As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue over Clairforet, the town square becomes a bustling hub of anticipation. Residents gather, their eyes fixed on the entry platform to the town hall. Children frolic at the base of the stairs, laughter echoing in the air, while clusters of elders engage in lively conversation. Tonight's event—a Storytellers performance, specially prepared by the mayor—has all clamoring for an evening filled with enchantment.
As the clock hits 7, Lleuad steps out from the town hall, bowing gracefully to his expectant audience. Cheers erupt as they recognize the Storyteller, eager for him to begin weaving his tales. Meanwhile, inside the town hall, Elizabeth leads the building's guard. Thanks to Edmund's efforts, all of the towns' delinquents are gathered within the main lobby under her watchful eye.
As Elizabeth peers through a window at Lleuad before her, memories surface from their morning conversation. She recalls her inquiry about saving Anne and Lleuad's candid response: "I don't know," Lleuad said with evident concern. "At this point, she might already be lost. But you have my word: I will do whatever it takes to save her." His words were a balm, instilling courage within the mayor despite understanding the slim chances of retrieving her daughter.
Though she believed in Lleuad's innocence, the mayor remained pragmatic and kept his sword close. This did not deter the Storyteller; instead, he gave her one of his peculiar trinkets and demonstrated its function—to reveal anyone wielding Grimm abilities around Clairforet. Elizabeth now holds this device, which shows no sign yet of the supposed culprit.
The sun has long set over Clairforet, casting the town into an inky twilight. The air is serene and undisturbed; Lleuad continues to weave captivating tales outside, his voice rising and falling with each story, drawing laughter and gasps from the audience gathered in the square.
Inside the town hall, Elizabeth watches through a window, the device in her hands remaining silent. With each passing minute, her mind drifts further into a single, impossible hope: that this entire event is some grand surprise crafted by her daughter. She imagines Anne stepping out amidst cheers, along with the missing delinquents, turning their worry into joyous disbelief.
Her musings are abruptly shattered when she notices a red dot appearing on the device in her hands—an urgent flicker of light signaling danger. Her dreams dissipate like mist, replaced by sharp focus as she traces the source of the signal. It zips through Woodsmith homes into the warehouse district at an impossible pace, covering the entire town before converging towards the town's center.
The red dot pauses momentarily over the main square where Lleuad's stories continue to enrapture the crowd, their laughter and applause echoing in blissful ignorance. The device springs back to life, guiding Elizabeth's eyes toward the back entrance of the town hall—a direction that spells imminent threat. With urgency gripping her voice, Elizabeth alerts the gathered adults: "Someone's at the back entrance! Move everyone towards the front door!"
The adults quickly comply, shuffling the delinquents toward the main entrance as Elizabeth keeps watch. And then, without warning, an unearthly roar echoes through the town hall, freezing everyone in place. The mayor's gaze is fixed on the corridor leading to the back entrance when she realizes that a Semblance has rendered them immobile.
A monstrous silhouette emerges from the hallway's shadow, shrouded in pure darkness, as if a nightmarish vision straight out of fairy tales. Its form eerily reminiscent of a teenage girl but with grotesque claws extending from its arms and eyes burning an unsettling red glow in the dim light. The adults in the room, all trained for battle, are overtaken by paralyzing fear as they confront this terrifying apparition—a threat beyond their understanding or experience.
The air crackles with tension as the paralysis lifts, yet the crowd remains motionless under the weight of their fear. The monstrous figure pauses mid-stride; its sights directed at the delinquents. A haunting silence envelops the room as Elizabeth's voice slices through the stillness. "Anne! Stop!" she cries out instinctively. Against her desperate hopes, the creature halts and faces her. Doubt gnaws at Elizabeth's mind—could her daughter truly be that monstrosity?
The adults, spurred by a flicker of resolve, begin to act, their instincts kicking in as they guide the children outside through the main entrance. But the moment is fleeting. Before long, the monster prepares to launch itself at the remaining kids, its eyes glowing an unnatural red. Elizabeth's heart is racing. She wants to intervene, but fear pins her feet to the ground.
A sudden shattering sound echoes through the building – the unmistakable crackle of breaking glass. Turning toward the sound, Elizabeth catches a glimpse of Lleuad sprinting past her, his silver eyes blazing with determination and a broken crown hovering above his head like a beacon. Beside him materializes a white Specter, an ethereal form stretching out behind him.
"Leave her to me! Get the kids to safety!" the Storyteller thunders. The mayor's gaze lingers on Lleuad for a moment before she turns away, helping the children escape the clutches of terror. Her gaze flicks back just in time to catch a glimpse of the confrontation unfolding behind her.
The creature's ferocity is overwhelming, its movements swift and deadly, but so too is Lleuad's resolve. He braces against each strike, his form an unyielding barrier between the beast and the innocent. With strategic precision, he stretches the Specter behind him, creating a shimmering wall that holds back the onslaught.
Once the last of the children disappear into safety, the Specter joins Lleuad in battle, empowering him to shift from defense to attack. The sounds of their battle echo through the hall, reaching the town square below.
Elizabeth descends from the stone steps and faces the bewildered crowd. "Everyone! Stay away from the town hall!" she orders, her authority bolstered by the urgency etched on her face. Her eyes darting about the square, she turns to Officer Bleier. "Hugo! Place the delinquents inside the building on the opposite side of the square. Ensure everyone's safe."
As the words leave her lips, a sudden realization grips Elizabeth like an icy vice. She clutches at the hilt of Lleuad's sword, which is resting within her grasp, rather than his. The mistake hits her like a thunderclap—she has yet to relinquish it back to him. Without hesitation, Elizabeth dashes back toward the town hall, her steps swift and purposeful, fear gripping her heart that this momentary lapse might have cost him his life.
Elizabeth bursts into the lobby, anxiety surging through her veins, mingling with a flicker of hope that had somehow survived despite everything. Her entrance is abruptly halted by Lleuad's commanding shout, echoing off the smoke-filled walls. "Stay back! It's too dangerous!" His voice carries an authoritative edge she hadn't heard before, one that pierces through the chaos and compels her to remain at the threshold without hesitation. The mayor turns toward the source of the command, her eyes widening as she takes in the unfolding scene: Lleuad is locked in a fierce struggle with the creature sprawled on the ground.
The air is thick with smoke as overturned fire dust lamps have set portions of the furniture ablaze, casting eerie shadows across the chaotic room. The Specter has effectively bound the creature's limbs, preventing any escape and slowly diminishing its resistance under its firm control.
Amidst the tension, Lleuad shifts his attention back to the writhing beast with a calmness that seems almost surreal. "Calm down! Here. Take as much of my Aura as you need," he says gently, his voice threaded with unmistakable care and concern. The Storyteller unrolls the sleeve on his left arm and places it tenderly against the monster's face, a silent gesture that speaks volumes of his intent to soothe rather than harm. As if responding to his offer, the creature instinctively begins to draw Aura from Lleuad's exposed skin. Elizabeth watches, mesmerized by the surreal scene unfolding before her—a man offering himself as a beacon of calm amidst chaos. The monster clings to Lleuad like a lifeline, its desperate need for peace evident in every breath.
In a remarkable transformation, the Grimm skin that had concealed its identity begins to peel away like decaying leaves revealing the attacker's face beneath. With a deep breath, Elizabeth carefully approaches from the side, her heart pounding in a tumult of anticipation and dread. As she draws closer, recognition floods over her—a chilling confirmation of what she feared: it is her own daughter Anne lying before her.
Anne's body remains partially obscured by remnants of Grimm skin, a dark testament to the fear and dread she has instilled in both the mayor and the townspeople. Elizabeth's hopes shatter with an audible crash as this sight becomes almost unbearable for her to witness. Yet she cannot turn away from facing her daughter who is clearly in pain.
Lleuad leans forward, his gaze fixed intently on Anne as he addresses her gently. "Is your hunger satiated?" Anne silently nods, her eyes reflecting a mix of exhaustion and relief. Lleuad's expression softens with a hint of gladness. "Good," he murmurs quietly before continuing in a soothing tone. "Now I need you to suppress your Grimm powers. The hunger will come back eventually, and it will get worse. For this to stop, we have to get rid of the Grimm Heart inside you. I want to help you get your normal life back. Will you listen to me?"
Anne nods again, her response quiet yet resolute. She begins the arduous task of suppressing her powers, focusing all her willpower into keeping them at bay. Lleuad places his hand gently on Anne's chest, positioning it as close as possible to the concealed Grimm Heart, and starts concentrating his Aura around it. The air seems to shimmer slightly as his eyes and fingers become engulfed in ethereal silver flames.
Anne winces involuntarily as a wave of intense pain surges through her chest because of the flames. Lleuad maintains his composure, but his voice carries empathy and determination. "Please bear with this," he says gently. "It should help you with suppressing the powers."
Through gritted teeth, Anne continues to suppress her powers despite the searing sensation that threatens to overwhelm her. Gradually, she becomes accustomed to the pain. The Grimm skin enveloping her begins to recede, peeling away to reveal the normalcy beneath. Elizabeth stands nearby, watching intently but quietly, still grappling with the reality of what she is witnessing.
After a tense few minutes, it becomes apparent that the transformation is reaching its limit. The Grimmified parts on Anne's body stop receding. Lleuad looks at Anne, concern etched deeply in his features as he speaks again. "Can you suppress anymore?" Anne shakes her head slightly; her face contorted with pain. Despite her best efforts, she can no longer suppress the remaining Grimm powers within her.
Lleuad's expression turns grave, a shadow of frustration and resignation crossing his face. "That's not good," he says quietly. "Your body has undergone too much Grimmification. At this point, we can only stall the inevitable… I'm sorry."
The Storytellers words echo through Elizabeth's mind with a weight she can scarcely bear. Death is closing in on her daughter, Anne. Her frail body is hauntingly pale, veins dark as soot tracing their path beneath the surface. She is weak and feverish, shaking uncontrollably from both exhaustion and pain.
The Specter releases its hold on Anne, as Lleuad withdraws his hand from her chest and gently lowers himself to sit beside her, cradling her right hand that had been sapping his Aura. Anne attempts to sit up but can't manage it alone. She strains every bit of energy left within her to suppress the Grimm powers threatening to overwhelm her.
As she finally sits upright with Lleuad's aid, Anne takes in the surroundings for the first time since their fight. Until now, her focus had been solely on Lleuad and her own struggle against the encroaching powers. The realization that her life is drawing to a close didn't seem to disturb her; the pain she endured made the prospect of eternal rest infinitely appealing.
However, this fleeting sense of peace dissipates when Anne's eyes lock with Elizabeth's. A wave of shame engulfs her as she turns away from her mother, unable to face the person who had raised and loved her. Her voice trembles and is filled with pleading desperation, "Don't look! Please don't look! I don't want your last memory of me to be like this."
Elizabeth's heart breaks anew at the sight of her daughter pleading. She falls to her knees before Anne, setting down Lleuad's sword, and wraps her arms around Anne's trembling hand, clutching it tightly. Tears stream unchecked down Elizabeth's cheeks as she whispers through sobs, "No, Anne. It's all my fault. I should have noticed sooner and been there for you. I would have made those boys pay for hurting you. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
Anne turns to face her mother, tears welling up. Her voice is weak but filled with regret and self-loathing. "No, mom. I couldn't bear you knowing. I was naïve. I thought I could change them. But all my efforts were in vain." Despite the frailty of her body, contempt and hatred seep into her words. "They are vermin. They despise everything adults work for and destroy our town's peace with their carelessness. They had to pay for their crimes… And when I was given an opportunity to be the one who would bring justice, I couldn't resist... My biggest regret now is that I won't get to make you proud anymore."
Anne's arm turns limp in Elizabeth's hands as life slowly fades from her eyes. She stops draining Lleuad's Aura. In desperation, Elizabeth pleads, "No! You must stay strong! There is still so much you need to experience! You have college exams ahead of you. You were so excited about living with your sister in a big city."
Anne whispers, "Yes… I was… Tell her I'm sorry for not being able to make it…" Elizabeth shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. "You can tell her yourself! Please. Everything will be okay," she urges. Anne tries to speak but fails. Her head slumps forward and her eyes close. Elizabeth cries out to her daughter, but there is no response. She attempts to hold onto her body, but Lleuad stops her. "It's too late… We have to leave now!" he says, his voice carrying an urgency Elizabeth didn't expect. Lleuad lays Anne's body on the floor and urges the mayor to go, but she clings tightly to her daughter's hand.
Suddenly, Anne regains consciousness, and her body convulses with terrible strength. She screams in agony as every part of her twists and turns in unnatural ways. Lleuad rushes back down, trying to stop her convulsions with the silver light, but nothing helps. Elizabeth holds on to her daughter, her face filled with extreme horror as Anne continues to apologize.
Before anything more could be done for Anne, her neck contorts inhumanly and snaps. Screams cease as pitch darkness flows from her chest, enveloping everything around it. Lleuad quickly grabs Elizabeth and his sword, rushing away from the lifeless body. The Specter follows close behind, shielding them from the encroaching mass of darkness.
As they approach the main entrance, Lleuad manages to snap Elizabeth out of her shock. He gently places her on the ground and orders her to leave. But before she can react, an overwhelmingly powerful presence fills the room, instilling great fear in her heart. Elizabeth looks at Lleuad, who stands tall in the face of this new threat, then turns to face it herself.
The darkness that was pursuing them has condensed into a silhouette of a man enveloped in black flames—a void consuming all light around it. A white mask with intricate black patterns covers his face, and atop his head sits a pitch-black cylinder hat. Crimson red eyes stare directly at them, making Elizabeth feel as though they could pierce into her very soul.
Elizabeth thought she couldn't feel greater fear than when witnessing her daughter's horrific death—but she was wrong. The terror she feels now surpasses any understanding her mind can grasp. She stands frozen, unable to avert her gaze from the powerful figure before her.
A male voice resonates from the dark silhouette, calm and well-mannered, as if emanating from noble lineage, yet imbued with silent terror and power. "We finally meet, last of the Silver-Eyed Warriors..." he pauses thoughtfully, as though trying to recall something. "...Lleuad Sulienson," he continues ominously, a tinge of contemplation in his voice. "The Storyteller... Still following in your kind's footsteps... And being reckless as always, I see. Allowing someone to endure such torture instead of putting them out of their misery... Quite an unkind act, wouldn't you agree... Elizabeth?"
Upon hearing her name spoken, a chill races down the mayor's spine while her heart sinks to her feet. There is an unsettling familiarity in the man's tone—as if he has known Elizabeth for years. Questions swarm through her mind, yet she finds herself unable to speak. She turns to Lleuad and sees that he remains undaunted by the ominous presence before them. Instead, his response carries a kind tone. "Anne fought well," he says. "She was brave against the horrific fate you forced upon her, Count." Addressing the figure with authority but devoid of hatred or malice, Lleuad's words carry an air of rebuke.
The Count replies calmly to the accusations. "It was her choice. I merely offered a means to achieve her goals. And she did accomplish them... at least partially." There is a hint of disappointment in his voice. "Her ambition lacked the necessary willpower to grasp what was rightfully hers. Just like so many others do."
His tone shifts as curiosity seeps into it. "You, however, have intrigued me," he continues. "I've witnessed you confront my Grimm many times and still can't discern your motives. Why show such foolish kindness to someone whose fate was sealed long ago?"
"Their fate is not sealed," Lleuad asserts with defiance. "I will never give up on them, and I'll do everything within my power to save them from your grasp."
The Count's tone fills with bafflement. "How foolish of you. Letting everyone fall prey to Grimm just for a distant hope of salvation is beyond naïve. Many have attempted to oppose me with more pragmatic methods and failed. Stopping me with such childlike conviction will never succeed."
Lleuad's voice remains steady, his determination unwavering. "There is no point in stopping evil with evil."
A tense silence falls as the two men stand locked in a silent confrontation. Lleuad shows no sign of backing down before the Count's intimidating presence. "Your confidence is promising," the Count remarks, acknowledging the Storyteller's resolve. "I'll remember your name, Lleuad Sulienson. Let us see if your words last. Starting with this Grimm you've just unleashed upon the world."
The white mask vanishes as the Grimm's form shifts into that of a vast and monstrous beast, unlike anything Elizabeth has ever seen. Towering over her at more than twice her height, it possesses claws nearly as large as herself. Lleuad swiftly unsheathes his sword, dropping the scabbard on the floor and assuming a fighting stance, while the Specter hovers protectively behind him.
The monster unleashes a thunderous roar that reverberates through the entire town, sending shockwaves that freeze every person in their tracks with its Semblance. Even those gathered in the main town square are paralyzed by it, their hearts melting from fear.
Unaffected by the enemy's Semblance, the Specter swiftly scoops up Elizabeth and carries her toward the exit, ensuring her safety amid the chaos. Meanwhile, the Grimm quickly closes the distance between itself and a frozen Lleuad. With a swift swipe of its right claw, it sends him flying across the lobby into a stone wall. Right as the Storyteller was about to fly into it, the Grimm once again bridges the gap, slamming him through that wall into an adjacent room.
The creature pauses momentarily to examine its right claw, now petrified up to the wrist, appearing briefly bewildered by this unexpected setback. As if responding to some unseen cue, the door to the neighboring room slides open and Lleuad emerges unharmed, stepping out calmly as if nothing had happened.
Undeterred, the Grimm severs its stone-encased hand and charges at Lleuad anew, regenerating its limb in a show of resilience. The beast attempts another swipe with its left claw, but this time is thwarted by the Specter, which wraps around its arm, piercing the creature with sharp spikes that shoot forth from its body.
Lleuad swiftly repositions himself around the Grimm, ensuring his back faces the entrance to the town hall. He channels all his remaining Aura, which has significantly diminished, into his sword. His eyes and blade are enveloped in a brilliant sheen of silver flames as he lunges forward.
But before Lleuad can land a decisive blow, the Grimm reacts with astonishing speed. It detaches its left arm and leaps back to evade the blade. Seizing the opportunity during its retreat, the monster lets out another deafening roar at Lleuad and hurls an onslaught of countless black shards in his direction.
The Specter acts swiftly, transforming into a formidable shield in front of Lleuad and intercepting every projectile with ease. Simultaneously, it goes on the offensive by projecting spikes from its own body, pushing the Grimm further away from the main entrance.
As Lleuad's frozen state wears off, he approaches the Grimm with deliberate steps, the Specter floating protectively in front of him. The monster continues to retreat, throwing a ceaseless barrage of black shards at the Storyteller. Despite this aggressive maneuvering, none of the projectiles manage to breach the Specter's defenses, which anticipates each attack with uncanny precision.
As the battle progresses, the Grimm continues to deftly avoid the spikes projected by the Specter. The relentless assault forces the monster into the lobby's back corner, seemingly trapping it in an unfavorable position.
In a bold move, the Grimm once again taps into its Semblance abilities, freezing Lleuad in place and simultaneously unleashes a swarm of sharp spikes that mirror those wielded by the Specter. These spikes erupt from every part of its body and converge on Lleuad from every direction, threatening to overwhelm him with their sheer numbers.
Reacting swiftly, the Specter envelops Lleuad in an impenetrable dome, effectively blocking each spike and protecting its master from harm. However, this protective measure comes at a cost: it obscures Lleuad's vision of the Grimm, leaving him momentarily blind to his adversary's location.
As soon as Lleuad regains full control over his body and senses, the Specter releases the dome. With renewed focus, he shifts gaze towards the lobby's corner, expecting the cornered monster to remain trapped within its confines. To his surprise, the Storyteller finds that the Grimm has disappeared from sight entirely.
In the brief moment of disorientation as Lleuad searches his surroundings for any sign of the elusive Grimm, it suddenly appears behind him in an unexpected form—a shrunken version that seems almost laughably small compared to its usual menacing size. With a swift and deceptive swipe at his exposed side, the diminutive Grimm aims to catch Lleuad off-guard.
Reacting with instinctive agility, Lleuad channels his remaining Aura to the point of impact just in time. The surge of energy fends off what would have been a deadly blow, acting as an invisible shield that absorbs and disperses the force directed at him. Despite this quick reflex, he's still knocked sideways by the undiminished force of Grimm's strength, flying towards the center of the lobby.
Lleuad expertly guides the Specter away from his flight path, as if intentionally avoiding contact with it. The tiny Grimm, seizing this momentary opening, stays close behind, its movements agile and precise. Lleuad attempts a counterstrategy by trying to entrap the shrunken monster within the protective embrace of the Specter, but his efforts fall short as the creature proves adept at evading capture.
Once they've successfully distanced themselves from the protective reach of the Specter, the Grimm returns to its imposing original size in a blink of an eye. With newfound power and momentum, the monster swipes at Lleuad with renewed ferocity, launching him forcefully into the ceiling above. The impact reverberates through the room as both he and his surroundings bear witness to this powerful display of might.
Unsatisfied with merely incapacitating Lleuad, the Grimm prepares for a relentless assault. It unleashes a barrage of sharp spikes that rain upon its defenseless target.
As Lleuad approaches the ceiling, he regains his balance and lands himself on it with his feet, which are coated with Aura to soften the landing. He then immediately pushes himself off the ceiling towards the monster, barely avoiding the barrage of spikes.
In preparation for what comes next, the Storyteller channels all of his remaining Aura into his sword mid-flight. The blade shimmers with concentrated energy, ready to deliver a decisive blow. As he approaches the Grimm, it tries to evade the incoming attack but is ultimately unsuccessful. Lleuad expertly lands a precise cut on the beast's left chest, bypassing its Aura shield and slowing his landing with it. Although not deep, this strike manages to petrify a significant portion of the creature's body.
The Storyteller readies to lunge his sword once more, to finish the fight. Undeterred by the recent wound, the Grimm attempts to seize another opportunity for a lethal attack. It calls upon its Semblance once more, freezing Lleuad in place once again with a mighty roar. The beast readies itself for a devastating blow, enlarging its right claw and bringing it down towards the vulnerable Lleuad. Despite his Aura being stretched to its limit, unable to block such an assault, Lleuad shows no sign panic. In a split second of clarity before impact, the Specter intervenes. It grabs hold of the monster's arm and skillfully redirects the blow away from the Storyteller, leaving him unharmed but his resolve stronger than ever.
Seizing this opportunity for control, the Specter envelops the beast's entire body. The Grimm struggles to escape its grasp, even attempting to shrink back into a smaller form. However, the petrified wound hinders any such attempt, rendering it immobile and vulnerable. The Specter's spikes find their mark easily, bypassing the Grimm's powerful Aura with minimal effort. This additional assault significantly slows down the already struggling creature, leaving it at Lleuad's mercy.
As time passes, the Grimm manages to free itself from the petrified section of its body and begins shrinking in an attempt to regain its composure. Unfortunately for the beast, Lleuad recovers from the effects of the Grimm's Semblance just as it begins to shrink. Without missing a beat, he swiftly locates and stabs at the creature's Heart. With this final, decisive action, the struggle comes to an end.
As if by some ancient curse being lifted, the once-mighty body of the Grimm begins to dissolve into dust before Lleuad's eyes. The Specter disappears and Lleuad's broken crown returns to a simple tattoo on his forehead.
With the battle concluded and the Grimm vanishing, Lleuad gazes at the dissipating monster with a mix of relief and sadness. In this moment of victory tinged with melancholy, he offers a silent farewell to Anne.
Elizabeth approaches Lleuad, her expression filled with awe as she witnessed the Storyteller's immaculate swordplay, weighted by much experience despite his youth. Being experienced in the fencing style he used, the mayor can't help but acknowledge her own and others' inferiority in mastering the sword when comparing to him. But as she comes closer and finds Lleuad pulling the Grimm's petrified heart from his sword, the sole reminder of the ferocious monster he fought, Elizabeth can't help but feel a sense of dread.
"Is this all that's left?" The mayor asks with a trembling voice. Lleuad nods solemnly, his expression one of empathy and shared grief. Elizabeth takes the stone heart with care and embraces it gently, tears welling up within her, unable to bear the fact that this is all that's left of her beloved daughter. Yet before she can succumb fully to her grief, an internal resolve takes hold.
Taking a deep breath, the mayor turns away from Lleuad and walks out of the town hall, the Storyteller following closely behind. Looking down from its entrance, Elizabeth declares with an authoritative voice. "It's safe now! Please gather people to put out the fire!" Her words, clear and decisive, spur immediate action among the townspeople below.
Officer Bleier, ever dutiful, climbs the stairs quickly with a sense of purpose. Elizabeth looks at him with a serious expression. "Where are the delinquents?" Hugo replies instantly, already expecting this question. "They are still under our protection. What would you like to do with them?"
Elizabeth's demeanor shifts. Her tone grows colder, edged with resolve born from anger and a desire for justice. "Find out which ones were involved in the incident that caused all of this mess and place them in prison. I will deal with them tomorrow."
A flicker of concern crosses Officer Bleier's face as he processes her words. "What about Edmund?" He inquires gently. Elizabeth's expression softens noticeably upon hearing the boy's name. "… Let him go. He's done enough."
As Hugo departs to attend to his responsibilities, Elizabeth turns her attention back to Lleuad, a mixture of gratitude and sorrow coloring her tone. Her voice carries both warmth and a trace of lingering grief as she speaks. "Thank you for protecting this town. We are in your debt. What can I do to repay you?"
Lleuad meets her gaze with kindness and understanding, his expression gentle yet resolute. "Just that you keep this all a secret," he responds quietly, surprising Elizabeth with the simplicity of his request.
The mayor's brow furrows slightly in confusion and concern. "Why? Don't people need to know what you've done and about the monsters?" she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Lleuad's reply is spoken softly but carries a profound sense of humility and genuine contentment. " Peoples well-being is worth more than any thanks," he says sincerely. "I am not doing this for praise. Plus, who will believe in today's events? You doubted my words for a while yourself, which is quite natural." Elizabeth feels a twinge of frustration, but she understands his reasoning and doesn't push any further.
"When will you be leaving?" The mayor inquires softly, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and reluctance at the thought of parting ways with Lleuad. The Storyteller answers without hesitation, his tone resolute yet gentle. "When the next train arrives. There is some place I have to be."
Not willing to let the Storyteller go without any act of gratitude from her, Elizabeth gently proposes. "Would you mind having dinner with me and my mother tonight? I'd appreciate you being there when I tell her about Anne." Lleuad considers the request, his expression thoughtful before a warm smile spreads across his face. "Of course," he nods, accepting with grace. "I would be honored."
As the Storyteller agrees, Felicity approaches, her eyes filled with concern. "Have you found Anne?" She asks gently. Elizabeth manages to steady her voice, though it trembles slightly as she nods. "Yes... We will talk more at home. Can you please prepare us dinner? Lleuad will be joining us for tonight." Felicity notices the inner turmoil on Elizabeth's face, but doesn't ask for details, trusting that her daughter will reveal everything in due time. "… Sure. I'll be waiting."
Well past midnight, a warm glow seeps through the windows of the mayor's home. Felicity waits patiently inside, having already prepared dinner. When Elizabeth and Lleuad arrive, their footsteps heavy with the weight of shared burdens, Felicity greets them with quiet strength, her eyes a warm wellspring of comfort. She leads them to the dining room, where the soft glow of fire dust lamps creates a cozy atmosphere, and seats them gently, as if cradling them in her care. Before she can retreat to the kitchen to distribute dinner, Elizabeth's hand closes around hers like a lifeline, pleading for her mother's presence.
Felicity, understanding her daughter's unspoken words, sits beside her, her expression a mask of compassion. Elizabeth reveals the petrified Grimm heart, unable to hold back her tears. Felicity's eyes fill with grief as she comprehends the depth of her daughter's sorrow: Anne is not coming back. She wraps her arms around Elizabeth, holding her close as they both surrender to the rawness of their grief.
As the night wears on, Elizabeth begins to recount the tragic events that have unfolded: how Anne's life ended and Lleuad's instrumental role in protecting their town from unimaginable darkness. The rest of the night is spent lost in memories of Anne, sleep forgotten as they reminisce about their beloved friend, leaving the untouched dinner to gather dust like forgotten dreams.
In the early morning stillness, when the town has yet to wake, Elizabeth and Felicity stand on the train station platform, bidding farewell to Lleuad. As a parting gift, the mayor hands him one of her husband's trench coats to replace his now tattered one. The train's whistle pierces the air, and with a gentle hiss, it departs, leaving behind only the echoes of their whispered goodbyes.
Elizabeth's gaze follows the departing train, her expression thoughtful as she stares into the distance. "The past few days have felt like a fairy tale," she muses aloud. "Even Lleuad felt like a character out of legends."
"Which character?" Felicity asks while waving goodbye at the train. "The White Prince," Elizabeth replies without hesitation. Felicity turns towards her daughter with a raised eyebrow and a hint of surprise on her face. "From the bedtime story?" she inquires. Elizabeth nods slowly, a gentle smile softening her features as memories flood back. "Yes... When I saw him fight, his appearance was so close to the characters' description," she says, her voice filled with wonder. "There were also times in our conversations when I saw profound sorrow in his eyes, as if he's all alone in this world... He resembles him so much..."
The train's sounds fade into the background as Elizabeth's words hang in the air. After a brief silence, her voice softens further, transforming into a tender and soothing melody, as if singing a lullaby to her child.
"My little prince, my little prince,
Do not let darkness claim your heart.
Remember that even in shadows, the moon casts its silvery glow.
Recall the lives you've touched, the smiles you've shared, and the hearts you've mended.
Let their radiance illuminate your path, guiding you through the night.
Think of those who supported you throughout your travels,
Their strength and courage will lighten your burden, giving you the will to stand again.
Think of your mother and father, who cared for you in youth,
Their love will forever remain, no matter how far they are from you.
And think of those who need you now,
Don't let darkness take their only salvation from evil's sway.
My little prince, my little prince,
When darkness overwhelms you, remember: You are not alone."