Millicent dreamed. A strange dream.
Before this, because of the Scarlet Rot that consumed her body, she would sometimes dream—but those were always nightmares.
Yet this dream was different.
It was not a nightmare.
In the dream, she saw another person.
That person looked very much like her, yet… not quite.
Her long hair fell down like a scarlet waterfall—red, like her own, yet this was definitely not Millicent.
Millicent could not tell what kind of person this was. All she knew was that this person seemed to be in great pain.
Though her body slept deeply, her consciousness was strangely lucid.
Unfortunately, even in this clarity, she could do nothing.
The most important fragments of that person's life began to appear before Millicent's eyes—She had no choice but to watch. She could not move, could not intervene. She was merely an observer, a bystander to a life that was not hers.
And yet, beyond the sights she saw, she could feel what that person once felt.
——
At the moment of her birth, dazzling golden brilliance shone down upon the newborn. It was meant to be divine light, a blessing from the Erdtree itself.
But the sacred infant could not behold that tender radiance.
Before the warmth could touch her, there came only pain. Piercing, soul-deep pain.
Her eyes were blind, her limbs incomplete.
She writhed in agony, flailing what she could—but only her left arm and half her right leg would move.
Millicent realized something strange—she was watching all this from an impossible vantage point.
She knew the memory's owner was this infant, yet she observed from the outside, as if she were another presence entirely.
Perhaps this was not a literal memory, but a reconstruction, shaped by how the dreamer imagined it.
After all, the infant was blind—she could not have seen anything. Even if, later, she learned another way to perceive the world, it would not have been through such a clear, external view.
By the newborn's side stood two blurred figures.
From the indistinct forms, Millicent could only vaguely discern that one was a tall, red-haired man, while the other was of uncertain gender—slender, with long golden hair cascading down to the waist.
The golden-haired figure was short, only reaching the red-haired man's waist.
Yet in this memory, that golden being radiated a brilliance unlike any other.
A special light—one imbued not by the world, but by the memory's owner herself.
It was a tender light. A pure golden hue.
Millicent felt the depth of the infant's dependence on that figure.
——
The scene shifted suddenly.
Now the child had grown—no longer a newborn, but a little girl.
In this memory, the golden figure was fitting her with three golden prosthetic limbs.
Each was crafted from pure gold, delicate and radiant, yet sturdy.
Her missing limbs were replaced one by one by these golden gifts.
For the first time, she could move freely in the world.
——
Soon after, a messenger arrived—an envoy of the Two Fingers.
The child was chosen. Chosen to become an Empyrean.
——
The vision changed again.
Now, behind the golden figure trailed a vast host of followers.
They departed the glorious capital of gold and journeyed through endless snow and ice.
At the end of the long road, the golden figure planted a sapling in the frost-bitten land.
Then, with a calm, sacred voice, he spoke as he watered it with his own blood:
"Little sapling, little sapling, return to the embrace of the lands."
"But remember—remember always—you belong to me."
"Come, accept it."
"Take in my bounty, take in my dew. Let it soothe your thirst and fill your body."
"May you grow tall and strong."
"And one day, dream with me—"
"That beautiful law, that gentle dream."
Millicent watched as the sapling transformed before her eyes.
In the span of a heartbeat, the sprout burst with sacred vitality, its tender leaves gleaming gold. It grew—higher, grander; until it became a towering miracle of life.
The golden figure took the girl's left hand, now whole with her prosthetic limb, and said softly:
"From now on, this will be our new home."
"This is our paradise—where beauty and ugliness alike may take root and flourish as they truly are."
"Here, all shall find happiness."
"This is our Haligtree, Elphael."
At that moment, Millicent knew.
The one whose memories she watched was none other than Malenia, Blade of Miquella.
And the golden figure—undeniably—was her brother, Miquella.
——
Time passed.
Millicent watched Malenia grew tall and graceful, her height now surpassing Miquella's.
Her golden prosthetics had been changed many times to match her growing body.
Yet Miquella himself had not changed at all. Neither in height, nor in appearance.
And then came the day—the day the Scarlet Rot she was born with burst forth uncontrollably.
The flower of scarlet bloom erupted upon the Haligtree, tainting its roots.
Strange beings, drawn by the scent of the rot, came to the Haligtree, seeking to coexist.
Miquella welcomed them kindly and allowed them to stay.
But soon after came the rebellion of the knights.
Those who had gathered in faith would, in the end, be undone by the collapse of that very faith.
When they saw that the beauty of the Haligtree was but a fragile illusion, their devotion faltered.
They realized—Miquella was no god. He could not grant the paradise he had promised.
"A tree nourished by blood… and yet what grows from it is twisted, forever unworthy of the Erdtree."
"The fair Haligtree… is nothing but a dream."
Their anger and despair erupted in violence. But in the end, they were all slain—by the Golden Needle Knights loyal to Miquella.
Malenia felt only guilt. If not for her—if not for the cursed law of rot she embodied, the Haligtree would not have been defiled.
Yet Miquella never blamed her.
After that, something about him changed… and yet, perhaps nothing changed at all.
He became even gentler. The Haligtree even more serene. No strife, no rebellion.
Even the memory of that uprising seemed to fade, as if erased from existence—
——
The next image took them back to the radiant capital of gold—Leyndell.
Miquella brought Malenia there once more.
She did not know the reason, nor did she care. All that mattered was that nearly every demigod was gathered there.
She felt no bond with these so-called brothers and sisters. To her, they were strangers.
But Miquella was beloved among them, graceful and kind.
Malenia saw him approach a tall, red-haired man—majestic, powerful, his hair the same hue as their father's.
They spoke together at length, and when they returned to the Haligtree, Miquella seemed radiant with joy.
"Malenia," he said, smiling softly, "I have found the promised king."
"When I ascend and become a god… he shall, by our pact, become my king."
"As long as I can become a god…"
——
On the boundless snowfield, Malenia met an elderly swordsman dressed in blue.
From that moment onward, she began following her master to learn the flowing swordsmanship — an art meant to resist the Scarlet Rot.
She hoped that by mastering this sword art, she could help her beloved brother and clear away all obstacles standing in the path to his godhood.
Upon seeing several of the sword forms from the Flowing Sword Art, Millicent suddenly understood.
Those sword techniques she had once used instinctively — they had, in truth, come from this very art.
She turned her attention back to the vision before her.
Malenia had mastered the Flowing Sword Art, and with the aid of the special golden needle crafted by Miquella, the Scarlet Rot could no longer overcome her will.
From then on, she became the Blade of Miquella — the Holy Blade of the Haligtree.
Knights carrying noble resolve gathered beneath her banner, accepting the fate of corruption, and fighting by her side.
The prosthetic sword she raised became wings of victory — wings that cut down all enemies in her path — an invincible symbol that embodied her unyielding will.
After that, the memories became increasingly blurred, and the fragments grew fewer and fewer.
Perhaps those later events were simply things Malenia did not deem worth remembering.
Or perhaps, by then, she had already begun to abandon her own thoughts, existing only as Miquella's Blade.
The Shattering War, the conspiracy of blood, and the final Battle at Aeonia…
All of these scenes flashed rapidly before Millicent's eyes.
At the very end of everything, Millicent saw Malenia leap toward a familiar red-haired figure — and then release the power of the Scarlet Rot without hesitation.
From that moment onward, Caelid was completely transformed into a hellish land of rot.
Millicent saw Malenia's lips move, but she could not hear what she said to Radahn.
Then, everything fell into darkness. The gentle radiance of gold had long since vanished.
Millicent did not know whether these broken fragments of memory were the only ones that had left an impression on Malenia,or whether the Scarlet Rot had devoured the rest, leaving her unable to remember the whole.
The fragments of Malenia's memories were extremely vague — the figures within could only be guessed at by Millicent herself.
Sometimes, the visions would show scenes from the same period one after another, yet other times, they would suddenly jump forward by years or decades in an instant.
But the emotions they carried were intense — so vivid that Millicent could feel them resonating in her heart.
Within those emotions, there was Malenia's loathing of the Scarlet Rot, and her unyielding determination to resist it with the strength of human will.
Yet hidden within them was another, subtler feeling.
Though Malenia never expressed it outright, concealing it deep within herself, Millicent — who possessed fragments of her memory — could easily sense it.
It was sorrow.
A sorrow she had never revealed to anyone — not even to her closest, most beloved brother, Miquella.
After the Battle of Aeonia, Malenia, who had fallen unconscious, lay sleeping alone beneath the Haligtree.
The gold had forsaken her, leaving only endless darkness and a faint whisper echoing in the void—
"Don't abandon me…"
"Brother…"
Millicent had never been especially curious about Malenia — a person she barely understood at all.
In truth, although she was born from Malenia, everything about their connection felt inexplicable to her.
In her short life thus far, she had only wished for a simple, peaceful existence.
Others approached her because of Malenia.
And every time Malenia's name was mentioned or even thought of, strange memories that did not belong to her would rise within her mind.
It was as though she was being imperceptibly changed by them — shaped into someone else.
Yet after seeing these fragmented memories, Millicent found herself suddenly wanting to know — what kind of person was Malenia, truly?
She wanted to meet her, to meet Malenia herself.
When Millicent opened her eyes again, she found that the pain in her body was gone, and the Scarlet Rot no longer writhed beneath her skin.
"The needle…"
She moved her left hand slightly, realizing she could now move freely.
Looking around the cave, she saw that no one else was present.
Millicent decided not to rush to put on her clothes. Instead, she used the stream of water flowing down the cave wall to cleanse herself.
Ever since she had escaped the flower bud, she had been tormented by the illness of rot — fever, pain, and the endless agony of blood and sweat soaking her clothes.
Her garments had long since been stained filthy, and even she could no longer bear it — let alone show herself to others in such a state.
Millicent pressed her clothes beneath her knee, and with her left hand, she forcefully tore off the right sleeve.
She placed the torn sleeve under the stream, washing away the blood and traces of rot.
Once it was mostly clean, she began using it to wipe her bare upper body.
It was only then that Millicent noticed how far the Scarlet Rot had spread, from her right arm across much of her body.
"What an ugly body…"
Though the Scarlet Rot was now suppressed, it was only that — suppressed.
The wounds once devoured by rot would never truly heal.
Rather than wishing for a cure, Millicent found herself yearning to hold a sword again, to be able to repay kindness with her blade.
The golden prosthetic arm she had seen in her memories seemed ideal.
Come to think of it, there was no trace of the golden needle on her chest — the place it had pierced was smooth, as though it had never been there at all. That, too, surprised her deeply.
As she pondered this, she finished cleansing herself.
She washed her hair in the stream, then reached for a rope to tie it back.
But even after several tries, she still couldn't manage it.
With only her left hand, many things remained clumsy and difficult.
Millicent shook her head and put her clothes back on.
There was no time to wash them now; she could only endure the discomfort.
Once dressed, she suddenly felt lost.
How was Grandfather O'Neill now?
And what should she do next?
She had thought of leaving Caelid and heading for the Haligtree…
But what was the world beyond Caelid like?
Having lived here all her life, she knew nothing of it — she had never even heard much about the outside world.
Now that she thought about it, her past life might not have been as peaceful and simple as she remembered.
There had always been something strange, something that resisted deep thought.
"Millicent?"
"Are you awake? May I come in?"
The voice of Lucian came from outside the cave, interrupting her thoughts.
"Yes, I'm awake," she replied softly. "Please, come in."
Lucian stepped inside, finding Millicent much cleaner than before.
Millicent rose and bowed to him.
"Thank you."
Grandfather O'Neill had once told her that it was a man named Lucian who had first discovered traces of her escaping the flower bud and had asked him to find her.
Back then, her mind had been clouded by pain and fever, but now she realized — the man standing before her was her savior.