“It’s you.”
The Demon King’s cherry lips parted softly. She raised her sword, pointing it straight at Anna, who lunged toward her.
“So you finally recognized me?”
A mocking smile appeared on Anna’s face as she beat her Light Wings, darting low to the Demon King’s left and slashing at her unprotected side.
“My Inheritance.”
Deep Black Fire ignited at the Demon King’s feet. Her wings spread high, soaring straight into the sky as if to shake Anna off. Anna flapped her Light Wings, trying to pursue her, but from the hole smashed in the roof, she saw a black flash high above.
It fell like a meteor, carrying the weight of a thousand mountains.
Anna’s chest was pierced in an instant.
It was so fast, Anna didn’t even have time to feel pain.
She stared blankly at the spinal sword running through her chest, her body weightless, as if floating among clouds.
Suddenly, weightlessness vanished, and excruciating pain shot through her whole body in a heartbeat. Every inch of her skin, every fiber of muscle burned; she was torn to pieces in agony and fire.
Bang. Anna plummeted into the Sea of Darkness.
Her breathing slowed, growing still.
Is this… death?
Anna tried to move her fingers, but, unsurprisingly, had lost all control over her body.
She was falling ever deeper.
In that utter darkness, two Gems—one blue, one violet—shone like the only torches in the night.
Anna was drawn to those tiny lights almost by instinct.
She saw her own reflection within the translucent Gems.
It was as if she was admiring herself up close.
In the blue Gem to the left, she was bare, skin as pale as snow, silver hair cascading like frost, eyes crimson as flame.
This was her—Anastasia.
In the violet Gem to the right, she had long, pitch-black hair, wore half-rimmed glasses, braids hanging over both shoulders, and a face cold as a glacier.
That was her too—though she could no longer recall the name.
The left Anna held a sword; the right Anna, a pen.
“In the name of the King, I pronounce you guilty.”
The Anna on the left stood before the Judgement Court, bearing the curses of the masses.
“After all Father and Mother sacrificed, this is the lousy college you got into?”
The right Anna stood with her head bowed before strangers called Father, desperately hiding the scars on her wrist.
The left Anna shed her lavish dress and stepped into the dank, rainy Lower City.
The right Anna donned the most beautiful gown and ascended the Glass Tower.
Bang—she fell, a Crestfallen Flower blooming in the mud.
Bang—she collapsed, and in her eyes reflected the face of the Gold-haired Girl.
Ophelia caught her.
The taste of another’s tears, salty and bitter, for the first time; the warmth and softness of another’s lips pressed to hers, for the first time; the steady beat of another’s heart under her ear, for the first time.
The first time her body surged and trembled beneath someone’s fingers, sheer abandon flooding her senses; the first time she bit into someone’s neck, an odd possessiveness rising; the first time their fingers entwined, their heartbeats pulsing through joined fingertips…
“Ophelia…”
She called out, almost by instinct, the name engraved upon her soul.
Past sufferings and anguish faded from her heart, the silver-haired hero and the black-haired girl overlapping, her gaze piercing through all that once was.
She had long forgotten those wounds and pains; soon she would forget the laughter and joy as well. In a single instant, Anna glimpsed her Destiny.
She saw the Destiny of another girl, too.
Through the endless years, her soul lost its color. In the end, the hero became the Demon King. She rose from heaps of bones, no spark of color left in her eyes.
Only a deep, blood-soaked red.
So the hero is but an unborn Demon King; the Demon King is a hero who’s reached her journey’s end.
Her future held no place for light.
That’s how it was supposed to be.
Yet… within the fixed melody, a faintly discordant note of cedar appeared.
“Oph—elia.”
She wanted to rise from that endless mire, to embrace the single ray of accidental light.
If she was destined to forget everything… then she would rather love her until the very end.
Like a moth to the flame, she would burn away in the light and warmth she pursued.
The two-toned Gems burst with unprecedented radiance, making Anna shut her eyes tight. Light flooded over her like a tide, wrapping her up, piecing her together anew.
Darkness was driven away. Anna opened her eyes—her toes now rested atop a mirror.
On the other side of the mirror stood a girl identical in appearance, but with Black Wings.
“Do you see it now, Heir?”
She spoke, her voice steeped in the weight of time.
It was the Demon King. Now, she set aside all hostility, meeting Anna’s gaze through the mirror.
“The hero is an unborn Demon King…” Anna murmured the truth reflected in her eyes, her voice hoarse even to herself.
“The Demon King is a hero who’s reached her journey’s end,” replied the Demon King softly from the other side.
The gears of time never cease to turn.
“When the world ends, someone will build you a High Tower; when the Storm rages, someone will open their arms for you.”
She recited her verses, heedless of anything else.
Her figure grew indistinct, as if she would merge with the mirror at any moment.
“I am you.”
Her voice sounded as if it came from a distant sky.
“But you don’t have to become me.”
She smiled at Anna, then leapt into the mirror, vanishing without a trace.
The mirror shattered. Anna plunged into the deep sea.
Her breath faded away, her body submerged beneath the waves.
Suddenly, a pale arm pulled her up from the water.
Anna opened her eyes. Big, heavy tears fell on her face like Downpour.
“Anna, Anna, answer me!”
A trembling, crystalline voice reached her ears, the unique scent of cedar filling her nose and piercing her soul.
Her arm ached—Ophelia’s nails were digging into her skin.
“I’m here…”
Anna spoke with difficulty. She reached out, embracing Ophelia’s neck, tilting her face up, seeking Ophelia’s kiss.
Ophelia’s body stiffened in an instant; then her embrace tightened so fiercely Anna could hardly breathe, as if Ophelia wanted to crush Anna into herself, never to part again.
“You’re doing it again… How many times do you plan to scare me…”
Ophelia pressed her lips to Anna’s forcefully, as if pouring a lifetime’s worth of kisses into this single moment.
Thump, thump—her heartbeat pounded.
Anna leaned against Ophelia’s chest, listening to that strong, steady rhythm.
Who was she, really? It didn’t matter anymore. Perhaps once she had been someone else, but now she was Anastasia Castellan, the sword at her master’s side, the one who had said “I do” to the priest, Ophelia’s lawful wife.
Destiny is a river flowing toward its predetermined end.
But she would build a dam within its waters.
Perhaps memories would sink to the bottom of her heart as time passed, but new memories would forever be born.
She wanted to hold the present in her arms with all her might, until the day arrived.