Such a cure does not exist.
Andalia’s words rang in Saya’s mind endlessly, with no sight of an end. Her thoughts blanked, as if a white canvas was permanently covered in black tar. There was no wiggle room for speculation, and hope went from a bright flame to a feeble light.
If the fox was a regular doctor, she would have had no problems finding someone else to confide in. But the person before her was of great importance, and held great knowledge of not only the operations within Aimafina, but was a master of magic as well.
The wording was specific, fully intended from Andalia.
Such a cure does not exist.
Her words weren’t “a cure does not exist here”, or even “we do not know how to cure the curse.” There was a full period in her words, her tone accentuated with confidence, leaving no other potential result or misunderstanding for the young mage.
Such a cure does not exist.
Saya’s breathing halted completely, her mind slowly numbing from the lack of oxygen. The drums of her heartbeat, which had recently started resonating a beat of confidence and a newfound sense of self, were silenced under the curtain of despair.
Such a cure does not exist.
What does she mean by that?
The grass and soil beneath their feet felt a hard thud as two pairs of knees forcefully impacted the ground, the loose dirt shifting and compressing beneath the sudden weight. Thin blades of grass bent and snapped under pressure, the impact sending a dull vibration through their legs.
Words formed, barely reaching her throat before they were shattered into pieces. Her mouth was wide open, shuddering in disbelief, her lips trembling as if trying to force sound out, yet nothing but a faint, broken breath escaped.
The Soul Sight she had activated only moments ago lost its power, as the magical energy in her body all but faded into a dormant sleep.
As far as she could tell, she was a corpse still remaining upright. Strangely, tears barely formed around her eyes. It felt somewhat uncomfortable for Saya, as she expected to be curled up on the ground, pouring her eyes out by now.
But no, there was none of that…
There was only despair.
That’s impossible.
What have I…?
Why have I…?
All her hardships, all her effort was thrown out of this world with merely a simple string of words.
I’ve been improving myself.
I’ve been getting better, and more optimistic.
I thought I was finally making progress in every way, shape and form.
Her hand balled into a fist as she slammed against the ground as hard as she could. The soil pathetically splashed around as Saya grit her teeth at the mere thought of not only having all her progress be for nothing, but imagining a world where she would permanently have to live without Albo.
So why?!
Watching her descent to madness, Andalia crouched down, her knees dirtied by touching the soil. The chime of bells stuck to her clothing rang in her ear, temporarily drawing her attention back into reality. But alas, it wasn’t strong enough to keep her tethered.
She hung her head low, staring down at the ground as small teardrops hydrated the grass below. The blood on her hands betrayed her, no longer producing warmth, leaving them freezing in the merciless winter night.
Saya’s body shook, as one would expect from someone who had their heart ripped out. Though it was not physical, she felt the emotional reaction all the same. A void that had not existed until now manifested itself in place of her heart, threatening to keep it forever if its demands for light were not met.
Acting as a defense mechanism, Saya tried to recall words from Kanami, Hana, Viera, or even KL. But no matter how much she tried to dig in her own memories for any form of encouragement, she came back up empty.
For the first time in her life, she had never felt so alone.
Still slumped over, Saya felt a hand rub against the top of her head. It was a familiar sensation she had felt merely ten minutes ago, gentle and steady, the warmth of it grounding her as her thoughts threatened to drift. The soft pressure eased the tension in her scalp, coaxing her back into the present.
Andalia stayed silent, watching over the heartbroken mage quietly. Normally, people would resort to trying to comfort others during times like these, but Andalia felt it was unnecessary.
Whatever words she would come up with would surely fall on deaf ears. For the grieving, no amount of warm words would repair a shattered heart. In many ways, she regretted even telling the mage the truth.
Not being out of their troubles quite yet, she debated for a second on whether or not she should postpone the answer until after the monster was felled. But that, to her, felt much more unfair. From the sheer passion in Saya’s voice, it was immediately clear that the person she was hoping to cure was important to her.
She wanted nothing more than to give her good news, but no matter how hard she searched in her mind at that moment, there was only one answer she could give. Which is why, if she were going to destroy someone’s hope, then she would do it properly.
If one were to break a glass window, it would be imperative to destroy it fully, else the shattered remains might hurt not only the person working on the window, but perhaps children or other adults who would accidentally wander into the area.
Pulling the back of her head forward, she allowed Saya to rest her face on her breast, hoping it would bring at least some form of warm comfort. To add, she also wrapped her tail around her, spreading a sweet warmth that had all but abandoned the mage.
But Saya barely shed any tears, her body still shuddering. The world had gone colorless, and sound had gotten muffled. The sensation one would feel when their limb lost circulation spread all throughout her body. Slowly, she felt her mind fade away, the darkness of death greeting her into its embrace.
No matter how much effort she tried to put into breathing even once, her body refused to continue forward. Subconsciously, to Saya, breathing meant accepting failure, and for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to accept that.
I know why.
It’s because if I accept it, that means it’s doomed for us.
The life I wanted for us, the life I wanted to share.
It’ll all be gone.
Why was I too scared to move in Hector’s room?
If he didn’t take a step forward to protect me, he wouldn’t have eaten that mud, and if he didn’t eat that mud, he would be safe by now. He would be awake and well by now. I don’t understand why this had to happen to us.
The events that occurred in Kala quickly flashed in her mind, as her brain conveniently omitted all aspects of positivity from them. It was unintentional self-sabotage, with nobody around her to help.
While Hana served as a wise mentor, she wasn’t exactly someone who gave her immediate, life-changing advice. Certainly, her words had come to make an impact later on, but she recalled not exactly agreeing with or accepting her advice in the moment.
Barely speaking to Viera and KL, she had no real connection to go off of. There was nothing they could say that wasn’t something poetic, but painfully mundane and repeated. Surely they had the capability to inspire others, but Saya never received those moments from them, being so preoccupied with her training, and eventually, her departure.
Although Kanami had instilled the most amount of hope within her, none of what she said applied to the situation she was in. The childhood friend helped her realize her worth, and that the world wasn’t as bad as it seemed.
It was true, and while that advice could be applied here as well, the weight of her words was far outvalued and outmaneuvered by the growing miasma of despair that had been welling up within her ever since receiving the news.
At any moment, it felt like she could collapse. Finally, unable to handle the lack of oxygen anymore, she burst into loud, frantic breaths, her head pulling away from Andalia’s chest as she gulped down the freezing winter air, each inhale scraping her throat raw.
But in her gloom, there was one voice she had forgotten to include in her search for encouragement. There was only one person who, if they saw Saya in this situation, would click their tongue and yell at her to get back on her feet.
She was never the kindest, and quite frankly, Saya still sometimes felt the sting of her blows, both physically and emotionally, throughout her journey. But with so much time to reflect, she had come to realize that while the princess was cruel, she never once lied about her own feelings, whether compliments or insults.
“Vero…”
“...nica.”
She stuttered out.
Andalia’s ear twitched, her neck pulling back slightly as she inspected Saya, who stared blankly toward the distant woods. Slowly, as her body returned to its normal state, her breathing followed, growing steadier with each passing moment, her chest rising and falling in a consistent rhythm once more.
“Everyone is presented with cards to play in life. No matter how limited they might be, people choose the path they take out of their own volition.”
Those were her exact words. They were spoken to Saya back when they had a major argument, moments before Atrila was attacked. Back then, she barely had any time to even process the thought afterwards. But with the peaceful night allowing her to delve into her mind, she did exactly that.
Like puzzle pieces falling into place, words of truth started to stack inside her mind. The reason why she had such difficulty trying to recover from her state of shock was because her process of finding comfort was flawed in the first place.
In search of words of encouragement, she had neglected and overlooked the most simple truth that had been floating above her head this entire time: she still had alternative methods to restore Albo back to his senses.
Re-analyzing Andalia’s words, she claimed that a cure for curses did not exist. This meant all medicinal techniques, magical spells, and even other curses had no ability to undo something that had already imprinted itself on one’s soul.
“But a curse can’t be removed unless the caster dies, or undoes it himself.”
Viera had said so herself.
So absorbed in her journey with Redus, she had completely forgotten about her main goal, why she had set out on her journey in the first place. Aimafina was never meant to be a final destination, but one of many, so she could search for the culprits that still held her best friend’s life in their hands.
The mage Saya Idlansil, had set off on a journey to kill Sulva Vera.
Andalia sighed as Saya activated her Soul Sight unwillingly. This time, however, instead of glimmering with a beautiful light that allowed one to peer into someone’s soul, it carried the blinding burden of rage and fury.
Clenching her jaw, Saya’s breaths were now heavy and labored as bloodlust surged within her. Forcefully pulling away from Andalia’s grasp, she got back on her feet, quickly wiping her tears away with the sleeve of her clothes.
The world around her was in a state of deep blue, with the only shining light in front of her belonging to the Shrine Priestess.
“I’m going to kill him.” Saya mumbled.
“I’m going to pull his thread so fast, he won’t even notice it. I’ll make sure that when I enter his memories, I take my time spitting on every single frame that flashes into my mind.”
Andalia watched on as she also stood back up, wiping the dirt off from her pristine uniform. The bells chimed in the air, but the howl of the wind above them overpowered the sweet melody without hesitation.
It was like a complete code switch. The Priestess did not recognize the girl she had been comforting, and she certainly was not the same person with the caring eyes that had saved both her and a young, innocent boy.
This was someone completely foreign, someone from a different world, a different reality.
Andalia’s heart couldn’t help but skip a beat out of fear, her stomach dropping as the magical energy around her grew denser and denser, suffocating the very flow of mana within her body. It was like she was being squeezed between two cold cubes of ice.
Instinctively, she tried to reach for the wards of paper in her sleeve. If she didn’t stop this mysterious force now, then not only would her life be in danger, but so would the last remaining survivors who were helpless behind a single wooden door.
But Saya’s anger wasn’t psychotic, as she bore no smile and no laughter. It was just as it seemed, pure, unadulterated rage. All directed toward someone who had stolen her entire life and threatened her dreams of a peaceful, happy ending. As long as her target was alive, Saya would never truly be free.
Clipping a single ward with her right pointer and middle finger, she pulled one free. Its ink marking was large and daunting, with a red border surrounding the edges of the paper. This was no small threat. She had to deal with Saya as if it were the same level of danger as the monster.
There was hesitation within the Priestess. She didn’t want to rid herself of someone who had access to, and commanded, the power of the Butterfly Mage. But her safety came first, for the sake of all Aimafina.
Whispering under her breath, she spoke a prayer to activate the soul residing within the ward. But before she could finish, a wave of pure energy erupted from Saya, sending Andalia crashing back toward the door.
The door crashed open, the survivors inside jumping from their places at the sudden, explosive sound. At first, they assumed it was the result of a strong storm, but once their eyes fell upon the fury of an arcane mage, the hair on their bodies stood on end.
All they could hear was the violent whirring of magical energy. Their Birthmarks brought great discomfort to their bodies, as their temperature fluctuated from hot to cold faster than a flickering light.
Some of the villagers tried to help Andalia back up, but upon touching her, blue electricity sent quick shocks into their hands. In the meantime, Andalia squirmed on the wooden planks of the cabin, unable to recover from the blow Saya had unintentionally given her.
But even her comrade’s injury wasn’t enough to snap her out of the trance she had placed herself in.
The book clipped on her waist slowly opened, ready to shed its pages to protect its master from any overexertion. It didn’t care much about why Saya was using her powers, but it did care about how she was using them. At the rate she was pooling magical energy, it would only be a matter of time before she blew herself up.
Upon taking a step, another wave of magical energy pulsed out of her body.
“I’m going to need your help finding Rias Sol, and Sulva Vera. I do not accept their life, and will do anything to make sure their existence is nothing but a memory.” Saya’s voice echoed, her commandment sending shivers down everyone’s spines.
In the distance, wild animals cried out as if they were being skinned alive, while insects immediately dropped dead onto the ground. The desire within her had grown too strong, far too taxing for any single world to handle, her soul grazing the power that she once held.
Saya herself wasn’t aware, but far up in the skies, a certain silver-haired girl cracked a smile as she tossed a strand of hair into the air, ready to intervene in case her plaything went too far in her fit of rage. The world stood still, waiting for the mage’s next step, different variables readying themselves to react accordingly.
Her breath hitching, Saya’s magical energy suddenly subsided as the world returned to normal.
Within a span of milliseconds, the survivors went from witnessing the end of their lives to only hearing the weak creaks caused by wind brushing against the wooden logs that made up the cabin.
Saya squinted, her Soul Sight still active. Andalia rose from the ground, fully prepared to defend her life, as the glowing ward between her fingers still waited for its master’s command. But when her sight narrowed onto Saya, she noticed that the mage was not even looking at her.
Her gaze followed Saya’s, as she now stared curiously at the boy they had both rescued.Raising her left arm, she pointed at him, her hand shaking.
What she was seeing was something only she could see. After all, nobody else possessed the ability to peer into one’s soul. With everything in the physical world being so calm, she had not thought twice about even activating her Soul Sight to check for any disturbances around her.
Had she done so, perhaps they would have been able to spot such an anomaly much sooner.
“Andalia,” she called out her name, as if nothing had happened.
“Where’s the boy’s soul?”
In place of the thin, white thread that every living being carried, the boy instead had a long, thick strand, composed entirely of the same darkness as the monster. Devoid of light, the three core components of a human being, the Soul, Birthmark, and Magical Gears, were all swallowed within a void of pure black.
A black hole instead of a soul.