The cabin was quiet—too quiet.
Night had fallen outside, and a thin veil of moonlight spilled through the cracks in the wooden walls, casting uneven stripes across the floor. The forest around them whispered softly, but inside, tension hung like a storm waiting to break.
Xesre sat tied to a rough wooden bench, blindfold removed but wrists still bound. His sharp blue eyes stared at nothing in particular, unfocused yet simmering with restrained emotion.
Sakura stood near the doorway, arms crossed tightly against her chest. She had wanted to untie him earlier, but Fortuna had stopped her.
"He's unstable," Fortuna had said with that infuriating calm."If you release him now, he'll hurt himself… or someone else."
Akira leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his expression sour. He hadn't said a word since the argument earlier. His pride was still smarting from Fortuna's jab, but beneath that was something else—frustration, confusion, and a sliver of fear.
The silence stretched on, thick and uncomfortable.
Finally, Sakura broke it.
"This isn't right. He's not an animal we can just tie up and leave!"
Fortuna, seated elegantly on a nearby chair, didn't even look at her. "It's for his own good."
"Says you," Sakura shot back, her golden eyes narrowing. "You just appeared out of nowhere and started acting like you know everything about him."
Fortuna's violet eyes flicked toward her, sharp as blades for just a moment before softening again. "I don't need to know everything to see what's right in front of me. He's dangerous—not just to us, but to himself. If you can't see that, then you're naïve."
Sakura's lips trembled. "I'm not naïve. I just… I believe he can get better."
Fortuna tilted her head. "And what if he doesn't?"
The question hung heavy in the air.
Xesre's breathing began to quicken. His fingers twitched against the ropes.
Stop.Stop talking like I'm not here.
The voices blurred. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. The memories surged—the needles, the chains, the saints harvesting his blood. Their mocking smiles. The smell of metal and incense.
His pupils sharpened like a blade.
Not again.
He began thrashing against the ropes. The bench creaked beneath him, wood splintering slightly.
Sakura rushed forward. "Xesre! Calm down, it's okay—"
She reached out to touch his shoulder.
A thin line of mana sliced through the air.
In an instant, threads of hardened blood burst from his wrists, snapping the ropes like paper. His hands trembled violently as he conjured razor-sharp blood daggers that floated shakily in the air around him—uncontrolled, unstable.
Fortuna reacted instantly. A wall of reinforced magic snapped up between him and Sakura, halting her movement.
"Don't," Fortuna ordered coldly. "He's not in control right now."
Sakura's eyes widened in shock. "But—!"
Xesre's breathing was ragged now. He pressed one of the mana daggers against his own chest. His hand shook, but he pushed harder, skin breaking, golden blood sliding down the blade.
Fortuna's voice cut through the chaos, steady and low.
"Xesre."
He froze.
"Look at me."
His trembling gaze lifted toward her. Her violet eyes locked onto his, unwavering.
"If you break now," she whispered, "you'll drown. And no one will be able to pull you out."
The room held its breath.
Something in her tone—calm, commanding, but not unkind—cut through the fog in his mind. The daggers wavered, then slowly dissolved into droplets, splattering onto the floor like golden rain.
Sakura exhaled shakily, her heart pounding.
Fortuna lowered her hand slowly, the wall fading.
"Untie him," she said softly.
Akira blinked. "What? Are you serious?"
Fortuna gave him a look. "He doesn't need chains. He needs direction."
Sakura moved carefully, untying the remnants of the rope. Xesre didn't resist. He sat there with his head lowered, hair falling into his face, shoulders trembling.
He wasn't crying. Not outwardly. But the quiet was deafening.
For the first time, Sakura truly understood—he wasn't just carrying pain. He was drowning in it.
And Fortuna… she wasn't just trying to protect him.
She was slowly, carefully positioning herself as the one who could control him.