Happy New Year guys!!! This is a normal chapter so you don't skip it, huh.
I wish you a very happy new year, with this I bring you a last chapter for the year, in turn this is the last chapter of part 1 of the story.
Thank you very much for joining me and my story this year.
Meliora has a gift for you in the discord ;). Go and join! I'm waiting for you.
The next day, both siblings rested under a tree covered in frost. Snow fell slowly, settling on the branches and muffling any distant sound. Lyra was fast asleep on Zein's lap, her calm breathing marking a soft rhythm, while he stroked her hair with slow, mechanical movements, his gaze fixed on the gray sky as if searching for answers among the motionless clouds.
A few paces away, Kiomi sat at the other end of the trunk. Her back was straight, but her hands were clasped rigidly. Since what happened the previous day, the words seemed to have remained trapped in her throat.
Ilmenor, at last, breathed a fragile peace. Some laughter could be heard in the streets again, the smoke from the fires had disappeared, and life was trying to pull itself back together. Even so, not everyone could afford to smile so soon.
Meliora appeared soundlessly and sat next to Zein. For a long moment, neither said anything. Only the soft crunch of the falling snow broke the silence, until she spoke.
—Don't blame Kio, okay? —she said in a peaceful voice.
Zein did not respond immediately. He looked away, as if even looking at her were an effort.
—How can I not blame her? —he murmured at last—. She lied to me all this time. Two years… and me believing we were friends.
Meliora did not interrupt him. She moved a bit closer, enough for her presence to be felt without imposing.
—When it comes to delicate things, she has never been much for talking —she said softly.
Zein looked at her then, surprised by how close she was.
—And much less when it comes to what she feels —Meliora added, letting out a brief, low laugh—. You already know that.
Zein let out a sigh that seemed to carry accumulated weight.
—Ha… maybe you're right.
Meliora looked up at the sky, watching how the flakes disappeared before touching the ground.
—Maybe she never told you about her past because there are things that weigh too much when they are named —she continued—. Not everyone wants to remember who they were or what they did. Sometimes, moving forward is the only way they know how to survive.
She stood up and brushed the snow from her skirt. Before walking away, she rested a hand on Zein's head and left it there for an instant, firm and warm.
—Getting angry about it doesn't change anything —she said—. Sometimes, even when someone keeps secrets, they do it believing it's what's best for those they love… even if it never seems that way.
Then she took a few steps and stopped.
—There are some people here who want to speak with you —she added—. I think you should see them.
From the same direction Meliora had walked away, Zein's group of friends appeared: Zanna, Sennet, Chloe, and Dian. Their voices arrived before they did—lighter, almost out of place in a city that was still healing.
Zanna was the first to approach. She leaned toward Zein, swaying slightly with her hands clasped behind her back.
—You know? Today they brought out some attractions they had stored around the city —she said with a smile—. It's supposed to be to distract people a little. How about we all go together?
Then she crouched a bit lower and naturally extended her hand to him.
—Of course Lyra can go. And you too, if you want, Kiomi —she added, looking toward the other side of the tree.
Kiomi gave a small start, as if she didn't expect to be included. She stood up abruptly, somewhat nervous, straightening her clothes.
—Were you even there? —Zein asked, surprised.
—Of course I was! Did you not even notice me? —she responded, feigning annoyance as she approached.
Shortly after, the group disappeared among the streets of Ilmenor, where a small improvised fair had come to life. Wooden stalls, simple lights, and timid laughter filled the air. People moved through the games seeking to forget, even if just for a while, what had happened. Even some soldiers, free for a few hours, mingled among the crowd.
They laughed, tasted sweet drinks, and shoved one another over unimportant jokes. For a moment, everything seemed… normal.
—Hey, Zein —Zanna said while drinking a juice.
—Yes?
—How do you take care of your hair? —she asked, pointing at him—. It's very shiny and silky. Mine doesn't come anywhere close.
Zein blinked, bewildered.
—Well… truth is, I don't do anything. I just wash it, that's it.
—That's it? —she repeated, incredulous—. That's all?
—Yes.
—Wow…
Zanna kept looking at him for an instant longer, tilting her head. Then she frowned slightly.
The tips of Zein's hair, almost imperceptible among the rest, seemed tinted white.
Zanna opened her mouth to say something.
—Hey, do you dye your hair?
—No, of course not.
—Then… what are those white tips? —Zanna insisted, leaning in to get a better look.
Zein immediately looked away and, noticing the pale reflection among his strands, covered his hair with his hand almost by reflex.
—Uh… I don't really know… —he murmured, uncomfortable.
—If you didn't have black hair, I would honestly think you were a blessed child —Zanna said between laughs, giving him a friendly slap on the back—. Hahaha!
Zein joined her with a nervous laugh, though the feeling didn't quite go away.
The rest of the day passed among laughter and games, but something began to feel… twisted. Simple things failed for no reason: mechanisms that jammed, ropes that broke, lights that suddenly went out. On more than one occasion, Zein had the strange impression that someone was watching him from some dark corner, just out of his field of vision. Every time he turned around, there was nothing. He decided to ignore it.
When night fell, everyone went their separate ways home. Ilmenor breathed differently; the air felt lighter, almost like in the days when Zein had first arrived in the city. With that fragile calm, everyone surrendered to sleep.
When Zein reopened his eyes however, he found himself standing on an giant lake that stretched as far as the eye could see. The night sky weighed over him, almost empty, with only a few stars struggling to exist. Everything else was darkness.
A faint light emerged from the depths of the water, making the surface shine like polished glass. Taking a step, Zein noticed he wasn't sinking. He walked on the water as if it were solid ground.
In front of him, the air rippled.
A human figure appeared, of his same height, motionless. Its silhouette seemed wrapped in black flames that illuminated nothing; on the contrary, they devoured the light around them, leaving areas of even deeper darkness where shadows should exist.
Its eyes, sunken like bottomless abysses, glowed with a pure, unnatural white. Zein felt a knot in his chest. If he stared at them for too long, he was certain that whiteness would drag him toward something from which there would be no return.
—Who are you? —Zein asked defensively as soon as the figure finished forming.
—I am you —it responded.
Its voice sounded raspy, heavy, like metal scratching frozen glass. The echo of those words slid across the surface of the lake and returned distorted, deeper.
—That's not true.
—Oh, of course it is.
The figure extended a dark arm and pointed at him. Then he brought that same finger toward his own chest.
—You and I are the same. I am the representation of your soul. So, in essence… we are identical —he added, narrowing his eyes with a mocking grimace.
—That's not true. My soul cannot be so… —
—Beautiful? Powerful? Proud? Perhaps —the figure interrupted.
The black "skin" of his face opened where the mouth should be, splitting apart like living cracks in burning stone. From them emerged a set of long, sharp fangs, forming an unnatural, far too wide smile.
—That's impossible —Zein exclaimed, taking a step back.
The figure sank into the water and, in the same instant, appeared in front of him, so close that he could feel the cold of his presence. The voice whispered in his ear:
—You wish it were so. But in the deepest part of your being, you know it is true.
Firm hands rested on his shoulders.
Zein reacted by instinct and threw a punch. His fist passed through the figure's body as if it were living fire: the upper half dispersed into black flames, dancing for a second before slowly recomposing.
—How cruel —said the figure, intact.
He moved back a few steps and pointed at him. The water beneath Zein's feet suddenly rose, surrounding him. Liquid bars intertwined to form a transparent cage. No matter how much he struggled, the water did not yield a single inch.
—I was going to ask for control of your body nicely —the figure continued, tilting his head—. But I see you are impulsive.
The fanged smile returned.
—So I will simply take it by force. Enjoy your dream.
The figure slowly lowered the tip of his finger.
The water reacted immediately. It opened beneath Zein's feet and dragged him into the depths without giving him time to scream. The surface closed over him like a dark mirror. The last thing he managed to see was how that silhouette wrapped in black flames faded away, while the cold and pressure enveloped him completely and his consciousness slowly flickered out.
Zein woke up with a start.
He brought a hand to his head, his pulse racing and a stabbing pain throbbing in his temples.
"Was it… a dream?"
He sat for a few seconds, breathing deeply, trying to convince himself of it. Then he noticed it. A thick, acrid smell. Smoke.
He frowned and got out of bed. He walked to the window and opened it.
The color drained from his face.
Ilmenor was burning.
The entire city was enveloped in violent, living flames, as if a volcano had awakened in the middle of its streets. But they were not ordinary flames. They were black, with purple streaks twisting inside them, exactly like those that covered that figure in his dream.
The same fire.
In that instant, the bedroom door burst open. Lyra ran in, her eyes wide and fear reflected on her face.
There were no words. Both left the house immediately.
Outside, chaos reigned. People ran in all directions, some carrying the little they could save, others dragging the wounded, others screaming names that were lost in the crackling of the fire. The air burned their lungs.
Zein and Lyra moved through the city without stopping, helping whomever they could. They summoned water, throwing it against the flames, but something was wrong. Every time the water touched the fire, it roared with more strength, spreading even further, as if the liquid fed it.
No matter how hard they tried. Nothing worked.
The night passed among screams, smoke, and ash.
With the first trace of dawn, exhausted and covered in soot, Zein and Lyra met up with Kio and Meliora. Both were organizing the evacuation, guiding people out of the city after accepting that the fire would not be extinguished.
They gathered to try and decide what to do next. Shortly after, Kiomi joined the group, her face tense and her gaze fixed on the columns of smoke.
Then, suddenly, someone approached Zein from behind and jerked his hair roughly.
—Hey…! —Zein shouted, turning by reflex.
It was in that instant that he felt it.
The heat.
He hadn't realized that his hair had also begun to burn.
The person who had set fire to his hair had taken flames from a nearby building, molding them with magic and throwing them without hesitation.
Zein, in the midst of panic, tried to put out the fire by slapping his head and covering himself as best he could. Through the burning and the smoke, he glanced at the one who had done it.
Klein.
The same madman who had tormented him since the mountain incident. The one who was supposed to be locked up.
When the flames were finally extinguished, Meliora was already in front of him. She took him by the arm firmly.
—Hey! What is wrong with you? —she demanded.
Klein let out a dry, almost satisfied laugh.
—Ha… I knew it.
—Knew what? —Meliora asked, tense.
Klein raised his arm and pointed directly at Zein.
At his hair.
Now that the fire was gone, there was no doubt.
It was white.
The spell Kio had placed to hide it had vanished along with the flames.
Kio's eyes locked onto him instantly.
"Did the spell weaken…? Since when?" she thought, without looking away.
Zein, still agitated, took a step forward without fully understanding what was happening.
—How did you get out of prison? You were supposed to be locked up —he asked, still oblivious to the obvious.
—The prison burned down —Klein responded lightly—. And now I'm helping whoever I can… but that's not the point.
Suddenly, Klein raised his voice and pointed at him with fury.
—Demon!
—What…? —Zein stammered.
The murmur around him died instantly.
The nearby people turned, drawn by the shouts. Their gazes descended slowly to Zein's white hair. The expressions changed one by one: furrowed brows, pressed lips, steps moving away… and others approaching with caution.
—He is a blessed child! —Klein shouted—. You cursed this land from the moment you arrived! All of this is your fault!
The crowd began to close in around them. Meliora stepped in between, raising her hands, trying to calm them, speaking to them with a firm but trembling voice. It was not enough.
—The fire! The invasion! You caused it all! —Klein roared, his eyes wide.
Zein clenched his fists, feeling the gazes piercing through him like blades.
—That's not true! —he responded, raising his voice for the first time.
But no one seemed willing to listen to him.
Among the crowd were also Zanna and Sennet.
Sennet expression was hard, loaded with a contempt that Zein recognized instantly and that tightened his chest.
Zanna, on the other hand, hesitated for a few seconds before gathering courage and approaching a little closer.
—Is that… is that true, Zein?
—Of course not —he responded immediately, taking a step toward her, seeking to explain himself—. I didn't—
Zanna stepped back.
She said nothing.
Klein took advantage of the silence and turned toward Lyra.
—And you, since you are his sister, surely you have white hair too —he spat with hatred—. Accursed girl!
A small flame danced in his hand as he approached her.
As soon as the fire brushed Lyra's hair, the spell began to unravel, like ash swept away by the wind.
Zein reacted without thinking.
He lunged toward Klein and grabbed his wrist with force, pulling him away from her with a jerk.
—Get away from her!
Kio, at the same time, tried to smother the flames clinging to Lyra's hair.
—Ah! —Klein shouted, letting himself fall to the ground in an exaggerated manner—. The demon is attacking me!
—That's not true! —Zein shouted, placing himself in front of Lyra.
The crowd began to advance. The footsteps closed in, and voices rose in pitch. Meliora tried to hold them back, interposing herself, begging them for calm, but the human tide did not stop.
Just as they were about to reach them, a shadow intervened.
Kio.
She stood in front of the siblings, firm and motionless. Her gaze swept over the crowd with a silent ferocity that chilled the air.
—I don't think I need to make it clear —she said in a deep voice— that my mission is to protect these two. And, regardless of what they are or what you believe, I will not allow anyone to lay a hand on them.
No one moved.
Instinctively, one by one, they took a step back.
The chaos dissipated little by little. After an entire day trying to put out the fire without success, the inevitable decision was made: to evacuate Ilmenor completely.
Nearly five thousand people disappeared that day.
With no other options, the remaining army of Ilmenor, along with its people, set out for a small fishing town on the coast of the colossus Sylvaris.
During the journey, the hatred toward the siblings only grew.
Loaded glares, poisonous murmurs, and whispers behind their backs became constant. Klein took it upon himself to fuel that resentment, sowing words that caught fire as easily as the black flames.
As the hours passed, that resentment took shape. A group of "extremists" emerged, people willing to take Zein by force and hand him over to the Empire in exchange for saving their own skins. Among them were Sennet and Zanna, both marked by the loss of their loved ones that day.
The next day, the coast was a hive of activity. From dawn until dusk, the evacuation ships prepared without rest, accommodating people as best they could, counting heads, discussing spaces that were never enough.
Zein and Lyra, along with Kiomi, helped wherever they were needed. There was no time to think, only to move.
It was almost midnight. The following day would be New Year's Day.
The snow began to fall again, first timidly, then more steadily, covering the coast with a white mantle that contrasted with the distant smoke. Zein was helping the last refugees on board when, suddenly, he felt a violent shove against his back.
He fell to the ground.
Before he could get up, several figures closed in around him. A circle of tense faces, gazes full of hatred. Some wanted to hit him. Others just needed someone to blame.
Meliora reacted immediately. She stood in front of him, spreading her arms, using the little authority she had left to try to stop them. She spoke, she pleaded, she ordered.
It was no use.
A dry blow struck her face. Meliora took a step back, bringing her hand to her cheek, more surprised than hurt.
The entire pier fell silent.
Then, an explosion shook the air right behind the group.
The Empire's artillery.
The shots had already reached the outskirts of the city. They were hunting what remained of Ilmenor's army.
Taking advantage of the confusion, Meliora dragged her foot over the snow and raised a dense curtain of smoke. Without wasting a second, she grabbed Zein and pulled him out of the circle, leading him away from danger. They ran until they regrouped with Kio, Lyra, and Kiomi, who were waiting for them further ahead.
The city plunged into absolute chaos.
People ran aimlessly, seeking shelter wherever they could. Many rushed toward the evacuation ships, which no longer had enough space. Some set sail immediately, leaving behind those who still remained on the pier, their screams drowned out by the wind and snow.
—Kio, there's a boat I prepared in case something like this happened. It's in an area of the pier. Let's go to it; we'll get out of here with that —Meliora said as they ran through the crowd.
—Sure, but… where will we go?
—I have several acquaintances on the colossus Mirathun. You remember them, don't you?
—Yes.
—Then let's go.
The group—Meliora, Kio, Kiomi, Lyra, and Zein—advanced as best they could among the people running back and forth in panic. Screams mingled with the distant roar of artillery and the crunch of snow underfoot. Behind them, the group of extremists did not stop, pushing and shoving aside anyone in their way to reach Zein.
When they finally arrived at the boat Meliora had mentioned, everyone boarded quickly… everyone except her.
Just as she was about to take the final step, a hand closed around her ankle. One of the extremists had reached her, clinging to her with desperation, refusing to let her go.
—Mom, jump! —Kiomi shouted from the boat, stretching out her arms, her eyes filled with terror.
Meliora turned her face just a little. She saw the people approaching, their faces hardened, their hands ready to seize her. She felt the strength with which that stranger held her foot. In a fraction of a second, she understood everything.
Without saying a word, she pushed the raft.
The boat began to move, slowly at first, then a bit more, pulling away from the shore. From the deck, they all watched as Meliora was caught by the group of people, how her figure was left behind, enveloped by the chaos.
Zein reacted by instinct. He took a step forward, ready to dive into the water, but he slammed into something invisible.
A barrier.
Kio had raised a protective wall around the boat.
—Kio! Take the barrier down now…! —Zein shouted, his voice breaking.
A shot cut through the air.
One of the extremists had gotten hold of a rifle and fired at the raft. The impact resonated against the barrier, which held, vibrating forcefully.
From the pier, the people began to throw everything they could find: stones, pieces of wood, insults loaded with hatred and fear. They screamed at them to come back, to go back for her, not to run away.
But they could do nothing.
The boat continued to move away, slow and implacable, as the coast grew smaller and smaller. Kiomi fell to her knees, clenching her fists, unable to look away. Lyra clung to Zein, trembling in silence. And Zein, with his eyes fixed on the pier, felt something break inside him—a cold weight sinking into his chest, leaving him breathless.
—Mom! —Kiomi screamed, inconsolable, pounding the barrier with her hands until they burned, as if she could break it through sheer force.
Zein, beside himself, searched desperately for any way to get off the boat—pushing, struggling, refusing to accept what was happening. Kio watched the scene with clenched fists, her nails digging into her skin. For a moment she stood up, her body reacting before her reason, ready to do something, anything.
Don't go.
The voice resonated in her head with a cruel clarity. Kio stopped in her tracks. Her legs gave way and she sat back down on the bench, rigid, unable to move. From there she could only watch as the group did whatever they wanted with Meliora, while she remained trapped in her own oath, powerless.
Seeing that the boat was moving further and further away, the crowd began to beat Meliora.
—If you want her to be okay, come back right now! —they shouted from the pier, their voices thick with rage and desperation.
But the boat did not turn.
—Kio! —Meliora shouted, gathering what strength she had left—. Don't come back! Go! And… take care of my daughter, I beg you!
Barely had those words left her lips when the extremists unleashed their fury with more violence. The blows became brutal. Sticks, stones, anything served. Each impact made her body bend a little more, as the ground seemed to draw closer.
From the boat, Zein and Kiomi cried until they lost their voices. They pleaded, they begged Kio to do something, to let them go, to let them save her. But Kio did not move.
—My duty is to look after you —she responded, her voice tense and her teeth clenched, as if each word tore her apart inside.
Suddenly, the world changed for Meliora.
She found herself in a warm and cozy room, sitting on a soft bed. The crackle of a fireplace filled the air, enveloping her in a peaceful heat. In her arms, she held a baby.
The sound of crying broke the silence.
—There, there, my little girl… —Meliora whispered, rocking her gently—. Mommy is here for you.
Lucian appeared at her side. He rested a hand on her shoulder and smiled at her with a tenderness that made her chest tremble, as if she could finally rest.
The room began to fade slowly, like a memory that could no longer be held onto. The edges of the walls dissolved into an infinite white, the fireplace lost its shape, and the heat became distant, unreal.
—So it's my time already, eh? —Meliora murmured, turning her face toward Lucian.
He did not respond. His figure remained serene, almost ethereal. He only extended his hand toward her, inviting her to move forward.
Meliora looked down one last time toward Kiomi. Her lips trembled into a soft smile, loaded with everything she couldn't say.
—I would have liked… to spend more time with you, my girl…
The room was now nothing more than unfinished fragments: an edge of the bed, the dim outline of the fireplace, like an abandoned painting left half-finished.
—Happy New Year, darling —Meliora whispered, leaning in to kiss the baby's forehead.
Before, everything turned white.
Meliora lost consciousness.
Her body lay kneeling on the snow, while the people around her continued to beat her mercilessly. From the distance, Kiomi and Zein could only watch, paralyzed, crying until they ran out of air, unable to do anything more than witness it.
Suddenly, from among the crowd, the figure of a young woman emerged.
A metal cylinder rested next to Meliora's head—cold, precise. It was a rifle, held firmly by that woman.
The roar echoed.
The sound shattered the world for an instant. The crowd shuddered; some screamed, others recoiled in horror.
Meliora's body fell onto the snow.
Blood began to spread slowly, staining the whiteness that had accumulated on the ground with red.
They all saw it.
Kio, Zein, Lyra, and Kiomi.
What they witnessed was Zanna, with the rifle still aimed, pulling the trigger and sealing Meliora's fate.
Almost at the same time, the Empire's army burst into the city. Chaos exploded. The crowd fled in terror, leaving the body behind. Some dodged it as they ran, others stepped over it without looking back.
But the body remained there.
Alone.
The snow continued to fall, covering it little by little, stained a deep red like a withered rose in the middle of winter.
After a long while, the boat was already very far from the pier. The sea rocked it gently, oblivious to everything.
The silence that took hold of it was absolute.
Devastating.