Alren would have asked what the Pale or the remnants were–but he never got the chance.
Before he could open his mouth, the previously shaken Elder Ariana seemed to calm herself. The fear in her eyes was still there, but it was now buried beneath calm resolve. She turned to Alaric and asked firmly,
"Have you alerted the High Priest and the other acolytes?"
Alaric hesitated, shame crossing his face.
"No," he admitted quietly. "I… I didn't get the chance to inform the elders or the High Priest."
Alren listened closely, reading between the lines.
'So the elders are acolytes.' he realized. 'And this lady is one of them.'
Ariana nodded once, as if she had already expected that answer. Then she turned her gaze toward Cael and Alren.
"Help Brother Alaric to the prayer hall," she ordered. "If another acolyte is present, have them secure it immediately. Ask for the Lady's blessing."
Cael nodded at once.
Alren hesitated for a brief moment before forcing himself to nod as well, and together they moved to help Alaric forward.
Suddenly, he screamed.
"N-no, Elder Ariana! We–we need to help Charlotte and–"
Before he could finish, Ariana had already cut him off.
"She's dead, Alaric," she said quietly. "She is dead. You can't help her anymore. It's too late."
For a heartbeat, Alaric didn't react.
He simply stared at Ariana.
Then at Cael.
Then at Alren.
The look in his eyes made Alren turn away, unable to bear it.
For a brief, irrational moment, the look in Alaric's eyes made him feel as if the woman's death was his own fault–as though simply being here, in this body, in this place, had somehow caused this tragedy.
He knew it made no sense.
Meanwhile, Alaric who had been repeatedly shaking Charlotte's body, finally stopped.
The truth had finally sank in his mind.
He let out a loud wail, screaming.
No one tried to stop it.
There was nothing left to say.
Ariana looked at them one last time. She began with a heavy voice.
"Get him to the prayer hall. I will alert the rest."
With that, she turned and walked down the corridor. Alren watched her retreating figure until it disappeared around the corner.
A sudden shake snapped him back to reality.
"Brother, we need to go." Cael urged softly. "We have to help Brother Alaric."
Alaric was still sitting on the floor, frozen in shock, the lifeless body in his lap. He was tightly holding her as if letting go would make her death real.
Cael tried to pull him up.
Alaric reacted instantly.
"No–!" he shouted, shoving Cael away with sudden fury. "I don't want to! I don't want to go!"
His voice cracked, as he spoke in a desperate tone.
"I'll stay here… with her. If she's gone, then I'll die with her."
Hearing those words, Alren finally understood.
He had never truly fallen in love himself–not once in his past life–but he wasn't blind to it either. He knew what devotion and love looked like. He knew what loss felt like when something was taken away from you.
This man hadn't just lost a companion.
He had lost the woman he loved.
'Haah… love truly is the worst.'
That was the first thought that crossed Alren's mind–not out of cruelty, but out of helpless honesty.
Love was supposed to be warm. Comforting. Something that gave people strength.
But all he could see right now was a grown man collapsing like a child, clinging to a body that would never respond again.
If this was love, then it was a curse.
Alren looked at his own hands–the smaller hands of this younger body–and clenched them slowly.
'If I had loved someone like that... would I have ended up the same?'
Would he have screamed? Begged? Refused to let go?
He didn't know the answer.
And for now, he hoped he never would.
'For now… all I can do is help this man.'
With that thought, Alren knelt beside him as Cael was still trying to pull Alaric to his feet.
Alren placed a hand on the cold stone floor and spoke quietly.
"Brother Alaric… you shouldn't be like this. Sister Charlotte wouldn't want to see you like this."
The man snapped back instantly, eyes red.
"What would you know?"
Alren didn't flinch at all.
"You're right," he said calmly. "I don't understand your pain. And I truly hope I never will."
Alaric froze, clearly not expecting that answer.
"But what I do know," Alren continued, his voice steady, "is that if Charlotte truly loved you… she wouldn't want you to break like this."
Alaric slowly lifted his head, his gaze meeting Alren's.
"And if you truly loved her," Alren went on, "then don't disgrace that love by throwing your life away and being a pathetic man like this."
"Alren, what are you saying?" Cael began, alarm creeping into his voice. He clearly thought Alren was being too harsh.
But Alren didn't care.
"Shut up. Not now."
Cael took a step back, clearly not expecting Alren to snap at him.
For a moment, he just stood there, lips parted as if to argue–then thought better of it. He had never seen Alren speak like this before.
Alren meanwhile continued his talk with Alaric.
"Stand up," Alren said softly. "Survive. Live on–for the one you loved."
His words weren't loud.
They didn't need to be said.
These were things Alaric already knew–truths he was painfully aware of. Yet humans were stubborn creatures, they clung to denial, to grief, to the lie that clinging to her could somehow change the past.
Sometimes, words had to be forced into humans.
For a long moment, Alaric said nothing.
Then Alaric began to nod, slowly, as if something had finally settled within him.
He gently cupped Charlotte's cheek one last time, his only hand trembling. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss against her skin and whispered something–words meant only for her, words neither Alren nor Cael were meant to hear.
Then he let her go.
With visible effort, Alaric pushed himself to his feet. Alren was there immediately, supporting him.
Cael could only stare.
He hadn't expected this to work. Not like this. It was clear, in that moment, that Cael was still inexperienced when it came to the human heart.
He didn't understand how fragile the human heart truly was and how sometimes, it was force itself, that was needed to stop it from breaking completely.