The world stirred as dawn barely kissed the horizon, yet the true battle of the day had already begun.
"My Lady," Rina's voice, thick with sleep, barely reached my ears as she handed me a robe. I accepted it without a word, my gaze flickering to Mika, who was curled in my spot, her breathing steady. The face manipulation potion given by Master had worked like a charm—she now bore my appearance, ensuring no one suspected my absence.
Rina, ever loyal, offered me a gentle smile. "We are at your service, always, My Lady."
I nodded, wasting no time. The clock struck four; the sky remained a vast expanse of darkness. Perfect. The world was still deep in slumber, unaware of the storm I was about to unleash.
Donning the robe, I moved swiftly, silent as a whisper. The cool wind brushed against my skin as I leapt from the window, landing gracefully on the cobbled path below.
Darkness cloaked the land, a shroud of secrecy protecting me. Light was a luxury I could not afford—it would draw unwanted eyes. Instead, I activated Hyper Perception, mapping my surroundings with the familiarity of countless midnight escapades.
Through the cherry blossom garden, past the gnarled roots of age-old trees, I slipped through the doghole near the estate's wall. The mansion of Nyxveil loomed behind me, its silent halls oblivious to my departure. Ahead, the narrow alley led toward the forked road.
To the right lay the bustling heart of the Imperial Capital, but my path was to the left—the forbidden route leading to the Garden of Myst.
The name itself sent a thrill down my spine. A place whispered of in myths, feared and revered alike. An ancient woodland, untouched even as the Empire evolved, its roots woven with the bones of elves, fae, and dragons who perished during the Cataclysm of Dawn and Dusk.
A tomb, they called it. A sanctuary. A prison.
Legends spoke of an impenetrable barrier guarding its secrets, a barrier no mortal had ever breached. But I was no mere mortal.
Tonight, I would test the truth behind the myths.
Standing before its entrance, an inexplicable force coiled around me. It was powerful, ancient, and watching. The sky beyond the forest glowed unnaturally bright, as though the very air was alight with magic.
I exhaled slowly. My heartbeat roared in my ears, a blend of fear and reckless anticipation.
Had I not faced Arthur? Had I not felt the unrelenting force of the Slayer, the divine power thought lost to time? Had I not bled, suffered, and died fighting those who sought to resurrect Belhier?
If the legends of the Garden of Myst held any truth, then within its depths lay power. And I needed it—desperately.
I stepped forward and raised a hand. My fingertips met something solid, invisible yet unyielding.
A wall I could not break by strength alone.
Closing my eyes, I spoke into the quiet abyss. "Oh noble warriors of heaven, great souls who sacrificed your lives for this world, creations of divinity—I seek your permission to enter."
The night held its breath. My voice trembled, thick with emotion.
"You gave your lives to slay Belhier. You fell so that this world might live. Yet darkness rises once more. The demon cults whisper his name and prepare for his return. If he rises, the peace you bled for will shatter. And I... I refuse to let that happen."
Silence. Then, the ground beneath me trembled.
The air thickened, pressing down on me. The barrier quivered, shifting as though acknowledging my plea.
"I have died once already," I continued, voice firm despite the storm in my heart. "I have suffered at the hands of demons, endured a fate worse than death. I do not seek vengeance—I seek strength. Strength to prevent the tragedy of my past life from repeating. Strength to protect what remains. Strength to fight."
Tears burned at the edges of my vision. A selfish desire, perhaps. But it was the truth.
The wind howled. The barrier cracked.
A sound like shattering glass rang through the air. I stumbled back as the invisible force before me crumbled into dust, vanishing as though it had never existed.
I had done it.
Memories surfaced—a conversation from years past whispered between the pages of forbidden tomes.
"The Garden of Myst is sealed, but should one lay their heart bare before it, should their will be pure—the gate may open."
"You were right," I murmured, a bittersweet smile tugging at my lips. "You must have cried when you found my body, my foolish student."
The weight of the unknown pressed against my back, urging me forward. I turned away from the world I knew and stepped into the forbidden.
I took my first step into the jungle, the air thick with the scent of blooming nightshade and damp earth. The cobbled path beneath my feet was illuminated by the soft glow of ethereal fireflies, their light flickering like lost souls trapped between realms. Above the sky was an endless ocean of stardust, its luminous blues and purples casting a dreamlike glow over the towering trees.
The Garden of Myst was alive, its ancient energy humming in the air, wrapping around me like a whispered secret. I could feel the weight of its gaze, as if the garden itself were watching me, judging my intentions.
As I ventured deeper, the path opened into a hidden paradise—a scene so ethereal, it felt as though I had stepped into the heart of a dream. Towering wisteria trees draped their cascading violet blooms over a shimmering pool of water, their petals falling like soft whispers onto the rippling surface. The air was thick with magic; the scent of wildflowers and the crisp mist of a nearby waterfall filled my senses.
A lake, cradled in the embrace of wisteria trees, their lilac blooms cascading into the water like fallen stars. A waterfall murmured in the distance, its song one of timeless serenity. The water itself glowed, rippling with an ethereal luminescence, as if reflecting a sky unseen by mortal eyes.
I kneeled, drawn to my reflection in the water.
My face, bathed in silver light, seemed different.
And then it changed.
A woman stared back at me—aged, weary, her gaze hollow. Scars marred her face, each one a story of battle and sacrifice. The weight of thirty years of war rested upon her shoulders.
It was me.
My past self.
I did not flinch, did not recoil. I simply watched.
"Garden of Myst..." My voice was quiet, reverent. "Are you trying to show me who I was?"
The reflection wavered, then disappeared. My younger self returned, eyes still filled with the fire of the present.
A presence stirred around me, unseen yet tangible. Gentle fingers brushed my cheek, a silent acknowledgment.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"You wish to hear my story?" I whispered, fingers trailing over the water's surface. "Then listen well."
The trees stood still. The lake gleamed. And the wind whispered in answer.
I closed my eyes and began The Tale of the Darkest Night.