Twilight settled heavily. The forest's remaining light was swallowed by layers of foliage, leaving a silence that pressed down from all sides like deep, stagnant water. Milia knelt alone in the shadows, surrounded by dead leaves, clutching her battered doll to her chest. With her head bowed, she whispered, her voice as faint as tattered thread in the wind:
"Is it... truly... all my fault?"
The doll offered no response, staring back at her with a face forever locked in an unchanging smile. Tears fell from Milia's trembling lashes, landing softly on the doll's eyes; the wet trails spread, blurring the features as if that painted smile were weeping in silence.
In that suffocating stillness—a thunderous crash shattered the silence of the woods!
Milia's head snapped up, her pupils dilating. From the deep shadows, a disheveled figure stumbled into view—drenched in mud, clothes in tatters, with fresh blood staining the corner of her mouth.
"Milia—you fool! What on earth are you still doing here!"
Martha's voice was almost a roar, laced with uncontrollable fury and terror. Milia stood frozen, her lips trembling, her voice barely a breath:
"Mama...?"
Martha lunged forward, gripping Milia's wrist with frantic, jagged force. "Run! Have you lost your mind? Where is Rena!?"
Milia lowered her head, her voice thin, like a thread about to snap: "I... I can't run anymore..."
"Even if you can't, you have to!" Martha snapped, her tone thick with near-broken despair.
But the next moment, Milia jerked her hand away. Tears flooded her face, her voice raspy and fractured: "Mama... I'm sorry... it was all my fault... you have to go... just let me die here..."
"What nonsense are you spouting!" Martha barked, pulling her back with brutal intensity. "Get up!"
"It is my fault!" Milia screamed, her entire body seized by tremors. "I caused my brothers to be lost, I drew that tiger to us... Aunt Elina died because of me! I shouldn't be alive—!"
Martha looked at the fragile, shattered child before her—a girl who seemed on the verge of crumbling entirely—and felt as though her own chest were being ripped open. Anger, regret, resentment, and a profound maternal love surged within her, colliding in a storm that threatened to swallow her whole, making even the act of breathing a labor.
Her hands began to shake, yet she reached out, cradling Milia's face. The movement was no longer violent, but agonizingly tender, as if she were touching a precious treasure about to shatter.
"Milia..." Her voice was low, raspy, and broken, choked with uncontrollable sobs. "Mama... I have failed you..."
Milia's eyes lost their focus, growing hollow and dim—like a bird with broken wings, unable to ever take flight again, falling silently into the soundless dark.
"I have hated you," Martha whispered, her voice rasping and broken, tears sliding silently down her cheeks. "I hated your willfulness, your impulses; I hated how you led us away from your brothers... but I hated myself more... for failing to protect you."
Her voice trembled, as if every word were tearing at her heart.
"I mistook my own guilt... for blame toward you. It was me... I was the one who pushed everything onto you..."
Before she could finish, she pulled Milia into a fierce embrace, holding her with a grip that bordered on fear—as if, should she loosen her hold for even a second, this child would vanish from her world forever.
"But I love you, too." Her voice was choked, barely a whisper, yet heavy with an undeniable weight. "You are my daughter, always. Even when I hate you, I still love you..."
Her hands tightened behind Milia's back, as if she were pouring every ounce of her strength into guarding this fragile existence.
"You must survive... do you hear me?"
In that moment, the warmth radiating from her mother's chest felt like a beam of long-awaited light, finally melting the layers of ice that had encased Milia's heart for so long. The girl's body shuddered violently, as if some invisible scaffold inside her had finally collapsed, and she buried her face in Martha's chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
"Mama... I'm sorry..."
Her voice was fragmented, drowned by tears, leaving only a welling of helplessness and regret deep in her chest.
Yet—
In the midst of this fleeting, precious warmth, a violent gale suddenly ripped through the woods! Dry branches and dead leaves were swept into a frenzy, and a massive, fallen log came hurtling toward them like a whistling projectile, as if determined to tear their fragile tenderness apart!
Martha's pupils constricted. Her gaze sharpened instantly. "Look out—!"
"The sound is coming from over there!" Rena said, pointing anxiously toward the shadows in the distance, her voice breathless. "Hurry!"
"That tiger is making quite a racket, isn't it..." Gerald chuckled softly, though his expression betrayed a rising vigilance.
Rhine remained cool, his gaze razor-sharp as it swept ahead. "That is no ordinary beast. It must be a magical creature. We must get there immediately."
"As you command, Your Majesty," Gerald replied crisply.
Before the words had even faded, he scooped Rena up in one swift motion. With the same fluid ease, he slung Rhine over his shoulder, moving without a hint of hesitation.
"Put me down, you idiot!" Rhine protested immediately, his voice edged with annoyance.
"Not until you can run faster than me," Gerald replied with a laugh, unbothered.
The forest blurred past them, the wind screaming in their ears. It was not long before the three of them reached the source of the commotion.
The sight before them brought the air to a sudden, chilling standstill.
The clearing had been torn asunder, a scene of utter devastation. Broken branches littered the ground, the earth was churned and overturned, and the soil was stained with a glaring, dark crimson. In the heart of this chaos and gore, a massive, variegated beast slowly turned its body.
It was a titan of a beast, a tiger adorned with wings of shimmering silver. Its fur glimmered with sparks of starlight in the dim forest gloom, like a river of crushed stars flowing through the night. Its massive claws struck the leaf-strewn ground with a grating, bone-deep crunch—a sound so harsh and heavy that it seemed as if the very earth groaned beneath its weight.
And in its jaws—it held a man.
It was Kain. His upper body still twitched in a futile struggle, his arms clawing at the empty air, eyes clouded with the haze of agony. His lower half, however, was clamped firmly within the beast's fangs. The tiger dragged him along, tossing him back and forth like a discarded ragdoll.
It was a cat at play with a mouse, cruel and deliberate. The tiger was in no hurry to finish its meal; it would flick its head, casting Kain onto the dirt, only to pounce and snatch him up by the arm again—testing, toying, calculating exactly how much torment this piece of prey could withstand before it broke.
"Meow—ooo..."
It was not the roar of a predator, but a sound drawn out, thin, and disturbingly coy. It was a mockery, a lure—a piece of human-like sarcasm echoing through the trees.
The moment Rena's eyes fell upon that broken figure, her heart felt as if it had been run through with a cold blade.
"DADDY—!!"
The scream tore itself from her throat. Kain landed heavily, coughing up a torrent of blood that stained his tunic a deep, vivid red. His face was parchment-pale, yet he gritted his teeth, his hands trembling as he pushed himself up—he wasn't dead yet. He was still fighting to cling to life.
"He's still alive!" Rena lunged forward on pure instinct, but in a blur of motion, Rhine snatched her back.
"Stay back!" Rhine commanded, his voice a low, razor-sharp hiss. "It's already noticed us!"
His pupils narrowed, locked onto the winged nightmare. His tone shifted, turning cold, composed, and laced with suffocating caution: "...A tiger with wings. And it—it has marked us."
Gerald's face darkened in unison. He set the two down, shifting his weight, his body coiling like a bowstring drawn to its limit, ready to snap at a moment's notice.
"Prepare for combat," he growled, his voice low and taut.
The tiger dropped Kain, discarding the half-dead vessel upon the dirt. Its gaze shifted, pinning Rena and Rhine to the spot. Its golden slit-pupils contracted; it licked the fresh blood from its maw, savoring the taste of the new prey it was about to harvest.
The air in the forest congealed, turning to ice.
Then—the killing intent exploded.
Without a second's hesitation, Gerald poured his strength into his right arm. He raised his greatsword high over his shoulder and hurled it like a thunderbolt. The blade tore through the air, shrieking with the force of a gale, aiming straight for the tiger's face.
Gerald himself launched off the ground at the same instant, his form blurring into a bolt of lightning, trailing mere inches behind the trajectory of his airborne blade.
"You!" Rhine had already drawn his short blade. Without glancing back, he barked at Rena, "Find somewhere to hide! Don't come out until we've gutted this overgrown cat!"
Before the words had even left his lips, he was tearing across the forest floor like a living flame, a sudden burst of speed propelling him straight toward the beast's flank.
In mid-air, the greatsword bore down on the tiger's face. The beast jerked its head aside; the blade whistled past its ear, shearing off a tuft of silver fur—and in that precise heartbeat, Gerald was already upon it!
"HAAH—!"
He vaulted into the air, driving his knee with bone-shattering force into the tiger's skull. The sheer impact staggered the gargantuan beast. Using the recoil, he snatched the airborne greatsword mid-flight, his body twisting in a fluid arc as he brought the blade around in a horizontal slash—aiming directly for those outstretched wings of silver!
"ROAAR—!!"
The winged tiger bellowed, coiling to counterattack—but a flash of fire ignited at its flank! Rhine had breached its defense; his blade carved through the air, a vicious strike that tore open the beast's belly, spraying crimson blood across the clearing.
Caught in the pincer attack, the tiger winced, its movements stuttering by a fraction—a vulnerability Gerald seized with predatory precision! His greatsword drove mercilessly into the wing bone! Blood erupted, and silver feathers showered the clearing!
"Nice!" Gerald grinned, his fighting spirit surging. "Winged! It can't fly, which makes this a lot easier!"
The tiger erupted in fury, sweeping a massive claw through the air.
"Watch out—!"
Rhine couldn't evade in time. The blow caught him square, sending him flying like a broken doll until he slammed into a tree trunk, shaking a flurry of leaves loose from the branches.
The beast wouldn't relent. It twisted its torso, surging toward Gerald with an aura of pure carnage.
"Bring it on." Gerald let out a low laugh, discarding his sword to meet the beast head-on with empty hands. He braced his arms, catching the incoming massive claw. As he closed the distance, he unleashed a rain of knee and elbow strikes upon the tiger's limb joints!
CRACK—! A sickening, sharp sound of bone fracturing exploded through the clearing!
The tiger shrieked in agony, forced into a stumbling retreat. Gerald used the momentum to flip back, landing steadily beside Rhine.
"Your Majesty, you still breathing? Did the kitty's little paw-pad knock you silly?" he teased, his tone as light and irreverent as ever.
Rhine sprang to his feet, flickers of flame dancing around his body. He smirked, his competitive spirit burning bright. "I'm not the one who's silly! I was just charging up my 'Divine Fire'!"
Gerald laughed aloud. "Right, right... I was worried that because the kitty looked too cute, you didn't have the heart to strike."
Not far away, the winged tiger lowered its head to lick its injured forepaw. A flicker of hesitation crossed its golden eyes; it seemed to be considering retreat.
But this was no ordinary beast.
The instincts of a magical creature roiled within its veins—pain did not deter, but instead ignited a fiercer, more violent battle-lust, completely obliterating any semblance of reason.
It let out a low, guttural growl, its tail lashing out. As its muscles bunched and its massive frame lowered, it braced itself for the next onslaught. The air grew taut, stretched thin as a string about to snap.
Elsewhere, Rena scrambled toward the blood-drenched figure.
"Daddy! Daddy—!"
She collapsed to her knees, pulling the dying Kain into her arms. The air was thick with the copper tang of blood; his breath came in faint, shallow gasps, flickering like a flame about to be extinguished.
Kain forced out a mouthful of blood, his voice thin as silk: "Rena... Daddy... I don't think I can make it... you..."
"I don't want to hear it!" Rena shook her head violently, tears streaming down like rain. "You'll be fine! You'll be okay!"
Kain smiled gently—a weary, fragile expression. His trembling right hand brushed her cheek, his fingertips ice-cold, yet carrying a final, lingering warmth.
"Good girl... Daddy is going to go keep Mommy company now..." His voice faded to a whisper. "You... you must survive..."
The words were never finished, drifting away into the air. The strength faded from his hand, and it finally slipped, falling limp to the earth.
Time seemed to freeze. Rena froze, her eyes hollow, as if her soul had been ripped away. A heartbeat later, a heart-rending wail tore through the silence:
"No! Daddy! I'm sorry... I love you both the most... I don't hate you—!"
She threw herself onto her father's chest, her tears soaking his blood-stained tunic, as if she could summon back the life that had already departed with her own warmth.
I know not how much time passed before the wind finally settled.
Rhine and Gerald approached her, their footsteps hushed, heavy with gravity. Gerald fell silent, reaching out to gently rest a hand on her head, his voice deep with sorrow: "...I am sorry. We arrived too late."
Rena slowly lifted her head, her eyes swollen and red. Suddenly remembering, she frantically scanned the clearing:
"...Aunt Martha... Milia!"
Rhine's expression tightened instantly. "There are others? Gerald, we'll split up!"
"Understood." Gerald nodded, his movements swift and decisive. He gathered the remains of Elina, Leo, and Kain, moving them to a single spot with solemn, restrained care. "No one here... keep searching."
Just then—from behind a pile of broken timber not far away, a faint, fragile sobbing drifted through the air.
"There!"
Rena didn't hesitate, rushing toward the sound.
Gerald followed close behind, clearing away the layers of fallen timber and debris. As the obstruction was pulled aside, a hunched form revealed itself.
It was Martha.
Martha had long since drawn her last breath, yet her body remained curled in a gesture of stubborn devotion, her arms clamped tight around her child as if her very soul were still anchored to that final, protective moment.
"Milia!"
Rena caught sight of the small figure tucked within Martha's embrace. Her heart constricted, and she hurriedly pulled Milia free from her mother's hold.
Milia was drenched in blood, her body shivering violently. Her sobbing was ragged, broken—like gasps of air from a fractured chest. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I... I..."
"Milia! It's over now, we're safe!" Rena hugged her tight, her voice choking with tears. "Are you hurt?"
Milia could only shake her head frantically, weeping all the harder, as if her entire heart had shattered into pieces that could never be mended.
In that moment, a memory flickered into Rena's mind—the words her own mother had once whispered to her:
"Remember—go to her with a smile, if you look sad too...Milia... won't be able to hold on."
Rena's breath hitched.
The next second, she took a sharp, jagged breath, swiped the tears from her face with a trembling hand, and forced a smile—a pathetic, painful grimace. She reached out, gently cupping Milia's face, her voice still wavering:
"Milia... it's okay. I'm truly okay... Look, see? I'm still smiling..."
The smile was marred by tear tracks, yet it cut through the darkness like the setting sun piercing through storm clouds—faint, but burning with a fragile warmth.
Milia gazed at her, stunned, before finally lifting her head, her voice shattered: "Re... Rena?"
"Yes." Rena nodded, fighting to keep her tone steady. "They saved us. Everything is over now."
Milia followed her gaze, slowly turning to look at Rhine and Gerald, who stood not far off.
Rhine frowned at the pair, unable to stop himself from muttering under his breath, "That smile is way too ugly..."
"Your Majesty..." Gerald tapped him gently on the shoulder, whispering a reminder, "Now is the time for silence."
[Year 15 of Lunaris Calendar – Inside the Carriage]
The gentle rhythmic jolting of the carriage and the rolling wheels wove together into a quiet, peaceful backdrop.
Owen gazed out the window at the passing shadows of the trees, his expression lost in thought. A moment later, he turned to Rena, his eyes flickering with a hint of hesitation and guilt.
"I'm sorry..." he said softly. "I didn't mean to make you recall such painful things."
Rena smiled faintly. The sorrow of the past seemed to linger in the corners of her eyes, yet she masked it gently behind a soft, serene look.
"It's alright," she said, her voice calm and soothing. "It is precisely because of those events that I truly understood... no matter what happens, one must try to keep smiling."
Her tone was no longer that of a young, naive girl, but carried the tempered strength and tenderness forged through profound pain.
"Happiness is contagious," she said softly. "As long as I keep smiling, many things won't seem so terrifying... and perhaps, some of the bad things simply won't come to pass."
She paused for a heartbeat, her gaze soft yet distant:
"Besides... if there ever comes a day when I must say goodbye to someone—I hope that, in the end, the version of me they remember... is the one who was smiling."
With that, Rena gave a light stretch, her shoulders relaxing as if she were casting off the weight of those heavy memories. A hint of a mischievous smile tugged at her lips.
"And so, Milia and I ended up tagging along with the Boss." She paused, her tone shifting to one of mock annoyance and exasperation. "Though I never expected that guy to go and add my and Milia's names to some 'Queen Candidate List' way back then... talk about shameless."
As she spoke, she glanced down at Gerald, who was dozing soundly beside her. Unable to help herself, she clicked her tongue and gave him a resounding thwack right on the head.
Owen blinked, taken aback for a second, before bursting into laughter. "I get that! I'm the same way, you know—I practice smiling every single day!"
"That's not a smile," Rena retorted, rolling her eyes with a playful huff. "That's just a goofy grin. Totally different!"
The carriage rolled steadily forward, its wheels humming a rhythmic, gentle tune against the forest path.
Sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the windows and casting a warm glow over their smiling faces—and over Gerald's calm, slumbering features. The shifting play of light and shadow made time itself feel soft and warm.
Outside, an unknown bird perched on a branch, letting out a crisp, clear song. The melody was light and lingering, as if the whole world were humming along—a song bidding farewell to the past and embracing the future.