The day after the confrontation, things had finally returned to some semblance of normalcy, and the village could breathe again.
The women and children returned to their usual selves, as if a dark veil had been lifted.
The fields were no longer heavy with unease, the cries of anguish had disappeared, replaced by hesitant whispers and timid laughter.
Even the mist that seemed to be the main feature of this valley had disappeared, giving way to a vivid landscape...
...a landscape that contrasted sharply with the profound nature of the small hamlets that made up the village in the valley.
Mireille, still shaken but a little too badly injured — in her young master's opinion — to be capricious, accepted the help of a few village women, their hands trembling with gratitude and probably also with lingering confusion, to treat her wounds.
She sat near a house, supported by four women — two elderly and two much younger — who set about cleaning and treating her wounds.
Mimi did not protest, but Silas noticed from the tension in her shoulders and the way her fingers clenched with every touch that she did not want to stay in the area any longer.
In fact, just like Silas himself, when she saw one of the men from the village, she was brutally reminded of the events of the last few days.
For Silas, this was perhaps one of the rare occasions when he was able to grasp his follower's state of mind. Mimi was clearly nervous and on her guard, her dagger ready to strike at the slightest inappropriate movement.
The atmosphere in the area was still thick with tension.
Speaking of Silas, he was close to Mimi but a little further back. The young nobleman watched with silent apprehension — and a disgust that seemed to leak from his mind — the village he could no longer see as anything other than a place of fear, inhumanity, and danger.
'They're talking... normally. They're even laughing.' He thought as he watched a group of children gather timidly, with feverish smiles on their lips.
This thought struck him more than he would have thought. Just the day before, the very ground he stood on had been stained by a horror he couldn't get out of his mind — caused by their fathers, brothers, and supposed protectors.
And yet, despite his inner revulsion, the village went on living. Indifferent. As if nothing had happened.
He looked away and went to join his maid.
"Are you all right?" the young man asked gently.
"Yes." Mireille replied too quickly.
He did not insist.
Yet he instinctively closed his eyes when one of the women touched Mireille again and she flinched.
The women had done nothing to her, nor to Lumiona. But neither Mimi's mind nor her body could forget the horrors of the previous day. Something tightened in Silas's heart.
A question had finally arisen... almost a regret.
The village had been saved by his naive desire to help, but at what cost?
It was then that Enalid reappeared, a small bag clutched to her chest, the glass tube around her neck shining with an almost miraculous glow, her face lit up with a mixture of hope and determination.
However, as she passed by, the atmosphere became weightier. People's eyes either averted their gaze or followed her solemnly. Whispers arose and died away.
But the young girl paid no attention, at least not visibly.
"I'd like to travel with you." She announced simply, her eyes sparkling.
Mireille, whose 'treatment' had just ended, stood up and shook her head hesitantly.
"No, it's not... possible. And even if it were, it's not the kind of decision you make just like that, imposing yourself on others." Replied the servant.
Enalid clenched her fists.
"I... I don't want to stay here."
Silas felt his heart tighten again. He understood all too well.
Mimi stared at the young girl for a few seconds and asked a single question:
"Why?"
'What kind of question is that?' thought Silas.
But he never said it out loud.
Enalid looked around the place where they were standing. Then she turned her gaze back to the maid.
The girl hesitated. Then she lowered her eyes.
"Because... Because they look at me differently. They all did, before... her. And now it's worse."
Silas took a deep breath, his jaw tightening.
'Of course they do.'
Mireille remained silent for a long moment.
"Our journey is far too dangerous, and I wouldn't want to involve you in it. You'd be safer here."
"No... That's not true!" replied Enalid, her voice trembling but firm.
Silas couldn't hold back any longer.
"Mireille... please."
The maid turned abruptly, surprised by her master's reaction.
Silas took a deep breath, then fixed his gaze directly on hers.
"She can't stay here, you know that. Not after what they did... after what they showed us." He continued, gently taking her aside.
Mireille frowned, then looked up and forced a smile.
"Y-You're exaggerating, young master. They wouldn't do that to a child who has nothing to do with any of this."
"No. I think I finally understand." Replied the young man, much more firmly than he would have thought.
He hesitated, scratched the back of his head as he looked at the ground, then added, more quietly:
"Mireille... she has to come with us. If she stays here, she could suffer reprisals because of her mother's actions. The locals... You saw what they're capable of, just like I did. And if they end up finding out that this girl is the child of their tormentor..."
He didn't finish his sentence.
He didn't need to finish it, anyway, to make his points clear.
Mireille felt her heart sink. Images of Lumiona's body, the laughter and insults, came back to her like shards of ice in her mind.
She took a slow breath.
"Travelling with us is dangerous."
"Staying here is even more dangerous for her." Silas replied bluntly.
A long silence ensued.
Mimi remained motionless for a long moment. But deep down, she understood one thing.
Silas was right.
She took a deep breath, then slowly nodded her head.
"Very well... she will come with us." The maid finally said, aloud.
Enalid smiled, relieved. It was a fragile but sincere smile.
As for Silas, he felt a weight lift from his chest.
'We can't save everyone. I understand that, now... But at least we can save her.' he thought.
The little girl slipped between them, hand in hand with Mireille.
The decision was made. They would leave for Ceniel together.
"Let's continue. We still have a long way to go." Mireille whispered.
***
The small group left the village of horrors shortly afterwards.
And Silas didn't even look back this time. He didn't feel the slightest urge to do so. Nothing in this valley made him want to look back.
The road now stretched out before them like a living painting, vast and bright.
The rolling hills glowed in the sun, the forest seemed to dance to the rhythm of the wind, and the rivers sparkled like ribbons of crystal.
The magnificent landscapes offered a strange contrast to the dark memories Silas and Mireille carried with them, but they also brought an unexpected calm.
Enalid sat on Silas's horse just behind the young nobleman, and the girl asked a thousand questions.
"Is Ceniel big?"
"Very." Replied Mireille.
"And are there markets?"
"Yes. In every city."
"And books?"
Silas smiled despite himself.
He even found himself laughing when the girl clumsily imitated a bird of prey she had spotted in the sky, almost tripping over in the process.
'Perhaps the world isn't crazy and full of violence... Perhaps there is something else, after all.' He thought to himself.
***
In the late afternoon, they came across a man armed with an axe, busy chopping wood. He watched them cautiously.
"Hello, travellers. Are ya going to the kingdom of Ceniel?" he asked.
"Y-Yes." Replied Silas.
"Hmm. Then you'd betta off avoidin' the swamps to the north. And beware of tha patrols. They're not always... patient lads." He said with a slightly worried tone.
Silas nodded, mentally engraving each word.
"Thanks for the advice." Added Mireille, handing the man a coin, who nodded with a small smile.
Then they continued on their way.
Moments of comedy and camaraderie crept in naturally.
Enalid continued to imitate the birds and other animals she saw, even managing to make Mireille laugh despite her fatigue. Silas burst out laughing when, during a break, she tripped over a root and just managed to catch herself by grabbing his cloak.
Thanks to little Enalid's presence, the path was no longer just a road to Ceniel. It became a place of healing, where they learned to breathe after the chaos.
***
Night finally fell, enveloping the group around a modest crackling fire. The flames cast dancing shadows on their tired faces.
Silas, tired of lying in his bed and bored — unable to sleep — decided to take out his sword and begin training, repeating simple, methodical, but effective movements that Mireille had shown him during his preparation before the fight against Mael, the assassin butler.
Mimi, leaning against a tree a few steps away, watched him intently.
"You're straining your shoulders too much. And try to always keep your balance, Master Silas." She corrected him gently, without judgment.
"I... I know." Replied the teenager.
"No. You think you know, but you don't really understand yet. In a fight, the slightest mistake can be fatal. I thought you would have learned that, with everything you've been through lately."
Her words were harsh but true. She was there to correct him, but also to protect him.
Silas bit his lip in frustration, took a deep breath, then nodded and resumed his training.
While he worked, the maid went to stroke Enalid's hair. She was asleep near her bag, and the maid wanted to make sure the little girl no longer felt alone or afraid.
The cool air, the stars twinkling above, and the crackling fire formed a fragile bubble of safety. Yet a growing tension remained palpable.
The border was approaching, and with it, the unknown.
Every rustle in the forest, every shadow, reminded Silas and Mireille that their journey was not yet over.
Silas stopped again, watched the flames crackle, and looked up at the sky.
'I'm not yet strong enough to help those who need and deserve it. But maybe... I can learn to at least stand tall...'
He looked back at Mireille, then at Enalid.
'...And not look away.'