Newfear

Draxul – Inside one of the tents

Aqua sat, leaning against the pillar behind him. His eyes were lost in silence, but his body screamed in pain. Bruises were scattered across his body, and the shallow wounds on his hands and shoulders told their own story of battle. The doctor worked quickly, but Aqua still tried to maintain his composure, even as the pain overwhelmed him.

As for Dame Barbara, she watched closely, her hands resting on her cheeks, as she always did in difficult moments. Her eyes never left Aqua, observing every movement, every shift in his expression. When the doctor finished treating the wounds, he bowed his head respectfully before leaving, saying: "He needs rest. I believe his condition will improve soon."

Barbara then turned to Aqua with a playful smile, attempting to lighten the tense atmosphere.

Barbara: "Did you hear that? So, you'd better return to Frostnov before my mother arrives and kicks you out."

The dim light from the oil lamps flickered against the walls as Aqua sat, leaning against the wooden pillar, his eyes drifting into emptiness. His wounds still throbbed with pain, but he did not feel it as he should. Something else occupied his mind, something deeper than wounds and scars.

He muttered in a barely audible voice.

Aqua: "I've already lost interest in this war..."

Silence filled the tent, as if time had stopped for a moment. Aqua felt a strange warmth on his left side, a sensation unfamiliar in the battlefield or amidst chaos. He slowly turned his head to find Barbara had moved closer to him, her face calm, her gentle smile slowly forming on her lips, gazing at him just as he had gazed at her before the battle.

He was momentarily flustered, then stammered.

Aqua: "W-What is this... What are you doing?"

Barbara, maintaining her calm smile, replied coolly: "Isn't this your way of greeting others?"

Aqua flinched for a moment, recalling the previous incident... the ridiculous moment when he had approached her in a similar manner without realizing it. Embarrassed, he turned his gaze away, trying to hide his discomfort.

Aqua: "I wasn't in my right mind back then..."

But Barbara didn't avert her eyes from him. She kept staring, smiling as if enjoying seeing him in this state, as if waiting for him to lose his usual composure.

Aqua sighed, giving in: "Alright, alright! I apologize... that's enough already."

Barbara let out a soft laugh, carrying a mix of triumph and amusement, as if she had won a small battle. But soon, her laughter faded, and her smile gradually disappeared as she looked down in silence. In that moment, Aqua felt something strange. The atmosphere grew heavier, as if something unseen was floating between them. He turned to her cautiously. She was staring into emptiness, her eyes no longer carrying their usual spark.

He asked in a low voice, almost a whisper.

Aqua: "Are you okay?"

Barbara flinched slightly, as if Aqua's voice had pulled her from another world. She stared at him briefly, then averted her gaze and forced a smile.

Barbara: "Of course... I wasn't on the frontlines... I didn't… get hurt much… unlike you."

But Aqua was no fool. He noticed how her hands clenched slightly, how her body was tense despite her attempt to appear indifferent. Before he could say anything, Barbara rose from her seat. She walked toward the tent's exit, her steps heavy, slower than they should be.

And just as she reached the tent's opening, Aqua spoke a simple phrase without looking at her.

Aqua :"Take care of yourself."

Barbara suddenly stopped, frozen in place, as if those words had struck something deep within her that she could not control. Aqua didn't know that he had carved those words into her soul, nor that her heart was echoing them louder than her ears had heard them.

She looked outside, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn't hold it in anymore, couldn't keep that mask intact any longer. Slowly, tears began to fall... one after another... silently, without sobs or cries. But she didn't remain standing for long. She turned abruptly, and in a moment Aqua never expected, she threw herself into his arms.

Aqua was stunned. He had never seen Barbara like this before. He had never seen the weakness she hid beneath her armor of sarcasm and coldness. She trembled, her hands gripping him tightly, as if afraid of losing him like she had lost other things in her life.

Barbara, who had always wielded a smile as her strongest weapon, suddenly crumbled. These weren't just tears but an explosion of repressed emotions, trembling limbs, broken sobs... as if everything she had resisted before had surged all at once, sweeping her away with it.

In a trembling voice, mixed with sobs, she whispered.

Barbara: "I... I was terrified...!"

Her words came out in broken fragments, as if being pulled from the depths of her soul by force. Her voice trembled as she continued, her eyes lost, drowned in fear:

Barbara: "All that blood… all that fighting…!"

Her body shook even more, and she collapsed to her knees, as if the weight of her memories had become unbearable.

With clouded eyes, as if she no longer saw reality, she muttered.

Barbara: "The sound of swords… tearing through bodies… piercing bones… the ringing… it's still in my head… I can't stop it… I can't!"

She pressed her hands against her ears forcefully, as if trying to block out the haunting noise. But it was carved into her mind, pulsing with every beat of her trembling heart.

Aqua sat before her, speechless. This wasn't the Barbara he knew, not the girl who smiled in the face of death, who mocked danger as if it were a game. This was… a human being stripped of her masks, exposed before her own fear, collapsing under the weight of reality.

And for the first time, Aqua realized that true strength wasn't in those who felt no fear or pretended to be unbreakable.

He looked at her... at those eyes that had always sparkled with mischief and indifference, now drowning in terror, shaking beneath the weight of relentless memories. Barbara, who had feared no one, now looked like a lost child caught in a storm she couldn't escape.

A sharp pang struck Aqua's chest… This wasn't what he had expected from her, nor was he prepared to see her in such a vulnerable state. But at the same time, for the first time, he saw her true humanity... beyond the fake smiles and sharp words that concealed her fragility.

In a hushed voice, barely audible even to himself, Aqua murmured.

Aqua : "Barbara..."

He reached out slightly but hesitated. What could he do? How could he ease a pain he couldn't see or understand?

But before he could find an answer, Barbara whispered in a trembling voice, barely escaping between her sobs:

Aqua: "I wasn't as strong as I thought… I was never strong at all."

True strength lies not in never fearing, but in facing that fear... even if it shatters you. In acknowledging weakness.

In a shaking voice, Barbara added.

Barbara: "And you too... take care of yourself… and never come back here."

Aqua was left speechless. He didn't know how to handle this storm of emotions, didn't know how to respond to such raw sincerity laid bare before him.

Barbara lifted her head, wiped her tears with her fingertips, then looked at him with her blue eyes, which still carried a warm glow despite everything.

She smiled, but this time, it was different... a smile filled with promise, certainty, and hope.

Barbara: "I will end this war with my mother… And then… I will come to you myself… Wait for me."

She didn't give him a chance to reply. She turned swiftly and left the tent, leaving behind a trace of emotions Aqua didn't know how to process.

He sat there, staring into the void, while her final words echoed in his mind. He didn't know what the future held…

But he knew one thing.

She would return.

On the other side of the camp, where dim lights flickered over the torn tents and the bloodstains had yet to dry, Marchioness Atris walked slowly, leaning on Sir Variss. Her steps were heavy, yet her gaze still carried the same sharpness as always, as if the pain gnawing at her body was merely a temporary obstacle.

Inside the command tent, amid blood-stained maps and the scent of burnt iron, Atris stood before Variss.

Her eyes were weary, but her resolve remained unshaken.

Atris, in a quiet voice tinged with hidden exhaustion: "Just tell her what she needs to know... Any extra words will only burden her further, a weight she does not need now."

Variss paused for a moment, searching for the right words, but he realized that nothing would make this task any easier. He simply nodded in silence, then turned to leave.

But before he could cross the threshold, Atris's voice reached him... soft, yet laced with unspoken fatigue.

Atris: "Sir Variss... I apologize. I've burdened you more than I should have today."

Variss halted for a brief moment, then turned to her with steady eyes and a tone devoid of hesitation or doubt.

Variss: "Do not say that, Lady Atris. This is my duty."

At that moment, Sir Darian entered. His steps were confident, yet there was a subtle tension in his eyes, as if he carried something unresolved within him. He stopped before them, bowed respectfully, then lifted his head to speak in a formal tone... though beneath it lay a restrained concern.

Darian: "Sir Variss, Marchioness Atris… I hope you are both well. Congratulations on the victory."

Variss inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, while Atris merely offered a faint smile, despite the exhaustion evident in her features.

Atris: "Thank you, Sir Darian. I have yet to properly commend you for your bravery. You were an integral part of this victory."

Darian, with a reserved smile: I appreciate your words, Lady Atris. But truthfully, something has been weighing on my mind… and I wish to ask you about it, if I may.

Atris, with a slight nod: "Of course, speak."

Darian hesitated for a moment, as if carefully choosing his words, before lifting his gaze to her. His tone was calm but carried an unmistakable curiosity.

Darian: "I saw you fight Nithor Rakalion… and I apologize... I could not intervene, as I was surrounded on all sides. But Nithor… He is a duelist of the highest caliber. It's not easy to escape him, so… how did you survive? I mean… what exactly happened between you two? I did not find his body among the dead."

Atris was silent for several seconds before responding in a low voice, her words carrying an odd weight.

Atris: "I didn't."

Darian, slightly taken aback: "...Pardon? I don't understand."

Atris, her eyes distant, as if recalling the moment with precision: "He stabbed me… then disappeared."

Variss, noticing the shift in her expression, asked cautiously: "Disappeared? What do you mean?"

Atris, tilting her head slightly as if trying to piece together the hazy memory through pain and confusion: "I don't know… I was disoriented at the time. But I am certain he did not fall… He escaped."

For a brief moment, silence fell, as if her words had made them realize that this battle was not truly over. Variss exhaled lightly, then decided to let her rest.

Variss: "I understand. I will leave you now… You need to recover. Lady Atris."

Darian turned to leave as well, but before he could step away, Atris called out to him... her voice soft, yet carrying something beyond a mere request.

Atris: "Sir Darian."

He stopped immediately, turning swiftly, his gaze questioning.

Atris, her tone firm, her eyes gleaming with an unreadable meaning: "We have been summoned for an urgent matter… Silvia has already departed. We leave at dawn."

Darian tilted his head slightly in thought, but he did not reply immediately. He simply nodded quietly before continuing on his way, leaving behind unspoken questions and undiscovered answers.

Dreamcrown – The Royal Palace Corridors

Her steps were swift, yet not frantic.

She walked through the corridors of the royal palace with steady strides, the sound of her heels ringing through the vast hallways, mingling with the flickering flames of the torches lining the walls, casting long shadows on the ornate marble floor.

Isabel Windsword was trying to control her thoughts. Despite the storm she had left behind in the garden, she had no luxury to dwell on it now. News from the battlefield was imminent, and her mind refused to drift toward the possibility of defeat.

But what she did not know was that victory, at times… comes at an unbearable price.

At the corner of the hallway leading to the grand hall, her personal attendant appeared, rushing toward her in haste, his breath ragged, his face pale... as if he carried news that burned in his chest like embers.

"Lady Isabel!"

She stopped abruptly, turning to him, her piercing blue eyes locking onto him like blades.

Isabel: "What is it?"

He halted before her, placing a hand on his chest, panting for a moment before speaking in a trembling yet exhilarated voice: "The battle is over, my lady… We have won!"

Her body tensed for a moment before her expression eased slightly.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, as if allowing the news to sink in, to lift even a fraction of the weight that had been suffocating her. But the relief was fleeting, for the attendant quickly added in a cautious tone...

"Sir Variss is waiting for you in the inner courtyard… He wishes to speak with you."

Isabel: "Variss?"

She whispered to herself, a sudden unease creeping into her limbs, though not enough to halt her movements. Without a word, she turned and ran.

She ran as fast as she could, through the stretching corridors, past the grand draperies bearing her family's crest, through the heavy doors of dark wood inlaid with gold.

She ran, and something inside her told her that even this speed would not be enough.

When she reached the inner courtyard, Sir Variss stood there under the flickering torchlight that danced with the cold wind. His posture was upright, as always... the knight who had never once appeared weak or hesitant. But tonight… he was different.

His face was grim, his eyes... laden with unseen wounds... were fixed on her, carrying a weight that seemed unbearable.

Isabel stopped abruptly.

Something in her chest tightened.

Isabel: "Sir Variss…"

He did not smile at her as he always did. He did not speak in that confident voice she had known since childhood. He merely stood there, watching her in silence, as though every word he wished to say had lodged in his throat.

A dreadful feeling pressed against her ribs, slowing her breath…

Isabel: "What happened?"

He did not answer immediately. He took a deep breath, lowered his gaze to the ground for a moment, then lifted his eyes to her and spoke in a heavy voice.

Variss: "Your father… Count Yukron Windsword … fell in battle."

It was as if the world had come to a halt.

As if something inside her had shattered into scattered pieces, impossible to reassemble.

Isabel: "…What?"

A single word, whispered, barely escaping her lips.

But Variss said no more. He simply held her gaze, as if his eyes alone were enough to make her grasp the truth.