Chiaki stood frozen, paralyzed by fear and disbelief. Her limbs refused to move. Even breathing felt dangerous—every rise and fall of her chest came with a tremor she couldn't suppress. What she saw before her was one of her deepest nightmares made real.
Razor, usually the one to scoff or snarl through anything, had gone silent. Her wide, unblinking eyes scanned the graves with a kind of raw, stunned horror. "What the hell..." she whispered, voice barely more than breath. "This can't be right."
"All those Resonators... they died and were brought here." Chiaki's legs gave out beneath her. She dropped to her knees, the rough stone scraping through her clothes as she faced the endless field of tombstones. Her hands clenched at her sides, helpless to stop the ache in her chest from spilling out.
Even Temoshí, who almost never lost his grin, had gone grim. His expression twisted—not just in sorrow, but in helpless, seething frustration.
"There's no way this is real," he muttered, stepping forward, as if the act alone might break the illusion. "It has to be some kind of trick."
But no explanation came. Just silence.
Yuka finally spoke, her voice low but steady. "These are their graves. The graves of all the Resonators." She swallowed hard. "I was told the bodies were moved from the Holy Arches... that they were taken somewhere safe. But I never imagined they'd be brought here. Lyvoria Crest was never supposed to be part of this."
Fioren gently held her own forearm, feeling the weight of helplessness press down on her. She didn't know what to say—there were no words that could pull Chiaki out of this grief. All she could do was stand beside her and let the silence speak for them both.
"I—" her voice cracked, faltering beneath the pressure of the moment. After a pause, she finally managed, "I'm sorry..."
It was all she could offer. And somehow, it felt like the only thing she could say.
Chiaki's voice broke through the stillness, quiet but heavy with disbelief.
"Was I lied to? Blythe was with me. My brother. My father still had unfinished business with that admiral... Elian. And now these corpses... they were buried here? At Lyvoria Crest?"
Yuka looked toward her, composed yet visibly distressed. Her expression was a mix of sorrow and quiet dread.
"Lyvoria Crest was always known for its grave sites—massive fields of tombstones and forgotten dead. But I never imagined this. I never thought... it would be your kind buried here, Chiaki."
More thoughts rushed in, drowning her as she stared at the graves. And then, without meaning to, she spoke—softly at first, but unable to stop once the dam cracked.
"If I was lied to about Deadly Rain... then what else was a lie?" Her voice shook. "Am I even really a daughter of the Yasuda family? Or have I just been living someone else's life—one I was never meant to have?"
She looked down at her hands as if they didn't belong to her.
"But the memories... that girl in the lab... strapped down, surrounded by machines. That wasn't just a dream. I remember her. I felt what she felt. And the Deadly Rain—" her voice faltered, but she forced the words out, "—I've seen it. Again and again. Not like a story someone told me... like I was there."
Her chest rose with a sharp breath, as if every word cut deeper.
"Were those my memories? Or were they put in me?" she whispered. "Was I created for something? Made to forget?"
She wrapped her arms around herself, trembling, her voice now raw and exposed.
"I don't know what's real anymore..."
Chiaki's voice cracked at the edges. "I don't know what's real anymore…"
There was a beat of silence.
Then Razor, arms crossed and squinting at her, tilted her head like she was doing mental gymnastics with a single brain cell.
"…Wait. Hold up." She jabbed a finger at Chiaki. "Didn't I see your face on a bounty poster back in Kordas? Something like 'Highly unstable asset—capture alive, sedated if necessary' or some crap like that?"
Everyone turned to stare at her.
Razor blinked. "What? I thought it was just a really bad artist sketch. Looked like someone mashed your face with a toaster and ran it through a fax machine."
Chiaki just stared at her, stunned into silence.
Yuka stepped forward, eyes wide. "Wait. You actually saw that poster?"
Razor shrugged. "Yeah. Had it up in the bar. I drew a mustache on it and wrote 'Do not feed after midnight'."
Temoshí's jaw tightened, clearly trying not to laugh. "Razor—please—this isn't the time."
"No, this is exactly the time," Razor insisted, now staring at Chiaki with suspicion and mock accusation. "Tell us right now—are you, or are you not, secretly a genetically modified supersoldier designed to obliterate reality and steal puppies?"
Chiaki opened her mouth to protest—then hesitated.
Because she didn't know. And that was the worst part.
Her silence made Razor pause.
"…Wait. Seriously?"
Chiaki's breath hitched. "A soldier... designed to...?"
The words lingered, too heavy to ignore.
Razor's outstretched finger slowly dropped as her playful look faded into something more serious. "Wait... you really didn't know."
Chiaki's voice was barely a whisper. "The only thing I've seen is the bounty posters. They're everywhere. Every region, every outpost. But they never said why. Just my name… and the same line: Wanted. Capture alive. No crime. No reason."
Yuka's brows furrowed. "That's not standard protocol. Bounties that widespread—without any public charge? That's not for a fugitive... that's for containment."
Temoshí folded his arms, face darkening with thought. "Unless she isn't being hunted like a person at all. More like... a stolen asset."
Chiaki's eyes widened. "Asset…?"
Razor tapped her chin, finally putting it together. "That'd explain the weird language. Not 'arrest on sight.' Not even 'neutralize.' Just... retrieve, alive. Like she belongs to someone."
Yuka's voice lowered, as if afraid to say it aloud. "She's not being pursued for something she did. She's being brought back for what she is."
Chiaki took a small step back, heart racing. "You mean... I'm not even being chased because of my choices... but because I'm some kind of experiment?"
Razor nodded slowly, unusually quiet. "Not a threat to justice. A threat to control."
Chiaki's hands trembled as she stared at her reflection in the polished surface of a tombstone.
If that's true... then everything I remember—everything I love—might never have belonged to me in the first place.
She whispered to herself, "I'm not their daughter. I'm... their creation."
And somewhere, buried deep beneath memory and silence, a locked part of her mind stirred.
Something lingered behind Temoshí's eyes. Distant. Heavy.
Chiaki noticed it and stepped toward him, hesitant. "Temoshí… what is it?"
He didn't answer right away. His gaze was fixed on the graves ahead, but his mind was somewhere far behind them. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but clear.
"Forbidden Chain. That was the place meant for your execution."
Chiaki's breath caught in her throat.
"They had already decided," he continued. "You were labeled too dangerous to keep alive. Not because of anything you'd done. But because of your name—your bloodline. The legacy tied to it."
She frowned. "My family…?"
He nodded. "There were rumors. Old ones. About the Yasuda line. About how certain Resonators in your lineage weren't just powerful—they were unpredictable. Tied to uprisings, disappearances, even entire battles no one was supposed to remember. The higher-ups feared what you might become. So instead of watching... they chose to erase you first."
Chiaki looked down, struggling to breathe. "I don't even remember any of that. I didn't do anything…"
Temoshí shook his head. "They didn't care. To them, you were the next storm. The next mistake waiting to happen."
He looked at her now, meeting her eyes.
"We were there. My crew and I. Part of the team that was supposed to ensure the execution went through. But the second we saw you—chained, unconscious, treated like some curse—they knew we weren't going to follow through."
"You saved me," she said quietly.
"We believed you deserved to choose your path," he said. "Not carry the weight of what others feared you might be."
Razor, arms crossed, added with a shrug, "Yeah, and blowing a hole in the wall was pretty satisfying too. Just saying."
Chiaki gave a weak smile, though her hands were trembling.
"I was never dangerous," she whispered. "Just... judged before I could speak."
Temoshí nodded. "That's why we came for you. To give you the chance they tried to take away."
Silence settled again, but only for a moment.
Yuka took a cautious step forward, her tone softer than usual, like she didn't want her words to wound—but knew they needed to be spoken.
"Chiaki… there's something I've been wondering since we found this place."
Chiaki looked up slowly.
Yuka's hands were folded in front of her, fingers tightening slightly. "The execution order. The fear. The way they moved so quickly to eliminate you—it always felt extreme. Even for the Marines."
She hesitated, then added, "What if it wasn't just your name they feared? What if they predicted something?"
Temoshí turned to her, a hint of confusion in his eyes.
Yuka looked at Chiaki directly. "Soul Severance. The forbidden art. The one that rips a person from their Phantom, or shatters it completely. It's not just lost—it's sealed. Buried. And lately... all the signs are pointing toward its return."
Chiaki's eyes widened.
"There are whispers," Yuka went on. "That it's not just a technique. It's a force—one that's been sleeping inside people for generations. And maybe... maybe the higher-ups believed you were connected to it."
Temoshí frowned. "But that's just a myth. Soul Severance hasn't been used in centuries."
"Maybe that's what they wanted us to think," Yuka said. "But if they believed Chiaki was a link to it—a vessel, or worse, the spark to bring it back—they would've seen her as a threat long before she ever awakened."
Chiaki took a step back, stunned. "You're saying they tried to kill me... because of something I hadn't even done yet?"
"They feared what you might do," Yuka replied gently. "That someday, your presence alone would lead to the return of Soul Severance. They didn't wait for proof. They acted first."
Razor let out a low whistle. "So let me get this straight—they tried to execute her not because she was a weapon... but because she might be a fuse."
Temoshí clenched his fists. "Cowards. They couldn't face their own fear, so they buried it—and nearly buried her with it."
Chiaki didn't answer right away. Her pulse raced, her mind spinning. It was all too much. A bounty with no charges. A life she barely remembered. A death sentence based on something she hadn't even known existed.
And now—this.
"Soul Severance," she whispered, barely audible. "I've heard that name before. In dreams... in flashes. And once—once I felt it. Something cold. Hollow. Like my soul wasn't mine."
The wind moved gently through the tombstones.
Temoshí stepped closer. "Whatever they feared, Chiaki... you're still here. You made it through. And whatever comes next—you're not facing it alone."
Suddenly, Temoshí reached into his sweater and pulled out a folded letter—its edges worn and creased from time. It was the same one Ralphie had given him back at Sennecroft Holm, a message originally written by Blythe… but one he had never fully read aloud.
Whatever it held, it was still waiting to be heard.
Chiaki's eyes widened in recognition. "Wait—that letter? You've been carrying it all this time? The one Blythe wrote?"
Her voice trembled with a mix of surprise and something deeper—like a piece of the past had just slipped through the cracks of the present.
~
Chiaki... I don't know if you'll ever read this, but I had to write it anyway.
If this letter finds you, then you've made it past the line they drew for you. Past the fate they set in stone.
I always knew there was more to your story than what we were told. Not because of your strength, or your name, but because of the way they feared you. Quiet fear. The kind they bury under rules and sealed documents. The kind they write execution orders for without ever saying why.
There was a place—Forbidden Chain. I saw what they did there. I saw what they did to you.
But I also saw the one moment they never expected: when someone looked at you and chose to save you instead of obey.
You won't remember what they took. That was part of the process. To make sure you forgot before you could choose.
But if you're reading this, it means you're starting to remember something anyway.
It means they were wrong to fear you… and I was right to believe in you.
If you ever reach Lyvoria Crest, don't run from what you find there. That place holds more than graves. It holds answers.
And if you feel alone when you face them—just know I never left your side.
Not really.
—Blythe
~
To be continued...