Caelum groaned as consciousness clawed its way back to him. His entire body ached, but the pain in his hands was especially sharp, forcing him to suck in a breath. His left hand was half-burned, charred black from Varithra’s Entropic Flames, the flesh still sizzling faintly. His right hand bore a deep sword slash from Lucielle, crimson staining his fingertips as the wound slowly stitched itself together. The pain lingered despite his unnatural regeneration.
“It’s been a while since I felt like this,” he muttered, grimacing as he flexed his fingers. His wounds would heal—he knew that—but the pain was a reminder that, at least for now, he was still bound to suffering.
A faint sound snapped him to attention.
Footsteps.
His violet eyes darted around the darkness. Dust and debris still hung thick in the air from their fall, obscuring his vision. His senses flared, alert to any movement. And then—a golden glow flickered behind the dust cloud.
His breath hitched.
“Shit.”
The second horn hadn’t sounded yet. The battle wasn’t over.
Without hesitation, he summoned his Aetherforged blade, the radiant weapon materializing in his grip with a soft hum. The glow ahead surged forward, a shadow lunging through the dust. Caelum barely managed to raise his blade in time, metal clashing against light in a jarring impact. The force nearly drove him back, his arms straining as he struggled to block the strike while still half-lying on the ground.
Lucielle.
Her face came into view as the dust settled, illuminated by her own golden light. She was a mess—cuts littered her skin, bruises blooming across her arms and cheeks, blood trickling from a wound on her forehead. But the most shocking thing was her expression.
Wild. Desperate.
Her strength, however, had waned. Even as she pressed her sword against his, her body trembled, her breathing ragged. Caelum felt the pressure ease slightly. Her grip faltered, and then—her blade flickered and disappeared.
Lucielle’s golden eyes widened briefly before her body gave out. She collapsed forward, falling directly onto him.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence.
Caelum remained frozen, stunned by the sudden turn of events. Lucielle was unconscious, her head resting against his chest, her breathing slow and steady. Her warmth seeped through his torn clothes, her weight pressing lightly against him. He instinctively stiffened, glancing down at her sleeping face—peaceful, vulnerable.
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It was… unsettling.
He immediately scanned their surroundings, unwilling to lower his guard. The ruins had collapsed into what seemed to be a cavernous abyss, the jagged remains of stone walls looming around them. Then, a few paces away, he spotted another figure lying motionless amidst the rubble.
Varithra.
Unlike Lucielle, she was sprawled on her side, her dark cloak torn and tattered. Her breathing was steady, but she showed no signs of waking. A deep gash ran along her temple, her usually sleek black hair matted with dried blood.
Caelum exhaled heavily and let his head rest against the cold stone. “Finally,” he muttered, relief washing over him as he allowed himself a brief moment of respite.
His arms ached, his body screamed in protest, but for the first time in a long while, he felt exhaustion rather than agony. He lay still, unmoving, waiting for his strength to return. Lucielle’s warmth against him was unfamiliar but oddly grounding. He briefly entertained the thought of pushing her off, but… waking her would only make things more complicated.
And he could already imagine her reaction.
“She’d probably try to hit me even after the second horn,” he murmured to himself with a tired smirk. The thought of her flustered expression almost made him chuckle.
For now, silence reigned.
******
Lucielle found herself back on the battlefield, surrounded by the clamor of war. Swords clashed, magic crackled in the air, and the cries of soldiers echoed in the distance. But she wasn’t alone. Fighting beside her, moving in perfect sync, was a woman with golden hair—the same shade as hers.
Her mother.
Lucielle felt a rush of warmth, a sense of belonging. Together, they cut through the enemy lines, an unstoppable force. And then—
A scream.
She turned, heart pounding, and saw her mother impaled from behind. A black, writhing spear of Umbracraft had pierced her back, dark tendrils seeping into her skin. Blood dripped from her lips as she turned her head slightly, whispering through the pain.
“Dear… the Cycle must not continue.”
Lucielle screamed, reaching out—
And woke with a gasp.
Her chest heaved, her golden eyes wide, her face damp with sweat. A tear traced down her cheek before she hastily wiped it away. Her head throbbed, her thoughts disoriented. Was that a memory? No… it couldn’t be. That never happened. She had been a child when her mother died. She had never fought alongside her, never stood beside her on the battlefield.
“Just a nightmare,” she whispered to herself, trying to steady her breathing.
“Nightmare?”
The unexpected voice made her jump. Her body reacted before her mind caught up, summoning her Aetherforged blade in an instant. The golden light cast sharp shadows against the cavern walls, revealing the speaker.
Caelum.
He lay nearby, arms raised slightly in a placating gesture, his expression amused despite the visible exhaustion in his eyes. “Relax, will you? The second horn has sounded.”
Lucielle narrowed her eyes. “And why should I believe you?”
A tired groan answered her, but not from Caelum.
“It’s true,” Varithra muttered from where she sat slumped against a nearby wall. Her tone was laced with irritation, her violet eyes dull with fatigue. “I heard it.”
Lucielle glanced between them warily, gripping her sword tightly before finally letting out a breath and dismissing it. She leaned back against the cold wall, rubbing her temples. Her mind was still clouded by the lingering remnants of her dream.
What had her mother meant? And why… why did it feel like a warning?
