Chapter 79: Veiled Farewell

“Child, how are you?”

That voice seemed faint, as if through a thick watery veil, seeping from the distant horizon.

My consciousness floated up slow from endless dark abyss, like a withered yellow leaf.

When first sensations reknit, I felt wrapped in cold, light and powerless, adrift.

Beneath: boundless chill fluid, faint ripples telling me I lay in vast waters.

“Where……

Exactly is this?”

Memory shards began piecing.

Pre-blackout, I’d stood in wild woods.

But woods hold no such endless sea?

Fallen to underground stream?

Or swept by sudden flash flood?

Tumult guesses vexed me— sharper doubt then pierced my haze:

“Why, without stirring lids, do I know so sure I’m afloat on boundless waters?”

Biting cold coiled limbs and bones, birthing clearer recall.

I remembered: in awareness’s sever, my all-in gambit.

Then, I’d tried channeling my spirit force to brute-force quell the “Evil God Seed”‘s rampage within.

Past, I’d coaxed its power wary— never like now, so resolute: forging my will to spear, plunging deep into that chaotic root.

Good news: proved my hunch— my will could sway the seed, quelling its fury.

Bad: no shortcuts; pure contest of wills, my spirit versus its taint in rawest, barbaric clash……

“Heh……

Looks like……

I lost.”

I bitter-laughed inward to self, finally grasping my state.

This absolute, void black— not from unopened eyes, but the cage itself: lightless, soundless, sensationless prison.

Since the Seed channeled as conduit, drawing mana from Abyss— reverse-fitting: forging path, hauling my mind and soul Abyss-ward.

Rather: this time, truly plunged to legendary Abyss, Evil God’s domain— yet consciousness held: miracle undeniable.

This thought brought near-consoling calm.

At least, the time I bought— should suffice for Saintess and Kritiya to complete their healing rite?

But truth: without me, no such mess to begin……

Fresh excitement and smugness puffed to smoke instant.

In end: mere redressing my own fault—

Post that all-exhausting will-wrestle with the Seed, I felt mind barren, utter weary.

Craved surrender: let sink, tumble into this eternal-sleep-like dark depths.

This state— I loathed, yet listless, no spark to fight.

Some ancient call beyond reason and sense: from Abyss floor, it drew me— not by hand, but like silent undercurrent, enfolding limbs and frame, dragging gentle downward.

Water temp shifted sly: bone-chill laced sly warmth, akin to eon-stagnant blood pool.

A mingled reek of ancient humus and abyssal brine crept senses silent; then, wispy intents surfaced mind:

“All earthly life returns to the Abyss.”

The intent bore icy certainty, stating eternal truth.

“Bad……

That child……

So steeped in dark’s taint— calling her……

Why sinks she deeper?”

“Because she’s an idiot.”

“Er……

I’ll think of something.”

Faint, ethereal dialogue drifted sudden from horizon, overriding the weak intent.

“Too rude!

Who’s calling me idiot?”

Irk surged; I mustered remnant mind, straining toward the voices’ source.

The instant thought cleared—

Dark sudden, sans omen: a light ray kindled.

That glow not blazing, but milky-soft white— like dawn’s first tear through heavy drapes.

In this pure void and chaos, its advent granted space meaning.

Light’s fall-trace became first boundary; chaos gained up-down, near-far distinction.

This sight inexplicably recalled a prior-life ancient myth— in creation’s nothingness, a voice: “Let there be light.”

Thus light clove dark; order birthed from chaos.

And now, this ray: micro-genesis, carving in my near-oblivion world a spot to anchor self.

I gathered last strength, wisping toward that glow-spot.

In sense, the halo swelled from pin-prick star to warm-enfolding dawn.

Weighty dark ebbed tide-like.

In clarifying light-shadow weave, a black solar rim gold-edged burst clear, high-hung in sky.

Below: endless, world-end-sprawling dark-red badlands.

Just then, those two’s dialogue reached clear as day:

“Child, forgive……

She’s too deep in the evil’s stain— I can’t save her now.”

“So— this my final power.

This……

My sole delaying measure.”

“You can’t!”

Last lingering in my rousing mind: Kritiya’s thunder-clap cry, cleaving my fresh world.

***

This forgetting elixir— Eldest Miss, per pact, I’ll feed it to that boy.

Murky purple brew bubbled foam-fine in crystal vial.

Sera gripped bottle one hand, staff the other, slow-stepping to the sealed carriage.

As she neared, window’s drape lifted corner silent; an emerald eye gazed still.

That eye— mere months unseen, contours familiar— yet veiled in mist impenetrable, stirring near-strangeness.

And something overnight sprouted quiet, nudging her from girl to adult’s brink.

Sera couldn’t shake late soldiers’ murmurs.

That chase-day, many swore sight: Eldest Miss wrought holy light, instant-regrowing severed limb.

“Holy light mends wounds; if limb fresh, unrotted— regrow possible.

That tier’s light rare, but for ducal house— no true hurdle.”

Touched great folk.

Yet limb-rebirth?

God’s domain.

Even today’s Radiant Pontiff’s rites needed hundreds chanting synced for such miracle.

Limb-rebirth in mortal writ……

Only legend’s Saintess achieved.

The tale, along empire’s web of post-roads, reached North swift.

Now soldiers whispered wild: Eldest Miss, prophecy’s true Saintess.

Truly so?

Sera’s heart tangled unbanishing doubt.

She couldn’t forget that

That ill-omened blood-red mist……

That too— Saintess power?

“What nonsense am I spinning?

I’ve wronged Eldest Miss and Young Miss enough……”

The mage shook head fierce, scattering thoughts.

She lifted eyes, peering again the shadowed profile in carriage.

Kritiya ever silent; Sera felt need to clarify origins clearer.

“Eldest Miss……

Your choice.

You opposed fierce before— spurned Archmage Melra’s proposal, refused bringing the boy back to duchy……

To guard secret tight, only this compromise.”

Speaking, Sera glimpsed silver-gray tresses’ spill: neck swathed layer-thick in gauze.

Good she’d carried healing potions then; now Eldest Miss, near-soft-confined in this carriage, no sharps permitted near.

Noble prisoner— unbidden, the phrase surfaced Sera’s mind.

“That’s the forgetting elixir?

Claire said it erases painful memories.”

Sudden, the silver-gray girl’s calm query.

“Er……

Its mechanism not quite— well, you can think so.

This potion rare; I added your hair as guide— ensures only you-related forgotten.

No impact on future life.”

Sera near slipped to pro-lecture on arcane principles again— her prior posts lost thus.

But this custom brew, originally scoured rare stuffs for Claire— now used thus.

“Then so be it.”

Hearing the girl’s serene words.

“Then I take leave.”

Sera dipped brimmed hat in salute, turning to go— yet halted sharp.

“Eldest Miss……

Truth……

Why refuse bringing him back?

If the boy owed you grace— duchy’d not stint him……”

“He has must-dos of his own.”

Sera meant to probe more, but Kritiya cut soft:

“No worry.

I know Archmage Melra’s hand.

He saw me yesterday— you, and……

That knight I don’t know— all just following orders.”

“Your understanding gladdens.”

Sera’s heart eased a guilt-flicker, sighing relief.

She turned; behind came Eldest Miss’s final charge, clear to ear:

“I’ll watch him leave with my own eyes.”

Near noon, Sera hasted to the boy-held carriage.

Here: trigger-ward spell-array.

Blent in milk-white fish soup, veiled no odd.

“Still— you deliver.”

She hailed the departing servant.

Servant aye’d, shoving tray through door-seam.

Sera leaned near; heard chain-drag clinks, then

“Kritiya’s with you folk, right?

Uncle— how’s she?”

“Boy, this rough-hand me knows naught……

Eat quick.”

After a while, Sera heard swallows; she tallied silent.

Post-effect, memory reshape starts; in interval, imbiber falls confused.

By final memory-stabilize, that span’s events leave no trace.

“Done— open door.”

She bid aside guard.

Guard drew key, unlocking steel door; Sera lifted her restraint-spell too.

Guard entered, unlocking boy’s shackles; Sera door-side, gazing still the dazed, rag-clad youth.

“Why are you here?”

Sera queried per script, voice deliberate even.

The boy pondered hazy the question, brow creased faint in puzzle:

“I……

Gotta find sister.”

His voice near inaudible, yet instinct-firm.

“Then go swift.”

Sera replied curt, dodging his gaze.

“Aye.”

Named Nolan the boy rose wooden, steps unsteady exiting cage.

Noon’s sun made him squint discomfort; he stood in carriage’s brief shadow, face surfacing deep bewilderment.

As if sensing some vital loss— yet unclear what.

“Strange……

Feels like I lost something……”

“You lost this.”

Sera tossed face-blank a rough-cloth bundle.

Kritiya’s own-packed kit; every item thrice scoured by ducal spies.

Save changes, scant coin, battered brass key— naught warranting watch.

The boy caught bundle dazed, fingers absently stroking rough weave.

As if seeking some familiar feel.

He stood there, hesitant; gaze flitted Sera and distant woods.

“Th-Then……

I go.”

Nolan murmured low at last, hugging bundle chest-tight.

He glanced wary Sera and guards once more, then turned— steps floating, slow along dirt road away.

Sera watched till the form shrank dot, vanishing road-bend.

She sighed light, lifting eyes to Eldest Miss’s carriage window.

Vague: drape swayed faint, as if eyes just withdrew from there.