Since when did it start?

Was it a sudden realization? Or just an immature infatuation…

Was the voice a hallucination?

NO…

Komura was actually a chosen one, a tragic fate alas! Ever since the moment she was born, her destiny was set in stone.

She was destined for great honor and a wealthy lifestyle until…

until…someone altered it.

*

While lying on the bed, taking her last breath, Komura smiled in pain and distress. Could we really call it an infatuation? Or was it an evil act of some sort?

As her vision blurred, moments from her life began to unravel, as if her mind clung to the past in a desperate plea for something—anything—to make sense.

“Ba…Baba…Baaa…” Her infant voice echoed as she saw Vaba making those ridiculous, loving faces to entertain her newborn self. Warmth surged briefly, followed by a deep hollow ache.

She saw Aldric again, standing protectively in front of her younger self. “Don’t come close to her, you shitheads!” His voice, so strong, so certain, echoed like a distant dream. A part of her wanted to cry out to him, to ask him to shield her again—this time, from her own twisted fate. But that hope was useless now, wasn’t it?

Then she saw Celine’s radiant smile on the day of their marriage. A wave of joy, once felt, now stung like a cruel reminder of everything lost. That joy had felt so real. Why couldn’t she hold onto it?

Within the laughter, the smiles, the love…a shadow emerged.

“You lived a great life, Komura.” The cloud-like entity assumed a near-human form, hovering beside her, yet its features remained shrouded. There was an allure in its presence, a false sense of solace.

“My god…” she whispered, excitement flickering for a brief second, before fading into hollow resignation. “I dedicated my life to you…but lost something important in exchange,” her voice trembled. Those happy memories with her family began slipping from her grasp, like sand falling through her fingers.

The entity wrapped itself around her, almost tenderly, as though trying to suffocate her anguish. “You are commendable, Komura. What you have done has changed the future. Your dedication wasn’t a waste—it was divine.” Its voice echoed like a hollow promise, as though desperately trying to make her believe she had not lived in vain.

The cloud started to shift, slowly forming human features, its wavy hair cascading down its neck, its face still obscured. It felt like a promise, like she was becoming part of something greater—but why did it feel like a lie?

“You are a revolution, Komura,” the entity murmured, planting a kiss on her forehead with a care that felt like chains tightening around her soul.

Snap!

Suddenly, it was gone. Everything disappeared.

Komura was alone.

Her eyes wandered to the lifeless body of Rafiki, the man who should’ve meant more to her. The weight of his death pressed down on her chest, suffocating her final breaths. “Destiny, huh…” she muttered weakly, the words barely escaping her lips.

But even as the life ebbed from her, a gnawing sense of regret clawed at her mind. Why didn’t someone stop me? She wanted to cry out for Vaba, for Aldric. She wanted them to come to her, to pull her away from this darkness. Baba… Aldric… Celine… where are you? Why won’t you save me?

But deep down, she knew. No one was coming. And the truth of that realization pierced her harder than any blade could. There was no salvation, no rescue. She was beyond saving—by them, or by herself.

A hollow chuckle escaped her lips, followed by silent tears. What a joke… To think she had once believed in something greater, something more meaningful. And now, here she was, clutching to false hope even in her final moments.

Her breath grew shallower, her body colder, yet the bitter longing didn’t fade. It only grew more desperate, more pathetic. She was drowning in the silence, wanting someone to pull her from the abyss, but knowing it was too late. If only they could…

Her final tear rolled down her cheek as she closed her eyes, a twisted smile lingering on her face. In the end, there was nothing but emptiness.

And with that, Komura was gone.

*

The air was thick with grief. Not a word was spoken as the villagers gathered in a small clearing, the dark clouds overhead mirroring the somber mood. Vaba stood in front, her shoulders hunched with the weight of a sorrow no mother should bear. Beside her, Aldric's eyes were hollow, fixed on the ground as if afraid to lift them and face the reality before him. Celine was by his side, clutching his arm as though trying to anchor him to the present, her face pale and tear-streaked.

The two pyres were built side by side, one for Komura and the other for Rafiki. Their bodies, wrapped in fine cloth, lay in silence. The flames that would soon consume them had not yet been lit, but the tension among the mourners felt as though it could set the entire village ablaze.

Belvedere, the butler, stood close by, his face as composed as ever but his eyes betraying a deep, unspeakable sadness. The villagers, too, wore the same vacant expressions, their lips pressed thin as they whispered their final prayers to the deceased.

Aldric finally broke the silence, his voice rough and raw from the weight of emotion. "They were taken from us far too soon," he said, his hands shaking as they gripped his sword. "We can never truly understand the whims of fate, but today... we must mourn. We must grieve for what was lost."

Vaba couldn’t look at her son; her eyes remained glued to the pyre where her daughter lay. "My Komura... my little girl," she whispered, barely audible, her voice cracking. "I wasn’t there to save her."

Aldric swallowed hard, unable to reply. His own guilt gnawed at him, leaving him broken. He stared at the bodies of Komura and Rafiki, but he couldn’t find the strength to say more. He stepped back, falling into a silent prayer, leaving the weight of his words to linger in the air.

The butler, Belvedere, finally moved forward. He lit the torches, his motions deliberate and slow as if drawing out the inevitable. The flames flickered, casting long shadows over the faces of the mourners.

But before he could place the torches on the pyres, the sound of heavy hooves echoed through the village. Everyone turned, their attention drawn to the approaching group. From the horizon, a group of armed villagers emerged, their faces unreadable but their intentions clear. The Yakuno villagers had arrived.

A grand carriage rolled behind them, flanked by several riders, their weapons glinting in the dim light. In the center sat a woman with her face concealed beneath a finely woven cloth, her posture regal, even unnervingly serene. She was clad in a beautiful gown, the kind that might have been worn at a celebration rather than a funeral.

In the carriage beside her sat a small child, barely five years old, with wide, curious eyes. The crowd parted as the group made their way forward, their presence overshadowing the heavy air of mourning. The villagers exchanged glances, unsure of what was about to unfold.

The woman in the carriage spoke, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Alicia," she said softly, placing a delicate hand on the child’s shoulder. "Look closely, my dear. This... this is your legacy. One day, you will understand what it means."

The words hung in the air, their weight sinking in as Alicia stared at the scene before her. The funeral, the bodies, the faces of the mourners—it was all part of a future that the little girl could not yet comprehend.

The woman’s hand never left Alicia's shoulder, and as the Yakuno villagers gathered closer, the air of mourning turned tense.