brushed Lanak’s hand from her shoulder. He stumbled back several steps.
“Aeti, what are you…?”
The witch offered no answer. With a radiant smile, she faced him. More specifically, she turned toward the spell configuration he had created. With elegance, she extended a hand.
“Come.”
In answer to her command, the enormous configuration rushed to her.
The winds swirling around the ruins dispersed at this new interference.
Struck dumb, Lanak tried to stop the spell from going to her. He stared at the woman, thoroughly stunned.
“What are you doing?” Lanak asked. “This is—”
With a snort, the woman took in her surroundings
She gazed at the ruins of her fallen country with an overwhelming sense of wistful longing.
“It’s been so long…”
Her clear, lovely voice resounded far and wide.
She beamed at Lanak with a smile so beautiful that anyone in the world would’ve found themselves entranced by it.
“I’ve been searching for you forever… I really wanted to see you; I missed you. When we met again, I was so happy I could cry.”
In her eyes shone honest admiration for Lanak. It was a look not unlike that of love, though not quite the same.
Under her slender fingers, Lanak’s complex spell array wavered even more, jerking toward her. From her petal-shaped lips fell a whisper imbued with trembling ardor. “I really needed you… What I truly wanted…was the names of the lakes that only you, as the caster, knew.”
The woman’s smile twisted, and suddenly she was someone new.
In an instant, she changed from adorable young girl to powerful victor. Her grin was bewitching and cruel.
Lanak felt the abyss within her seize hold of him.
“I can finally set free the bound souls of the people you killed four hundred years ago—all those poor people who melted into the magical lakes.”
A proclamation from the distant past echoed. It spoke of a wish that had survived the passing centuries.
Finally, signs of dawning comprehension showed on Lanak’s face.
The witch extended her pale ivory arms wide.
“Come to me.”
The spell was drawn into her arms. Lanak desperately tried to stop it, but it was wrested from his hands and quickly fell under the woman’s sway.
With a sweet, beatific smile, she poured magic into the complex array, resetting it.
At an incredible speed, the witch transmuted the spell from one that would control the magical lakes…into one that would dismantle and divert them.
“Aeti, you…”
Lanak had lost all thought. All that remained in his mind were his few feeble memories.
She should have been the person he needed to protect.
Once she was a weak, lonely little girl, but now she was a feared and hated witch. She couldn’t survive without him. He had to ensure her safety.
Letting her overpower him…was unacceptable.
Lanak was waking from his long sleep. Fury and hatred blotted out the dreaming persona. Arising to replace it were the emotions that had been previously frozen dead within him, feelings from a time long since destroyed.
The violent, indelible passion that had led Lanak to slice open a poor girl was now surging back to life.
“Aeti… Would you betray me again?”
“Betray you? The reason I am still alive today was all for this moment,” the witch declared.
“Now, let the atonement begin!”
Her roaring declaration was a link between the past and the present.
Furious heat boiled in Lanak. Four hundred years later, this woman was still getting in his way.
“Why, you… I won’t allow it!”
Furious, Lanak prepared a spell to attack, but Tinasha effortlessly lifted a hand and diffused it. Furious at the counter maneuver, Lanak barked, “Kill this woman! …No, neutralize her! Cut off her limbs for all I care!”
Tinasha watched Lanak’s pale face contort with hideous fury as she leaped back a few paces. With a nasty sneer, she cooed, “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you look like that. You’re the spitting image of the man you used to be. Does that mean you’ve finally woken up?”
“You’ve got a big mouth for a little brat!” Lanak spat acidly.
Renart and Pamyra hurried to Tinasha’s side. She glanced at them, then snapped her fingers. Pieces of obsidian appeared, floating in the air all around her. With the same motion, Tinasha pointed at the captured audience still standing at the base of the stairway. Forty of the dark, glassy stones winked out and reappeared in a pattern around the group, forming a barrier.