The next morning, the forest greeted them with a dull gray sky. Mist hung low, curling around the trees like pale fingers.
Xesre awoke in silence. His body ached faintly, but the mental weight pressed heavier. His sharp blue eyes opened to the dim light filtering through the cabin. For a moment, he simply lay there, listening to the muffled breathing of Sakura and Akira.
But peace never lasted long. Not for him.
By afternoon, they had left the cabin behind. The trio walked through a narrow path between towering pines, the ground soft with moss and fallen needles. The silence was tense—Sakura stayed near Xesre, worry written in her golden eyes, while Akira kept a deliberate distance, his jaw tight.
It was Xesre who broke first. His hand brushed against the hilt of a blood-forged dagger at his side. The memories from last night still clawed at him. He felt the familiar itch—the desperate urge to silence it with pain.
He slipped his hand into his cloak, fingers brushing the blade.
"Don't," Sakura whispered sharply, catching the motion.
Her voice wavered with urgency. She stepped forward to stop him—but before she could close the distance, a new presence filled the clearing.
The trees darkened. The air thickened.
A figure stepped out from the mist—tall, graceful, with violet hair cascading like liquid night. Her eyes glowed the same violet hue, sharp and calculating, but softened by a mask of warmth.
She smiled.
"My, my. What a pitiful sight."
Her voice was smooth, melodic, but carried an undercurrent of something colder.
Xesre stiffened instantly. His body trembled—though not with fear, but something deeper. A recognition he couldn't place. His hands shook as he instinctively backed away.
Sakura rushed to his side, flustered. "W–Wait! We weren't doing anything to him! He—he's just—"
The violet-haired woman's eyes flickered, watching the saintess carefully.
"You misunderstand. I was speaking of him, not you."
Her gaze settled on Xesre, who stood frozen, trembling as though a predator had locked onto him.
Akira bristled, stepping forward. His hand hovered near his weapon, his special eyes narrowing. "Who the hell are you?"
The woman tilted her head, her smile widening just slightly.
"Fortuna. A traveler, much like yourselves."
Sakura's brow furrowed. "Then why are you here?"
Fortuna's gaze softened, her expression almost maternal as she stepped closer to Xesre. He flinched but didn't move.
"Because someone needs to protect this boy. And clearly… neither of you are doing a very good job."
Her words cut deeper than a blade.
Sakura flushed with anger. "That's not true! I—I've been trying—"
Akira snapped. "You don't even know him!"
The forest stilled.
Fortuna's eyes glimmered. "Do you?"
The words fell like stones in the silence.
Akira's lips parted, but no sound came. His pride burned, yet he had no answer. He looked away, fists clenched.
Xesre's breathing grew heavier. His sharp pupils quivered, his chest rising and falling erratically. He wanted to scream. To cut. To end the crushing weight pressing against his ribs. His fingers reached for a dagger—but before he could move, his knees buckled.
The world blurred.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
When he awoke, his body was bound.
His wrists were tied, his eyes covered with cloth. The rough scrape of rope burned his skin as he shifted. He could hear muffled voices around him—Sakura, panicked and pleading. Akira, furious and defensive. And above them, Fortuna's voice, smooth and unyielding, like velvet draped over steel.
"If you can't protect him from himself," she said quietly, "then I will."
Xesre bit his lip until he tasted gold.
The voice from his memories whispered again, faint and broken.
"You don't need them."