I had questions. A lot of them.

And only one person here seemed smug enough to have the answers.

"Wait." I narrowed my eyes, barely resisting the urge to point a finger at empty air where Milena once stood. "What did she mean by ’leaving’?"

Azalea’s head snapped toward me. "She—she left the Church of Mal’as."

Like she’d just spat a curse.

Her expression was something between scandalized and grief-stricken, like someone had just taken her precious scriptures and used them to wipe a wine-stained floor.

"She left?" I echoed.

Selene scoffed softly, adjusting her posture like the comment physically inconvenienced her. "You make it sound like I just burned the entire temple down."

"You might as well have!" Azalea barked.

"That’s Milena Eiri von Geflügel. Archon of Aves."

"That title," Selene said, voice flattening, "was self-appointed."

Helena stirred from where she’d been trying to make sense of this all, quite literally. Her hair was a tangled mess, her coat askew, and her expression still screamed "pizza delivery guy walks into a hostage situation."

She blinked rapidly, eyes still foggy.

"I—I must’ve missed something," she muttered.

"You were out cold," Azalea said, jabbing a thumb behind her.

"She—" she motioned to the vanishing point where Milena had once stood "—basically stated Selene’s a heretic. And then vanished like wind."

"I... I think I caught the tail end," Helena replied, slowly piecing herself back together.

"But wait, Selene... when did you give me the Mytheia?"

Selene looked away too quickly.

"During the conversation," she mumbled.

"You slipped it into my pocket mid-argument, didn’t you?"

"Maybe."

Of course she did.

Still, Helena activated the Mytheia crystal again, the projection lighting up her eyes as she tried to reverse-engineer Milena’s signature from memory. Her brows furrowed.

"Her aura... it’s unbelievable. It’s not even structured like normal mana. It’s like... intent given form."

"That’s because she wanted her magic to be like that," Selene explained.

"She kept claiming she would eventually call it Sophistry. Said it was more honest than illusion, more nuanced than empathy, more real than memory."

"That’s not magic," I said. "That’s cheating."

Selene didn’t argue. She just let the silence stretch for a second longer than comfortable.

Then I asked, slowly: "Then how did she know everything? She acted like she had lived through every era, understood every person, like she invented the damn Mytheia."

Selene’s lips thinned.

"That’s because... she’s around two thousand years old."

The room—if it could still be called that—grew quiet in a sudden, heavy sort of way. Even Azalea stopped fuming long enough to look like she’d swallowed a bug.

Helena blinked first. "Pardon? Could you repeat it for me again?"

"She doesn’t even look a day over twenty-five. More like sixteen," I said flatly.

"She doesn’t age anymore, but may do so with magic." Selene answered.

"Her race... doesn’t exist now. It was wiped out centuries ago. She’s the last of her kind."

Even the ambient noise—the hum of magic, the low rustling of magical stabilizers—seemed to pause. I let that number repeat in my head: 2000.

That wasn’t a lifespan. That was a curse. Yet, she still looked like sixteen.

And yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t just old. She was exhausted.

"So," I said, slowly turning toward Selene,

"she wanted a magic ability. Despite all of that aura, all of that insight, all of that presence... she still wanted a structured spell system. Why?"

Selene looked up at me.

"To resurrect her sister."

My mouth stayed open, mid-breath.

"She had a sister," Selene continued.

"Cienna. They survived the extermination of their people together. But after years... Cienna fell ill. Beyond healing. Beyond even Milena’s reach."

I already felt the sting forming behind my eyes. "So she—"

"She didn’t want to live like that," Selene said. "Cienna asked Milena to end her life."

"...And she did."

Selene nodded, slowly. "She killed her own sister. Not because she wanted to. But because Cienna begged her to."

Azalea clenched her fists. "And now she wants to bring her back."

"But not through aura. Not through memory or illusion or spiritual binding." Selene’s eyes met mine, unwavering.

"She wanted a magic system. A rule. A law she could follow and crack and exploit."

Helena let out a slow exhale. "So that’s why she stuck around. Not for you. Not even for Aethelgarten. She was chasing a spell."

"No," Selene corrected. "She stayed for me too. She chose to help me. That wasn’t fake."

I could still hear Milena’s last words echoing faintly in my ears.

She wasn’t just handing off responsibility. She was retiring.

My fists trembled.

Not from fear. But from how heavy it suddenly felt to carry someone else’s resolve.

"I don’t care how old she is," I said. "We owe her now."

Azalea didn’t reply. But her silence wasn’t disagreement.

Selene just gave me that faint smile again—the kind that didn’t reach her eyes. The one that usually meant: I already knew you’d say that, Kairi my dear.

Azalea didn’t reply. But her silence wasn’t disagreement.

Selene gave me that faint smile again—the kind that never reached her eyes. The kind that made you feel like you were walking into a trap you’d laid yourself.

The room was too still. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

"I suppose," she said at last, voice like the rustle of dry paper, "it’s time you knew."

She lifted a hand—slow, deliberate—and pointed at me.

No. Not at me.

Into me.

"That body... it wasn’t made for you."

The air chilled. My fingers twitched. I didn’t speak, couldn’t.

"It was meant for Cienna."

The name struck something. Familiarity without memory. Like hearing the first line of a lullaby you’d long since forgotten.

Selene’s voice sharpened.

"Milena’s younger sister. The last of their bloodline before the cleansing fires."

Azalea’s breath hitched beside me.

"Milena couldn’t save her," Selene continued, each word dropping like a slow drip of poison. "Not her body. Not her mind. But... Cienna wanted to help. Even when her breath was thin. Even when her hands were already turning cold."

She paused.

"She said: If I can’t live... let someone else walk in my place."

The silence pressed in.

I found my voice, barely. "You’re saying... this was her body?"

Selene gave a small shake of her head. "No. It was meant to be her vessel. A construct. A framework shaped in her image, down to the spiral in her iris. Milena designed it to receive her... remnants."

"Remnants?" I echoed, throat dry.

"She couldn’t trap the soul. But she could trap the echo."

Something in me recoiled at the word. Echo. Like something unfinished. Something lingering. Not quite alive. Not quite dead.

Selene took a step closer, her eyes never leaving mine. "Tell me. When I slapped you... why did you cry?"

I flinched at the memory. The heat. The sting. The shame.

"I—I don’t know. It just happened. It wasn’t even that hard—"

"You cried," Selene repeated softly, "like you’d been struck before. Not in the moment. From something... deeper."

Azalea finally spoke, voice thin. "You mean like trauma?"

"No," Selene said. "Like recognition."

The room felt smaller. Closer. The shadows seemed to stretch.

"She remembered something," Selene whispered. "The vessel, I mean. You."

My mouth tasted of metal. "So what am I?"

"You’re Kairi," Selene said. "But you’re not only Kairi."

I couldn’t breathe.

"There’s grief in you that doesn’t belong to you. Instincts that aren’t yours. Tears that come before thought. The vessel responded because somewhere in you... she still weeps."

Azalea looked away. Even she seemed unnerved now.

Selene turned to the side, not looking at me anymore. "Milena never told you. But I think, on some level... you’ve always known."

Far across the room, Helena stirred.

No, snapped upright—like something yanked her out of sleep. Her eyes wild. Breathing shallow. As if she’d heard every word.

And then I noticed it.

My hands were shaking.

Not from fear.

From mourning.

Like I’d already lost something I’d never even known I had.