Elegy For An Epilogue

Compromises. Cecillia hated compromises just because the bare mention of one was followed by failure. And failure to complete any kind of mission held heavy consequences. She knew that sometimes it would be required, but this soon… it was nothing short of depressing.

Her eyes widened while she watched the man remove his necklace. He ran his finger along the silver chain, grazing against the edge of the pendant one last time before holding it out towards her.

“What are you doing? Cecillia hissed and Doran blinked, turning his attention onto the woman.

He looked at her for what seemed to be a long time before releasing what felt like a sigh.

“Did you look?” he asked.

Cecillia stared at the man and he shook the pendant slightly. If he was referring to the portrait inside, then yes, she had seen it.

She nodded, “I did.”

Doran’s eyes softened and his head tilted to the ceiling. His face almost seemed adrift and Cecillia wondered just what kind of scenes were coursing through his mind.

“Who was it?”

She was curious to whom the woman was in the sketch, but she didn’t mean to blurt it out so suddenly. Cecillia’s lips quickly closed, but the trembling within the man’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed.

Doran’s gaze fell from the ceiling before they locked with her own blue orbs. Conflicting flashes, memories that she couldn’t comprehend were shown through the light in his irises, until finally, the man’s eyelids closed over themselves.

“She… Maria,” the man hesitated for a second, before shaking his head. “She was someone I used to love.”

There that word came up again, love… For some reason, Cecillia didn’t want to hear of it anymore and every word Doran spoke thereafter, fell upon deafened ears. Although, perhaps she should’ve listened when the man started to write into his notebook before placing it into her hands.

“Annacis Island,” Doran said. “If you ever visit, show her the last page. I’ve also written something for the boy, please make sure to show it to him as well. He deserves at least this much.”

The man then ripped the pendant off the chain before a faint light started to emit from the necklace. It felt like magic, or mana… whatever it was, it didn’t feel dangerous. A second passed and emerging into his hand, was a half-eaten, stale mouthful of a bun. Before she had time to process the sight, he tossed the bread towards the woman.

Cecillia’s reflexes kicked in, and she caught it instinctively. She stared down at the rough, moldy item in her hand and recognized it to be the same kind of bun that he had given to her all those days ago. But just where had it come from, and what was the deal with all these buns?

Her perplexed image seemed to throw off the man, and he gave her a deadpan stare before pushing the necklace towards her.

“Storage device, you activate it with mana,” he stated, “I’m also a baker, but that’s the last piece inside that thing. Ration it wisely, you’ll need it if you want to live. And give me a second to recover, I just have one thing that should help you escape.”

Cecillia blinked, her mind struggling to keep up within its daze. Maybe it was the exhaustion gnawing at her thoughts, or the cold that had permeated through her bones. But the words that came out of Doran’s mouth just didn’t seem to make any sense. Storage device… why was he giving it to her? Help her escape… alone?

Cecillia couldn’t form reason, but the one thing she was decently able to understand was tone. Except that the finality within the man’s voice hit her harder than expected. It was as if he was saying to go on without him, implying that he had already accepted some kind of inevitable fate. Rather… wasn’t it something that had already been said?

Doran sucked in deep breath and a pained grimace covered his face when he tapped the chain once again. Another flash of light was emitted and a thin, delicate chainmaille tunic materialized into his hands. The kinks in the microscopic chains clinked against one another when he extended the shimmering armor towards her.

“I know it isn’t much,” he said, his voice strained. “But it’s better than… nothing.”

Cecillia glanced down at herself. She had forgotten that she was almost entirely naked save the thin cloth covering her innocence. Perhaps in the past she would be embarrassed, but with the sheer exhaustion, it had pushed all sense of modesty to the back of her mind. Doran didn’t seem to mind much either, but even on the brink of death, he was careful with his eyes.

Cecillia hesitated for a moment before tentatively reaching out for the chainmail. She thanked him with a quiet nod before draping the material over her shoulders. It was elegant, and barely heavier than her previous set of clothing, but there was the possibility that it could pinch against her skin.

Silence filled the space between them for a minute. They both knew that their time together was drawing to a clo—

“How long do you have until your seal ends?” Doran asked.

His voice was barely louder than a whisper, but it was the most gentle it had been in the short time Cecillia had known him. Her eyes fell and her status page was opened.

[Divine Seal (XX) - 23 Hours 42 Minutes]

“One day left,” she replied.

The man’s face grew bleak. “Is that so?”

Cecillia confirmed with a small nod.

“A day… you might be able to wait that long, and it would make your journey easier… but—” he glanced down at the single piece of bread in her hand. “That would only last you so long.”

Cecillia’s gaze fell, and the arm with the bun suddenly felt weak. Her thoughts were beyond fragmented, just what had happened for their situation to come to this point.

“Cecillia…” Doran said softly. “I need you to listen to me.”

The woman raised her head and the man straightened himself as best as he could. Cecillia took in a shuddering breath, and yet another stunned moment of silence passed. Even if she didn’t know exactly how much time had flowed, based on her seal’s timer, it hadn’t been more than half a day. Yet the man looked a decade older.

“Leave me now. It’ll only get harder the longer you wait,” Doran smiled bitterly. “That Aberration… I can feel it nearing. Every second you delay will decrease your chances of survival.”

Cecillia nodded, the movement stiff and numb. She pulled away slightly from the man and took a deep breath. Her face smoothed over like a statue, and any previous trace of blemish disappeared. After all, wasn’t this something she used to do regularly? Abandoning her allies once they were beyond saving. This was just protocol.

Preparing to leave, Cecillia reached for the necklace but suddenly froze when a whisper entered her ears. She felt a serrated dagger pierce her heart, ripping the organ to shreds. Her eyes widened and turned into shards of ice. That… why… She relegated it to her ears not working.

“S-say… say it again,” Cecillia choked out a stutter. Her hands started to tremble when she locked eyes with the man. “Say it!”

Doran paused for a second, but what he said was soon repeated.

“Go now, and use me as bait.”

A hollow laugh left her lips.

Wasn’t this just a cruel joke.

Cecillia’s body started to shake, her throat suddenly feeling tight. Her arm rippled and she tightly clenched the bun within her finger tips. Her nails dug into the palms of her skin, but the pain was nothing compared to the hurricane of emotions storming in her head. Heat built upon her eyes, and wetness was felt rolling down her cheeks.

Since when had she shed something so fickle as a tear.

“Cecil—”

“Shut up.”

The numbing cold within her vanished, leaving behind a rising sensation of an inferno as her ears started to ring. The noise was deafening, almost as if something within her had shattered, piercing outwards from the insides.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Cecillia didn’t allow him even a single chance.

“Shut up you crazy bastard!”

Her hand curled into a fist, arcing towards the man only to smash into the wall just inches from his head. The half eaten bun was squashed, only to fall to the cold ground when she drew her hand back.

“Why won’t you try?!” Cecillia shouted. “You have a son, a fucking kid that sees you as his father! How can you just leave without trying?!”

Doran released a cough, and a cold mix of blood spurted from his mouth, rolling down his chin and onto his chest. Cecillia only scoffed when she saw the pitiful scene.

He gave her a weak smile, “I’m sorry.”

Cecillia sneered, her lips curling into a mocking smile that held no trace of warmth. “Don’t make me laugh.”

The years that she had spent suppressing her emotions, now spilled out in the form of a tsunami. The years that she pretended to be fine, forced herself to conform to meaningless hope. Now that she thought about it, there was a reason that she had become a soldier. That was to escape from the past, to fly with her wings over her sea of torment. But it was only up until this moment, did she realize that she was drowning.

“I carried you all this fucking way. Through this stupid cave and now you choose to keel over and die!?” Cecillia's voice cracked and she angrily punched the wall again. The impact was harder this time, causing blood to stream down her knuckles. “And yet you still have the audacity to ask me to deliver your love letters.”

By now, Doran had now become silent. One of his eyelids had closed while the other just barely remained hanging open.

“Love,” Cecillia scowled. “Love is just a word people use to make useless promises.”

Her voice softened, and even then, her eyes started to sting. The pounding droning in her head didn’t so much as clear, but rather intensified in strength.

“You’re just like her,” Cecillia grasped the man’s chin with her fingers. “But worse.”

She let his head drop and raised her gaze to the luminescent ceiling. The crystals were beautiful in a haunting way, casting an ethereal glow over their bodies.

“For many, the sky is the roof over their heads. Then there are those who might get a coffin, while some, not anything at all. Here…” she glanced down at Doran with a quivering lip. “You will die.”

The stream trickled by in the faded background, the swishing water doing little to alleviate the mood. Cecillia felt her heart thumping in her chest, each beat followed by a tearful droplet hitting stone. She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand before her gaze settled upon the notebook.

‘Ah… really? Love?’

“You hear that, you fucking bastard?!” Cecillia screamed, throwing the binded bundle of pages at Doran’s chest. “You’ll die alone! This will be your fucking grave!”

The notebook hit the man with a dull thud, its pages spilling out in an uncontrollable flutter. Like scattered leaves torn from a tree in the midst of autumn, every emotion dancing along the ink was made bare.

Dearest Lieutenant Naira,

I promise that this will be the last time you will hear from me,

Please forgive me for—

The words ended there, yet those sentences repeated across countless pages. Dearest, Lieutenant, Dearest Major, My Dearest love…

Hundreds of incomplete letters, apologies meant for the crimson squadron were hashed with scribbles and jotted out words. It seemed that not one had made it to their desired destination.

Aimlessly, Cecillia’s eyes wandered across the pages. Her shoulders dropped, and her ragged breathing calmed while the incessant tears ceased to fall. Her lips muttered of confusion, and her hands trembled when they drifted across the letters. Of those that were written, there were four that were noticeably recent. Stained with blood and crooked writing, she knew that the man had written those words just hours ago. But how?

Picking up the closest one, Cecillia brought the page to her eyes and read over the heading.

My dearest Laen,

I hope this letter finds you well, my son. As I pen these words, I truly am sorry that I wasn’t able to give you what you deserved. I am not your true father, nor have I told you the truth. Your mother, and father were slain on my behalf, and the debt I have to them will never be repaid. If you seek revenge, you won’t hear from me ever again.

Yet, for what it's worth, you were a good son.

Farewell

Cecillia glanced at the words with disdain before folding the page and placing it next to her. The next was addressed to Naira, most were anyways, and she didn’t bother to read the contents, only placing it next to the first. The third was for a Marianne, and she ignored it as well. But the last one…

Dear Cecillia,

Her hands started to shake when her eyes drifted across the line. Why was this here, why did he write to her? Cecillia’s mind blanked, and she swallowed down the needle of anxiety crawling up her throat. She wanted to ignore the ink, but the feeling only grew harder and harder to ignore. Fury rose in her features, and she bit her lip to prevent a scowl.

Her eyes hovered over the words, and as she clutched the letter tighter, her knuckles went white. The echoing thought cast her brain into scattering splinters, and her head ached.

‘Why… me?’

Her lips pressed into a thin line and her head tilted upward, staring at the dying man who had long drawn his last breath. A scoff left her lips, but the anger that should’ve been there, didn’t come. Rather, the clenching feeling, simmering in the pits of her stomach, twisted and tore her apart from within.

“Doran…” Cecillia started, only to be silenced by the lack of a response. Her expression crumpled, her fingers fidgeting with the paper nervously.

“Hey…. hey, hey, hey,” she tossed the letter aside, hands grasping at his face. “Doran, hey! Wake up!”

Cecillia shook his body and felt her eyes begin to water. His face was pale, the skin even colder while his eyes had lost their light. A clink against the stone drew her attention down to his hand where the pendant in his fingers slipped from his grasp. No longer having the strength to hold onto it, the framed picture spilled out, falling helplessly onto the ground like a final, silent goodbye.

Her face scrunched up and the mask that protected her all these years shattered. She leaned in close to the man and pressed her ear against his chest. She waited, but for some reason, there was nothing.

…Rather, in truth, she had an inkling of an idea why.

After a moment of silence, Cecillia placed her hand over the man’s sternum where the Bane of Corruption lay embedded within his flesh. The darkness lashed at her skin, but the blood seeping from her fingers told her all that needed to be said. Cold slithered around her spine and she drew her hand back.

‘If my eyes are still as right… then if only?’

A question rose in her mind and she grabbed the bun from the ground. Stuffing the entire piece into her mouth, she swallowed down the gritty texture of the bread and retrieved Doran’s blade. The sudden nourishment brought about the pain that had fallen dull, but the energy that was restored to her limbs mattered most.

‘Then if only that I have slain.’

Cecillia’s expression hardened, and she took the pendant and picture into her hands. The silver was cool in her palm, and she quickly wrapped Doran’s lifeless fingers around the pendant. Her gaze lingered for a final second longer before she rose to her feet.

The chainmaille clinked when she walked her path, the crystal lights crisscrossing overhead to guide her mission. She brandished the blade at her side, eyes narrowing into thin slits before casting away every distraction from her mind. The hardest part of her escape had just begun.

The light at the end of the tunnel neared, and when she arrived, her steps almost slowed. A shrieking wind blew through the midst, and the faint gleam gave way to hell itself. Cecillia’s vision slowly cleared and she stepped forth into a vast cavern with no end in sight. Crystals as large as entire houses, formed towering structures that glowed with an eerie, pulsating light. Darkness wouldn’t be an issue here, that was as long as she succeeded.

Cecillia glanced down at the ring adorning her finger and a weak smile shifted onto her lips.

[Entropic Aberration - (Level ???)]

For the first time in her life, she couldn’t be happier to see the enemy. It was like seeing a close friend after a long while and her smile gleamed. Perhaps it was to say that she couldn’t have wished for anything more.

A cold wind blew past and Cecillia walked forward.

Into the hell without a name,

Alone with her desperate thoughts,

She hoped…

That it wasn’t all a lie.