Shiya hit the ground hard. Her head snapped back, striking a jagged stone beneath the tall grass, and the world spun into a blur of pain and confusion. Then silence. When she opened her eyes again, the blue skies of Eriland were gone. She was back in her small bedroom, lying on the cold floor.
Her fingers trembled as she sat up, gripping the side of her head. The sting of betrayal pulsed harder than the injury.
"Yon Zue… he pushed me," she whispered, the words sticking to her throat like broken glass. She wanted to cry, but something in her chest forced her to hold it back.
She stood, still dizzy, and staggered to the bathroom. The cold water running over her skin did little to numb her frustration. She later curled up on the couch with ice cream and a flickering TV screen, trying to distract herself. But her mind wouldn't leave Eriland. The moment of falling. The look in Yon Zue's eyes. The sting of rejection.
She clenched her teeth and shoved the ice cream aside, turning off the TV.
"Aaaaah!" she screamed, tossing a pillow across the room. Her chest rose and fell with her angry breathing. "I'll get back at him. I swear I will!"
But she couldn't sleep. Not when her heart was pounding with rage and longing. She rummaged through her drawers until she found it — a bottle of sleeping pills. She stared at it with both determination and glee.
"Right... if dreams are the only way to return, then I'll find my way back."
Her fingers wrapped tightly around the bottle. Her fierce expression softened slightly as she whispered, "Wait for me… I'm not done with you."
Elsewhere in Eriland…
Xiao's body lay still, peaceful on the outside — but something dark had rooted itself deep within. Her soul was gone. The girl in the mask, a malevolent force that devoured her from the inside out, now controlled her shell. Within Xiao's stolen memories, she saw Sushie — a glimmer of beauty and power. A target.
"I will find you..." the mask girl hissed, her voice echoing in Xiao's mind.
Meanwhile, Xyon approached Jericho with concern clouding his golden eyes.
"Can I ask a favor?"
Jericho looked up from polishing his weapon, his dark brow raised. "Go ahead."
"When she wakes up… please don't pressure her to remember. She's still in shock."
Jericho nodded slowly. "I understand. We'll take it one step at a time."
After their conversation, Jericho returned to his room where the diamond shards were kept. He pulled on gloves and carefully examined one, its surface reflecting ghostly light. In another plastic sleeve was a single silver hair strand — stained at the edge with crimson.
He was still lost in thought when a knock came.
"Hey, brother," May-Ann chirped as he opened the door.
"Not too busy today," he smiled, allowing her in.
May-Ann, a bright pianist with soft features and an even softer heart, was his whole world since their parents died. She gave him a reassuring hug.
"You can do it, Jericho. You always do."
Back in Eriland…
"Shiya!" Chipi gasped as she appeared through a shimmer of light. Her return had been violent, sudden — but determined.
Without a word, Shiya marched toward Yon Zue. Her hand raised to slap him, but he was already expecting it and dodged, causing her to stumble straight into his arms. His grin was maddening.
"You came," he said coolly. "What took you so long?"
Shiya pushed him away, fire in her eyes. "Why did you do that? Were you trying to kill me!?"
"You won't die," Yon Zue replied, his expression tightening. "But others will. This world doesn't forgive weakness. You needed to see that."
His words hit her like a second fall from the cliff. She lowered her eyes as tears brimmed, but she clenched her fists and nodded.
"You're right… I need to be stronger. I need to fight."
"Then let's begin," Yon Zue said. "You must master your wings."
They stood again at the cliff. Shiya took a trembling breath and spread her arms. She was ready. Again, Yon Zue shoved her — but this time, her mind screamed:
Move!
Her wings responded. The fall slowed. Cold wind whipped at her cheeks, and before she realized it — she was flying.
"I'm… flying," she whispered, eyes wide with awe.
She rose, unsteady but free. Chipi clapped, and even Yon Zue gave a rare smile — until it turned cold again. He summoned a blinding light to his palm, and a sword formed in his grasp. Then he hurled it at her feet.
"Pick it up," he said. "Your next lesson starts now."
Shiya lifted the heavy blade, struggling. But Yon Zue didn't wait. He attacked, fast and fierce. The first strike knocked her down, the sword flying from her hand.
"Stand," he ordered.
And so she did. Again and again. Training for days without rest. Bruised. Bloodied. But relentless.
By the fifth day, Shiya had changed. Her playful demeanor faded. She trained like her life depended on it.
Then, Shin Fairy arrived, her aura glowing. Behind her stood the Ten Warriors — silent, powerful, each more intimidating than the last.
"Let me test her," Kaium said, cracking his knuckles.
"Don't take her lightly," Yon Zue warned.
The battle began.
Dark clouds churned above as Kaium called down thunder. Lightning cracked across the sky. Shiya was drenched, blinded, and then — struck.
She vanished again, her soul slipping momentarily into the mortal realm before snapping back. Time and again, she fought, vanished, returned.
Yon Zue watched in agony.
"She can't die… but she still feels pain," he muttered, heart aching.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the storm calmed. Kaium had used up his strength. Shin Fairy declared the battle over.
Shiya fell to her knees, exhausted, her chest heaving with shallow breaths. Yon Zue approached and offered his hand.
But she ignored it, walking instead to a tree and sitting down quietly.
He joined her. For a moment, they said nothing.
"It's almost night," Yon Zue said, gazing at the sky.
"Yeah…" Shiya replied softly.
She tied up her hair, unaware of the way Yon Zue watched her. Her cheeks were flushed, her breath shaky. When she turned, his arms were already around her.
"Sorry for pushing you so hard," he whispered into her ear. "You've come so far, Shiya."
She laughed through tears. "Are you my dad now or something?"
But then her smile faded, and real tears began to fall.
"It's okay," Yon Zue said, rubbing her back. "You've carried so much alone…"
"Sorry… I just—" she began, but he lifted her chin.
"You don't have to hide it from me," he said gently, wiping away her tears. "You're not alone anymore."
Her heart pounded. Her lip trembled.
Then — Yon Zue kissed her.
It wasn't just a kiss of affection… but of shared pain. A silent promise between two wounded souls training to survive in a world where love was often a casualty of war.
Shiya's wings fluttered slightly behind her as she closed her eyes, leaning into the warmth.
She would fly. She would fight.
And she would love — no matter how much it hurt.
Days before...
Yon Zue stood on the cliff's edge, the wind howling past him, tugging at his coat, mirroring the storm churning in his chest.
From below, he could hear Shiya training — again. She had been practicing for hours, bruised, exhausted, refusing to stop. Her determination was... dangerous.
Because he was beginning to see her.
Not as Sushie.
Not as the girl thrust into a borrowed identity for the sake of a kingdom.
But as Shiya — the messy, stubborn, frustrating, reckless girl who had no idea how deeply she was unsettling him.
He clenched his jaw and turned away, staring out at the distant mountain where Prince Liu awaited — her supposed betrothed. A political alliance that must succeed. A deception they were all committed to. The girl pretending to be the long-lost princess had to be convincing. She had to belong to someone else.
She couldn't belong to him.
But then… why did it hurt when she smiled at others?
Why did he notice every flicker of sadness she hid behind her playful remarks?
Why did her laughter echo in his thoughts long after everyone else had gone quiet?
He leaned against the cold bark of a tree, exhaling sharply.
"I'm acting like a fool," he muttered under his breath. "She's not even real."
Not real? That wasn't true. She was more real than anyone he'd known. She tripped over her own wings. She talked back when no one dared to. She cried when no one was watching… but he always seemed to notice.
His heart had started betraying him, slowly at first — a glance, a tightened breath. Then it was the way her name sounded different in his head than anyone else's. Like a secret.
But he couldn't let it grow.
He was a warrior. She was a role. A symbol. A lie.
And she was set to be married.
Even if it was a façade — even if it was part of the mission — the idea of Shiya being kissed, held, cherished by another man ignited something inside him that felt too close to rage. Or worse… heartbreak.
Yon Zue scoffed and pushed off the tree, pacing in frustration.
"I've seen war. I've seen death. I don't have time for this."
But no amount of reason could erase the memory of how her eyes lit up when she finally flew… or how her tears fell silently after training, when she thought no one cared.
She wasn't just pretending anymore.
And maybe… he wasn't either.
Still, he told himself every night before he slept, his sword by his side, her tent just a few paces away:
"She's not mine."
"She belongs to another."
"This feeling will pass."
But deep in his heart — the part he had buried beneath years of duty and discipline — he was beginning to wonder:
What if it didn't?