He tilted his head slightly to one side.

His damaged senses occasionally malfunctioned.

Waiting for the ringing in his ears to subside, he brushed past the woman and entered the tent.

Perhaps she had burned herbs again during the night. The dim interior was thick with the bitter scent of smoke. Mixed within it, however, was another peculiar fragrance, something like overripe fruit on the verge of rotting.

It was that strange scent that had begun clinging to her skin at some point.

He held his breath for a moment before slowly inhaling.

Then he quietly called her name.

“Talia.”

No answer came.

But he could sense her presence.

Stepping into the disorderly space littered with bowls, wine bottles, and drinking cups, his eyes moved busily.

Then he stopped.

Beside the disheveled bed lay a heap of clothes.

He crouched before a large chest placed against one side of the tent.

Carefully lifting the lid, he saw a small figure curled up inside.

Again, his body reacted strangely.

It felt as though a horse's hoof had struck him squarely in the solar plexus.

Suppressing the turmoil within him, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

The woman with her head buried in her knees slowly raised it.

Beneath soaked eyelashes appeared pure blue eyes untouched by any impurity. Clear tears spread across skin so translucent it resembled that of a creature dwelling in the deep sea.

Holding her damp cheeks in his hands, he gently stroked her slightly reddened chin and tilted her bowed head back.

Perhaps she had scratched herself somewhere. Several thin marks ran across her delicate neck.

As he examined them carefully, a cracked voice emerged from between blood-red lips.

“Did you... drive away all the monsters?”

He looked into her eyes again.

The dark blue irises, submerged as though beneath water, trembled precariously.

He remembered the first time he had seen those eyes.

The day he regained color.

They had been the first color he saw.

At the sensation of something tightening deep in his throat, he drew a long breath and rose with his rigid body.

Soft, supple arms wrapped naturally around his neck.

Her faint sobs dampened his taut skin.

“I thought they were taking me away again.”

Varkas tightened his arms around her.

It won't happen again.

The words that hovered on the tip of his tongue sank back into his throat.

Ever since the accident, he found himself swallowing his words whenever he stood before her.

The words he kept swallowing accumulated inside him like layers of sediment.

Frowning at the uncomfortable sensation, as though stones were crushing his insides, he gently stroked her narrow back, which trembled intermittently.

Her stiff body gradually relaxed and melted softly against him.

He gently lifted the head resting on his shoulder and looked at her face.

Her eyes were already closed, as though exhaustion had overwhelmed her.

His thumb brushed her drooping golden lashes. Adjusting her slipping body in his arms, he quickly surveyed the room.

An overcoat hung from one of the tent poles.

He grabbed it, wrapped it around her body, and stepped outside.

Crossing the camp swiftly, several mounted warriors dismantling tents cast curious looks his way.

He pulled the robe over her head.

Ever since she had been less than five crevets tall, those men had looked at her like starving wild dogs.

And this woman, though she feared their eyes, sometimes exposed herself before them without the slightest defense.

As though she did not care if she were torn apart.

Holding her tighter against his chest, he quickened his pace, as though trying to shake off those unpleasant gazes.

Entering his own tent, he laid her down upon the bed.

Her body, which had become noticeably thinner over the past few months, entered his sight.

A sigh rose into his throat.

The irritating thing was that her frailty was leading her beauty down a dangerous path.

His eyes slid over her thin neck, her slender shoulders, and her protruding collarbones before turning toward the entrance.

The young page who had followed to attend him was stealing glances at her.

His half-dead nerves sharpened at once.

He dismissed all the attendants and secured the entrance tightly.

It was not a particularly wise decision.

The tent was soon filled with the sweet scent she exuded.

At the strange thirst that felt as though his throat were burning, he swallowed dryly.

Roughly brushing back his still-damp hair, he cast an impatient glance at her.

The pale cheeks stained with dried tear tracks entered his vision.

Words she had spat out in terror years ago echoed inside his mind.

“Th-that man said so. Like an addict... he said he'd keep... keep coming back for me...”

He pressed his molars lightly into the soft flesh inside his cheek.

He tasted faint blood.

Tapping his temple with his fingertips, he grabbed the coat lying in the corner of the tent.

Stepping outside, the metallic scent of blood filled his lungs.

As though trying to erase the clinging sweetness lingering inside his throat, he inhaled deeply.

By then, Barakan had already approached him, fully armored.

“We've finished preparations. Once your tent is packed up, we can leave immediately. Shall we dismantle it now?”

“An hour later.”

After a brief pause, Varkas spoke in a subdued voice.

“We'll leave after everyone has had time to catch their breath.”

An amused smile flickered across the man's lips.

Shrugging his shoulders, he replied lightly.

“As you command.”

The man immediately turned around to relay the orders to his subordinates.

Varkas sat on a waterskin rack and gazed toward the Norden Plains, faintly visible through the densely packed trees.

A dry gust of wind scraped roughly across his cheek.

Somewhere within the air drifted a strangely familiar scent.

When had he smelled it before?

He searched his hazy memories when the distant howl of a wolf reached his ears.

Turning his head, he listened.

The mournful cry stretched out from the edge of the forest.

Her weakened body could not endure the long journey, and she suffered a persistent fever.

Staring up at the swaying ceiling, Talia shifted restlessly and breathed heavily.

The carriage moved little faster than a walking pace, but even that faint vibration felt like torture to her.

Clutching her head as though her skull were splitting apart, Talia shut her eyes.

Then a sharp horn sounded from outside.

Had they finally arrived?

She forced herself upright and peered through the window.

Within her fever-blurred vision spread the sight of an endless plain.

The unfamiliar landscape made her eyes widen.

A dark blue grassland stretched so far it seemed to meet the sky itself.

Strong winds swept across the lush fields.

Opening the window, she cooled her burning face in the chilly breeze.

“That is Kalmor.”

Startled by the sudden voice, she turned her head.

A man riding close beside the carriage had approached without her noticing.

Drawing nearer, he offered her a friendly smile.

“My name is Tyron. We were introduced before. Do you remember me?”

Keeping her lips firmly shut, she merely stared at him with wary eyes.

The man's smile dimmed slightly.

After studying her for a moment, he continued gently despite the cold reception.

“You seem quite unwell.”

“...”

“We'll reach Laedgo Castle soon. Look there. Can you see the walls?”

He pointed ahead.

Talia followed his finger.

At the end of the horizon stood gray-brown walls that looked as though they had been molded from ash and sand.

Leaning farther out the window for a better look, she studied them.

Laedgo Castle appeared as though it had been constructed by piling together colossal rocks.

Thick outer walls devoid of decoration completely surrounded the foot of a hill.

Above them rose countless keeps and towers made entirely of straight lines.

Unconsciously, she wrapped a hand around the back of her neck.

Was it because the place where she would spend the rest of her life looked so unbearably desolate?

A chill crept up her spine.