Warm droplets traced down Kael's pale cheeks—tears, though he could not say why. The vision of the dragon, Licht, had finally unfolded before him, piece by piece, until the truth was laid bare. The weight of it pressed against his chest, yet there was also an aching gentleness in it, as if a part of him had long awaited this moment.
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
He found himself standing on the surface of a vast lake, its waters calm as glass, reflecting endless skies. He was still within the dream. The air shimmered with a faint glow, as if time itself had stopped to allow this meeting.
Before him, a single flower floated on the water's surface. He stepped closer, each movement sending soft ripples across the mirrored lake. Kneeling before it, he realized something had changed—the flower now bore all five petals, each one shining faintly, resembling the sword fragments he had gathered.
His breath caught. At last, he knew its name.
"Myosotis," he whispered.
A voice, deep and sorrowful yet warm, stirred the air.
"—It means do not forget me. A forget-me-not flower, Kael."
The words stunned him. He raised his head sharply, and there he was.
Licht.
The great dragon stood before him once more, his vast form outlined in soft light. His eyes were heavy with emotion, shimmering as though tears had welled in them.
"Kael…" the dragon spoke again, his voice breaking into something almost human. "He never promised me. But still, I waited for him. He was the first human who ever treated me as a friend."
As he said this, tears slid down the dragon's massive scaled cheeks—tears so rare they glittered like jewels.
Kael's throat tightened. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out a trembling hand and touched the edge of the dragon's claw. The contact was warm, achingly familiar.
"I know… Kael's soul is gone," Licht whispered, his voice heavy with grief. "But you are here… And for that—I am grateful." His claws curled slightly, as though restraining his sorrow. "Thank you… for ending me."
Kael lowered his gaze, his hand still trembling where it rested against the dragon's claw. His chest felt hollow. This dragon… had shared his soul to save him, giving everything without asking anything in return.
Yet there was something left unspoken. Something that was not his to carry, but that he knew the real Kael would have wanted said.
Lifting his eyes, he looked directly into Licht's sorrowful gaze.
"I know you will never see me as your Kael," he began softly, each word heavy as stone, "but Kael… he never stopped thinking of you as his first friend. Until the very end."
His voice wavered. He took another breath.
"He wanted to say he was sorry. Sorry for killing you. Sorry… for making you wait so long."
The silence that followed was unbearable. Then, a deep rumble broke from Licht's chest—not anger, but grief. Tears streamed openly down his great face as he lowered his massive claw, brushing against Kael's cheek with infinite gentleness. His talons, so sharp and deadly in battle, trembled as they combed lightly through Kael's white hair.
"This will be the last time we meet," Licht murmured, his tone steady though sorrow dripped from every syllable. "I can no longer protect you."
Kael's lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't speak, but his gaze stayed locked with the dragon's, steady and resolute.
"I regret it still," Licht continued, tears spilling freely. "Regret that I let Kael suffer. That I could not shield him from pain." His breath hitched, but his words pressed on, firm. "But you… you must continue to live as Kael. That is my wish."
The dragon's claw brushed once more through Kael's hair, his eyes glimmering like dying stars. Kael, his own tears falling silently, raised his hand and clasped the dragon's claw as if to promise him. He nodded once—small, but filled with resolve.
Slowly, Licht withdrew his claw. His body shimmered, dissolving into streams of crimson light. The great form of the dragon collapsed inward, shrinking and reshaping until only a butterfly remained—its wings glowing scarlet, fragile, and trembling.
It fluttered gently to Kael's hand, landing on his finger.
Kael's tears blurred his vision. He lifted his finger closer, staring at the tiny creature that had been his guardian, his friend, his silent shadow through countless battles.
"Goodbye…" Licht's voice echoed faintly, carried by the butterfly's wings.
It beat its wings once, twice, then flew upward. As it touched the crown of Kael's head, a strange warmth spread across him. A lock of his hair, once white as snow, slowly darkened—turning black, strand by strand.
Kael stood silently, his gaze lifted to the empty sky above. The butterfly was gone.
But Licht's wish remained.
And with it, so did a part of his soul.
-----------------------------------------
A faint warmth lingered in his chest, like the last echo of a dream.
Kael could feel something soft and firm clasping his hand. The warmth spread into his cold fingers, anchoring him back into the waking world. Slowly, he stirred. His eyelashes fluttered, and his vision returned—hazy at first, then sharp enough to make out the canvas stretched above him.
It was not the gilded ceiling of a palace, nor the ornate chamber of a noble. Instead, the roof above him was plain cloth, patched and weathered—a tent.
His gaze lowered.
There, sitting close beside him, was Elric. Her hand was wrapped tightly around his own as though she feared letting go would mean losing him forever.
The moment his eyes opened, her lips trembled into a smile. Her eyes glistened with tears she could no longer hide.
"You're awake?" Her voice was soft, fragile, but filled with overwhelming relief.
Kael blinked, adjusting to the light. His body felt heavy, weaker than before. He tried to move, and Elric instantly leaned forward, slipping an arm carefully behind his back.
"Don't rush. Slowly." Her touch was delicate, almost reverent, as if he were made of glass that could shatter with a single misstep. With her support, Kael managed to sit upright.
He glanced around the dimly lit space. Stacks of bandages, herbs, and buckets of water stood nearby. The faint smell of smoke lingered in the air, carried in from outside.
Elric noticed his searching eyes. She knew the question lingering silently in his mind.
"We're near Delcra Castle," she explained gently. "The cult burned parts of it. We had no choice but to bring you here, until your chambers are restored."
Kael remained quiet, but his gaze softened as her words settled in.
Elric's hand never left his. In fact, her grip tightened, her fingers trembling slightly. It was as if she feared that if she loosened her hold for even a moment, Kael would slip away again—back into the lifeless state she had seen before.
Kael noticed the way her hand clung desperately to his. Slowly, he moved his own hand, guiding it toward her instead. With faint, trembling fingers, he brushed her hair back from her face.
"I'm fine. Don't worry too much," Kael said softly. His tone was gentle, but resolute, even though he could still feel weakness in every limb. He didn't want them—didn't want her—to carry the weight of his suffering.
Elric's lips quivered. The moment she heard his voice, fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.
"How can I not worry?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "I nearly lost you…" Her face twisted with sorrow, and her grip on his hand grew tighter. "I was afraid, Kael. Afraid of losing you. Please—please don't do that again…"
Her shoulders shook as she cried openly before him. Kael could see it now—the faint, lingering stains of tears on her cheeks, proof that she had been weeping long before he had awoken. She must have been crying all this time, watching over him without rest.
His gaze shifted, drawn by a sudden glimmer to the small mirror propped beside his bed.
Kael froze.
There, reflected clearly, was his hair—white as ever… except for strands streaked with black.
His eyes widened. Slowly, he reached up, fingertips brushing the darker strands. They felt no different, yet they carried an unfamiliar weight, as though they marked a change within him.
Elric followed his gaze and smiled faintly through her tears. "It seems you're slowly regaining your mana," she said softly. "Your hair turned white because you lost almost all of it. Perhaps… this is a sign it's returning."
But Kael's hand lingered on the dark strands, his expression clouding.
Because at that moment, he remembered.
The final words Licht had spoken in his dream—the last goodbye, the sacrifice that bound his soul.
His chest tightened painfully. The weight of it, the grief that had followed him from the dream, broke through him in waves. His vision blurred.
A tear slid down his cheek. Then another.
His hand rose shakily to his chest, pressing against it as if to contain the sorrow spilling out from within.
Elric's eyes widened at the sudden change in him. "Kael?" she whispered, panic in her tone. "What's wrong? Are you hurting? Tell me—"
But Kael gave no answer. He only lowered his head, silent sobs shaking his frame. The tears kept falling, unstoppable, and his lips trembled though no words came out.
Elric's heart clenched. Without hesitation, she gathered him into her arms.
Her embrace was firm, yet tender, holding him as though she could shield him from the invisible grief that tormented him. She whispered words she didn't even think, words that spilled instinctively from her heart.
"It's all right… you're safe now. It's all right, Kael. I'm here."
Kael said nothing. He only let himself sink against her, trembling faintly, his grief spilling wordlessly into her shoulder.
In that fragile moment, the only sounds were his muffled sobs and her quiet, steady voice soothing him—two broken souls holding each other beneath the humble roof of a tent, both mourning, both relieved, both still afraid to lose what they had finally found again.
-----------------------------------------
Kael's gaze lingered on the canvas ceiling for a long moment, his mind still heavy with the fading traces of the dream. But soon, he shifted his weak body, turning toward Elric with a faint expression that made her heart tighten.
He wanted to see.
She understood without words. Carefully, she slipped an arm beneath his shoulders, supporting him as she guided him to the tent's entrance. The flap opened with a faint rustle, letting the cool air and the heavy scent of ash drift inside.
Kael's eyes widened.
Before him, Delcra Castle stood battered and broken, its once-proud spires and walls blackened by fire. The flames were gone now, but the charred remains of towers and halls still smoked faintly, skeletal silhouettes against the dimming sky.
Below, soldiers and servants worked tirelessly amidst the rubble. Some carried timber, others moved stones, their faces streaked with soot and grief. The clang of hammers echoed, a desperate attempt to rebuild what had been lost.
But not all was rebuilt.
On the far side of the grounds, rows of corpses lay covered by cloth. Men, women, servants, soldiers—perhaps even innocents—all victims of the cult's madness and the rampage of the undead dragon.
Kael's chest tightened. His eyes darkened with guilt, his lips pressing into a hard line.
Elric, standing beside him, saw it. She saw the weight of unspoken blame in his gaze. And though her heart ached, she could find no words of comfort—for part of her believed the same. If she had been stronger, if she had stopped the cult sooner, perhaps none of this would have happened. Perhaps fewer lives would have been lost.
Kael's voice broke the silence. His tone was soft, almost fragile, yet carried a quiet demand.
"Where is the other?"
She knew who he meant. Reinhardt and Robert.
Elric lowered her eyes. "Reinhardt is overseeing the rebuilding with Lord Albert." Her voice faltered as she moved to the second name. "While Robert…" She hesitated, unable to continue, her throat tightening with guilt.
Kael turned his eyes to her, waiting.
Finally, Elric forced herself to speak. "Robert fell ill after protecting you from the cultists. His body was already weak… he pushed himself too far."
The weight of Kael's gaze made her falter again.
"I want to see him…"
His words were soft, yet there was no mistaking the insistence in his tone.
Elric nodded silently. Without delay, she led him across the camp, her hand steadying him as his weakened legs carried him step by step. At last, they reached another tent. The flap was pulled aside, and the faint scent of herbs and damp cloth filled the air.
Inside, Robert lay on a narrow cot, his skin pale, his forehead damp with sweat. His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling unevenly.
Kael approached quietly, lowering himself to sit beside the boy. His gaze lingered on Robert's fragile form, and for a moment, he said nothing at all. Elric remained standing beside him, silent, her hands clasped tightly.
"His heart was already weak," she explained softly. "And he overused his mana fighting the cultists. The healers have cast every spell they can… for now, he's stable."
Kael slowly extended his trembling hand. His fingers brushed against Robert's, curling gently around them.
At the touch, Robert stirred. His eyes fluttered open, and when he saw who sat beside him, a weak smile spread across his lips.
"Young master…" His voice was faint, strained, yet filled with relief. "You're safe… what a relief…"
Kael bit his lip, his chest tightening at the sight. Even in this state—his body frail, his condition worse than Kael's own—Robert's concern was still for him.
Kael said nothing. Instead, he slowly brushed back the boy's sweat-soaked hair, revealing his pale forehead. His voice came out as little more than a whisper.
"I'm sorry…"
Robert's eyes widened at the unexpected words, but his smile only softened. "No," he said weakly, "it's me who should apologize… young master. I'm fine… I only wish I were strong enough to protect you…"
His words trembled, but the intent was clear—he wanted to ease Kael's guilt, even from the edge of his own weakness.
Kael lowered his gaze, remembering the past—the way Licht had guided him, how he had healed Reinhardt and Elric before. For a brief, foolish moment, he closed his eyes, reaching inward, hoping to hear Licht's voice again.
But there was only silence.
He opened his eyes, staring down at his own hands. A memory stirred—something Licht had left behind.
His voice broke the quiet. "Where is my sword?"
Elric blinked, startled by the sudden request. "Your sword? It's in your tent… do you want me to bring it?"
Kael nodded once.
Without hesitation, Elric stepped outside, calling for a servant. Soon, a butler arrived, carefully carrying the sheathed blade wrapped in cloth. He placed it reverently in Kael's hands.
Robert's weak gaze flickered with confusion. Elric, too, tilted her head, uncertain. "Kael… what are you trying to do?"
But Kael said nothing. His fingers tightened around the hilt. Closing his eyes, he whispered Licht's name in his heart.
And then, faintly, a glow shimmered from the blade.
The light was soft, pulsing like a heartbeat—subtle, yet alive.
Robert and Elric stared in shock.
And Kael's grip only tightened.