Chapter 1: ⋆༺𓆩Heavy Hangs the Air𓆪༻⋆
Chapter Text
Centuries ago, four gods ruled the country of Alcolm, symbolizing the four principles;
Dharr, the god of duty and discipline.
Nomi, the goddess of law and order.
Athius, the god of mortality.
And Ceri, the goddess of love.
They existed in harmony, guarding the humans below, as they were worshipped. In their honor, statues and temples were built, scriptures written, and humanity awed. Soon enough, they were wedded—with Dharr and Nomi reigning in the northwest, and Athius and Ceri presiding in the southeast.
Years later, they had children who served two similar yet different roles.
Iro, daughter of Dharr and Nomi, became the lawmaker, writing the commandments all mortals were strictly to follow. Kavih, son of Athius and Ceri, became the poet, writing prose and poetry with a love for humans and their world, fueling their passion.
The two became quick friends. They coexisted, and although they were stark opposites, they were two halves of the same coin.
Only, by the eternal undoing of their love—
Rui surveyed the burn marks, sighing to himself. He gently laid the scorched pages upon his bedside table, underneath the lamp’s golden glow and above the scraps of poetry and letters. Those were the only known remaining details of the gods’ war after humanity was implored to burn any evidence centuries ago.
After consulting countless books in his family’s library and searching for hours without end, this singular page was all he recovered.
He scans it over again. Biting on his bottom lip, he wonders if all this is for nothing.
Why would his parents hide this from him? Why would anybody?
The gods’ war was only a topic to hang in the air, always above Rui’s head but never close enough to reach.
He knows he should give up. Stop while he is still barely toe-deep in the water. Before he delves too far. Before he drowns.
But… he needed the answers. He needed to quell his strongest fears.
Because if not, the end of the world will be alongside the end of his world.
And he will not lose her again.
⋆༺𓆩FIVE DAYS AGO𓆪༻⋆
“Getting soft now, are we?” Mizuki asks with a smirk that could rival Rui’s. She strikes. Both sides of the training dummy drop to the grass in a weak thud. Feeling accomplished, she brushes her flowing hair out of her face. It’s never been this windy before, but, she’s not entirely against it.
“You’re not allowed to do that, you know.” Rui skirts around the question. “We keep having to replace those.” He grunts as he struggles to pull his sword out of his dummy’s head, but to no avail.
Rui commends her skill with the blade. It’s difficult to cut through the dummies, believe him. Those things contain stronger stuffing than they seemingly appear.
Mizuki rolls her eyes, then sheaths her sword. “There you go again, nitpicking everything. As if you’re doing any better!” She whines jokingly and settles on the ground, hugging her knees. “And did you just strike the head? You’re too predictable, Kamishiro.”
So what if he’s predictable? He doubts he’ll ever need to use a sword. He refuses to use a blade. Violence can only lead to war. That’s his philosophy.
“I… Ugh… Never asked for this to begin with…! Gods !” He swears as the blade abruptly pulls out. He controls it in time, but not enough to avoid getting nicked in the shoulder. He groans. Blood seeps from the wound, dripping into small circles on the ground. The weapon slips from his grip and clangs once it crashes at his feet.
Mizuki immediately rushes into action, arriving at his side and surveying the wound. “Ah… It’s but a tiny cut.” She huffs in relief, then scrunches her eyebrows, her gaze sharpening. “There you go again. You need to be more careful!!”
A warning he’s been hearing for years. He remembers being fourteen, sulking after his father forced him to learn alongside the knights-in-training. It was torture—having to commit to something he didn’t believe in.
Days pass, and he could barely handle the pressure tearing at his body. On the brink of collapse, he was pitted against a pink-haired girl who effortlessly blocked all his swings. She predicted his every move no matter how many desperate slashes he threw. Unfair! He thought. Why would they pit a beginner against a skilled fighter?!
Rui knew that if he lost, he’d have to complete a hundred push-ups and withstand the verbal abuse of his instructor after the king ordered them to hold nothing back with him. His body weighed heavily. He could hardly take any more strain. This was it. He was going to die.
A bit dramatic, but that came alongside his wit in writing.
She noticed his state and, in a moment of sudden pity, let herself lose against him. Despite everyone’s suspicions about how she could fail after performing so well, they let him win. He was free.
As he headed for the bench, she followed.
With a smile brighter than the glint of her blade, she sat beside him and said, “You need to be more careful, you know?”
“Rui?!” Her voice rips him out of memory. She’s the only person who’s dared to refer to him as ‘Rui’ and not ‘Kamishiro’ or ‘Your Highness’. She’s become one of his closest friends since…
He’d rather not think of it.
He fishes out a handkerchief and presses it to the cut. Slowly, the deep red stains into the pristine-white fabric. “I’m steadier with a pen than a blade, I’ll have you know.” He hisses at the pain, biting down on his lip to calm himself. “I refuse to learn how to handle an instrument meant for harming others. So help me.”
“And if you needed to protect yourself, what then? Will you lull your attacker to sleep with your poetry?” Mizuki asked, her tone more aggressive than intended. From the hurt in Rui’s expression, she quickly turns away, her gaze pointed somewhere in the distance. “…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it—But still. You have to understand.”
She turns back to him, concern shaded over protectiveness. “You’ll be a king soon enough. If you cannot defend yourself or your people, what would happen to the kingdom? What would happen to you? I wouldn’t forgive myself if you died in battle. I won’t always be there to protect you.”
“Mizuki…” Rui stepped closer, one hand on her shoulder while the other held the handkerchief. He winced at the jolt of pain but held firmly regardless. “I’ll be safe, promise. I would never resolve any conflict through violence.”
“You know that’s not what I mean—”
“Besides,” Rui cut her off, his tone dropping alongside his hand. “For all I care? This kingdom could burn to ash, and I wouldn’t shed a tear.”
Mizuki opens her mouth to say something, but shuts herself down. No use in budging a stubborn boulder. “If you so wish. At least get that checked out in the infirmary, alright?”
He nods and turns away, heading into the castle.
Mizuki stands there, arms crossed in disapproval. She flickers from looking at the back of Rui’s head to the blood below. The air hangs heavy around her, as if threatening to consume her. Weird… She thought, but shook the feeling off and walked away.
⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆
The burnt scent of aged books greets Rui as he enters the castle’s library.
Spines of leather-bound books fill the walls—centuries of history, stories, and philosophy, all packed in a spacious room. Rui smiles as he welcomed the scene. He takes his usual seat before the lone desk below the towering arched window, cracking open a leather-bound compilation of essays from his favorite philosopher, right where he left it. He winces at the sting from the bandaged wound and shrugs the pain.
Ever since he was young, this library has become his haven. A space solely used by him, save for the random scholar popping in from the kingdom. He misses those days, when he’d sneak out of training and hide away in the library, lost in the shelves.
As the morning light streaming in dissolves to dusk, Rui, like clockwork, shuts the book and recovers a hidden journal.
Finding his quill and ink pot, he begins writing.
This thought is nothing recently discovered. It is nothing worth jotting down or to be read. It is in every novel ever bound. It has been known and felt by countless individuals—from the philosophers and poets I adore to the gods we worship above—throughout our infinite expanse of time.
But, I’ll admit this now without hiding behind my words.
I miss you. Most deeply. Most ardently.
My memory of you is etched in every line of my brain and every line I write on paper—seared and branded with an intensity and longing so scorching. I write this in hopes your spirit receives my ink-colored cries, or to be able to read all my selfish thoughts in our embra
“Do I have something to tell you!” A voice, followed by the warmth of a hand on Rui’s shoulder, made the poet drop his quill, staining the page in black.
Rui produces a voiceless scream, save for the clear fear and shock in his expression. His head snaps to whoever this intruder is, only for him to relax when he realizes it’s Tsukasa—Rui’s second closest friend, and the only other who frequents the library like him, precisely the way they met.
“Learn to knock!” He coughs into his palm, promptly closing his journal, and turns to face the blond. “What is it?”
“Apologies.” The pompous historian, without delay, leans his back against the table. He snaps his fingers to a tune in his head as he speaks. “Well, there’s rumor of activity in the center—” He notices his bandaged shoulder. “Another injury?”
Rui nods and mutters yes, but doesn’t speak of it, too interested in the topic at hand. “Activity? And this isn’t some simple trick of the eye?”
Tsukasa raises a brow, though shrugs it off. “Mhm. According to a stationed knight, he noticed slight movement with the gods’ ashes.”
“This is… peculiar indeed. What sort of activity are you referring to?”
“It’s not much, but the wind began to pick up. And somehow, it was enough to move them.”
“So they truly aren’t immovable…” Rui puts a closed fist to his chin in deep fascination. “This is quite concerning. What does this mean? Is this a sign? A warning?”
Tsukasa shrugs, disappointed in his exhalation. “Wish we could know. I’ve yet to find any archive or account of the gods’ war. Only time can tell.”
“I see.” Rui nods in similar sorrow. “In any case, inform me if there are any updates. Don’t tell the citizens until we’re sure. For now, could you scour your records once more?”
“You got it, your highness.” Tsukasa salutes teasingly, then stands back up. “Hopefully this is just some abnormality without reason. I don’t want to imagine what this could mean for us in the future.”
“The gods vanquished themselves long ago. I’m sure this is just the shifting of a new season.”
Tsukasa stops at the doorway, halfway out. “I’m hoping you’re right.”
Rui smiled. “Most of the time, I like to think—” His head went light as smoke. Tsukasa runs to his side, his mouth saying things Rui couldn’t hear.
His vision went dark before he went crashing to the floor.
⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆
Muffled pleas beg for her mercy, yet she answers in cold silence. The tip of her sword scrapes against the stone floor like a spark ready to ignite, the sound echoing across the stone of the cramped, shadowed room.
This wasn’t the first time she’s had to do this. Yet, it never gets easier. The blood never seems to disappear—the stubborn thing—from her clothes or her mind. An eternal stain on her conscience.
She stops like a lion ready to lunge at their prey. Closing the distance, she rips the sack off the man’s head, the sobs and begging surging forth. “M-Money! I have tons! Just, please, let me go! I swear I’m not a traitor!”
To Nene, this was an obligation. Duty. A performance in terms both to please her ever-demanding father and prove to herself she can be an actress.
This isn’t her. She used to be a simple girl with a love for swordsmanship. She never expected to become the weapon herself.
Now, in the dark, padded walls of the execution chamber, she wonders what could’ve been if she were born under different circumstances.
She grips the handle of her blade, trembling. Before she could hesitate further, she finished the job, and the sour iron smell of the dripping red greeted her with congratulations.
After cleaning herself off, Nene leaves the room, seemingly unfazed.
In the hall, she passes by a head of ginger hair. “Hey, Kusanagi.” She stops in her tracks and turns to the voice.
“Yes, Shinonome?”
“You good for a quick duel?” He smirks as he places a hand on his hip.
Sure, why not?
⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆
Two swords clash against each other. Through sheer willpower, the shorter girl effortlessly overcomes the taller boy. With haste, she retracts the blade and swings, stopping by a hair from the boy’s neck.
“I’ve got to say,” The boy says, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his palm as he sheaths his blade. “I’m genuinely impressed with your skill, Kusanagi. It’s as if you were training your swordsmanship straight out of the womb.”
That’s close enough to when I started training. She wishes to say, but holds it down in her head. “And you’re quite an equal match, Shinonome.” Nene huffs, withdrawing her blade before undoing her pulled-up mint hair. “But I’m afraid you’re only a few steps behind me.”
“Sure.” Akito scoffs before he settles upon a nearby bench. His orange hair frizzies again when another gust passes, causing him to tsk and mutter under his breath. “What’s with the air today? I don’t recall any day it’s been this windy,” He says as he runs a hand through his hair, attempting to fix it.
“Surely it’s the ever-shifting climate.” Nene rolls her eyes.
Akito raises a brow. “Don’t you want to sit?”
“I’m fine where I am.” Nene stands her ground.
The knight frowns, temper rising. “You’re allowed to rest. Must I remind you every second?”
Nene narrows her gaze as her free hand tightens in on itself. “Rest is useless. I’m fine.”
She turns to re-enter the castle until Akito calls out to her. “The kingdom isn’t at war, you know? You can relax, Kusanagi.”
She brushes him off. “I can tolerate the pain. And if anyone were to get in my way, they’ll be dealt with accordingly.”
Akito stops himself from arguing further, narrowing his eyes at her. “So be it.”
She nods as if signaling the conversation’s conclusion. “If you’ll excuse me,” She says and turns to leave.
In a few minutes, she was to meet with her father about “important matters regarding the kingdom”, or whatever that meant. “Always so vague,” she mutters as she passes through the desolate halls of the castle. The emotionless stone walls lit by flickering lanterns, the oppressive architecture, and the cold silence that haunts the area—it was home to her. Luxuries and leisure were fleeting and distracting.
She knocks on his office door. No answer. She enters anyway.
Though he was nowhere in sight, her father’s lingering aura hits her in the face alongside the dry air. Stuffed bookcases hug the walls on both sides. Nene recalls times she’d sneak in here as a young girl to steal books to read. Her gaze lands on the usually cleared desk where papers have been scattered across.
Approaching it, she glances over the table and reads the contents. Due to an incident regarding the Kamishiros… The rest is obscured with scribbles of ink. She reads another page. …considering murder. Possible supernatural elements involved. She continues to scan, but a spilled ink pot blacked out most of the information. How could her father—someone so calculating and tidy—create such a clutter? Was this premeditated, perhaps? Did he know someone would—
A creak startled her, and she promptly corrected herself. The flash of a golden, intricate crown, is the first thing she sees before the king enters, looming over Nene like a tower, always on the brink of toppling. Prideful. Dangerous. Conniving.
“I see you’re early.” He glares, expression unreadable. He watches her as if solving an equation, observing as if she were an experiment.
Nene nods.
“I have some news to share,” He says without greeting. Straight to the point, just how he always is. “Kingdom Cycnus has reached a threatening level in power. They’ve been developing their troops for decades, but it’s spiked to a staggering point. We’ve planned to send an informant to discern how they enhance their power.”
Ah. Kingdom Cycnus.
Nene recalls the languid days she spent there, with that prince, Rui Kamishiro. How the two would roam aimlessly around, trying local delicacies. Or how the green fields welcomed her like a second home, as Rui read from a poetry book.
Nene doesn’t remember the last time she felt so free since then.
And though the face of the boy she knew has faded into a blur, she grips her sword’s handle with a vengeance.
She’s trained enough to kill whoever took his life. And she’s ready to return if that means finding the truth.
The rush of footsteps comes to a halt before the two. A girl with pink hair opens her mouth to speak, but starts wheezing to catch her breath.
“What is it?” The king asks, frowning at her interruption.
“Oh—Nene!” Emu says as she glances between father and daughter, a wry smile on her face. “I… was looking for Your Highness, but I guess you deserve to know too…”
“Is something the matter?” Nene asks with crossed arms.
“Y-Yes… The gods’ ashes. They’ve started to stir, you see… It started with a breeze, but now they’re fluttering in the wind! We’re not sure what this means, but—”
Before Emu could finish her sentence, Nene screams and falls to the ground, knocked out cold as her mind is overtaken by a vision and memory not her own.
Chapter 2: ⋆༺𓆩Steady Is Her Blade, Careful Is His Quill𓆪༻⋆
Notes:
chapter updates will be slow due to mental health reasons and due to the upcoming school year !! ty for bearing with me and ill try to get through this for you all !! <33
Chapter Text
A boy with cleanly swept hair and simple garments sits underneath the shade of a looming apple tree. He scribbles senseless rambles into his notebook as he takes in the world around him—the scent of open air, the fresh red of collected apples in a wooden bin, and the swaying of the grass meadow before him.
To a passer-by, he could be mistaken for just any commoner. It was better that way. He could finally relax.
The further he was from his godhood, the calmer his life seemed to be. None were the villagers who would cease their peace and part for him, swiftly bowing and kneeling to him with prayers.
Now, he chooses to watch from afar and note down the simplicities and complexities of humankind. Almost like he was human himself.
“Kavih.” A familiar voice wills him to promptly shut his notebook and lay it beside him. He turns to her, smiling faintly.
“I see you decided to visit, Iro,” Kavih says, inviting the fellow goddess to sit with a few pats to his side. “It’s not often you come to enjoy the fresh air with me. Shall we break out the ambrosia and nectar to celebrate such an occasion?”
Iro grunts. Yet she hesitantly sits next to him anyway, looking into the cloudless sky. “Maybe when you’re no longer unbearable. We could celebrate that.”
Kavih laughs, amused. “Ah, not for a long time, no. Guess you would have to wait for a while.”
“We’re immortals. A ‘ long time’ is rather subjective.”
“We could celebrate something else, then.” He fishes out the reddest apple from the bunch, admiring the deep color. Taking a bite into it, he licks his lips as he savors the delectable flavor. “Maybe… you writing your first poem?”
“Hm…” She seemingly thinks of it for a moment, but clicks her tongue as if unsatisfied. “Not for a long time, no.” A similar smile mirrors on her face as she repeats Kavih’s words against him.
Instead of smirking back, he responds with a grimace. “Then I’d wait forever for you, Iro. Decades, millennia, till the Earth is nothing but ashes drifting in infinity. As long as it takes.”
She blinks then blushes as she looks away, which brings a giggle out of Kavih. “T-That was sudden,” she says.
“I was saving the line for the right time. Seems it had my intended effect.”
She turns back to him once the red dies down. “Have you written it down beforehand?”
“Mhm.” He nods, picking his notebook up and snapping it open with one hand whilst holding the apple in the other. “Do you wish to hear more?” He looks to her for approval.
“Sure.” That one word was all he needed.
He flips through the pages and stops on one. Clearing his throat, Kavih reads the first line.
“Things are not created to last lifetimes—it is but the way of life, that everything and everyone has a set expiration date.
In my eyes, though, I can only see you as infinite unlike us—a dead carcass upon arrival.
Take me as a disillusioned fool or a cruel heretic who has lost faith in your glorious light.
We will stare at each other and be afraid to admit the monster we have built without words.
It shall eat us up from the inside until it finds a way out of its cage.”
He takes another bite of the apple and glances at Iro. Expecting her to be bored out of her mind, he’s shocked to see clear fascination on her face. “That was… You’ve taken the words out of me,” She admits, clutching her heart.
Kavih releases a breath, face beetroot-red. “It’s only me jotting down my daft thoughts… It truly isn’t anything special.”
Without warning, she takes his hand in his, causing Kavih to flush redder and drop his apple. “You’re underestimating yourself,” she says. “Believe me—One day, these humans will admire your work. They’ll construct shrines and temples and worship you, as you deserve.”
“Oh, Iro…” He smiles wanly, squeezing her warm hand. “All of this praise and recognition… It doesn’t matter in the end.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” He lets go of her and stares directly into the sun. “Everything’s eventual—even immortals themselves. With enough time, my words and I will be among the stars.”
⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆
“ Nene! ” A squeaky voice reels her out of her head.
When Nene comes to, she finds Emu shaking her by her shoulders. Her pink eyes sparkle and widen when Emu realizes Nene’s awake. “Oh, thank goodness!”
“What… Ah, my head…” Nene palms her forehead as if it could quell the aching in her head. She recalls the vision she saw—of the two forgotten gods who were now ashes, stirring with the wind.
Was she going mad? Perhaps an incredibly realistic and immersive fever dream? Her vision flickers between Emu and her father, then checks her surroundings. No, she was definitely in reality.
Or was it a message from the gods?
She shoots up and faces her father, who looks at her with an unreadable expression. It seems she’s been knocked cold for a small moment, seeing as he hadn’t called for a medic yet. “What was that?” He asks.
Nene opens her mouth to speak but stops herself short. Her father wasn’t someone to trust, especially not with information such as this. She didn’t know what her vision meant, but she’d rather die with the knowledge than tell him. “I believe it was merely the heat.”
Her father raises a brow, but doesn’t question it. “I see. Take yourself to the clinic. I have other pressing matters to attend to.” Without another word, he turns and takes his leave.
Emu clears her throat. “ So .”
Nene turns to meet her. “So, what?”
She tilts her head in the direction Nene’s father had left. “You lied to him. Don’t think I couldn’t tell…”
“I didn’t lie.” Nene shrugs. “Just left out a few specifics.”
⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆
Rui groans, lifting his head from the cold wood of the study table. He grips his forehead as he regains consciousness, muttering to himself. “What… was that?” He recounts the unknown memory of the boy and girl reading poetry in the grass fields, initially misremembering it as him and Nene. But when the dim library greets him, he suspects something is wrong. “Kavih… and Iro?” The names feel foreign yet almost familiar on his tongue.
He repeats them, seeing if he can get his mind to remember. Then, finally, it clicks. He bolts up, disregarding the book still splayed out on the table as he rushes past the door in search of Tsukasa.
In the hallway, he spots golden hair turning the corner into his workspace. Feeling as if time itself is racing against him, he runs after him and reaches the door before Tsukasa can shut it, reeling a horrified scream out of the poor historian. “W-What is the matter with you?” He huffed, straightening himself as if he hadn’t nearly crushed Rui’s fingers in the doorway. Recognizing the alarmed look on the prince’s face, he drops his tense shoulders and lets him in, locking the door behind them. “Why are you so panicked?”
Rui paces around the room, dodging stacks of books piling on the floor. “I-I had this vision! It’s unbelievable, but I saw them! Iro and Kavih!”
Tsukasa perks up with immediate interest. “R-Really? What did you see?”
Rui pauses to recount the memory again—the flowing blades of grass, the bin full of apples, and… the bustling village? He spills everything he can remember to Tsukasa. “Ah… Is that so?” The blond nods, noting it all down in a small leather-bound notebook. “I’ll have to sift through everything I have. I’m faintly familiar with what you’re talking about, though. I’ll come find you once I obtain the necessary information.”
“You’re acting rather calm,” Rui says, a hand to his forehead. He felt as if the air was trying to drag him down. “This has to be urgent, r-right?”
Tsukasa tsks. “Mind you, I’ve been trying to warn you all about this, but only now do any of you lot seem to be listening.” He shuts the notebook and crosses a leg over the other. “I’m working with limited knowledge here. All the old records were destroyed before even you and I were born.”
“I’m sorry the kingdom isn’t taking you seriously, but this is critical. At least to me it is.” Rui lifts his head from his palm, planting his feet firmly on the ground. “This could be some sort of warning, or a message.”
“I’ll see what I can do, but it’ll take all day for me to find the necessary information.”
“Thanks, I guess,” Rui says, trying not to sound too bitter. “I’m going back to my quarters, there’s this weird pounding in my head…” He departs, still hoping this would all pass. He knew how wrong he was, but the more he thought about it, the less he liked the answer he was approaching.
⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆
People feared her.
As Nene strolls through the village, Emu attached to her as though a lost duckling—citizens would cease all conversation and look the other way. She seldom leaves the castle. So much so that an array of hoaxes was created. Ranging from being a bloodthirsty assassin to being born of a demon. But, she didn’t care to assuage these rumors. Anyone can think whatever they want of her.
Only Akito and Emu treated her like a normal human. Not some demon-born or heartless killer, but took a chance on her despite her aloofness.
But Rui…
“Hey, Nene,” Emu says. “Where exactly are we going?”
Nene pulls her along before Emu attempts to stop at a fruit stall where the seller sculpts fruits into animal shapes. “The apothecary. I’m fearing for the worst, and I need some extra protection… and information.”
Emu hums to the melody of a bard playing in the street. “Mhm, right. Is this about earlier?”
“It wasn’t much to worry about.” Nene shrugs. “I had this sort of vision, I guess. It was of a boy and a girl in some village. I’m hoping the person I’m visiting can help make sense of this.”
They stop before a cute, delicate brick building, sandwiched between a rundown tavern and a bakery. The curtains block out the inside, but the handmade sign reminds customers that they are indeed open. Emu takes in the scent of freshly baked goods. “I’m gonna head for the bakery!”
Nene nods. It’s better if they separate anyway.
Emu rushes away while Nene enters the apothecary, the chime of bells and the shelves stacked with potions and medicines galore. “ Ah! Sorry, please wait! ” calls a meek voice from the back door. Nene remembers sounding like that as a child—too afraid to speak her mind, a tone so soft it may as well be sponge.
She observes the area. Strewn papers lay atop the counter, all reminders of rent due. An obnoxious smell finds her nose. As if… a gas fire? She makes a mental reminder to stop by the bakery to inhale the fresh bread.
The backdoor bursts open. A head of silver hair barges in, arms full of both empty and brimming glass bottles. Her sky-blue gaze finds Nene scanning the room and calls out to her. “O-Oh, Princess!”
Kanade Yoisaki. The girl who reluctantly took over her father’s business after his unfortunate accident. The “ethical” witch, as some may say. Both a talented chemist and a silent beauty.
“You’re free to refer to me by my given name.” Nene hands her a small smile. A rarity. She understands the hurt she’s been through—and in fact, has spent a good amount of money on her store to keep it running after knowing her story. All after she was saved from near-death when the poor girl found her wounded I'm the surrounding woods while foraging for ingredients.
Nene wasn’t sure how, but she saw some of the same scared little girl she used to be before in her. Maybe that’s why they get along so well.
“Right. Nene.” Kanade sends a smile back. “Give me a moment while I discard these.”
Nene hums in confirmation and sits on the singular stool beside the counter. She eyeballs the papers again. “Are things going well?”
While Kanade stores the bottles away, she shakes her head solemnly. “I’m afraid not. The landlord has been growing more demanding.”
Nene glares. “Do I need to have a word with him?”
“N-No! That’s not necessary, but I appreciate it.” She huffs and stands before Nene. “You see, there’s this one plant only found seas across. The healing capability it has… I believe they’re enough to cure my father.”
“Seriously?” Nene lightens. “That’s great!”
“But…” Kanade sighs. “It’s quite expensive. I have to ease up on my usual production.”
“Then you should’ve informed me! I could’ve provided you—”
“Please, Pri… Nene. You’ve done enough for me, genuinely.”
Defeated, Nene leans on the table. “If you say so. I hope it has the intended effect.”
“Thank you… And on top of that, it comes in a bundle. Once it arrives, I’ll be able to brew three bottles worth. I want to gift one to you as thanks. For everything.”
“Well, then.” Nene hums. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“Me neither.”
“I was going to ask for a potion around those lines, actually.” Nene stands and heads to the healing section. “You happen to know the village with the last known temple?”
Kanade gasps as she joins Nene’s side. “Um. Yes. I’m assuming you’re traveling there?”
“Correct. I can’t be sure of what else remains there, so I could use something to attend to my wounds.”
“Of course!” Kanade reaches for a bottle on the highest shelf, getting on the tips of her toes to retrieve it. “Here. Apply it to any type of wound, and it’ll heal in minutes. But use it sparingly.” She hands it to Nene.
“Thank you.” Nene scavenges in her pocket for money but is stopped by Kanade.
“No need! It’s my pleasure, Nene. Just promise me to keep safe, okay? That’s all the payment I require.” Her eyes turn downcast, shaded by worry. “I don’t need to remind you of what lurks there.”
“Then, I solemnly pledge my safety for you.” Another lie wouldn’t hurt, right?
…yet Kanade knows—can read others too well.
In her head, Nene apologizes to her in case she can’t fulfill her promise.
⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆
I wonder of what you’d look like now, if you were still here. Would you still have that pout on your face if I were to tease you? Would you still cling to me like I was your knight and protector, even though I could hardly handle a sword?
It’s these little things I recall that make me miss you more. If I grieved you, I wonder if that would make your absence all the more real. If I grieved you, would your spirit be set free? Or do I do all this for naught?
A knock breaks the silence.
As Tsukasa enters, Rui turns to face him. “About time you learned to knock and not scare the life out of me.”
“I had some sense of mind to, just for you, Your Highness.” Rui scrunches his brow at him, but Tsukasa laughs it off. “Anyhow, I think I’ve figured out what village you were referring to. It wasn’t too hard, fortunately.” Tsukasa paused, biting his nail.
“Well? Go on,” Rui urges.
Tsukasa clicks his tongue, scratching the back of his neck. “So, the thing is… Viridison has been abandoned for centuries. It’s rumored to be the center of where the gods’ war took place, and is generally dangerous to run by. No one has dared to travel there, as there have been reports of… a monster. It’s wedges between the two kingdoms, so we both have guards stationed on our respective sides. Now, barely any simple folk know anything of it. They did a good job of covering up information on it.”
Viridison? He searches his memories for the name.
Rui had heard of it before, yes, but never thought he’d see it. He can’t imagine what it would look like now. It seemed so prosperous and full of life in the vision. But, if the rumors were true…
“I’m aware of the risk,” says Rui. “But I’m still unsure of what the vision wants me to find.”
“Actually, I think I have the answer for you right here.”
Rui straightens in his seat.
Tsukasa says procures an aged-to-yellow paper from his satchel. It was a sketch of a temple for a god. Faded ink above reads, VIRIDISON: TEMPLE OF… The text blurs from there. “By analyzing the symbols and the building’s architecture, I’ve concluded that this is the only remaining temple of Kavih.”
That was all he needed.