By late afternoon, the road had narrowed into a long ribbon of packed earth winding between low hills and farmland. The countryside had changed only gradually since morning, enough that Itsuki could tell they were farther from Radiance without feeling as though they had crossed into somewhere unfamiliar. Small stone markers appeared beside the road every few miles, most bearing the sun crest used throughout the Light Continent, while distant farmhouses sat beneath broad fields that had begun turning gold beneath the lowering sun.

The carriage had grown quieter as the day wore on. Mariah had returned to her book, although she occasionally stopped to make notes in the margins, and Itsuki had spent much of the afternoon moving between watching the countryside and dozing against the window. The six knights remained around them, rotating their positions every few hours without needing to be told. Their presence had become strangely easy to forget until the carriage passed another traveler and Itsuki saw the way people immediately moved aside when they noticed the armored escort.

She had just begun wondering how much longer they intended to travel when the carriage slowed.

Itsuki lifted her head from the window. “Are we stopping?”

Mariah closed her book. “For the night.”

Itsuki looked outside.

A town had appeared ahead of them where the road descended between two gentle slopes. It was larger than a village but nowhere close to a proper city, built around a broad central road with smaller streets branching away from it. Most of the buildings were two stories tall, constructed from pale stone and dark timber with sloping roofs that caught the orange evening light. Lanterns had already begun appearing outside shops, and the smell of cooking fires drifted through the open carriage window.

A low stone wall surrounded most of the town, though the entrance remained completely open. There were no heavy gates or towers like Radiance, only a small guard post beneath a wooden arch decorated with a faded golden sun.

Itsuki leaned closer to the window. “What town is this?”

“Bellmere.”

She looked toward Mariah.

Mariah gestured vaguely toward the buildings. “Mostly farmers, traders, and travelers. One of the larger stopping points along this road. We’re approximately halfway.”

“Halfway already?”

“You slept more than you realized.”

“I wasn’t asleep that long.”

Mariah smiled. “You snore quietly.”

Itsuki stared at her. “I do not.”

“I could write a medical report.”

“You would lie on it.”

“I would never compromise medical documentation for something so petty.”

Itsuki narrowed her eyes.

Mariah looked back through the window with an innocent expression.

The carriage entered Bellmere at a walking pace. A few townspeople looked up from their work as the escort passed, but their curiosity seemed directed more toward the six SS-ranked knights than the two women inside. Children playing near a fountain stopped long enough to count the riders before racing alongside the carriage for half a street until one of their mothers shouted for them to come back.

Unlike Radiance, Bellmere felt small enough that everything happened in the same place. A blacksmith worked beneath an open awning across from a bakery. A general store had crates of vegetables stacked beside bundles of rope and farming tools. Near the center of town, several merchants had set up temporary stalls despite the approaching evening, selling dried fruit, carved wooden charms, cheap jewelry, and travel supplies.

Itsuki watched it all with quiet interest.

There was something comforting about how ordinary it felt.

No guild halls filled with powerful adventurers. No castle. No healers rushing through halls or knights discussing threats that could destroy kingdoms. People worried about bread, weather, wagon wheels, and whether children were going to fall into the fountain.

The carriage finally stopped beside a large inn near the central square. A painted wooden sign hung over the entrance showing a golden lantern above the words The Evening Bell.

One of the knights dismounted first and entered the building while the others remained outside. By the time Itsuki and Mariah climbed down from the carriage, the innkeeper had already appeared at the doorway.

She was an older woman with broad shoulders, gray hair tied tightly behind her head, and the expression of someone who had spent several decades refusing to be impressed by anyone.

Her eyes moved over the knights.

Then Mariah.

Then Itsuki.

“Well,” she said. “Either someone important is visiting me or someone dangerous is.”

Mariah adjusted her glasses. “Could be both.”

The woman looked at her for another second. “You’re the healer.”

Mariah’s brows lifted. “That was fast.”

“You’re difficult to mistake.”

Itsuki looked at Mariah.

Mariah looked mildly suspicious. “I’m choosing to interpret that positively.”

The innkeeper laughed. “Mariah of Radiance, right?”

“Yes.”

“My sister had her leg repaired by you seven years ago.”

Mariah paused. “What happened?”

“Kicked by a draft horse.”

Mariah’s face changed immediately with recognition. “Compound fracture below the knee. Crushed two smaller bones. She screamed at me for four hours.”

The innkeeper’s eyes widened. “That was her.”

“She tried to bite one of my assistants.”

“That was definitely her.”

Itsuki covered a small smile.

The innkeeper laughed loudly and stepped aside. “Then you can stay. Anyone my sister hates that much after saving her leg is probably trustworthy.”

Mariah stopped at the doorway. “I’m beginning to think my reputation problem is much larger than Illumina.”

Itsuki followed her inside. “Maybe.”

Mariah looked over her shoulder. “You are enjoying this too much.”

The interior of the inn was warm and crowded. A large common room occupied most of the first floor, filled with round wooden tables and mismatched chairs. A fire burned beneath a wide stone chimney along one wall, and the smells of roasted vegetables, fresh bread, and some kind of thick stew filled the air. Travelers occupied several tables, though most appeared to be merchants or workers rather than adventurers.

The innkeeper introduced herself simply as Bera before directing the knights toward rooms on the first and second floors. Their commander, though none of them had given names, quietly arranged rotating watches and confirmed that two would remain downstairs throughout the night while the others rested.

Mariah listened until everything was settled.

Then Bera looked toward Itsuki. “And you?”

Itsuki blinked. “Me?”

“You look too young to be traveling with six knights unless you’re either royalty or trouble.”

Mariah answered immediately. “Trouble.”

Itsuki looked at her.

Mariah smiled.

Bera nodded thoughtfully. “That was my second guess.”

“I’m an adventurer,” Itsuki said.

Bera looked toward the silver staff in her hand. “Healer?”

Itsuki hesitated. It should have been a simple question, and once, it had been.

“Yes,” she said eventually. “I’m a healer.”

Mariah’s gaze moved toward her, but she did not correct the answer.

Bera smiled. “Good. Bellmere could always use more of those. Half the farmers around here think putting dirt on a cut counts as medicine.”

A man sitting nearby raised his cup. “It works sometimes.”

Bera turned toward him. “So does surviving being struck by lightning. I wouldn’t recommend that either.”

Several people laughed.

Itsuki smiled despite herself.

The man with the cup grinned and returned to his meal.

Bera waved for them to follow. “Sit. You’ve been traveling all day.”

Itsuki expected Mariah to refuse until they had checked the rooms, questioned the innkeeper about the building, and personally inspected every exit.

Instead, Mariah simply sat down, earning a surprised look from Itsuki.

“What?”

“I thought you would want to examine everything first.”

Mariah lifted an eyebrow. “There are six SS-ranked knights examining everything for us. If they cannot protect us from an innkeeper and a bowl of stew, Radiance has substantially overestimated its ranking system.”

From somewhere behind the counter, Bera shouted, “I heard that.”

Mariah raised her voice. “I intended you to.”

Itsuki sat across from her.

Food arrived quickly. Thick vegetable stew with pieces of beef, fresh bread still warm enough to tear apart easily, roasted potatoes seasoned with herbs, and a small dish of berries from nearby farms. Itsuki had not realized how hungry she was until she started eating.

For a while, neither of them discussed the journey, and Itsuki suspected that was intentional.

A few tables away, an elderly man had begun telling a group of merchants a story about Radiance from decades earlier. He spoke loudly enough that half the room eventually listened whether they wanted to or not.

“I saw King Shadis before he had all that gray in his hair,” the man announced.

One merchant laughed. “You say that every time I come through Bellmere.”

“Because it keeps being true.”

“You also say you fought beside him.”

“I stood near him during a monster attack.”

“That is not the same thing.”

The elderly man waved dismissively. “Distance is interpretation.”

Itsuki glanced toward Mariah.

Mariah whispered, “Excellent historical standard.”

The old man continued. “This was before half the roads north of Radiance were properly paved. Monsters came down from the hills and everyone thought the town was finished.”

Bera shouted from behind the counter. “Three wolves.”

“They were enormous.”

“They were wolves.”

“One was easily the size of this table.”

Bera appeared carrying empty cups. “You were drunk.”

“I was courageous.”

“You hid behind my father’s cart.”

“Tactical positioning.”

Itsuki laughed.

The old man heard her and pointed across the room. “Young lady, never trust innkeepers when they tell stories. They remove all the heroic parts.”

Bera slapped a towel across the back of his head as she passed.

The room erupted in laughter.

Itsuki looked around and realized that most people here knew Radiance through stories rather than as the place where councils discussed world-level threats and wounded guilds returned from massacres. To them, it was simply the distant kingdom whose knights guarded the roads, whose king appeared in exaggerated tavern tales, and whose healers occasionally saved relatives from horse kicks. Itsuki liked that version of it.

At another table, two young brothers argued over which Radiance guild was stronger. Neither seemed older than ten.

“The Gilded Blades,” the older one insisted. “They have Kaito.”

“The Argent Wolves have more people.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

The younger brother noticed Itsuki watching and immediately pointed toward her staff.

“Are you in a guild?”

Itsuki blinked.

His mother looked mortified. “Don’t bother strangers.”

“It’s okay.”

The boy waited eagerly.

“I am.”

“Which one?”

Itsuki hesitated only briefly.

“Illumina.”

Both boys stared at her.

The older one frowned. “I’ve never heard of them.”

Itsuki smiled.

“That’s okay.”

The younger one leaned toward his brother. “Maybe they’re secret.”

“They’re not secret,” Itsuki said.

Mariah murmured, “That would explain some things.”

Itsuki ignored her.

The boy looked fascinated anyway. “Are you strong?”

Itsuki glanced down at her hands. That was another question that had once been much easier to answer.

“I’m trying to be.”

The boy nodded as if that were a perfectly acceptable answer.

His mother apologized again before pulling both children back toward their food.

Itsuki returned to her own meal.

Mariah watched her for a moment.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You were staring.”

“I was observing.”

“That is staring with extra confidence.”

Mariah smiled. “You answered well.”

Itsuki looked down at the stew.

“I didn’t know what to say.”

“You didn’t lie.”

Itsuki thought about that. Maybe she was still a healer after all. Losing access to her power did not erase everything she had learned or everything she had already done, and that thought remained with her through the rest of dinner.

Later, after the common room emptied enough that conversations became quieter, Bera returned with their room keys.

“Two rooms upstairs,” she said. “One for the healer and the girl. One for two of your guards. The others already sorted themselves out.”

Itsuki looked up.

“The healer and the girl?”

Bera pointed toward Mariah and Itsuki.

Itsuki immediately looked at Mariah. “We’re sharing?”

Mariah blinked. “Apparently.”

“I thought we would have separate rooms.”

“So did I.”

Bera crossed her arms. “Town’s full.”

“Why?”

“Harvest market tomorrow. Merchants started arriving early.”

Mariah looked toward the ceiling.

Itsuki frowned. “There aren’t any other rooms?”

“No.”

“What about another inn?”

“Three in town. All full unless you want to sleep in a stable.”

Mariah looked at Itsuki. “I personally support the stable.”

Itsuki stared at her.

“For you, obviously.”

“Mariah.”

“I was joking.”

Bera handed the key to Itsuki instead of Mariah. “Two beds. Room’s big enough. Try not to murder each other.”

Mariah looked offended. “Why do people keep assuming I’m the dangerous one?”

Bera glanced toward Itsuki, then back to Mariah. “Experience.”

Itsuki had to look away to hide her smile.

The room upstairs was small but comfortable. Two narrow beds sat against opposite walls with a nightstand between them, and a single window overlooked the town square. There was a washbasin near the door, a simple wardrobe, and an old wooden chair positioned beneath the window.

Itsuki stepped inside and immediately checked the distance between the beds.

Mariah noticed.

“They are sufficiently separated.”

“I know.”

“You look concerned.”

“I’m not concerned.”

Mariah set her bag near the other bed. “Your face disagrees.”

Itsuki placed her staff carefully beside her own bed. “I just didn’t think we would share a room.”

“You spent months living in a guild dorm.”

“That’s different.”

“Why?”

“They’re my friends.”

Mariah stopped unpacking and placed one hand against her chest with theatrical injury.

“I thought today changed something between us.”

“It did.”

“But not enough to share a room.”

“No.”

Mariah sighed. “Cruel.”

The humor faded as the evening grew later. They washed separately, changed into sleeping clothes, and spent some time preparing for the early departure.

Mariah’s nightgown was the problem.

It was not indecent by any honest measure. It covered what it was meant to cover. But the fabric was thinner than anything Itsuki had seen her wear during the day, and it followed the lines of her body with an unhelpful honesty, shoulders, the curve of her waist, the suggestion of her hips whenever she turned or reached for the notebook. In the low lamp light it looked a little too much like it had been chosen without considering that someone else would have to look at it.

Itsuki looked once before immediately deciding the wall was much safer.

Mariah checked Itsuki before bed, asking whether she had experienced any unusual pain, headaches, changes in vision, or spiritual sensations during the day.

Itsuki answered honestly.

“N-nothing.”

Mariah’s pen paused.

“Nothing?”

“N-no. Nothing. I-I didn’t feel anything strange.”

Mariah looked up from the notebook. The nightgown shifted with the movement. Itsuki’s gaze dropped to the floorboards and stayed there.

“You’re stuttering.”

“I’m n-not.”

“You are. Badly.”

Itsuki pressed her lips together. “It’s the r-room. It’s unfamiliar.”

Mariah studied her for a moment longer, then wrote it down anyway.

Itsuki watched her close the notebook.

“D-do you write down everything?”

“Most things.”

“Even when n-nothing happens?”

“Especially then. If something changes tomorrow, I need to know what normal looked like today.”

Itsuki nodded. That answer made sense. Speaking, unfortunately, did not.

Mariah’s mouth curved, not unkindly. “You sound like Yumi.”

Itsuki’s head came up too fast. “I d-do not.”

“You do. Same catch in the middle of the sentence. Same refusal to admit it.”

“Yumi d-doesn’t-” Itsuki stopped, because finishing that sentence would only make it worse.

Mariah set the notebook aside. “Relax. I’m not writing that down.”

“You just did.”

“I wrote that you reported no symptoms,” Mariah said. “The resemblance is a private observation.”

Outside, Bellmere gradually became quiet. Lanterns disappeared one by one from the square until only the inn’s front lights and the occasional glow from a late-working shop remained. Itsuki climbed beneath the blankets while Mariah extinguished the room’s lamp.

Once darkness settled over the room, Itsuki lay facing the wall and remained awake for several minutes.

The bed was unfamiliar. The building creaked differently from the Illumina dorm, and every sound from downstairs made her briefly wonder whether someone was entering the inn. Even knowing six powerful knights were nearby did not completely remove the unease. The image of the nightgown did not help.

Then Mariah’s voice came quietly from across the room.

“You can tell me if you’re uncomfortable.”

Itsuki remained still.

“I’m f-fine.”

“That answer has an unfortunate history among patients.”

“I’m just not used to sleeping somewhere like this anymore.”

Mariah was quiet for a moment. “Do you want the lamp back on?”

“N-no.”

“Window open?”

“No.”

“Should I sing?”

Itsuki turned around immediately.

“No.”

Mariah sounded offended. “You have never heard me sing.”

“I d-don’t need to.”

“Your cruelty continues.”

Itsuki smiled into the darkness, mortified and unable to stop it.

“Goodnight, Mariah.”

A brief pause followed.

“Goodnight, Itsuki.”

The room settled again, leaving Itsuki listening to the faint noises of the town and the occasional movement of Mariah beneath the blankets across the room. She expected sleep to take a while, but exhaustion won far more quickly than she anticipated.

By the time the first gray light of morning touched the window, Itsuki was already waking to the sound of Mariah moving around the room.

Itsuki opened her eyes slowly and found Mariah already fully dressed beside the other bed, tying her red hair back for travel.

“You’re awake.”

Itsuki pushed herself upright and rubbed one eye. “What time is it?”

“Early.”

“That isn’t a time.”

“It is when you dislike mornings.”

Itsuki looked toward the window. Bellmere was barely visible beneath the dim predawn sky.

“Very early,” she muttered.

Mariah smiled. “Better?”

“No.”

They dressed and packed quickly. Itsuki was surprised to realize she had slept through the entire night without waking once.

Downstairs, Bera had prepared bread, fruit, and hot tea despite the hour.

“You’re leaving before civilized people wake up,” she complained while handing Mariah a wrapped bundle of food.

“One could argue healers are rarely civilized,” Mariah said.

Bera snorted. “That I believe.”

The elderly man from the previous evening was somehow already sitting in his usual place with a steaming cup in front of him.

Itsuki stared.

“Does he sleep?”

Bera looked toward him. “Nobody knows.”

The old man lifted his cup. “Sleep is how history escapes you.”

Mariah whispered, “I am beginning to understand why everyone in town ignores him.”

Itsuki smiled.

The two brothers from the night before were not awake, nor were most of the merchants. Bellmere felt completely different without them. The streets outside were quiet and blue beneath the approaching sunrise, chimney smoke only beginning to rise from a few houses.

The six knights had already prepared the horses.

Itsuki climbed into the carriage while Mariah thanked Bera for the rooms.

Bera waved dismissively. “Bring the girl back through sometime when you’re not traveling with enough knights to start a war.”

Mariah looked toward Itsuki.

“I think she likes you more.”

“Most people would.”

Mariah stared at her.

Itsuki smiled and climbed farther inside.

A few minutes later, Mariah joined her and the carriage began moving again.

Itsuki looked through the window as Bellmere slowly disappeared behind them. The inn, the small square, the fountain where children had been playing, and the faded golden sun above the town entrance all vanished one by one as the road climbed beyond the surrounding hills.

Nothing important had happened in Bellmere. Itsuki had eaten dinner, listened to strangers argue about exaggerated stories, spoken with children who had never heard of Illumina, and slept in an ordinary room above an ordinary inn. Somewhere along the way, she had remembered how valuable ordinary could feel.

Mariah opened her book across from her as the first sunlight appeared along the horizon.

Itsuki settled against the carriage window, the small town fading completely behind them.

They were halfway now, with another day of road ahead and somewhere beyond it the place Mariah believed could finally begin answering what had happened to her. For the moment, Itsuki simply watched the countryside pass and allowed herself to enjoy the peace while it lasted.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Bellmere had disappeared behind them hours ago, swallowed by low hills and the pale light of an early sun that had only recently begun warming the road. The six SS-ranked knights had resumed their formation around the carriage before most of the town had awakened, and since then the journey had settled into the same steady rhythm as the previous day. Hooves struck packed earth while leather harnesses creaked with every step, and the carriage rocked gently whenever the road became uneven. Across from Itsuki, Mariah had already opened another book despite the dim morning light.

Itsuki had expected the second day to feel much like the first, and for a while, it did. She sat beside the window with her staff resting against her shoulder, watching farms and small settlements pass in the distance. The road curved through stretches of open countryside where morning mist still hovered close to the grass, occasionally disappearing beneath clusters of trees before emerging again beneath the sun. There was nothing remarkable about any of it, yet Itsuki found herself watching more closely than she had the day before.

Something about the landscape bothered her, though she could not identify what. At first she dismissed the feeling as exhaustion. She had slept well in Bellmere, but waking before sunrise had left her thoughts slow and unfocused. Even so, when a narrow river appeared beside the road, Itsuki found herself watching its current longer than she normally would. There was nothing particularly unusual about it, yet some quiet sense of familiarity refused to leave her.

Mariah turned a page across from her.

Itsuki looked away from the river.

Several minutes later they passed an old roadside shrine beneath a large tree. The stone figure at its center had been weathered until most of its features were indistinguishable, but golden ribbons had been tied around the branches above it. Some were new. Others had faded almost completely beneath years of sunlight.

Itsuki stared at it for several seconds before realizing why it had caught her attention. She remembered stopping at a shrine like that.

Not recently, but not long ago either. Only a few months had passed since Itsuki had traveled this road for the first time, frightened and excited and carrying far too much luggage because her mother had insisted she would need things Itsuki was certain she would never use. Her father had ended up carrying most of it anyway after watching her struggle with the weight.

The memory surfaced so suddenly that Itsuki’s chest tightened. She had been leaving home for Radiance to take the adventurer entrance examinations, with no idea that the life she was stepping into would change so much so quickly. She could still remember sitting in the back of a smaller carriage, looking through the window while her mother repeatedly reminded her not to lose her admission papers. Her father had told her not to worry if she failed, only for her mother to immediately scold him for putting the possibility in her head before they had even reached Radiance.

Itsuki had been terrified, but beneath the fear had been an excitement she could still remember clearly. Becoming an adventurer had felt enormous then, like the beginning of a life she had spent years imagining. She wondered whether she would pass the exams, what kind of guild she might join, whether she would make friends, and whether her healing would actually be useful once she left the safety of practice rooms and found herself standing in front of someone who truly needed her.

Only a few months had passed since that girl had looked through this same window at this same stretch of the Light Continent.

Somehow, it felt like another lifetime.

Itsuki watched the shrine disappear behind them.

I really thought becoming an adventurer would be simpler. The thought almost made her laugh, not because anything about the last few months was funny, but because the girl who had first traveled this road could never have imagined what waited for her in Radiance. Itsuki looked down at her hands and wondered what that version of herself would think if she could see her now. Maybe she would be frightened. Itsuki wasn’t even certain she would recognize the person she had become. 

The carriage climbed gradually until the countryside opened ahead of them at the top of the next hill. Itsuki looked through the window, and her breath caught.

Far in the distance, beyond rolling fields and a long stretch of road, pale walls rose against the horizon. Towers stood behind them, not nearly as tall or radiant as those of the Kingdom of Radiance but distinctive enough that Itsuki knew them immediately.

She leaned closer to the window.

No.

Her fingers tightened against the edge of the seat.

Even from this distance, she knew the shape of those walls and towers.

“Mariah.”

Mariah looked up from her book.

Itsuki did not look away from the window.

“Is that Albis?”

The silence lasted half a second too long.

“Yes.”

Itsuki slowly turned toward her.

Mariah had already closed the book.

“Why are we near Albis?”

“The site is near the kingdom.”

Itsuki stared at her.

Mariah’s answer came smoothly, but something about her posture had changed. She did not look nervous; if anything, she looked too carefully composed. 

Itsuki looked back through the window.

Albis remained far away, but there was no possibility she had mistaken it.

“You never said that.”

“I told you the site was approximately two days from Radiance.”

“That isn’t what I mean.”

Mariah waited.

Itsuki turned fully toward her. “You knew I was from here.”

“Yes.”

“You knew where my village was.”

Mariah’s expression remained carefully neutral.

“Yes.”

Something cold settled in Itsuki’s stomach.

“Don’t you think you should have told me we were coming near Albis?”

Mariah took off her glasses and cleaned one lens with the edge of her sleeve, buying herself a moment Itsuki noticed immediately.

“The location itself shouldn’t change what we’re doing.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Mariah put the glasses back on.

Itsuki’s eyes narrowed.

“Mariah.”

“We aren’t going into Albis.”

The answer should have relieved her, but it didn’t. Itsuki turned toward the window again.

The carriage continued forward.

For perhaps twenty minutes she told herself she was overthinking it. Albis was a kingdom. Roads passed around kingdoms. Villages surrounded them in every direction. The Light Continent was filled with routes she had traveled before.

There was no reason this particular road had to mean anything.

Then they crossed a bridge.

Itsuki froze.

The bridge was old, built from pale stone worn smooth along the edges. One side had been repaired years ago with darker blocks that did not quite match the original construction.

Itsuki remembered sitting beside her father while their carriage crossed this same bridge, her mother asleep beside them. Her father had pointed toward the water and admitted that when he was young, he and several other boys from the village used to jump from the bridge despite being repeatedly told not to. Itsuki had laughed and promised not to tell her mother, only for him to tell her that she already knew.

Itsuki slowly turned toward the road ahead.

A cluster of trees appeared on the right, and Itsuki’s heartbeat quickened because she remembered what should come after them. Sure enough, once the trees passed, the road divided. One branch continued toward Albis while the other curved away.

Their carriage turned onto the second road, and Itsuki’s breath caught. She knew exactly where it went.

“Stop the carriage.”

Mariah’s eyes closed for a moment.

Itsuki looked at her.

“Mariah.”

Mariah said nothing.

“Stop the carriage.”

The words were louder this time.

One of the knights riding beside them glanced through the window.

Mariah did not give the order.

Itsuki’s pulse climbed.

“Where are you taking me?”

Mariah looked toward her.

There was no teasing in Mariah’s face now, no clever answer or attempt to pretend she had misunderstood the question.

“Itsuki-”

“Where are you taking me?”

Mariah breathed in slowly.

“The village.”

Itsuki stared at her.

The sound of the carriage suddenly seemed distant.

“What village?”

Mariah did not need to answer. She meant Itsuki’s village, the place where she and Suzu had grown up, where the people had feared and hated her sister long before they understood what she could become. It was the place Itsuki had once called home and the place Suzu had eventually returned to and massacred.

Itsuki’s lips parted.

“No.”

Mariah leaned forward slightly. “Itsuki, listen to me.”

“No.”

“I found something in the original investigation records-”

“You lied to me.”

“I withheld the precise location because-”

“That is my home, Mariah.”

Mariah fell silent.

Itsuki stared at her as the truth settled in. “You knew where you were taking me from the beginning.”

“Yes.”

Something inside Itsuki began to crack. Only yesterday she had sat across from this woman and listened as Mariah told her about her brother, her failures, the patient she had nearly killed, and the lesson Shadis had forced her to learn about putting people before answers. Mariah had looked Itsuki directly in the eyes and promised she would stop whenever Itsuki wanted, and despite everything Yumi and the others had warned her about, Itsuki had believed her.

Itsuki stood too quickly, the motion throwing her against the carriage wall as the wheels crossed uneven ground. “What did you tell Shadis?”

Mariah went still.

Itsuki saw it.

That was enough.

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him there was an abandoned settlement containing spiritual residue that may correspond with what I detected inside you.”

Itsuki stared.

“Did you tell Shadis this was my village? Did you tell him what Suzu did here?”

Mariah’s silence answered before she did.

“No.”

The answer made something inside Itsuki drop.

Mariah leaned forward. “I did not falsify anything. Everything I told Shadis about the spiritual findings was accurate.”

“You made sure he didn’t know enough to stop you.”

Mariah’s jaw tightened.

“I knew the location would make the discussion more complicated.”

“Complicated?” Itsuki stared at her. “My parents were murdered there. Everyone I grew up with was murdered there, and you decided that was something Shadis didn’t need to know?”

Mariah flinched.

For the first time, Itsuki saw the words actually hurt her.

It did not make Itsuki feel better.

The road outside was becoming more familiar by the second.

A low hill appeared ahead, one Itsuki remembered walking over with Suzu when they were children. Flowers had once covered much of the slope, though only a few remained now.

Itsuki turned toward the window.

Her anger tangled with something much worse.

Fear.

“Why?”

Mariah exhaled slowly.

“Because the records from the village contained something I could not ignore.”

Itsuki looked at her.

“The investigators found Suzu’s energy throughout the village, but there was another signature around your family’s home. They couldn’t identify it and dismissed it as contamination. When I compared their records with the second energy inside you, I found similarities I couldn’t ignore.”

“The butterfly.”

“Possibly. I believed bringing you near the original residue might make the connection clearer.” 

There was the reason Mariah had brought her here, and Itsuki hated every part of it.

Itsuki stared at her. “You brought me here because you needed me to react.”

Mariah’s silence lasted too long. “I believed the emotional connection might force the two signatures to separate.”

Itsuki felt sick. “So you knew exactly what this place would do to me.”

“Itsuki-”

“Would you have told me if I hadn’t recognized the road?”

Mariah stopped.

Itsuki waited.

Mariah could not answer quickly enough.

“You weren’t going to.”

“I planned to tell you before we entered the village.”

“When?”

Mariah said nothing.

“When I could already see my house?”

“Itsuki-”

“When it was too late for me to make you turn around?”

Mariah’s face tightened.

Itsuki sat back down because her knees suddenly felt weak.

She looked out the window.

The village appeared beyond the hill, and Itsuki’s breath left her as she looked upon what remained of the place she had once called home.

Buildings stood scattered along roads she knew by memory. Some had damaged walls. Several roofs had partially collapsed. Doors hung open where investigators had entered weeks ago. The main road was empty, weeds already beginning to emerge along places where carts and footsteps had once kept the earth flattened.

No smoke rose from the chimneys, no children ran between the houses, and no merchants called from the abandoned stalls. The entire village sat motionless beneath the afternoon sun.

Albis had removed the bodies, but apparently that was all they had done. Everything else remained almost exactly where death had left it.

Itsuki stared through the window while the carriage rolled closer.

Memory filled the empty streets with people. Itsuki could almost see the baker opening his doors before sunrise and children chasing one another across the road. Her father returned carrying more groceries than her mother had asked for, while her mother stood outside their home calling Itsuki back because she had forgotten something again. Then she saw Suzu walking alone through the same streets as neighbors watched from a distance, their whispers following her until doors quietly closed.

The village had hated her sister long before it truly feared her. Itsuki remembered defending Suzu and never understanding why everyone looked at her differently. Then Suzu had returned years later and given them a reason to fear her greater than anything they could have imagined.

The carriage crossed into the village.

Itsuki could not move.

Mariah spoke softly. “Itsuki.”

“Don’t.”

Mariah stopped.

“I don’t want to hear you.”

The carriage continued along the main road until it reached the village square.

A fountain had once stood proudly in the center of the square, and Itsuki remembered sitting along its edge while Suzu complained that the water was too cold. Now the fountain was cracked, with part of its stone basin completely destroyed.

The carriage stopped.

One by one, the knights dismounted.

Itsuki opened the carriage door before anyone could help her.

Mariah rose behind her.

Itsuki stepped down.

The first thing Itsuki noticed was the smell. Weeks had passed and the bodies had long since been removed, so there was no lingering scent of blood or death. Instead, the village smelled abandoned, dust, old wood, cold fireplaces, and grass beginning to reclaim paths where people no longer walked.

Itsuki stood in the village square and slowly turned.

She remembered every direction. The bakery and school still stood where they always had, along with the small healer’s building where Itsuki had first watched someone close a wound with spiritual energy and decided she wanted to learn how. Nearby was the alley where Suzu had once frightened away several older children who were bothering her, while another road led toward their family home.

Itsuki began walking.

Mariah followed.

Itsuki turned immediately.

“Don’t.”

Mariah stopped.

“Itsuki, I need to remain close in case your energy changes.”

“I said I don’t want to hear you.”

Mariah opened her mouth.

One of the knights glanced between them.

Itsuki turned away and continued walking.

Mariah followed at a distance.

That was the most Itsuki would allow.

She wandered without any clear destination at first, although every road seemed to carry her somewhere memory had already gone. Her fingers brushed the side of an old market stall as she passed. She remembered buying sweets there with coins her father had given her while telling her not to tell her mother.

She passed a house with a broken front door and recognized it as Mina’s. They had played together when they were children, back when neither of them knew how little time that childhood would contain. Farther down the street stood the workshop of a man who had never bothered hiding his dislike of Suzu. Both places were empty now.

Itsuki stopped near a narrow alley.

She remembered Suzu standing there years ago, blood dripping from a scraped knee after three older children had shoved her down. Itsuki had run toward her crying harder than Suzu was.

Suzu had looked at her like she was ridiculous.

Why are you crying? I’m the one who got hurt.

Itsuki pressed a hand against her mouth.

She kept walking.

Everywhere she looked, two versions of the village seemed to exist at once: the empty ruin in front of her and the living place preserved in her memories.

Mariah stayed behind her.

Itsuki refused to look back.

Eventually, her feet chose the road she had been avoiding.

Her family home stood near the edge of the village.

Itsuki recognized the roof first, followed by the second-floor window and the small fence her father had repaired badly enough that her mother complained about it for months. By the time she saw the front door, her legs had stopped moving.

Mariah remained several yards behind while Itsuki stared at the house. She had dreamed about this place many times since Oceanside, though never clearly; her nightmares twisted it into darkness, blood, and Suzu’s face. What stood before her now was painfully real, right down to the partially open front door.

Itsuki forced herself forward one slow step at a time until her hand finally reached the gate.

The gate creaked when she pushed it, and the familiar sound struck harder than she expected. Her father had promised countless times that he would fix it, but he never had.

Itsuki pushed it open.

She crossed the small front path and reached the house.

For several seconds, she simply stood outside.

Mariah remained behind the fence.

Itsuki could feel her watching.

She hated her for it.

She hated that this was exactly what Mariah wanted.

Then Itsuki entered.

The air inside was stale.

Dust floated through thin beams of sunlight passing between curtains that had never been opened again.

Itsuki’s chest tightened so sharply that she nearly backed out immediately.

The table was still there, though one chair had fallen onto its side. Near the wall rested a ceramic cup, cracked but not completely broken, and Itsuki immediately recognized it as the one her father had used every morning.

She walked farther inside.

Her fingers trembled as they passed over the edge of the table.

Memories came without permission. She saw her mother cooking while her father pretended to help and somehow made everything slower, Suzu reading quietly in the corner while Itsuki filled every silence she could find. She remembered arguments that had seemed important then and laughter she had once assumed she would hear again.

Itsuki’s breathing became uneven.

She turned toward the hallway.

The stains began in the hallway, dark brown against the wall where blood had dried weeks ago. Itsuki stopped immediately. Her body understood what she was seeing before her mind allowed itself to follow: Suzu, their parents, and the screams Itsuki had imagined countless times despite never being there to hear them.

Blood had sprayed across the hallway wall and stained the floor beneath it in amounts Itsuki was not prepared to see. Her staff slipped from her fingers and struck the wood with a metallic clang she barely heard before her knees gave out beneath her.

A broken sound escaped her throat, followed by another before Itsuki covered her mouth. The sob forced its way through her fingers anyway.

“Mom…”

Her vision blurred.

She crawled forward without knowing why.

One hand touched the dried stain.

She pulled it back immediately.

“No…”

Her chest hurt.

“Dad…”

The house disappeared behind tears.

Itsuki folded forward until her forehead nearly touched the floor.

Everything Itsuki had forced down since learning the truth came rushing back. Suzu, the sister she had spent her childhood defending, had returned to this place and slaughtered the people who feared her, the people who hated her, and finally the two people who had continued loving both of their daughters through all of it.

Itsuki sobbed until breathing became difficult.

Then her heartbeat changed, one heavy strike following another until the rhythm became frighteningly fast. Itsuki pressed a hand against her chest, and something answered.

A faint golden warmth flickered somewhere deep inside her.

Mariah, waiting outside, suddenly lifted her head.

She felt it.

For the first time since Oceanside, Itsuki’s natural spiritual signature emerged clearly enough for Mariah to sense. It was warm, golden, and unmistakably familiar, the energy that had always belonged to Itsuki. Beneath it, however, something else began to move.

The temperature inside the house seemed to drop.

Itsuki’s tears continued falling as darkness pulsed beneath her skin.

Mariah knew the difference immediately.

Beneath the returning gold, Mariah felt the second signature emerge with startling clarity. It was foreign, deeply embedded in Itsuki’s spiritual structure, and unmistakably similar to the dark presence she had detected before. The butterfly itself might have disappeared, but its influence had remained. Mariah had been right: two distinct signatures existed inside Itsuki, and only one of them belonged to her naturally.

As Itsuki’s grief sharpened into anger, the golden signature began to change. The foreign energy from the butterfly remained distinct beneath it, but something colder was spreading through the power that belonged to Itsuki herself. Rage, hatred, grief, and betrayal were overwhelming her ability to regulate it, twisting the gold toward something Mariah recognized with immediate dread. This was not the butterfly taking control. Itsuki was approaching Corruption on her own.

Mariah took an involuntary step toward the house.

“No…”

One of the knights looked toward her. “What is it?”

Mariah didn’t answer. Her attention remained fixed on the house as the darkened pressure continued building inside.

Inside the house, Itsuki slowly lifted her head as dark energy rolled from her body. Her blue eyes remained completely conscious; whatever happened next would belong to her. She wiped her face with one shaking hand, retrieved her staff, and rose as the floor creaked beneath her feet.

Itsuki walked back through the bloodstained hallway and stepped outside, where the sight of her immediately froze Mariah in place.

Dark energy flared around Itsuki in unstable waves, black threaded through faint traces of gold. The air around her felt wrong, pressure rising and falling with every uneven breath.

The six knights reacted immediately.

Three moved between Mariah and Itsuki.

The others spread outward, hands settling near their weapons.

“Itsuki,” Mariah said carefully.

Itsuki looked at her.

The expression on her face made Mariah stop.

“Move.”

The knights did not.

Itsuki’s spiritual pressure increased.

One of the knights spoke firmly. “Lady Itsuki, please calm yourself.”

“Move.”

Mariah stepped forward behind them.

“Let her through.”

The nearest knight glanced back. “Healer Mariah-”

“Do not attack her.”

“Her energy is destabilizing.”

“I know exactly what it is doing.”

Mariah looked at Itsuki.

“Let her through.”

The knights hesitated.

Then the formation opened slightly.

Itsuki walked between them.

Mariah did not move.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Itsuki stopped directly in front of her. “Was it worth it?”

Mariah swallowed. “Itsuki, I-”

“You got your answer.”

“Yes, but-”

“You wanted to know if there were two energies inside me.”

Mariah’s voice softened. “There are.”

Itsuki laughed bitterly through fresh tears.

“So congratulations.”

“Itsuki.”

“The gold is mine.”

“Yes.”

“The other one is from the butterfly.”

“Everything I am sensing indicates that.”

“And now you know.”

Mariah took a careful breath.

“The gold is yours,” Mariah said carefully. “The second signature is from the butterfly, or whatever it left behind. But the darkness surrounding you now isn’t coming from it, Itsuki. Your own energy is beginning to turn. You need to calm your spiritual flow before-”

Itsuki moved before Mariah could finish, crossing the distance so quickly that Mariah barely saw her hand before it closed around her throat.

The knights reacted instantly, weapons shifting as spiritual energy surged around them. One moved toward Itsuki before the others.

Mariah raised one hand sharply.

“Don’t!”

The command came strangled beneath Itsuki’s grip.

The knights stopped only because Mariah had ordered them to.

Itsuki squeezed harder.

Mariah’s hands closed around Itsuki’s wrist instinctively, but she did not try to pry her away.

“Itsuki…”

“You knew.”

Mariah struggled for air.

“I-”

“You knew I wouldn’t come.”

The words shook with rage.

Mariah’s face reddened beneath the pressure around her throat.

One of the knights moved half a step closer.

Itsuki’s darkened energy exploded outward.

“Stay back!”

The knight stopped.

Mariah forced the words through Itsuki’s grip.

“I knew… you might refuse.”

Itsuki squeezed harder.

Mariah coughed.

“Don’t change it.”

Itsuki stepped closer, tears running down her face.

“You knew I would say no.”

Mariah looked at her.

There was no way around it anymore.

No careful wording.

No scientific explanation.

“Yes.”

Itsuki stared into her eyes.

Something inside her broke further.

“Yesterday you told me consent mattered. You told me what happened when you forgot that a patient mattered more than your answer.” Itsuki’s grip tightened. “You told me you learned.”

Mariah could not look away. “I thought I had.”

Itsuki’s fingers tightened.

Mariah gasped as the knights prepared to move despite her earlier order. She noticed and shook her head as much as Itsuki’s grip allowed, silently pleading with them not to hurt her.

Itsuki’s voice cracked.

“You told me my answer mattered more than yours.”

Mariah closed her eyes.

She remembered saying it.

She remembered Itsuki relaxing afterward.

Trusting her.

Itsuki’s hand trembled around her throat.

“You made sure I never got to give you one.”

Mariah opened her eyes again, but there was nothing she could say. Itsuki continued staring at her as though waiting for some explanation that could make what happened inside that house feel even slightly less cruel.

“You needed this place to hurt me enough that my power reacted.”

Mariah’s silence confirmed it.

Itsuki’s eyes filled again. “You used what Suzu did to my parents as part of an experiment.”

“I believed understanding your condition could help you regain control of your energy.”

“You decided that for me.”

“Yes.”

The admission stopped Itsuki for a moment. Mariah did not try to defend herself this time; she simply met Itsuki’s eyes despite the hand around her throat. “I decided for you.”

Itsuki’s grip loosened by the smallest amount.

Mariah managed a shallow breath.

“I convinced myself this might be your best chance to understand what happened to you. The knights made the journey physically safe, and I decided that if I told you the truth, fear would make you reject something that could help.”

Itsuki stared at her.

Mariah’s voice broke slightly.

“And then I did exactly what I told you I had learned not to do.”

The darkness around Itsuki flickered.

Mariah swallowed painfully.

“I made the answer more important than you.”

Itsuki’s mouth trembled.

Mariah continued.

“I was wrong.”

Itsuki released her.

Mariah stumbled backward, coughing violently as both hands went to her throat.

The knights immediately closed around her, but Mariah shoved one arm outward before anyone could move toward Itsuki.

“No.”

Several feet away, Itsuki stood with shaking hands while the dark energy around her became increasingly uneven, collapsing into brief pulses rather than the violent pressure from moments earlier.

Itsuki looked at Mariah.

The rage slowly drained from her face, not because she had forgiven Mariah, but because she no longer seemed to have enough strength left to hold onto it. What remained was raw hurt.

“Why?”

Mariah looked up.

Itsuki’s knees buckled.

She dropped to the ground.

One of the knights stepped toward her.

Itsuki recoiled.

“Don’t touch me!”

He stopped immediately.

Her staff fell beside her as another sob tore through her. Itsuki wrapped both arms around herself. “I finally trusted you.”

Mariah stood frozen behind the knights, one hand still pressed against her bruised throat.

“I know.”

Mariah’s eyes filled.

Itsuki pressed both hands against her face.

“You told me everything yesterday. You told me about your brother. You told me about the person you almost killed. I thought… I thought you were telling me because you understood.”

Mariah could not move.

“I did understand.”

Itsuki looked at her.

“Then why would you do this to me?”

Mariah had gotten everything she came for. Her theory had been confirmed, the two signatures had finally revealed themselves, and she understood more about Itsuki’s condition than she had that morning. None of it mattered while Itsuki sat crying in the dirt in front of the home where her parents had been murdered.

For the first time in her life, Mariah wished she had chosen not to know.