Sophia collapsed in the snow. Her body crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut, her face pressing into the cold white powder, her Pink hair spreading around her like a halo of tangled threads stained with blood.
Blood from her ears, her nose, her eyes pooled in the snow beneath her, turning it dark and crimson, spreading outward like dark wings unfurling.
Yuuta watched in horror. His small mind was still processing, still trying to understand what had just happened. He was a child. Until now, he had always been the one who collapsed—the one who fell, who broke, who needed to be saved.
He had been the subject, the experiment, the broken thing that others dragged across floors and threw into wells. He had never been the one standing. He had never been the one who had to save someone else.
He did not know what to do when someone collapsed.
He knelt beside her, his small knees pressing into the snow, and touched her shoulder. His fingers were cold, trembling, barely able to grip her ragged clothes. The fabric was wet with blood and snow, and it slipped through his fingers like water.
"Sophia," he said, his voice breaking like ice underfoot. "Sophia, wake up. Sophia wake up."
She did not move. Her chest rose and fell, but her breathing was shallow, uneven, wrong—each breath a struggle, each exhale a sigh. Her eyes were closed, but her eyelids flickered, as if she was dreaming, or dying, or something in between. Her lips, pale and cracked, moved silently, forming words that had no sound.
"Sophia," he said again, louder this time, shaking her shoulder with all his strength. "What happened, Sophia? Please. Yuuta is scared. Yuuta does not know what to do."
She did not answer. She could not answer. Her mind was shattered, her thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm, her memories broken into fragments that would never fit together again. The Sophia who had held him, who had fed him, who had named him, who had called him her little brother, who had promised to protect him—she was gone.
The wolf's death roar had torn through her skull like a blade, shredding the delicate tissues of her brain, bursting blood vessels, destroying the connections that made her who she was. The mana that should have protected her had been focused on Yuuta, leaving her vulnerable, exposed, defenseless.
She was not unconscious. She was not sleeping. She was something else—something broken, something lost, something that could not be fixed.
But Yuuta did not know that. He was still a child. He still believed that she would wake up, that she would open her eyes and smile at him, that she would ruffle his hair and call him her little troublemaker. He still believed in happy endings.
He did not know that she was gone.
The night stretched on, long and cold and dark.
Yuuta dragged Sophia toward the wolf's body. The massive carcass lay only a few feet away, but to a small child dragging a body twice his size, it felt like miles. His arms ached. His legs burned. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, forming clouds of mist in the freezing air that disappeared almost as soon as they appeared.
But he did not stop. He could not stop. The wolf's body was warm—warmer than the snow, warmer than the wind, warmer than anything else in this frozen forest. The fur, thick and dense, would hold the heat of the creature's death for hours, maybe longer. It was the only shelter they had.
He pulled and pulled, his small feet slipping on the ice, his hands raw and bleeding from gripping the frozen fur. He fell once, twice, three times, scraping his knees, his elbows, his chin. Each time, he got back up. Each time, he grabbed Sophia's arm and pulled again.
He pulled until Sophia's head rested on the wolf's side, until her body was sheltered from the wind, until the warmth of the beast's flesh began to seep into her frozen skin. He pulled until his arms gave out and his legs collapsed beneath him.
He collapsed beside her, his small body pressed against hers, and wrapped his arms around her. He was tired. So tired.
His eyes drooped, and his breath slowed, and he fell asleep with his head on her shoulder, his tears freezing on his cheeks, his small hands clutching her ragged clothes as if he could hold her together by sheer force of will.
Erza watched, and a memory stirred in her mind.
The Sylvaris kingdom.
The report of a crazy lady who had lost her mind, who roamed the borders of the elven lands, who attacked anyone who came near.
had read the report centuries ago, had dismissed it as unimportant.
She had thought it was just another madwoman, another victim of the wilderness, another tragedy in a world full of tragedies.
But now she understood. Now she knew.
The crazy lady was Sophia. The elf princess who had been thrown into the well, who had survived for years in the darkness, who had lost her mind protecting a child.
The report had not mentioned the child. It had not mentioned the sacrifice. It had only mentioned a dangerous creature that needed to be eliminated.
Her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them back, but more came. She could not stop them. She could not control them. They fell down her cheeks, hot and wet, freezing on her skin.
Isvarn watched her, and his ancient heart grew heavy. He could sense the emotion in her—the pity, the grief, the love.
He could see the cracks forming in her armor, the softness that was replacing her coldness, the vulnerability that was creeping into her soul.
He was not happy. Emotion was a threat to the nation, to the throne, to the bloodline. Emotion had destroyed queens before. It would destroy Erza too, if she let it.
But he said nothing. He could not. There were no words for what they were witnessing.
Morning came, though the sky remained dark.
Thick clouds had rolled in during the night, swallowing the sun, turning the world gray and cold. The snow had stopped falling, but the wind had picked up, howling through the trees like a wounded animal, moaning like a creature in pain. The temperature had dropped even further, and the air was sharp and bitter, burning the lungs with every breath.
Yuuta woke to a strange sound.
"Kh..."
He blinked, his red eyes heavy with sleep, crusted with frozen tears. His body was stiff, cold, aching. His hands were raw and bloody, his knees scraped and bruised.
The sound came again.
"Kh... a..."
He sat up, looking around. The wolf's body lay beneath him, still warm, still solid. The snow stretched out in every direction, white and endless. The trees stood like silent witnesses, their branches heavy with frost.
Sophia was not beside him.
His heart lurched. Fear flooded through him, cold and sharp, colder than the snow, colder than the wind. Had she left him? Had she gone away? Had she abandoned him like everyone else?
"Sophia Sister?" he called, his voice small and scared, echoing through the empty forest. "Sophia?"
No answer. The wind howled. The trees creaked. The snow whispered.
He was about to cry, about to call out again, when he heard another sound.
"Mh... ha... h..."
He looked up.
Sophia was standing on the wolf's body, which was propped against a rock a few feet above him. She was on all fours, her hands and feet pressed against the frozen fur, her silver hair hanging in tangled strings around her face. Her eyes were open, but they were empty—glazed, unfocused, staring at something he could not see.
"Uh... Waahh..." she moaned, her mouth hanging open, her tongue lolling out like a wounded animal. Saliva dripped from her lips, freezing on her chin.
"Sophia?" Yuuta said, hope flickering in his chest like a candle in the wind. "Sophia!"
She did not respond. Her head turned slowly, mechanically, toward the sound of his voice. Her neck creaked, and her jaw worked, and her eyes—those green eyes that had once been so warm—were hollow.
She tried to growl. A weak, pathetic sound emerged from her throat—more wheeze than threat, more whimper than roar.
She was on all fours. She was acting like a beast. She was not the Sophia he knew.
Yuuta tried to climb onto the wolf's body to reach her. His small hands gripped the frozen fur, and his feet scrambled against the ice, but he could not get a foothold. The fur was slippery, and the ice was slick, and his fingers were numb.
He fell. He landed hard on his back in the snow, the wind knocked out of him, his head spinning.
Sophia tried to get down.
Her limbs were uncoordinated, her movements jerky and wrong, as if her body had forgotten how to work. She slipped, and her head hit the rock with a loud crack that echoed through the forest.
"Waahhhha! Wahahahah!" she wailed, crying like a child—not like an elf, not like a princess, not like the sister who had held him through the night. Tears streamed down her cheeks, mixed with blood, freezing on her skin.
Yuuta stared at her, horrified. This was not Sophia. This was not his sister. This was something else—something broken, something lost, something that was falling apart in front of his eyes.
"Sophia Sister?" he said, rushing toward her.
She looked at him. Her green eyes, once warm and bright, were empty. Vacant. Hollow. They saw him, but they did not recognize him. They looked through him, past him, beyond him, at something he could not see.
She dropped to all fours and growled.
"AAARGH... WAARAA...!"
The sound was animalistic, primal, wrong. It did not come from a person. It came from something that had forgotten it had ever been human.
Yuuta stopped. His feet froze in the snow. His heart pounded in his chest, and his eyes filled with tears.
She did not know him. She did not remember him. She was gone.
"Sophia," Yuuta whispered, his voice breaking like ice under a heavy foot. "What happened, Sophia? Sophia..."
She growled again, louder this time, a sound that came from somewhere deep in her throat, somewhere primal and animalistic.
She crawled toward him on two legs this time, but she could not walk properly—her movements were jerky, uncoordinated, wrong. She stumbled and lurched, her arms swinging at her sides, her head hanging low.
She was like a zombie, a creature from the dark stories that the doctors had told to scare the subjects into obedience.
Yuuta did not run. He could not run. Where would he run? For him, Sophia was everything. She was his sister, his protector, his only family.
Even though he did not understand her situation, even though he could not comprehend what had happened to her mind, he still loved her.
He loved her with the simple, unconditional love of a child who had never known love before.
Sophia walked toward him.
Her eyes were empty, hollow, vacant—green orbs that had once been warm and bright, now reduced to glassy spheres that reflected nothing. Her mouth was open, dripping saliva that froze on her chin, and her mind was gone—scattered like ashes in the wind.
She stopped inches from him, her face close to his, her breath hot and rank, smelling of blood and madness and the raw meat she had eaten from the wolf. Her eyes searched his face, looking for something—anything—that might trigger a memory, that might bring her back, that might remind her of who she was.
Nothing.
She tilted her head, like a dog confused by a new sound, and whimpered. The sound was small, pathetic, heartbreaking—the sound of a creature that had lost everything and did not know how to find it again.
She smelled him.
Yuuta startled as she leaned forward, pressing her nose against his neck, inhaling deeply. Her breath was warm on his skin, and her hair brushed against his cheek. He did not know what to do. He did not know what she was doing. He only knew that she was close, and that he loved her, and that he could not lose her.
He hugged her.
He wrapped his small arms around her neck and pulled her close, pressing his face against her shoulder. His body shook with sobs, and his tears soaked into her ragged clothes.
"Sophia," he cried. "Sophia... Sophia... It is me. It is Yuuta. Yuuta Konuari. Sophia come back."
Something shifted.
Sophia's body, which had been rigid and tense, relaxed. Her arms, which had been hanging limp at her sides, rose slowly, hesitantly, and wrapped around him. She hugged him back.
"Yu... Yuuta..." she said, her voice slurred, wrong, broken. "Yu... Yuuta..."
She said his name. She remembered his name.
Yuuta cried harder. "Sophia! Sophia!"
She looked at him, her green eyes still empty, still hollow, but something flickered in their depths—a spark, a memory, a ghost of the sister she had been.
Then she let him go. She turned and ran toward the wolf's body, stumbling on her broken legs, her arms flailing for balance. She reached the massive carcass and began striking its stomach with her palms—weak, pathetic strikes that barely disturbed the fur.
Yuuta stood in the snow, watching her, confused and afraid.
Sophia opened her mouth wide—wider than should have been possible—and bit into the wolf's flesh. Her teeth tore through the hide, and she pulled, using the strength of her neck to rip a chunk of meat from the carcass. The effort drained her; she collapsed to her knees, breathing heavily, her chest heaving.
But she did not stop. She grabbed the meat with her hands and crawled back toward Yuuta, dragging herself through the snow.
She stopped in front of him and held out the meat.
"Yu... Yu... Yuuta..." she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Eat... Yuuta... Eat..."
Yuuta looked at the meat. It was cold and raw, covered in blood and snow. His small hand reached out and touched it. The flesh was tough, rubbery, unappetizing.
But he was hungry. So hungry.
He grabbed the meat and began to eat. His jaw was weak, and his teeth were missing, and the meat was hard to chew. But he ate. He ate for her. He ate because she wanted him to.
Sophia's eyes widened. Something flickered in them—happiness? Joy? Relief? She smiled, a crooked, broken smile that did not quite fit her face.
She was happy.
Erza watched, her heart aching.
"What is this?" she said, her voice barely audible. "She has become like a beast. What is happening to her?"
Isvarn watched too, his ancient eyes sharp, his mind racing.
"No, my Queen," he said. "She has not become a beast. It's Her Healing Phase, She is healing."
"Healing?" Erza turned to him, confused. "Where?"
Isvarn pointed. "Look at her ear. Look at her nose, Her Body."
Erza looked. Sophia's ear, which had been bleeding, was no longer bleeding. The torn flesh was knitting together, slowly, visibly, as if time was being reversed. Her nose, which had been crushed and broken, was straightening, healing, becoming whole.
It was as if someone had cast a healing spell on her—but there was no one there. No mage, no priest, no doctor. Only her.
Isvarn's voice was quiet, almost reverent.
"Elves have an immune system that is unique to their kind. Ever since they began living in the high-density forests of Sylvaris, their bodies have adapted to the esper that fills the air. The esper in their blood is more concentrated than any other being's, and it allows them to recover from wounds that would kill other creatures."
He paused.
"Even from death, if they are strong enough."
Erza's eyes widened. "So she is healing? Even her mind?"
Isvarn nodded slowly. "Her body is healing. Her mind... it will take time. The brain is delicate, complex. The damage is severe. But if she is given enough time, she may recover."
"How long?" Erza asked.
Isvarn was silent for a moment. Then he spoke.
"Fifty years. Perhaps more."
Erza's heart sank. Fifty years. Fifty years for Sophia to remember who she was. Fifty years for her to become herself again. Fifty years of wandering, of madness, of being hunted as a monster.
She looked at the report in her memory—the report of a crazy lady who roamed the borders of the elven lands, who attacked anyone who came near.
Her fists clenched. Her jaw tightened. She looked up at the sky, at the clouds, at the unseen forces that had written this fate for Yuuta and Sophia.
"I will pay you back," she said, her voice cold, hard, absolute. "For every tear, every drop of blood, every moment of suffering. I will find you, and I will make you pay."
The sky did not answer. The clouds did not part. The world continued spinning, indifferent to her rage.
But Erza did not look away.
She would find them. The scientists, the doctors, the beings who had created this nightmare. The dark elf, the half-beast, the vampire surgeon, the dwarf. The chief scientist who had thrown Yuuta into the well. The guards who had watched and done nothing.
She would find them all.
And she would make them suffer.
To be continued...