There is a tale of a boy who once gazed upon the heavens and beheld Luna and Lith, the twin moons, locked in their eternal dance.
"Even the moons have someone near," he murmured, his eyes drifting to their pale reflection trembling upon the river's skin.
Then the river stirred and answered. His reflection rippling, and a voice—his own—spoke back:"Are you alone too?"
"We can be friends… just as the moons are friends."
"Truly?" whispered the boy, his voice trembling as he stepped into the waters.
And from that night onward, he was never seen again.
"NOOO! Don't go there!" Remy screamed, thrashing in his sleep. Cold sweat drenched him, his clothes clinging as though the river itself had reached out to claim him.
A single tear slid down his cheek. He brushed it away, bewildered.
Why am I crying? he wondered, sitting upright as the remnants of the dream slipped from him—false and fleeting, like a spring that never was.
The room lay heavy in darkness. He was alone. No voice, no breath stirred—only the timepiece upon the wall.Its ticking carried through the chamber with a solemn rhythm.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
It was midnight.
For two months now, since arriving at the manor, true rest had abandoned him. Night after night he lay awake, haunted by thoughts of his mother.
I wonder how she is... it's been so long. I'm not even sure if she's still alive.
He turned restlessly upon the bed, yet comfort would not come. At last, he dragged the blanket down onto the cold stone floor and lay upon it. Only there, pressed against the earth-like chill, did sleep find him—thin, reluctant, and weary.
Strange, that the hardness of stone offered more solace than silk sheets. It was closer to the life he had known, the one in a shack with no bed.
Night passed slowly, and at last the sun rose, casting away the cold and shadows. The sky turned a pale shade of blue, and the birds outside sang their delicate morning songs.
The smell of fresh biscuits drifted through the manor, pulling Remy toward the dining hall. There he found Chad and Kat setting the long table.
"Can I help?" Remy asked, reaching toward the kettle.
"Why, yes—could you fetch the cups for me?" Kat replied, placing plates neatly at each seat.
Remy stretched to the top shelf and brought down four glass cups, each adorned with its own design—flowers, trees, and stars etched into their surfaces.
Kat had grown in these past weeks. Her freckles still dotted her cheeks, though they seemed to fade now against the brightness of her face.
A quiet beauty was emerging, her figure taking on the grace of a young woman, her curves were a gentle landscape, though her bubbling, ever-cheerful nature remained unchanged.
Remy had come to treasure that light of hers. It had reached into the shadows of his heart and begun to melt them away.
"When is Tear coming back?" Remy asked, sipping his tea.
"He's gone to headquarters for a mission brief," Chad answered casually.
Remy glanced up and noticed Charles staring at him across the table."What are you looking at?" he asked.
Charles only grinned. "Let's go for a spar," he said cheerfully.
"Charles, is that all you ever think about?" Chad interjected. "The affinity of alchemy is wasted on you."
"Can it, pacifist," Charles shot back in a playful rage. "You always refuse to spar. Now I've found someone who does, and you still want to get in the way?"
As the children quarreled, Tear entered the room—silent as a ghost.
"Do you all have to fight every day, huh?"
Damn it… how does he do that? It gets me every time.
Remy thought, his eyes flickering toward Tear.
"Te…ar, are you okay?" Kat asked, rushing to Tear, who had a cut across his face.
"I am—uhu…uhu! —alright," Tear coughed, settling into a seat.
Kat reached for Tear's face, and he gently held her hands. A soft white glow shimmered from her palms, and the scar on Tear's cheek slowly faded.
Tear, who had been breathing roughly and unevenly, felt his rhythm return to its usual layered cadence.
"What happened?" Remy asked, hurrying to Tear's side.
"I was in the middle region, looking for clues to reach the capital… somehow they knew I was already there. I… I am so sorry," Tear said, his eyes heavy with fatigue.
"Why… aaare you apologizing?" Charles finally asked.
"You will have to go in my place… I tried warning the Heads of the organization, but they refused to listen… sigh!"
Remy's eyes bulge as the last letter fell from Tear's lips.
"What do… you mean, go… where?" Charles asked, his voice rising with each word.
"Calm down… let me explain," Tear said, finally standing.
"When I left for headquarters, I was told that one of the Saints had stopped treating people as people altogether. I was sent there to gather information and find a way to rescue them," Tear explained, pausing as Kat handed him a cup of tea.
"Thank you, love…" he murmured, taking a sip.
"Well?" Charles demanded, still impatient.
Tear took a deep breath and continued. "When I arrived, I saw signs that something was wrong. When I tried sneaking in, I was attacked. They all came at once—around fifty Saint knights. It took me five days of fighting and hiding before I finally escaped."
He took another sip before continuing. "When I returned to the Heads, they told me I had to send you. I protested, but they warned me that if I didn't, they would eradicate the Southgate hideout."
"How the hell do they expect us to succeed where you couldn't?" Chad finally spoke. "Aren't the Heads foolish?"
"Yes… that's true," Tear admitted, his voice low, heavy with sorrow. "But they say they have a plan. I'm waiting for a letter from the North. Then we will know. All I can do now is prepare you for whatever may come."
Tear's voice was somber, his heart heavy, yet he kept a brave expression for the children.
Is this really the way to bring a new dawn? Tear wondered, a chill crawling up his spine. By sending the youth into the jaws of death?