Chapter 23 – A New Beginning

Chapter 23 – A New Beginning

Liria dreamed a sad and gentle dream. Of an erased future. Of a final goodbye.

She stood with all dignity abandoned, all pretenses of Grace dropped. Tears flowed down her cheeks like rain.

“No one will ever remember you!” the her in the dream cried, voice fraying with every word. “You may not even get to exist! And if you do, you won’t be the same! I’m killing you! So how can you all smile like this? Irix was right! Blame me! Resent me! Tell me I should have done a better job!”

Her own voice echoed strangely in that fading place. She hated how weak she sounded. Hated how badly some frightened part of her wanted them to finally tell her she had failed.

But Alaric only stepped forward.

The great knight removed one gauntlet with slow, clumsy fingers, then reached out as if afraid she might disappear if he moved too quickly. His rough, callused hand brushed the tears from her cheek with a tenderness that made her chest ache.

“But you will remember us, Great Lady,” he said softly. “That will be more than anyone here can ask for.”

She stood before them as her frail and ordinary self. Not the Incarnation of the Goddess. Just Liria. Just a girl who had not been enough.

So why were they all looking at her like that? Why did their eyes hold such warmth? Such quiet affection? Such impossible faith?

Shouldn’t they have been disappointed? Shouldn’t they have hated her, if only a little?

Even Irix Vanthe had relented.

“Stop being so melodramatic, my Goddess,” the grand assassin had snorted, though his voice had carried an unusual roughness beneath the mockery. “It’s not like we have anything left to lose anyway. If you’re going to do it, then just do it. This tearful hesitation is not like you, Great Lady.”

He had folded his arms and looked at her with those burning eyes of his. Then, more quietly, he had said, “If you feel guilty, then remember us.”

The words had struck with the weight of a solemn edict.

“You will be the proof that we once existed. And the world you build will be our legacy.”

The dream ended with the echo of that final sentence, ringing through the silence like the last note of a funeral bell.

Liria drifted in that quiet space between dream and waking.

At first, she was only aware of warmth.

Soft little hands were brushing clumsily at her cheeks, wiping away tears she had not realized were still falling. The sheets beneath her were cool and smooth. The air smelled faintly of fresh greenery and sun-warmed wood. Somewhere beyond the room, birdsong drifted through open latticework, clear and sweet in the morning stillness.

Then she heard Seris.

“Don’t cry, Big Sis,” came the small, slightly tearful voice. “If you’re sad, then Seris is sad too. Please wake up soon. Seris is sorry for making you work so hard. I miss you so much, Big Sis.”

The small break in her sister’s voice made her chest ache. Liria opened her arms and reached out.

Seris let out a startled yelp as she was suddenly pulled into a tight embrace, then immediately melted against her, snuggling into Liria’s chest with all the shameless devotion of a clingy kitten who had found its favorite place in the world again.

“You’re up, Big Sister!” Seris cried, wriggling just enough to look at her with eyes like a cloudless summer sky. “I’ve done just as you said! I’ve been a good girl! I studied very hard and I listened to your siblings! Praise me!”

Liria wordlessly drew her closer. Seris was warm, alive, and real.

As her little sister chirped excitedly in her arms, she felt some of the ache inside her begin to quiet.

If she herself was the proof her companions had once existed, then Seris was her proof in return.

Proof that she had made the right decision.

Proof that she was on the right path.

Proof that she would build a better future.

If she kept going, if she continued to protect the world, if she truly built a future where people could laugh and love and live without fear…

Then perhaps, somewhere in another branch of fate, she might meet them again.

A different Alaric.

A different Irix Vanthe.

Not soldiers marching toward inevitable ruin, but men granted the lives they should have had. Smiling beside their families. Growing old beneath peaceful skies.

Perhaps then, one day, she might find absolution.

Liria lowered her head and pressed a long, reverent kiss to Seris’s brow.

“I love you, little sister,” she said, and all the depth of her gratitude was wrapped inside the words. “Our Seris is amazing. You are the best little sister in the whole wide world.”

Seris gave a delighted giggle and burrowed even deeper into her arms, as if trying to physically fuse with her.

And for the first time in a very long while, Liria felt something inside her go quiet.

There was still work to be done.

Still dangers to prepare for. Still futures to guard against.

But she had taken one great step toward something brighter.

Toward a better beginning.

Later, Liria stepped into the outdoor pools of Starleaf Aerie.

The moment her bare feet touched the smooth white wood, she paused.

The World Tree’s luminous bark was warm beneath her soles, polished to a satiny softness by centuries of reverent care and the passage of countless feet. The living wood curved naturally into vast basin-like terraces, elegant and seamless, as though the tree itself had chosen to cradle its people in comfort. Steam drifted in pale ribbons over the water’s surface, carrying with it the rich mineral scent of hot springs mingled with the sweetness of sap, flowers, and clean mountain air.

Golden leaves shimmered overhead.

Their branches swayed in the breeze with a soft whispering music, and light filtered through the canopy in trembling sheets of pale gold. Somewhere beyond the pools, hidden water ran over stone with a gentle murmur. Birds called from unseen perches. The whole place felt wrapped in a tranquil hush, as if the world itself had lowered its voice out of reverence.

It was so peaceful that it almost felt unreal.

Behind her, Seris shuffled nervously in place.

Liria glanced back over her shoulder. “What’s wrong, Seris?” she asked, smiling gently. “You don’t want to join Big Sister?”

“I do want to join you,” Seris replied at once.

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Then she hesitated.

A blush spread across her face so quickly and so vividly that her cheeks turned the exact shade of a ripe red apple. Her little hands fidgeted at the hem of her vestments, and she refused to meet Liria’s eyes.

The sight was so absurdly cute that Liria briefly had the deeply unhelpful urge to lean over and take a playful bite out of one of those rosy cheeks.

This was, unfortunately, not the time.

“Go on,” Liria said, softening her voice further. “You can tell me anything, Seris.”

Seris peeked up at her through her lashes, then quickly looked down again.

“My… lower body is weird now,” she mumbled. “Promise you won’t laugh, Big Sister?”

Liria’s heart dropped. For one sharp instant, a dozen worst-case possibilities flashed through her mind.

Oh no. Had the Ritual of Inversion left behind some hidden side effect after all? Something unstable? Something painful? Something she had overlooked in her desperation to save Seris?

She kept every trace of alarm from her face with practiced ease.

“Of course, Seris,” Liria said, calm and steady. “Big Sis would never laugh at you. You know that, right?”

Seris nodded uncertainly.

Then, after taking a tiny breath as if steeling herself for battle, she let her holy vestments slip from her shoulders. The white fabric pooled around her feet in shimmering layers.

Liria stared.

Oh. Oh dear. That was… certainly an unusual place for a holy stigmata.

A luminous mark, delicate and unmistakably divine, rested low across Seris’s abdomen, radiating a soft golden-white glow. Its shape resembled a winged sword, sacred and elegant, the lines so fine and intricate that it looked as though it had been painted there by light itself. It pulsed faintly with holy power, warm and alive, like a second heartbeat beneath the skin.

Liria’s mind raced.

Was that strange? Or was it somehow perfectly fitting?

As the vessel of life, as the place from which life itself could one day emerge, was the womb not among the holiest places of all? Now even she was confused.

Her deliberation lasted less than half a second.

Then Liria did what she did best. She projected serene, unshakable confidence.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed of, Seris,” she said, her voice gentle and soothing. “That is simply proof that you are a Saintess. It’s completely normal, little sister.”