Before the morning arrived, Rinoa found herself awake in a world that was still fractured, a landscape marred by the remnants of her dreams. Fragments clung stubbornly to her hair, while the dawn's light, gentle yet tentative, was insufficient to chase away the shadows lingering in her eyes. As the golden morning light seeped through the window curtains, slender rays danced across her skin, mingling with the crisp scent of dew that hung gracefully in the stillness. Each tick of the clock resonated through the room, a stark reminder that time relentlessly pressed forward, even as Rinoa's heart felt ensnared in a moment that refused to let go.
At her bedside sat Fitran, shrouded in his quietude. His left hand bore the marks of magical wounds, some darkened, the scars of spells he had bravely withstood alone throughout the night. Yet an air of tranquility enveloped his expression, a demeanor that felt incongruous for one labeled a traitor, a savior, or a monster. In the silence, the soft murmur of the wind outside whispered like a haunting melody, echoing the sadness of the waking morn. The aroma of damp earth and freshly cut leaves mingled in the air, creating a poignant contrast to the heaviness that weighed on his heart.
Rinoa's gaze lingered on him, a silent communion where words were unnecessary.Without asking.
Without demanding.
Outside, the world stirred to life as birds began to chirp, their morning song an anthem of hope. Yet the ache in her heart listened with sorrow, each chirp a poignant reminder of memories she longed to erase.
She knew.
She remembered.
Every precious moment lingered in her mind like echoes of laughter caught in the air. Some memories should have brought her joy, yet they weighed heavily on her heart, transforming happiness into an agonizing burden. There were so many to sift through, too painful to bear all at once, like seeds sprouting in the darkness, yearning for the warm embrace of sunlight that eluded them. Outside, thin clouds drifted across the vast blue sky, painting it with soft pastel hues that suggested an unavoidable farewell—a scene both exquisitely beautiful and heartbreakingly unreal, emerging from the bittersweet tapestry of life she had woven.
"If I choose to forget again… will you still stay?"
Fitran did not answer straight away.
Instead, he gazed down at his own hands, as if he weighed the sins he had never dared to judge as right. The tender dawn light danced through the narrow crack in the window, casting a warm golden glow that enveloped the room, softly outlining their faces with a mingling of hope and sadness, illuminating the depths of their unspoken connection.
"You have the right to live as an ordinary human, Rinoa," he whispered, his voice barely rising above the gentle morning breeze, which carried the earthy scent of damp soil—a poignant reminder of new beginnings. "Not as a weapon. Not as an answer to the world's questions."
"Why are you putting yourself through this?" Fitran asked, his voice heavy with sorrow, reminiscent of a single leaf drifting to the ground, marking the end of something precious and unsaid. The enchantment of the Order of Silence unraveled within Rinoa, stirring her long-buried memories like delicate morning dew dissipating under the warmth of the sun, leaving behind a deep, aching emptiness.
Rinoa managed a small, fragile smile, her lips trembling as she fought to maintain her composure, akin to a steadfast queen standing resolute before her loyal army. Each subtle motion felt laden with the unbearable weight of sorrow that had nested deep within her heart.
"But if I forget you, I might start hating you again. Suspecting you. Hunting you down," she confessed, her voice laced with a profound sadness that danced like the soft silhouette of morning light filtering into the room, gradually illuminating the shadowed corners of her thoughts.
Fitran let out a quiet, melodic laugh, but it rang with a sense of deep fragility, like a fleeting shadow slipping away from the light, obscured by the bitterness forged from their shared history.
"Yes. And I will let you hunt me... forever, if that keeps you alive," he replied, as the morning light continued to seep through the window, bathing the room in an embrace of unspoken hope that lingered in the air.
"You haven't changed, Fitran," Rinoa murmured softly, her voice like a gentle whisper, resonating amidst the rustling leaves swayed by the warm breeze. "If only I could hold onto this moment."
Silence enveloped them, the stillness hanging heavily in the air like an unspoken reverie, piercing their hearts and deepening the poignancy of this moment of farewell.
The morning breeze fluttered through the cracks in the window, crafting a gentle symphony that intertwined with the distant sounds of burning grass and the fading cries of children at play. It was a soft reminder of a world still in the grip of its healing. Yet, within that fragile atmosphere, a single choice lingered, one that could save a life. The fresh aroma of morning dew, imbued with a bittersweet melancholy, wafted through the air, hinting at hope even as it wrapped itself in sorrow—an unspoken promise of brighter days to come.
"Do it," Rinoa finally whispered, her voice an echo of countless hopes resting delicately on the precipice of decision. The dawn light began to swell, shimmering vibrantly as if offering a potent promise of a new beginning.
"Seal everything again."
"I want to live with you longer, even if it means forgetting you," Rinoa confessed, her words laden with a melancholic weight that lingered heavily in the stillness, as though the very world had paused to absorb the stark reality of her sacrifice.
Warm tears spilled from her eyes, tracing paths down her cheeks like glistening raindrops on delicate petals. Outside, the sound of birds emerging from their nocturnal slumber filled the air, their mournful melodies weaving through the trees alight with the hues of dawn. Fitran stood before her, his hands trembling as he prepared to unlock the ancient spell hidden among forbidden incantations. The crisp morning air jolted him into the present, but the warmth of his resolve pushed him onward through the moment, knowing this was a spell that could only be cast once in a lifetime.
"Sanctum Oblivion…"
A gentle glow enveloped Rinoa's head, softly illuminating her features with a shimmering golden hue, transforming her into a vision of ethereal beauty. She smiled faintly, her eyes twinkling with distant laughter, but soon her gaze drifted and lost focus, as though she were peering into a vast ocean of memories long since faded and forgotten.
"Fitran…" she whispered, her voice tender and delicate, floating like dew trickling down the leaves of a woken forest.
"Did I ever... love you?" she questioned, her tone a gentle tremor that echoed the deep-seated doubt woven intricately into her heart.
"More than you could ever imagine. And I... am more than I deserve to have it," he replied, his words heavy with an unspoken burden.
Then, silence enveloped them.
The morning atmosphere embraced them with a tenderness that felt almost sacred, as if the world around had paused its relentless march to grant them this fleeting moment. Rinoa drifted back into the comforting arms of sleep—her mind cleared and her spirit light, akin to the sky brightening with the first blush of dawn after a long, shadowy night.
Fitran stood up, turning away slowly, feeling the gentle morning breeze caress his skin, a soft lament from nature itself that mourned their heartbreaking separation. He departed silently, merging with the ethereal dawn mist that danced lightly between the realms of reality and hope. On his shoulders, a new wound—a devastating scar left by love. In his heart, a love that could no longer be named.
He saved her by erasing himself from her life, each step he took a silent dance upon the morning canvas that awaited new strokes of joy, giving rise to hope even in the depths of darkness.
After the seal was restored, Rinoa's soul remained undeniably fractured. In a desperate bid to shield her from unbearable pain, Fitran shattered her innermost memories and emotions into seven existential fragments, scattering them among the realms of reality, dreams, and the ethereal spaces that lie in between. Yet, these fragments carried a will of their own, each embodying a distinct aspect of her essence. They were:
1. Sorrowflame
In the desolate ruins of Gamma land, an eternal blue flame flickers, casting a haunting glow upon the remnants of a forgotten world. It weeps in silence, its delicate tendrils of light dancing like spirits in sorrow. This flame scorches anyone who dares to approach without love—a guardian of grief. Within this fragment lies Rinoa's first experience of loss, as she mourns for someone whose memory is now veiled in shadows, a figure she can no longer recognize.
2. Noctea
In the dreamscape, a girl with raven-black wings drifts through the collective dream, her voice weaving melodies that tug at the heartstrings of all who hear. These songs, steeped in nostalgia, ignite tears in the eyes of listeners for reasons they cannot comprehend. This fragment encapsulates Rinoa's deepest longing, an unquenchable desire she cannot consciously direct toward anyone, echoing in the silence of her heart.
3. Aequor(Surface of the Mirror)
Hidden deep within the sacred lake of Chaos on the enigmatic Gamma continent, the mirror's surface only reveals itself during the moon's death throes, a rare celestial phenomenon. It reflects who Rinoa truly is, unmasking her soul beyond her self-perceptions and illusions. Those who dare to gaze upon its shimmering depths will find themselves ensnared in its haunting reflection, trapped in a timeless reverie for seven nights and seven days, unable to escape the truths they face.
4. Lance of Mercy
Resting imperceptibly within the shadows of a clandestine base in Gamma, an invisible spear is lodged in the ceiling, its presence felt rather than seen. This ethereal weapon symbolizes repressed anger, guilt, and a twisted murderous intent that has evolved over time. Should it be drawn forth, the world will bear witness to the haunting legacy of a life that Rinoa took… for Fitran.
5. Chalice of the Unspoken
Perched atop a hidden altar within the crumbling ruins of the grand marshal's castle in Gamma, the chalice possesses a profound promise never spoken. Its ornate design is imbued with history, whispering secrets long buried. Anyone who drinks from this ancient vessel will find their tongues compelled to speak in the language of memories, an intricate dialect that can only be deciphered by the one who holds the key to their sealed truths.
6. Thorn of Lucid Lies
A black thorn, sharp and ominous, is embedded deep within the heart of a dream creature, swirling amidst a tapestry of lies woven in the name of love. Rinoa herself placed this dark symbol within her dreams, an act of poignant defiance while still tethered to her consciousness, as a means to safeguard the raw truth from her own grasp, a reminder of the complexities that love can often disguise.
7. Name-Eater(The Name Devourer)
The last fragment—and the most perilous—emerges as a shadowy specter. A formless entity cloaked in mystery, it harbors Rinoa's true name, a name imbued with the profound power of identity. As long as this creature lingers in the realm of existence, Rinoa will forever feel like an echo of herself—a haunting presence adrift in a world that feels foreign. Fitran, burdened with the knowledge of this grim reality, understands that one fateful day he will face an agonizing choice: to obliterate this entity or to allow Rinoa the chance to reclaim her forgotten true self.
The seven fragments serve as the elusive keys to unseal Rinoa's buried memories, locked away within the enigmatic dimension of the Nameless. While Fitran has pinpointed the locations of these fragments, the exact moment and circumstances of their retrieval remain shrouded in uncertainty.
In a twist of fate, Mammon inadvertently encounters one of these illusory shards: the Thorn of Lucid Dream. Its enchanting presence glimmers with an ethereal radiance, akin to the gentle illumination of a starlit night sky. As he cradles it within his palm, he can almost hear the haunting echoes of lost memories swirling around him, weaving a tapestry of the past.
"Forgive me, My Love," a voice, as haunting as a forgotten melody, drifts through the air like a delicate breeze, infused with a profound sense of longing and sorrow.
"I can't come for you yet. You must feel so lonely there," the voice continues, laden with the weight of unfulfilled promises and stories left untold. Each word hangs in the air, wrapping around Fitran heart like a shroud of nostalgia, heavy yet comforting.
"If only you could hear my voice…" the plea whispers away into silence, leaving behind a bittersweet resonance that tugs insistently at the strings of his heart, echoing a deep sense of desperation.