Liria dreamed a sad and gentle dream. Of an erased future. Of a final goodbye.
She stood with all dignity abandoned, all pretenses of Grace dropped. Tears flowed down her cheeks like rain.
"No one will ever remember you!" the her in the dream cried, voice fraying with every word. "You may not even get to exist! And if you do, you won't be the same! I'm killing you! So how can you all smile like this? Irix was right! Blame me! Resent me! Tell me I should have done a better job!"
Her own voice echoed strangely in that fading place. She hated how weak she sounded. Hated how badly some frightened part of her wanted them to finally tell her she had failed.
But Alaric only stepped forward.
The great knight removed one gauntlet with slow, clumsy fingers, then reached out as if afraid she might disappear if he moved too quickly. His rough, callused hand brushed the tears from her cheek with a tenderness that made her chest ache.
"But you will remember us, Great Lady," he said softly. "That will be more than anyone here can ask for."
She stood before them as her frail and ordinary self. Not the Incarnation of the Goddess. Just Liria. Just a girl who had not been enough.
So why were they all looking at her like that? Why did their eyes hold such warmth? Such quiet affection? Such impossible faith?
Shouldn't they have been disappointed? Shouldn't they have hated her, if only a little?
Even Irix Vanthe had relented.
"Stop being so melodramatic, my Goddess," the grand assassin had snorted, though his voice had carried an unusual roughness beneath the mockery. "It's not like we have anything left to lose anyway. If you're going to do it, then just do it. This tearful hesitation is not like you, Great Lady."
He had folded his arms and looked at her with those burning eyes of his. Then, more quietly, he had said, "If you feel guilty, then remember us."
The words had struck with the weight of a solemn edict.
"You will be the proof that we once existed. And the world you build will be our legacy."
The dream ended with the echo of that final sentence, ringing through the silence like the last note of a funeral bell.
Liria drifted in that quiet space between dream and waking.
At first, she was only aware of warmth.
Soft little hands were brushing clumsily at her cheeks, wiping away tears she had not realized were still falling. The sheets beneath her were cool and smooth. The air smelled faintly of fresh greenery and sun-warmed wood. Somewhere beyond the room, birdsong drifted through open latticework, clear and sweet in the morning stillness.
Then she heard Seris.
"Don't cry, Big Sis," came the small, slightly tearful voice. "If you're sad, then Seris is sad too. Please wake up soon. Seris is sorry for making you work so hard. I miss you so much, Big Sis."
The small break in her sister’s voice made her chest ache. Liria opened her arms and reached out.
Seris let out a startled yelp as she was suddenly pulled into a tight embrace, then immediately melted against her, snuggling into Liria's chest with all the shameless devotion of a clingy kitten who had found its favorite place in the world again.
"You're up, Big Sister!" Seris cried, wriggling just enough to look at her with eyes like a cloudless summer sky. "I've done just as you said! I've been a good girl! I studied very hard and I listened to your siblings! Praise me!"
Liria wordlessly drew her closer. Seris was warm, alive, and real.
As her little sister chirped excitedly in her arms, she felt some of the ache inside her begin to quiet.
If she herself was the proof her companions had once existed, then Seris was her proof in return.
Proof that she had made the right decision.
Proof that she was on the right path.
Proof that she would build a better future.
If she kept going, if she continued to protect the world, if she truly built a future where people could laugh and love and live without fear…
Then perhaps, somewhere in another branch of fate, she might meet them again.
A different Alaric.
A different Irix Vanthe.
Not soldiers marching toward inevitable ruin, but men granted the lives they should have had. Smiling beside their families. Growing old beneath peaceful skies.
Perhaps then, one day, she might find absolution.
Liria lowered her head and pressed a long, reverent kiss to Seris's brow.
"I love you, little sister," she said, and all the depth of her gratitude was wrapped inside the words. "Our Seris is amazing. You are the best little sister in the whole wide world."
Seris gave a delighted giggle and burrowed even deeper into her arms, as if trying to physically fuse with her.
And for the first time in a very long while, Liria felt something inside her go quiet.
There was still work to be done.
Still dangers to prepare for. Still futures to guard against.
But she had taken one great step toward something brighter.
Toward a better beginning.
Later, Liria stepped into the outdoor pools of Starleaf Aerie.
The moment her bare feet touched the smooth white wood, she paused.
The World Tree's luminous bark was warm beneath her soles, polished to a satiny softness by centuries of reverent care and the passage of countless feet. The living wood curved naturally into vast basin-like terraces, elegant and seamless, as though the tree itself had chosen to cradle its people in comfort. Steam drifted in pale ribbons over the water's surface, carrying with it the rich mineral scent of hot springs mingled with the sweetness of sap, flowers, and clean mountain air.
Golden leaves shimmered overhead.
Their branches swayed in the breeze with a soft whispering music, and light filtered through the canopy in trembling sheets of pale gold. Somewhere beyond the pools, hidden water ran over stone with a gentle murmur. Birds called from unseen perches. The whole place felt wrapped in a tranquil hush, as if the world itself had lowered its voice out of reverence.
It was so peaceful that it almost felt unreal.
Behind her, Seris shuffled nervously in place.
Liria glanced back over her shoulder. "What's wrong, Seris?" she asked, smiling gently. "You don't want to join Big Sister?"
"I do want to join you," Seris replied at once.
Then she hesitated.
A blush spread across her face so quickly and so vividly that her cheeks turned the exact shade of a ripe red apple. Her little hands fidgeted at the hem of her vestments, and she refused to meet Liria's eyes.
The sight was so absurdly cute that Liria briefly had the deeply unhelpful urge to lean over and take a playful bite out of one of those rosy cheeks.
This was, unfortunately, not the time.
"Go on," Liria said, softening her voice further. "You can tell me anything, Seris."
Seris peeked up at her through her lashes, then quickly looked down again.
"My… lower body is weird now," she mumbled. "Promise you won't laugh, Big Sister?"
Liria's heart dropped. For one sharp instant, a dozen worst-case possibilities flashed through her mind.
Oh no. Had the Ritual of Inversion left behind some hidden side effect after all? Something unstable? Something painful? Something she had overlooked in her desperation to save Seris?
She kept every trace of alarm from her face with practiced ease.
"Of course, Seris," Liria said, calm and steady. "Big Sis would never laugh at you. You know that, right?"
Seris nodded uncertainly.
Then, after taking a tiny breath as if steeling herself for battle, she let her holy vestments slip from her shoulders. The white fabric pooled around her feet in shimmering layers.
Liria stared.
Oh. Oh dear. That was… certainly an unusual place for a holy stigmata.
A luminous mark, delicate and unmistakably divine, rested low across Seris's abdomen, radiating a soft golden-white glow. Its shape resembled a winged sword, sacred and elegant, the lines so fine and intricate that it looked as though it had been painted there by light itself. It pulsed faintly with holy power, warm and alive, like a second heartbeat beneath the skin.
Liria's mind raced.
Was that strange? Or was it somehow perfectly fitting?
As the vessel of life, as the place from which life itself could one day emerge, was the womb not among the holiest places of all? Now even she was confused.
Her deliberation lasted less than half a second.
Then Liria did what she did best. She projected serene, unshakable confidence.
"You have nothing to be embarrassed of, Seris," she said, her voice gentle and soothing. "That is simply proof that you are a Saintess. It's completely normal, little sister."
"Really?" Seris asked, looking up at her with enormous, unconvinced eyes.
Liria could hardly blame her. If a glowing mark of a winged sword had suddenly appeared over her own womb one day, even she would have needed a moment.
She changed tactics.
"Then answer me this," Liria said, crouching slightly so they were eye level. "How are you feeling, Seris? Does your body hurt anywhere?"
Seris blinked, then immediately brightened.
"I feel great!" she chirped. "My body is so light now! And nothing hurts anymore! Thank you so much for curing me, Big Sister!"
That, at least, was reassuring.
"And before?" Liria asked more softly.
The change in Seris was immediate.
Her shoulders curled inward. Her smile faded. A tiny shiver passed through her, so slight that most people would have missed it, but Liria did not.
"My body felt wrong," Seris said quietly, her gaze lowered to the floor. "And everything always hurt so much. I don't want to think about it anymore."
Liria's chest tightened painfully.
"Oh, Seris…" She stepped forward at once and gathered her little sister into her arms, one hand smoothing gently over her soft golden hair.
"This means your body now is how it should have always been," Liria murmured. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Nothing at all. This is perfectly normal."
Seris clung to her for a moment, then tilted her face up.
"It is?" she asked, still needing that final reassurance.
"It is," Liria said firmly, nodding once with complete conviction.
And honestly, that was close enough to the truth.
Saintess stigmata could manifest in all sorts of strange places depending on divine resonance, personal symbolism, and mystical nonsense that scholars would happily argue over for the next five hundred years. Even if this particular location was a little unusual, it still fell well within the broad and gloriously inconvenient category of acceptable holy weirdness.
"Okay!" Seris said brightly. "I trust you, Big Sister!"
Liria smiled despite herself.
Then it was her turn to disrobe.
She slipped out of her own garments with the absent ease of someone long accustomed to privacy, setting aside silk and sacred cloth until cool air brushed over her skin. She was halfway to stepping into the pool when she noticed that Seris had gone very, very quiet.
Liria looked over.
Seris was staring at her with wide, dazed eyes.
Her gaze dipped for the briefest moment, then stilled. A beat later, the lingering tension in her small frame melted away so completely that Liria almost blinked. Seris seemed to relax all at once, as though some private worry had quietly resolved itself.
Liria tilted her head. What was that about?
"You're so beautiful, Big Sister!" Seris suddenly gushed, throwing herself forward to wrap both arms around Liria's waist. "I want to grow up just as beautiful as you one day!"
And just like that, the mystery was forgotten. Liria laughed and patted her hair.
"You will, Seris," she said warmly. "You will."
Together, they sank into the steaming water.
Heat enveloped them at once, silky and delicious against their skin. The mineral-rich spring water seeped deep into tired muscles, loosening every last thread of tension Liria had not realized she was still carrying. Steam curled around their shoulders and dampened their hair, while the surface of the pool shimmered with reflected gold from the leaves above.
Both sisters let out matching sighs of pure bliss.
Liria turned to look at Seris, whose face had already gone soft and melty with contentment, and reached over to gently pinch one of her squishy pink cheeks.
"See?" Liria said, smiling. "Doesn't this feel good? Don't rely on your purification miracle all the time, little sister."
"But…" Seris puffed out her cheeks and set her jaw with heroic stubbornness. "The miracle is so much faster! Bam! And I'm clean! Seris is too busy for baths!"
Liria stared at her.
"You are currently in a bath."
"I'm not bathing," Seris said with complete seriousness. "I'm spending time with Big Sister."
Liria opened her mouth. Then closed it again. That was, unfortunately, an almost unbeatable argument.
"And why," she asked carefully, "was Seris too busy?"
Her little sister immediately sat up straighter in the water, as if this were a matter of immense pride.
"Because Seris wanted to finish studying all the boring and annoying stuff so that Seris could play with Big Sis when you woke up!" she declared. "Seris worked very hard!"
Liria could only stare at her for a moment, her expression softening. What exactly was she supposed to say to that?
She chose self-preservation.
"What subjects have you studied?" Liria asked, partly to distract herself and partly because she was genuinely curious.
This, it turned out, was a mistake.
"Seris studied etiquette," her little sister began, counting proudly on her fingers, "math, biology, literature, physics, history, chemistry, economics, politics, geography, statecraft, magical theory, comparative theology, music, penmanship, diplomacy, and also—"
"Enough," Liria said weakly, holding up a hand.
Seris blinked.
Liria blinked back.
She had only been asleep for a month.
A month.
The child had somehow managed to compress what looked suspiciously like an entire noble education into that span of time and still had enough energy left over to be this chirpy.
Liria had always known Seris was clever, but this bordered on deeply unreasonable.
Her expression softened. The little one really had worked hard.
"Well done, dear," she said, her voice warm with sincere pride. "You've done wonderfully."
Seris beamed so brightly that she looked as though she might ascend on the spot.
Liria smiled and leaned back against the smooth edge of the basin, letting the heat cradle her as she looked up through the branches overhead.
"So," she asked, "where does my hardworking little sister want to go play?"
To her surprise, she found herself genuinely looking forward to the answer.
There was an odd sort of thrill in it. All Liria had ever truly known was war. Marches, strategy, sacrifice, and endless vigilance. She had fought to protect a world she herself had never been allowed to live in.
Now, for the first time, she stood in a peaceful and prosperous world and was being invited to simply… go somewhere fun. To play. To wander. To exist.
And somehow, the thought of experiencing all of it for the first time with Seris at her side made the prospect feel sweeter than she could put into words.
As though she had been waiting for this exact question, Seris immediately brightened.
"I want to go see the Festival of Flowers at Elysium!" she declared.
Liria stilled. Something about that name stirred a faint unease in her chest.
Elysium. It sounded familiar.
Then Seris, with the unstoppable enthusiasm of a child launching a fatal attack completely by accident, added, "It's a festival celebrating the Goddess of Life!"
Liria froze.
Seris clasped her hands together, eyes sparkling with innocent excitement.
"It's a festival celebrating you! We've gotta go!"
Liria stared at her in silence. Inside her mind, a thousand warning bells began ringing all at once. She wanted to say no. She wanted to refuse immediately, firmly, and with great wisdom.
She wanted to argue that she wasn't the Goddess of Life. She wanted to inform her beloved little sister that this sounded like a social catastrophe waiting to happen.
But then she looked into Seris's shining blue eyes, so full of anticipation and delight, and all resistance died a quiet, miserable death.
At least the flowers would be beautiful.
And it was only a festival.
How bad could things possibly get?