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She blinked, she breathed... the crisp winter air coating her insides still with feeble life... another blink, another breath... why was she still alive?

There were people running from everywhere... an ear pressed into the dirt, it was as if she could hear everything, everyone... their yells rumbling within the earth, growing further, fainter, fear begetting fear, as the entire Sanctum succumbed to the contagious panic, vacating the premises... over and over the unthinkable given life...

An Elf-Knight has killed her Master and a Magus.

The entire courtyard reeked with the pungent stench of death, the once vibrant green grass now watered and glazed with the red of blood... but she refused to believe it.

A hallucination, it was a dream... a simple illusion... Wilvur’s lifeless corpse laying mere meters from her... and Tilina piled atop in an almost loving embrace... their blood congealing, intermixing... it was no longer possible to tell which was which.

The same shade of red, Human and Elf.

.....

Even still, with the reality laid before her, Eshwlyn refused to believe her eyes. Surely, Wilvur will awake. Surely, any moment now, he will rouse, turning towards her, and once more, she will be subjected to his blood-curdling smile.

So long... too long... he had her chained to his whims... hopelessly bound with never a feasible escape... so easily... too easily... how can it just simply all be over now?

But seconds passed, and the illusion still did not shatter... the Master and his Knight remained dead forever.

Yet the death of her captor did not bolster her spirits. It was turning left, her loose fading sights glimpsing a small lone figure left, that returned a sliver of her strength... pulling at grassroots, sinking her fingers into the dirt, dragging her own dying carcass closer, nearer.

“Le... nora...”

By some miracle, Eshwlyn had crossed the seemingly unreachable distance and made it beside her sister. She placed a trembling on her chest and felt a surge of sudden relief feeling the feeble beating of life inside her, the lingering warmth of her skin... but it was a comfort only short-lived as she slowly sat upright to look at her sister.

“Lenora?”

Her eyes were open, staring, but they were not seeing anything. She was breathing, conscious, but she was not stirring in the slightest.

“N-No, Lenora... Lenora, it is me. I-I’m here... I’m here now, p-please... Lenora, look at me.”

Eshwlyn leaned closer, shook her sister-panic swelling-and Lenora blinked once. Only once, and It was only at that moment, that she finally took notice of what she had missed before... how her skin had entirely turned to a sickly gray hue... and the look in her eyes, absence of recognition, even when she forced their gazes to meet, it was like she was peering into the depths of a void.

But she wasn’t dead, she isn’t... she couldn’t be... she was warm, she was breathing, her heart was beating... she even blinked...

She was still alive.

“Lenora, you’re... you’re safe now, okay? You’re safe,” Eshwlyn clumsily placed her sister in her arms, the strain on her body, the searing pain rippling through her, she ignored... placing quivering fingers upon her sister’s blank expression. “I-I’m right here. It’s over. Do you hear me? Please hear me, please. I’m here, Lenora, I’m here...”

Lenora only blinked again at her, pointed ears slanting limp and lifeless, and with every passing second, as Eshwlyn desperately searched her sister’s eyes, it was as if the void was consuming it whole... the bright green in her eyes slowly ebbing away into the same empty gray of her skin.

But she was alive. Eshwlyn knew despite it all, Lenora was still alive. Her heartbeat, after all. She was blinking, after all. She wasn’t like Wilvur, or Tilina, or that Magus, there was no blood. Looking at her, not a single cut, no wounds, no nothing. She was still her Lenora. Her little sister. She was a strong one, stronger than her.

Perhaps she just needed rest. Exhaustion. She was always a frail one, frailer than her. So Eshwlyn stayed with Lenora, still cradling her in her arms. Surrounded by the dead, but not among them, they were both still alive... still breathing... she wasn’t alone in living.

How long they remained in place, Eshwlyn could not tell. She didn’t even dare speak, afraid she might disturb her sister’s much-needed peace. But soon, she knew soon, she’ll finally awake, she has to.

Have seconds only passed? Has it already been minutes? Hours? Suddenly, it was colder, the wind harsher. Eshwlyn noticed then a small speck of white falling upon her sister’s cheek. She looked up-it was snowing now, the sky darkening to a deep gray.

Just like that fateful winter night so long ago now.

It was like fate itself had blown in with the blistering breeze, falling gently with the pouring snow, returning to reclaim the death that was stolen from it. But it couldn’t be, because just like before, Lenora here was still alive.

The snow kept falling, the wind kept blowing... and Lenora remained unchanging.

“Eshwlyn...”

For what felt like centuries, Eshwlyn felt her body shift, twitching, her muscles throbbing as she slowly lifted her gaze to her side, seeing a familiar pair of bright blue eyes staring back at her amidst the loose flutter of raven-black hair.

Why was she still here? Why had she not gone like the others? Questions, Eshwlyn did not care for an answer. Her presence was nothing. She felt nothing. She glanced at her for only a brief second before veering her focus back to Lenora again.

Meanwhile, Terra exuded only a thick air of gloom. She took one look at them, at Lenora, and her pained expression seeming to have realized something that Eshwlyn hadn’t. Then from a slit in her robes, slowly, lethargically, hovered her book, parting wide open. The next moment, from the corner of her eyes, Eshwlyn saw a faint glow emitting, then felt a warmth, and the pain in her body began to subside.

“What are you doing?” Eshwlyn asked, hearing her voice coarse and worn by prolonged silence.

A flick of a page, a brighter glow, and Terra answered. “I’m healing you.”

“Heal her!” She shouted, not thinking, not caring, throwing a look of outrage at her. “C-Can’t you see?! Are you blind?! My sister-she’s unwell! Nevermind me! Help her, please!”

Terra flinched, backing a single step away from the scowl on her face, wearing still that same pained expression, “Eshwlyn, she... Lenora, I... I can’t...”

“Do not say you can’t!” She lashed out again. “Yes, you can! You’ve done it before! It’s Subjugation, right?! Th-That’s what made her this way again, right? It’s what he used-y-you can resolve it! You can make her better!”

“Yes, it’s Subjugation,” Terra said quickly before she could be interrupted. “But Eshwlyn, understand this is different, this is too much. Her mind and soul are not suppressed like before, they’re shattered. Wilvur has broken her. And from that, there can be no returning from”

“Why are you lying to me?!” Eshwlyn cried, feeling a sudden sting in her eyes, blurring, quickly failing without her knowing, shedding tears of red. “M-My sister is still alive! She’s not... she’s not dead! She’s still breathing, her heart... her heart is still beating! Lenora is not-!”

“I did not say that she was dead,” Terra interrupted, trying to keep her own voice from wavering. “But please know I mean this out of pure love for your sister when I say it would have been much preferable if she had indeed died.”

For once, Eshwlyn held her anger at bay. For once, she looked upon the young Magus with proper scrutiny and finally saw the look of utter despair teeming in her trembling gaze.

“What...” She began, her voice no longer shrill and harsh. “...do you mean?”

Terra looked almost too reluctant to answer, but spoke regardless, her words manifesting in a heavy cloud of breath in the air, “Because now... in her state... she can never ever truly die again.”