Emilia's desolation
I feel my being completely disconnected, as if my existence had already come to an end, as if the last breath had escaped long ago. I cry, my tears a river of despair, longing for him to cry too, fervently wishing not to be the only one experiencing this torment.
My hands, trembling and damp with cold sweat, cling to my neck like desperate claws in an attempt to stop the pain spreading from my heart.
"Ugh..."
But even in the dimness of the movie theater, I feel the pressure of the stale air, the scent of dampness and age, mixed with the faint smell of cookies wafting in the air.
As my fingers tighten more and more, the constant murmur of the screen blends with the muffled sound of sobs I try to drown out.
The creaking of the old seats under my weight seems like a cruel mockery, while Marco, on the screen, kisses Maria with a pain that pierces my soul.
"Help..."
The desperate plea is lost among the whispers of the movie, but I can't stop. I must fight, I must survive, even though every fiber of my being longs for the peace of death.
"I deserve death," Marco whispers on the screen, and his voice seems to resonate in the charged air of the room. "But there's a duty I must fulfill first."
My tears mix with the cold sweat on my face, a salty combination that I can barely distinguish in the darkness. The air feels denser, as if each breath were a titanic effort, and I find myself forced to close my eyes to avoid seeing the world crumbling around me.
"I'll save the others; I'll protect them all. And I'll punish those who let this happen."
My lungs fill with stale air, and I feel as if I'm drowning in a sea of despair. How can Marco keep going, keep fighting, when every breath seems stifling?
"Including myself."
I open my eyes, and the dim light of the sanctuary casts dancing shadows on the gray walls of this tomb. The echo of my own sobs mixes with the murmurs of the animals outside, creating a cacophony of sounds that envelops and suffocates me.
Again, again I couldn't bear it. How did he do it? How can he stay calm despite being shattered inside? I don't understand, I can't comprehend it.
"I DON'T UNDERSTAND!" I scream in desperation, but my voice gets lost among the echoes of the past and the whispers of the present. Tears flow incessantly as I plead for a voice to respond to me. "I don't... understand. I don't get you... Marco."
The cold of the ground seems to seep into my bones, as if each blow were a cruel reminder of my own fragility. I hate the cold; I detest it with all my soul. I don't want to feel cold; I don't want this emptiness, I don't want to continue like this, I don't want to keep existing.
I'm tired, fed up with everything.
"I'll give you a reason to keep going," Echidna's voice says in my mind, and her laughter seems to resonate in every corner of my soul. I look around, trying to find her, but I only see the gray walls surrounding me.
"Marco's bet goes beyond what you imagined. You had five chances to overcome the trials, but it seems you've given up completely," Echidna's laughter echoes in the room, feeding the void in my heart, fueling my hatred like an overflowing torrent. "The irony is that, realizing his past, he stopped supporting you."
A smile forms on my lips; I try to stop it with my hand, but it's useless.
'I knew it, this is who I am.' I can't hide my true self behind masks of positivity. In such critical situations, my true essence emerges.
If he has given up, then so have I. I don't have to continue.
I don't have to repeat it again.
"Thank you!" I bow before Echidna before stepping out of the tomb. "If I fail! If I fail, I might be free. I didn't ask what they bet. I suppose it wasn't anything important."
The faint sunlight filters through the treetops, creating a mosaic of shadows and dancing lights on the sanctuary floor.
"It's just a bet, it mustn't be anything..."
The singing of birds and the whisper of wind through the leaves fill the air with a soft and serene melody, a sharp contrast to the tension building up in my chest.
"His life."
I turn my head in the direction of the sound. Barely at the exit, I see her there: standing. Crusch looks at me with a serious expression. The smile she previously carried disappears completely.
"Huh?" My gaze settles on Crusch's firm eyes, who looks at me this time as if I'm the one doing something wrong.
"Marco wagered his life, in pursuit of finding a way to save Beatrice," her words finish freezing my blood.
The dry leaves crunch under my trembling hands as I try to rub my arms, desperately seeking any trace of warmth in the icy air.
I feel cold.
My legs give way under the weight of the revelation, leaving me sitting on the ground covered in dry leaves and moss, as if I were part of the nature surrounding me, absorbed by the uncertainty and the weight of responsibility.
"So... Did he give up? Is it my fault? Will Marco Luz die?" Will he die because of me? Without me being able to do anything.
I need warmth, please, someone... I just want to rest; I just want to be able to fulfill my goals.
The whisper of the wind becomes an insistent murmur in my ears, and the fresh aroma of the surrounding vegetation mixes with the salty taste of my tears.
The world seems to spin around me, a whirlwind of turbulent emotions threatening to engulf me.
Now, Marco's life hangs by a thread. And I am the hand that controls the scissors.
Crusch lifts me up and holds onto my shoulders. Her grip is strong, she really seems angry; it must be hard for her. Instead, now, I am not capable of feeling as it should be.
To begin with:
'Why do I have to think about how I feel?' I had never experienced this before.
"You're the one who has to save him!" she puts more pressure, trying to meld her ideals into me. The touch of her hands, her warmth, all I feel is the cold of responsibility. All I feel is the profound lack of connection.
I can't, I can't do it.
I thought I could, that I could just endure it, that if Marco could endure that I could too.
"I can't, I've already failed, I've failed enough to understand it." My heart hurts, but I can't see beyond, I'm useless for this. This goes beyond just trying.
Despite her strength, I remove her hands. She keeps looking at me, but I don't want to make eye contact. I press my lips together, a result of that stab in my heart. I look ahead, it's almost dawn.
There's no one because no one expected me to succeed. She, Crusch...
"Affection is a source of strength." Her words are accurate, but I can't feel them.
I've always been someone who seeks justice, someone who seeks to understand others. I was afraid to be myself, I was afraid when people judged me by my appearance. It was a tough process, but thanks to Marco, I was able to understand many. Thanks to the people in the village, I could see that change is possible.
But, just as one changes for the better, one also changes for the worse.
Crusch tries to approach, but I move away, descending the steps of the tomb.
"You... You weren't like this."
I don't think I can even recognize myself.
"Oh no? Well... it seems like I am now."
My words, filled with disdain, travel through the air. 'You're an idiot, Emilia, she's your friend, she's always supported you.' Crusch has always been polite with you, although sometimes she's strong with her words, she's always been the one who supported you.
So... Why am I being like this with her?
"Say something, Emilia!"
I move forward with hesitant steps, while Crusch's distressed cries resonate behind me.
"You can't give up!"
It seems so easy for others to understand someone else's pain, so simple to underestimate it.
We use words to describe it, but we never fully comprehend it. I'm exhausted. Can I really do anything in this situation?
I gaze at the sky, watching as the stars gradually fade under the glow of the rising sun. I clench my hands tightly, desperately seeking an answer.
I don't know what to say, or how to express what I saw, what I felt.
The pain I just experienced is too deep. Marco's first victim was the person he loved. He mercilessly killed her, and now he carries that weight on his shoulders.
How can I help him in this situation?
Is his action forgivable?
Or perhaps the Marco Luz I thought I knew was always a monster inside?
Despite all the doubts and confusion that overwhelm me, I find some comfort in what I do know: what I can do, what I have in my hands, what has been beating in my heart since day one.
I direct my gaze towards Crusch, whose face reflects a complex mixture of emotions. I offer her a faint smile accompanied by a sigh laden with resignation.
"There's nothing left," I murmur sorrowfully.
Upon reaching my room, I encounter the usual mess: disheveled sheets, clothes strewn across the floor. I collapse onto the bed, trying to sort out my thoughts amidst the confusion.
The fog... it was miasma, no doubt.
Marco has the ability to see it for some reason that still eludes my understanding. His body must fight against the miasma, but at the same time, his mind can be affected. Just like what happened with Father Guise.
"I don't understand."
I grab my head, trying to recall a clue to solve this situation. I can't bear it, these emotions, I don't want to feel them again.
I'm not strong, I'm not like Marco's parents, I'm not like John who was able to sacrifice himself with a smile. I'm not like Maria, who was a pillar for Marco until they did that to her.
I can try, I can do it, and I can pretend.
I know my qualities; I can easily see myself in the mirror; I have changed. So why do I feel so false?
"I'm Emilia!" Memories during the battle against the whale swirl around me. "You have potential."
I have to think of something. I'm stronger than before, I can endure these emotions, the problem is that I don't know what to do with them. Crying is not enough; suffering is not enough.
"Miss Emilia!" Ram exclaims through the door, knocking several times.
I lift my head, only to see the door trembling from Ram's knocks. I rise, but my head weighs too much to keep me upright.
"Yes?" I look at Ram, who seems concerned, although her gaze doesn't say it, I can see it, her hands slightly nervous.
She points me towards the exit of the cabin.
"The stupid Marco and the idiot Garfield are fighting," Ram tells me with some annoyance, a contrast to her initial concern.
It's unusual for her to call me for something like this. For starters, Ram isn't that kind of person.
"Let's go..."
I go along with Ram, running until we cut through the forest. Every step overwhelms on me, every breath hurts. I don't want to see him; I don't want to see Marco. I'm afraid, afraid of what I'll think, afraid of seeing him as a monster.
I'm afraid of hating him. I'm afraid of feeling like it would have been better never to have met him.
Questions assail me like twisting vines.
What is strength? Is it to endure, even when the soul tears apart? Is it to face the truth, even when it's terrifying? Is it to be able to forgive, even when the pain seems insurmountable?
My steps are an uncertain dance in the darkness of the forest, my mind a labyrinth of doubts and fears. But deep down, a flame of hope still burns, a quest to understand, to find the way through the emotional maze that consumes me.
"Emilia!" Otto exclaims, urgency in his voice, echoing in the forest clearing.
In the center of the open space, Marco holds his gun while Garfield, with his sparking gauntlets, prepares for combat. The tension in the air is palpable, and the confrontation seems to transcend the limits of a simple fight.
"Thirst for blood..." Crusch murmurs beside me, her tone laden with concern. "Both Marco and the boy seem to be willing to do anything."
Marco has shed blood since his arrival in this world, but I've never seen him affected. He shows no consideration when facing other killers. But Garfield, he's different. Though I'm sure he could be just as lethal if he set his mind to it.
Ram's attempts to calm the situation are lost in the air, while Garfield simply cracks his fingers, ignoring the warnings.
I silently observe Marco, feeling as if time has stopped around us. I try to discern what goes through his mind, what he feels deep down. But no matter how hard I try; I can't comprehend his emotions.
Despite his apparent determination, Marco doesn't maintain the posture of someone seeking victory at all costs. I can see it clearly. He's not seeking to win.
"Emilia is here!" Otto shouts, snapping me out of my reverie and returning me to harsh reality.
Our eyes meet. I try to look away, but it's impossible. In his face, I see disappointment reflected in his eyes. The sparkle that once radiated, the happiness that infected me now seems distant, overshadowed by a shadow of disillusionment.
My heart contracts with pain. Betty, only she could comfort him in this moment. I miss her intensely, longing for her presence to alleviate Marco's suffering.
But he's not here, and I feel powerless, not knowing what to do to help him. I don't know how to act, which path to take. Everything I touch seems to break, everything I try to build crumbles in my hands.
I look to the sky for answers, but all I find is the silence of the surrounding nature. In this moment, all I can do is cling to hope and pray for an answer.
Lady Fortune... Every step I take seems to lead me deeper into misery.
Father Guise... You left too soon.
Every emotion I feel triggers a painful farewell.
Puck... You left without saying goodbye.
Every decision I make only increases the pain of absence.
Betty... You're no longer by my side. My legs feel like steel, my hands inert as if they were tied. I am paralyzed, as if my own body whispered to me how useless I am right now.
Otto's inquisitive gaze weighs on me, eagerly awaiting my reaction. But what can I do? What can I offer? I can't penetrate his heart, I can't replace Betty, I don't have the power to make him happy.
Where did the version of me go that, despite the sadness, still acted according to my principles? 'Instead of strengthening me, I feel like I've become more vulnerable.'
Marco smiles, and then his gaze settles on Garfield.
"Ar' you ready? My amazing being wi' overwhelm yo' completely!"
Garfield's mana is dense, oppressive, laden with explosive emotions. Meanwhile, Marco's, weakened by past abuse, now seems different, light, and serene.
His strength feels sharp, like Betty's mana.
"You said this was a fight to the death, so..." Marco aims his gun at Garfield, without hesitation...
Bang!
The gunshot echoes in the air, and Garfield reacts, using his gauntlets to deflect the bullet. His gauntlet is pierced instantly, his arm starts to bleed, a victim of Marco's surprising attack.
Garfield watches his wounded arm, the drops of blood falling. I must stop him, but I don't know how. Uncertainty and powerlessness seize me, while my heart wrenches at witnessing the violence unfolding before my eyes.
It's not the Marco I once knew, the one who rescued me from the shadows, the one everyone trusts.
"Was it this easy?" Marco's voice cuts through the silence like a whip that wounds the soul.
Marco's provocation hangs in the air with his words dripping with disdain. But what I see in his eyes is nothing but the reflection of the monster that took Maria's life.
Garfield, instantly recovering from his wounds, smiles disdainfully and lunges towards Marco. Dodging every shot with ease, he closes the distance between them in the blink of an eye.
Every move Marco makes is countered by Garfield, who approaches dangerously, ready to unleash his wrath upon him.
"Now, grit your teeth! Bastard!" Garfield shouts, prepared to deal a lethal blow to Marco.
In an unexpected gesture, Marco drops his weapon and extends his arms in surrender. But before he can do anything, a rumble shakes the ground and I see Marco being violently thrown against it.
I close my eyes, wishing with all my might that my legs would move, that my voice would rise to stop this carnage. When I finally open them, I see Garfield on top of Marco, hitting him over and over again.
"Enough! Lord Roswaal won't allow you to hurt him anymore!" Ram shouts, trying to intervene, but her effort is in vain against Garfield's unleashed fury.
Then, an unexpected figure appears, a girl with pink hair, who with just one look manages to stop Ram and surprise Garfield.
"I believe the situation has escalated beyond what was expected. Therefore, I apologize on behalf of my grandson, Garbo." Her words, filled with humility, leave us all speechless.
Marco, with a broken nose and swollen eyes, directs a gaze towards me. My legs move almost instinctively towards him, but his words stop me in my tracks.
"Don't come." His voice is a broken whisper, but his firmness is unmistakable.
He approaches Garfield slowly, as they exchange words that I can't quite make out. Garfield's expression suddenly turns grim, and in an instant the earth begins to tremble around us.
"¡Don't do it!" Otto shouts, but a cloud of dust envelops us, hiding Marco and Garfield from our sight.
Crusch uses her magic to disperse the dust, but when the vision clears, both have disappeared.
"Did they take him?" Otto asks, disoriented, but I take him by the shoulder, feeling an unshakable certainty within me.
"No, they didn't take him."
I don't need to think much to understand it now. Marco has decided; he has given up everything.
"He chose to go with them."
"A useless guy doing useless things, no surprise from that idiot."
Everyone watches me in amazement as Ram clicks her tongue in annoyance and retreats to the cabin, leaving us behind. Crusch and Otto remain by my side, sharing the weight of the moment.
"Damn it!" Otto exclaims, hitting a tree with desperate fury. Blood spurts from his injured hand, but he seems indifferent to the physical pain, consumed by his weakness.
When I approach to tend to him, he brushes me off abruptly.
"I couldn't do anything!" he shouts, hitting the tree again with impotence. Crusch intervenes to stop him, while I feel unable to ease his suffering.
All I could do was stand firm, but my desire to understand Marco's emotions brought me to this point. Marco's past is immutable, and my role is simply to observe the path he followed in the past.
"We must do something," Otto insists, trying to hit the tree again. But when I try to restrain him, I feel his rejection for the first time.
He's agitated, as if he's wrestling with a deeper secret than the current situation.
"This is my fault..." Otto murmurs as he collapses to the ground, visibly trembling under the weight of his own remorse. "We were the ones who wished for war, that's why now Marco..." His voice breaks, revealing the weight of the guilt he carries with him.
I approach cautiously, but Otto suddenly stops, extending his arm as if trying to contain the tremor of his body.
"You were right, Miss Emilia," he continues, raising his hand with a gesture of desperation. "Damn it! If only I didn't know that! What Ros...!" he exclaims, interrupting himself as his voice fills with contained rage.
The name "Ros..." hangs in the air, like a shadow refusing to fully reveal itself. Otto covers his mouth, restraining the words that threatened to escape, and his tremor abruptly ceases as he stands up with determination.
"Ros..." I murmur, barely audible to myself, though the word remains incomplete, its meaning resonating in the silence heavy with the night.
It's not hard to imagine the ending of that name.
Otto looks at me with eyes burdened with guilt, probably because Marco didn't want me to know this. But I don't understand.
How can it be that Roswaal, who was supposed to be an ally, is involved in this? During the war, he was limited in his actions, how could he have influenced events in that way?
Crusch seems to have reached a hasty conclusion, grabbing Otto fiercely as she exclaims bluntly:
"Then it was him!"
The force with which Crusch grabs Otto causes him to close one eye in pain, but his expression shows no remorse but latent fear.
"Was it him who altered the winds with magic!?" Crusch continues, and my heart stops in my chest as I grasp the gravity of her words.
My hands grip tightly, as if desperately seeking an answer in the void. I remember that storm, which unleashed ferocity that I always believed to be the work of some angry spirit.
But now I know the truth.
I know because I studied magic, to better understand Marco, to accompany him in his passion for manipulating magic.
And then, Marco's image overlays in my mind, his words, his determined gaze. He knew too, Puck had hinted it to me, had tried to warn me.
But I was blind, refusing to accept the truth.
"It must be a misunderstanding," I mutter, trying to cling to the idea that my mentor, my benefactor, cannot be responsible for something like this. But my words sound hollow even to myself.
Marco's suspicions now make sense.
He never fully trusted Roswaal, always kept his distance, as if he knew something the rest of us were unaware of. Even Otto seems to be aware of something I don't know, a truth he never dared to share with me.
'Why doesn't he trust me?'
The question repeats in my mind, and with it comes the painful realization that perhaps I've never been more than a pawn in a much larger game, a pawn blind to the true intentions of those I blindly trusted.
'Was he trying to protect me, or was he trying to use me?'
The weight of discouragement settles on my shoulders, crushing me with every thought. My eyes open in disbelief, but all I find is the shadow of my own incapacity.
"I'm useless," I whisper bitterly, feeling the sting of defeat piercing my skin. How could I even aspire to overcome his past if I don't even understand his present?
My words slide with resignation: "Do as you wish."
No matter what the truth is, I no longer care. What's the point of fighting when I know I'm destined to lose?
Every step I take through the forest is like walking in a quagmire, sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness. I feel swallowed by an abyss from which I see no escape, just like Marco, I too decide to surrender.
Thoughts crowd my mind, struggling to surface.
"You weren't like this!" I hear a cry in a burst of desperation, clutching my head tightly. But there's no response, just the empty echo of my own voice.
Tears start to flow down my cheeks, accompanying my pain as I drag myself to my room. I no longer want to face the outside world, no more.
When did I lose my way? When did I stop recognizing myself in the mirror?
My hands tremble as I try to get up, but my legs give way and I fall to my knees in front of the door.
"I'm going to kill Marco," I murmur through sobs. The idea settles in my mind as an unquestionable truth, an inevitable sentence.
There's only one way to escape this whirlwind of emotions: to submit to the trial again. If I want to find the strength to move forward, even if it means his death, I must do it.
A groan of anguish escapes my lips as I surrender to the abyss that opens before me. At this moment, the only certainty I have is that I am alone in my pain.
So... it's best if I stay here.
I'll give up...
Should I give up my dreams for him?
What am I thinking? It's his life, I can live here. I know I'll live for a long time. I'll live longer than him, and that terrifies me. When Betty told me about it, I could see the fear in her eyes and hear it in her voice, almost breaking.
I understood because it also applies to me. Marco and I are of different races, so I'll live longer. What does it mean to be trapped for sixty or a hundred more years?
In the end, Marco knows it too. That's why he's never looked at me that way. Crusch and Marco, both must move forward. Even without the throne, Irlam can survive. I'll wait, yes, I'll stay here until Marco can complete his life cycle.
He must know about my decision, without us needing to speak. He'll know he can live, that he must move forward. I just want him to be happy. His life is shorter than mine, so I must consider how precious each minute is for him.
I'll fulfill my dream later, I'm sure I can do it.
Tears start to slide down my face.
"You must come back for dinner next Friday," Petra's mom's words, with whom I occasionally have dinner, come to mind. People in Irlam will also die, new generations will come, and I'll find myself with a new Irlam.
"Miss Emilia, thank you for teaching us!" My apprentices' gratitude. I won't be able to see them again. I loved teaching them, I felt so alive showing them how to help others.
"I'll bring you nice memories," the letter Rem left me.
Rem, my friend. I don't want to stop seeing you.
"When you become ruler, don't forget those who supported you," Otto's voice resonates in my mind, always present, always ready to help with a smile.
"Miss Emilia, someday, I hope to see you taking your place on the throne. I'll be supporting you from here," Luan's comforting words, firm and warm as always.
"I was consumed by greed, my identity is something I'll show you for myself," I remember Crusch's words, who has been my guide and unconditional support.
"Until we meet again, I hope you have many memories to tell me," Puck's sweet message, my second father, but he'll have to wait until all this is over.
My lips tremble as I realize what I'm about to abandon, everything that, whatever happens, I'll have to leave behind. I love them all, more than I had realized before.
What they mean to me, the shared joys, the new experiences, everything I've done and fought for. All my paths lead to losing them; to being alone again.
So, what should I do? Does it make sense to fight?
I want to free my village, they're of my own race after all. But, as I understand it, they're likely dead. There's a possibility, so tiny I can barely glimpse it. The dragon's blood, Roswaal explained to me that his blood could unfreeze my loved ones.
'What if it's just a trick?' A thought that had never crossed my mind.
I throw myself on the bed, point my hand at the ceiling, and reflect on everything I must do. Perhaps, with an immense amount of anti-mana crystals, I can undo the spell. The dragon's blood should be powerful enough to counteract my magic.
I can wait for that, there's no rush. They won't go anywhere.
"How can I go back to how I was before? How can I erase all of this?" I whisper in the darkness, but I know I'll never be able to.
I'm already marked, forever.
For the thousands of years I'll live, I won't be able to change anything. What I've lived in these months will mark me for all eternity. Their presence will remain as proof of how useless I am.
Proof that I couldn't help them.
"You're Emilia, the most beautiful half-elf I've ever met in my life."
I squeeze my eyes shut, longing to be torn from this abyss that consumes me.
"I don't want to leave; I don't want to abandon them."
Tears well up in my eyes, a torrent of pain and despair, because I know my fate is already sealed. I had never contemplated it this way, but now I understand why my loved ones never left their village.
Even without being victims of discrimination, simply witnessing how those you love to perish by your side, powerless against the inevitable passage of time, is a fate as cruel as death itself.
'They'll just be a brief wave in the vast ocean of existence.' I had never considered this perspective.
'I'll be left alone, no matter what I do.'
Death will reach them, and yet, at this moment, I feel powerless to change their fate.
I'm a fool, a complete fool. I let myself be carried away by my naivety, I let myself be carried away by my emotions. Now that I'm aware, I can't help it. I wish I had never left that forest.
"Let me trust you, because I see unlimited potential in you," his voice echoes in my mind, a constant echo of his words full of confidence.
"Enough!" I shout with all my might, trying to expel him from my mind.
"I love you; I love you from the bottom of my heart."
I can't silence his voice; I can't help but remember him. He's deeply ingrained in my heart, like an impossible burden to shake off.
Feeling the weight of my body, I let myself be carried away by the current, abandoning all hope.