The revelation descends upon me like a leaden weight. A cold sweat begins to bead on my forehead, and my hands subtly tremble.
The sorrow that had engulfed me moments ago is replaced by a profound and penetrating fear that paralyzes me.
"Pandora..." My voice quivers, barely able to articulate her name amid the emotional turmoil assaulting me. I take a step back, distancing myself from her as if her presence were a curse.
I attempt to process the words she has uttered, but the struggle to comprehend is overwhelming.
The smile on Pandora's lips suggests she revels in this situation, delighting in my bewilderment. I desperately scrutinize the woman before me, seeking any clue, any logical explanation for her presence here.
But her appearance is confounding, distinct from the Pandora depicted in the novel.
"You..." I stammer, as my mind tries to find an explanation, but the pieces do not fit. My thoughts are a chaotic whirlwind I cannot control.
The world seems to have lost all logic and meaning.
She is not the same Pandora from the novel, at least not physically. Pandora continues to smile, while my thoughts collide in search of a reason, an answer that eludes me.
But I cannot find a coherent motive. Nothing aligns, nothing makes sense.
"I suppose you wish to understand how this is happening, don't you?" Pandora looks at me with an intensity that seems to pierce my soul. I wrestle against the fear threatening to flood my heart and attempt to maintain composure.
"After all, you've returned from death."
...
My eyes widen, my lips uncontrollably tremble, and my mind freezes in a state of shock. I try to inhale deeply, but my breath is rapid and agitated.
I clench my fists, attempting to control the tremors that have seized my body. My mind clouds, and I feel the world around me blur into a confusing mist.
"It seems there is something..." Pandora approaches, her hand resting on my cheek with a frigid touch that sends shivers down my skin. "Something you cannot suppress."
The question echoes in my mind like a relentless refrain. How can she know about the return from death?
How has she managed to embrace me, as that time I mentioned this phenomenon?
My head is filled with unanswered questions, and my heart beats forcefully in my chest, as if trying to escape the trap of confusion in which I find myself.
Satella... the name resonates like a spark of clarity amid the chaos. I recall that occasion when I mentioned my return from death, and everything happened normally.
What has changed?
I try to force my mind to construct an explanation, to thread some strand of logic amid this overwhelming confusion. However, everything is an impenetrable darkness, a void of answers threatening to engulf me completely.
"You are more concerned with figuring out what has happened than your own well-being," her voice sounds soft and enigmatic. "You have been hurt so much, undoubtedly."
My gaze meets hers, and her piercing eyes seem to unravel the recesses of my being. I try to remain calm, but my heart beats with overwhelming speed.
Tears emerge uncontrollably, sliding down my cheeks and falling into her outstretched hand.
It's a strange sensation, as if my emotions are disconnected from me, as if someone else is crying through my eyes. I feel vulnerable and exposed to her gaze, as if there's a part of me, I can't control.
These tears are not mine, but perhaps they belong to me.
I don't know what to say; there are no words that can address this situation. But her presence, her aura, continues to envelop me, trapping me in her influence.
"What do you want?" My voice emerges, though it sounds firmer than I feel. My eyes observe her with a serious expression, trying to contain the tremor that threatens to betray my appearance of calm.
Pandora maintains her enigmatic smile and slowly moves away, heading towards the rifle on the floor. An unsettling feeling takes hold of me as I watch each of her movements.
"It's sad, your fate. Unexpected and sad," her words sound gloomy, laden with hidden meaning. Suddenly, the gun is in her hands, and the deafening sound of the shot resonates in the air.
Bang.
The bullet is released, but I don't feel its impact piercing me. Confusion intensifies in my mind as I try to process what just happened. She seems disappointed by the outcome, and the gun falls to the ground again, a reflection of her frustration.
"It seems I failed. I guess I'm not good at this," she sighs with disappointment, and her gaze once again fixes on me. "I would ask you to teach me, but there are matters that demand my attention. Now, I'm a very busy woman."
A small laugh escapes her lips as she approaches me again. Her presence is overwhelming, a mystery that seems to envelop and ensnare me.
"The return from death..." her words resonate in the air, filled with profound meaning. She slowly approaches me until she is in front of me.
"A fate that allows you to lose the fear and value of life. A cruel fate, if I may say so," her arm moves, her index finger resting on my chest as if she wants to touch my essence. "You belong to that fate, to the hopelessness from which you cannot escape."
Returning from death, a gift that masks its own curse.
Life, death, everything loses meaning in an endless cycle. It's not the pain of others' deaths that torments, but the struggle to preserve others' lives, the weight of knowing one can die and resurrect, and how one faced that death.
A dark abyss opens within me, and I feel like I could go mad at any moment.
My mind begins to fill with luminous flashes, tiny mana spheres that remind me of what I have done, what I have faced. I feel like my sanity is faltering, starting to fade amidst the interconnected spaces of my memories.
Yes, I am on the verge of madness.
Lights flicker in my mind, a chaotic dance of flashes that seem to want to lead me into an unknown abyss. She places her hand on my chest, and her eyes close in a kind of concentration. Her lips move, murmuring something I don't quite catch.
Then, her hand withdraws, and her eyes meet mine again.
"I must show you my kindness," her voice is a soft whisper, and her finger begins to generate a light. A blue glow emanates from her fingers, growing in intensity. The world around me begins to crumble, fading into a whirlwind of uncertainty.
I try to speak, to understand, but words refuse to leave my mouth. Her smile persists, her unwavering gaze. The blue light transforms into a bright, blinding center, and everything around me plunges into an abyss of infinite whiteness.
The light is cast towards me, a beam of energy that pierces my chest like an arrow of uncertainty. I pulse, feeling the world around me fade at that very moment, leaving me suspended in a dark void.
"We will meet again..."
The last words I don't manage to hear, as everything around me disappears once again.
I try to move, desperately trying to find a foothold in this formless and substance abyss. Fire magic bursts in my hands, but there is no spark, no light to illuminate my path.
"Grrrr," Grímnir's growl resonates, a call from the darkness that brings me back to a tangible space.
Grímnir?
My mind tries to make sense of the situation, to find a connection amid the confusion. I open my eyes urgently, only to be met with Grímnir's annoyed face, a tangible figure in contrast to the previous abyss.
Have I returned?
The question pulses in my mind as I find myself holding a small weight in my arms. I lower my gaze, realizing that Crusch is still here, her fragile breath confirming her presence, her life.
Did I come back from death?
Reality seems to distort, the pieces of a puzzle that don't quite fit. A question reverberates in my mind:
What does this mean?
Mana flows through my body, but in a different way, a new and unfamiliar sensation. A force seems to contain everything that would normally disperse into a chaos of magical energy.
Something inside me stirs, flutters in my stomach, a feeling that confirms I am back, that my existence has been restored.
My mind is a chaos, a whirlwind of thoughts colliding and dispersing.
The novel, the source of hope I once had, now seems unreachable, a distant echo amid an uncertain present. Pandora, Ley, the cult's actions, the sages, Roswaal, all converge in an interweaving of conspiracies and secrets.
Everyone seems to move in a dance of plans, while I am swept away by a torrent of changes.
I ride Grímnir with determination, using the power of Murak to advance at full speed. Magic flows with stability, but I still feel something different within me.
Something has changed, but I can't fully comprehend it. My eyes scan the landscape at high speed, witnessing the remnants of the fierce battle that took place.
Bodies of people and dragons lie scattered on the ground, chunks of earth torn apart, and debris scattered everywhere.
The fight has been tough, but we have prevailed. The Great Whale lies defeated, its threat neutralized. I try to force a smile amidst the emotional turmoil, seeking to remain firm in the face of adversity.
A man approaches in the distance towards the camp, riding a majestic white dragon. His long hair waves in the wind, catching my attention, though I can't seem to remember who he is.
Confusion mixes with uncertainty as we move towards him.
In an instant, the confusion dissipates when I see Emilia and Beatrice running towards me. Beatrice flies, her small body clinging to me tightly, and I feel the tremor of her cry.
Her labored breaths and the tears falling on my back connect me to her concern, to her relief at finding me here.
"Betty thought she'd lose you," her words, devoid of her usual mannerisms, convey her anguish and relief. I accept her embrace, allowing her to release her emotions as her tears mix with the beats of my heart. "You're a fool! Heartless!"
Beatrice's shaky words fill the air, expressing a myriad of emotions in each syllable.
Emilia, upon seeing Crusch's critical condition, holds back her words, and her eyes express surprise. Without hesitation, she urgently takes Crusch in her arms and, with determination, speeds away.
"I'll take her to Felix!" Emilia exclaims, her voice reflecting the urgency of the situation, before running towards her destination with the goal of placing Crusch in Felix's hands.
Confidence in his ability to heal prevails; after all, he is likely to do everything possible to restore Crusch to her optimal state.
The scene around is a chaos of emotions, with hugs, shouts of joy, and the acknowledgment of success in the battle.
While gently holding Beatrice, I allow her to find comfort in my embrace. Together we try to support each other, calming each other.
Wilhelm's figure approaches me, his expression characteristically serious. He nods slightly in a formal greeting, something surprising but reflecting his respect and seriousness.
"Mr. Marco, I would like to speak alone with you," Wilhelm declares, his voice resonating with his typical formality and gravity.
The request takes me by surprise, but I nod in agreement, remembering that we talked about something like this before the fight. We move away from the tumult and take shelter on the other side of the tree.
Beatrice, still hanging in my arms, continues her healing work on me, preventing us from being completely alone.
As I observe the surroundings, I notice an inscription carved into the great Flugel tree. However, my surprise increases when I realize that the inscription has been completely scratched and disfigured, making it illegible.
"For someone to commit such an act," Wilhelm comments with a disapproving look, his voice filled with indignation. "Whoever did this must face the consequences of their actions."
I nod seriously, agreeing that whoever is responsible for this vandalism must be held accountable for their lack of respect for nature and history.
The sight of the damaged inscription is an affront to the sense of justice.
It was my only clue.
Wilhelm points to the field of flowers where Beatrice and I were previously, diverting my attention in that direction, inviting me to a new chapter of our conversation.
"My wife, the sword saint," Wilhelm's tone is tinged with melancholy, as if reliving painful memories in his mind. "She loved the flowers, just as you mentioned because they had a special meaning to her."
With a solemn gesture, Wilhelm unsheathes his sword and observes his reflection in the blade.
"The sword loved her too, albeit against its will, it forced her to wield it to face her enemies." We head towards the field of yellow flowers, with the beginning of the sunset casting its light upon us. "I took the sword from her, and in an ironic twist, she became my wife."
Wilhelm plants the sword in the midst of the flowers, and with a slight breeze, they flutter and dance around him.
"I hadn't visited her grave since then." His gaze clings to the sword, and his voice fills with sorrow. "Thanks to your information and strategy, I was able to deliver the final blow; I could avenge her."
A single tear falls from his face and briefly glows before touching one of the flowers.
We've been here for twenty minutes, and during this time, Wilhelm shared fragments of his story with me and some details about the other knights.
"Now, thanks to you, Miss Emilia, and Mr. Frey, I'll be able to go to her grave for the first time." Wilhelm takes my hand firmly, his grip denoting the sincerity of his words. "I am deeply grateful. Thank you truly."
Wilhelm's words leave me bewildered. I try to process what he said, but my mind is plunged into a whirlwind of thoughts, unable to fully comprehend its meaning.
"Frey?" My voice comes out, slightly trembling, as I look at him curiously.
"The name of the one I serve, Frey Karsten. Without him, I probably would have gone solo and perished." Wilhelm responds, but his words hit me like a lightning bolt.
My eyes widen, and my vision clouds for a moment. Instinctively, I start running in the opposite direction, desperate to find answers.
My mind is in chaos, my thoughts disordered and senseless. I run with force, as if the physical act could clear the confusion in my mind.
A whirlwind of thoughts and emotions invades me.
My inner voice, which had been silent for so long, begins to resonate clearly.
"You have three lefts!" screams a juvenile yet definitive voice, unknown in my head. Bewilderment overwhelms me, but I close my eyes and reject that voice, that reality.
My mind is clouded by uncertainty, my heart beats rapidly in my chest. Anxiety consumes me as if there is nothing else.
I reach the camp of the wounded, observing around me. Crusch is there, lying on the ground, and Felix is by her side, absorbed in his notes.
I watch Felix attend to Crusch, and a momentary relief engulfs me. He has done everything possible for her, showing the importance he attributes to her.
I try to touch her face, but her immediate reaction indicates that she is fully conscious.
Crusch's eyes open slowly, and a feeling of deep satisfaction invades me at the sight of her recovery. A bond has been forged between us, one that goes beyond words.
Our joint efforts have saved each other.
"Did... I survive?" Crusch raises her hands and observes them carefully before fixing her gaze on me. Our eyes meet, and in that moment, we understand the significance of our shared struggle.
A connection that transcends words forms between us.
I smile gently, trying to calm her worries.
"I told you, now is the time to celebrate," I comment with a light tone as I take her hand, appreciating the warm contact.
At that moment, Felix's mocking voice makes its presence felt, breaking the moment. His presence next to Crusch is a constant reminder of his peculiar personality.
"Deceiving Miss Emilia, Mr. Marco," Felix comments with his characteristic sarcasm, but something about him catches my attention.
I observe Felix more closely and realize the transformation that has occurred. He wears an office-like suit, his appearance has changed considerably. Although his face still reflects feminine features, his aura exudes formality and seriousness.
Crusch also notices the difference and looks at him surprised.
"Why are you wearing those clothes?" Crusch asks with genuine curiosity, reaching out to him. "Felix, what happened?"
At that moment, an inevitable conclusion comes to my mind, and my heart squeezes in painful understanding. The truth unfolds irrefutably, and I watch as the situation unfolds before me.
"Excuse me..." his voice, barely a whisper, comes from his lips as I try to assimilate what is happening. "Who are you?" Felix addresses Crusch with confusion and curiosity, seeking to understand the situation that has arisen.
And at that moment, I can't help it.
A bitter laugh escapes from my throat.
"Haha."