The northern skies were muted with cloud as Arasha and Kane arrived at the estate, but the air felt lighter, less suffocating than before.
As they stepped into the manor, the duchess met them in the foyer, her eyes tired from days of worry, but relief softened her features upon seeing Arasha.
"He's stable now," the duchess whispered, her voice still tremulous with emotion. "He keeps asking for you."
Arasha wasted no time, hurrying through the quiet halls until she reached the chamber where Levi lay.
There, curled beneath thick quilts, Levi sat upright the moment he saw her.
He scrambled from the bed, rushing into Arasha's arms with no hesitation, burying his face into her shoulder as he sobbed.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry," Levi cried, fists clinging to the back of her cloak. "You had to suffer so much… just because of me. It's not fair. I didn't want you to pay anything for me."
Arasha held him close, gently running her fingers through his hair.
"Don't ever say that," she whispered. "You're worth everything, Levi. I made that choice—not out of duty, but out of love. So don't carry this burden. Not for me."
Still, Levi wouldn't let go. He clung tighter, shaking, until exhaustion began to pull him under. Only when sleep finally claimed him did Arasha gently lay him back in bed, brushing the hair from his peaceful face.
She turned—and found Lucian watching from the doorway, quiet and solemn.
Lucian stepped forward, cheeks pink with emotion. "Thank you, Big Sister. For saving Levi… for everything." He gave a short, awkward bow, then suddenly hugged her too. "You're too good, you know?"
Before she could return the hug properly, Kane grabbed Lucian by the collar and yanked him back.
"Alright, that's enough," Kane grumbled. "You've had your moment."
Lucian slapped his hand off with a growl. "What's your problem?! She's like my sister!"
"You say that, but I saw the way you looked at her when she walked in," Kane muttered, sidestepping a retaliatory kick.
"I was crying!" Lucian snapped. "You emotionally-deprived bastard!"
They bickered in rising volume, circling each other like cats ready to pounce. Arasha watched the display with folded arms and a raised brow, the smallest smile tugging at her lips.
"Boys," she said, finally intervening, "if you really want to impress me, try not breaking anything in the house."
They both froze. Lucian coughed. Kane looked away, muttering something about discipline.
The tension finally broke when the duke and duchess entered, standing side by side. The duchess came forward and gently took Arasha's hands.
"Thank you, Arasha," she said, tears shining in her eyes. "There's no gift greater than a child's life. You've given us that again."
The duke placed a hand on her shoulder. "You've proven again why you are the pride of both our house and this realm. We're in your debt, Arasha."
Arasha bowed her head, heart heavy and full all at once. "I would do it again. No debt owed."
For a moment, in that warm room with grateful hearts and teasing banter echoing in the background, Arasha felt a fleeting, fragile peace.
****
The familiar stone walls of the base came into view as Arasha and Kane descended from the sky via teleportation gate, the light folding around them before gently setting them on solid ground.
It had been a long journey—emotionally, spiritually—but there was no time to rest. The rifts wouldn't wait. Neither would the people.
Sir Garran and Leta stood at the steps of the courtyard. Garran's arms were crossed, but his expression softened the moment he saw Arasha unharmed. Leta, however, wasted no time.
She stormed forward, brows knitted, and smacked Arasha on the shoulder—not hard, but sharp enough to demand attention. "Are you insane?! Again with the reckless, self-sacrificing nonsense? I told you—we all told you—that you don't have to carry this burden alone!"
Arasha blinked, then opened her mouth. "Leta, I—"
"No," Leta cut her off, eyes flashing with unyielding emotion. "Don't give me 'I had no choice' or 'It was urgent.' I know it was. We all know that. But you still didn't reach out. You left again, without even giving us the chance to help. You think that's noble? It's not. It's cruel."
Kane stood back, arms loosely folded, watching but not intervening. Sir Garran glanced at him, then at Arasha, but said nothing. This was a moment between them.
Arasha stepped forward, trying to keep her voice even. "Leta, I wasn't taking you for granted. I just… I couldn't stand seeing Levi like that. It wasn't about trust, it was about time—"
"No!" Leta snapped, eyes now shimmering. "You don't get it! You're not just Arasha anymore! You're our dear commander, our family, our friend! Every time you disappear or throw yourself into danger without a word, you leave us behind to fear the worst. You make us powerless."
Arasha's lips parted, but Leta wasn't done. Her voice dropped, quieter, but sharper.
"I've told you over and over again—we're here for you. We'll carry the burden with you. But you keep pushing us away. What do you think that does to us?" She took a breath, shaking. "So don't you dare say the words again if you don't mean to show them. Because words are wind. Prove it in action."
The silence that followed was heavy, all the more potent for the sincerity laced in Leta's voice. Her frustration was not anger born from ego—it was pain, concern, the ache of someone watching a loved one break themselves piece by piece.
Arasha lowered her gaze. For once, she didn't have a retort or a noble reason to shield herself behind.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "You're right. I'll do better. Not just say it—live it."
Leta exhaled, brushing a hand through her bangs. "Good. Because next time you do something that idiotic, I'm dragging you back myself."
Kane finally stepped in, clapping Arasha on the back. "Honestly, you deserved that."
Sir Garran chuckled. "She did."
Arasha couldn't help it—she smiled. A small one, but real.
In the midst of chaos, it was this—these unyielding, frustrating, steadfast people—who anchored her to herself.
"Alright," she said. "From now on, I'll stop carrying the world alone."
Leta rolled her eyes. "You better."
****
The long dining table was modestly set, the clatter of utensils and the low hum of conversation creating a warmth none of them realized they missed until now.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Arasha, Kane, Leta, and Sir Garran sat together—not as commander and subordinates, but as people. Friends. Family.
Steam rose gently from the hearty stew, and the final course—a rare treat of caramel flan—gleamed golden under the soft lighting of the dining hall.
Leta's eyes sparkled with delight as she dug in, and Kane shamelessly stole a bite from Arasha's plate, earning a swift flick on the forehead.
Even Sir Garran cracked a smile as he nursed a cup of strong tea. "It's almost suspicious," he murmured, "a night without sirens or reports."
"Don't jinx it," Leta warned, half-joking.
But fate had long stopped playing fair.
The doors to the hall slammed open. A breathless messenger stumbled in, uniform soaked and hands trembling from the urgency of his news.
"Commander Arasha—urgent report!" he cried, panting. "At the southern port—a colossal monster, emerging from the deep. It's displacing the sea—massive waves! If it moves further inland, it could cause a tsunami!"
Everyone shot to their feet, chairs scraping loudly against the stone floor. The moment of peace shattered.
Arasha's calm mask fell into place like second nature. "Send word to the coastal defense units and prepare evacuation orders for all shoreline settlements. I'll—"
"No," Kane interrupted, stepping forward. "We'll go."
Arasha frowned, already reaching for her armor. "Kane, this isn't something—"
Leta cut in, surprisingly firm. "Commander, listen. You just got back. You haven't even rested. Trust us. You've carried this base and more on your shoulders nonstop."
Kane placed a hand on her arm. "Let us handle this one. Stay. Just this once."
Arasha's lips parted, instinct pushing her to refuse, to argue. But Sir Garran, who'd said little, placed his hand gently on her other shoulder.
"You gave your word, didn't you?" he said softly.
Arasha's mouth shut. The promise she made after Leta's scolding was still fresh—prove it in action.
After a tense beat, she nodded. "Very well. Take the vanguard units and a full tactical mage squad. Prioritize minimizing casualties and stabilize the shoreline. If it looks like it's an unnatural summon, contain it first."
Kane gave a small, satisfied grin. "Understood, Commander."
Leta gave her one last long look, as if checking to see whether she really meant to stay. Arasha gave a faint nod. That was enough.
As Kane and Leta departed in a flash of light and wind, Arasha stood still, the night around them unusually quiet again.
Sir Garran picked up a pile of folders. "Come on, Commander. There's paperwork with your name on it. If you're staying, may as well bleed here."
Arasha gave him a tired but sincere smile. "Of course. The battlefield comes in many forms."
Outside, the wind howled and somewhere out there the ocean roared. But inside the war room, Arasha and Garran prepared for the aftermath.
The magelight in the command office flickered but still bright. A sea of completed documents lay scattered across the desk like the aftermath of a quiet storm—reports stamped, orders written, logs corrected.
And at the heart of it all, slumped over with her cheek resting against a roll of parchment, was Arasha.
Her breathing was slow, rhythmic.
Her dark lashes fluttered faintly as though resisting the lull of long-overdue sleep.
Even in rest, her brow was faintly furrowed, evidence of burdens that refused to ease completely.
Sir Garran, entering quietly with more documents in hand, halted in the doorway. His stern eyes softened at the sight.
"She finally gave in," he murmured.
He set the papers aside without a word, quietly pulling a blanket from the nearby couch and draping it over her shoulders.
A ghost of a smile touched his lips before he turned, guarding the silence.
Moments later, wind and light swirled briefly in the corridor as Kane and Leta reappeared—clothes damp, armor nicked, but otherwise unharmed.
They walked in, speaking low and casual until they noticed the stillness in the room.
Kane's voice fell to a hush. "She's asleep?"
Sir Garran nodded. "Only just. Don't wake her."
Leta crossed the floor, peering at Arasha with a sigh. "Finally given in to sleep, huh?"
Kane stepped closer, crouching beside her. His eyes traced the weariness on her face, the lines that hadn't been there before all this began.
Gently, he slipped one arm beneath her knees and another behind her shoulders.
"She shouldn't be sleeping here," he muttered and lifted her with practiced ease.
Leta followed close behind as Kane carried her down the hall. "She sleeps like a rock once she's actually out," she whispered. "Stubborn to rest, but completely defenseless when she does."
Kane said nothing, only tightened his grip slightly.
In Arasha's room, soft light from the moon spilled across the bed. Kane laid her down gently, brushing a lock of hair away from her face.
Leta moved forward and began to loosen the high collar of Arasha's coat and the tight cuffs of her sleeves.
"She'll rest better like this," Leta said, her voice low but warm. "For once, she won't have to wake up to alarms."
Kane stood at the edge of the bed, watching the rise and fall of Arasha's chest. "She looked... peaceful," he whispered, as if afraid to jinx it.
Leta glanced over at him. "You're not going to stand there and watch her all night, are you?"
"Not all night," he said. "Just a little while."
Leta shook her head but didn't argue.
Together, they stood in the quiet, letting Arasha rest while the world outside still turned—a brief, fragile moment of peace carved from the storm.
****
Darkness stretched wide like a veil before it was shredded by snow—an endless flurry of white crashing into crimson.
Arasha knelt in the snow, her hands trembling and stained with blood far too bright against the pure white canvas.
In her arms lay Lucian, body limp, his small hands frozen and slack. His wide eyes no longer sparkled, his smile forever gone. Around her were heaps of slain riftspawn, their blackened blood soaking into the snow, steam rising from their monstrous corpses.
She screamed, but no sound left her throat.
The snow melted into rain. The dream twisted.
Now she was older, wearier—dark circles under her eyes, her armor cracked and scarred. She sat motionless beside a simple cot inside the base infirmary.
On it, Leta lay still, eyes closed, arms folded atop her chest.
No life. No warmth. Just silence.
Arasha's hand clutched tightly onto Leta's now-cold fingers, her other hand trembling as it hovered over her heart.
Another shift. Another nightmare.
She stood atop a mountain of corpses—riftspawn, monsters, and even some human. Her blade dragged against the ground.
In her arms, Sir Garran, bloodied and mortally wounded, looked up at her with a proud, faint smile as he reached toward her cheek.
"You'll carry on... commander…"
Then came the final vision. The one that shattered everything.
A field of ruin. The sky dyed red.
Before her stood Levi, grown and battle-worn, a gaping hole in his chest, blood pouring freely.
He had pushed her back—shielded her from a blow meant to kill.
"You should live… for the future," he whispered with a tired smile. "Even if it's without us."
He fell.
Arasha screamed.
She jolted awake with a gasp, a choked, broken cry bursting from her lips.
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
Her breathing ragged, her body drenched in cold sweat.
"No... no—no!"
She sat up, gripping the sheets like a lifeline, heart pounding in a panic that even reason couldn't reach.
The moon was gone. Only the quiet darkness of early dawn embraced her now. But even in the peace of her quarters, her mind replayed the dreams like cruel premonitions burned behind her eyes.
She touched her face. Tears. Real. Her chest ached with guilt, with dread.
"Did I twist fate too far?"
"Did I save Levi... at the cost of damning all of them in the other planes?"
"What did the shaman mean by every plane that holds my thread?"
Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms.
She had saved him. She would never regret that. But now, doubts coiled like shadows at the edge of her soul.
Her gaze turned toward the dark window, as if hoping the stars could give her an answer.
But the sky gave none.
Only silence.