Alliyana Etheria's Perspective
The snow had receded into the forest line, giving way to patches of yellow grass and waterlogged soil. Spring's thaw was complete now. The scent of pine sap and earth hung in the air—wet, stubborn, honest.
It was the sixteenth of Floren. My ninth birthday. The day I returned to the Duchy.
The carriage rocked gently beneath me. Its interior was dim, cloaked in the shadow of thick red curtains that muffled the outside world. The hum of wheels over gravel had become white noise over the past hour. Beside me, Alana slept with her arms crossed and head leaning into the wooden wall. Her breath was slow. Shallow. Her hair stuck to her cheek with faint sweat.
She was exhausted. Truly exhausted. So was I.
It had been years since I'd felt this kind of fatigue—not the muscle soreness of training, nor the acute heat from overcasting, but genuine exhaustion. The kind born from carrying another person's weight through the aftermath of war.
I let it settle in my limbs.
I grieve for a lost friend. I've no longing for revenge.
Whoever this God of Chaos is, I wish to understand him.
I looked out through the slit between the curtains.
We were close. The outer towers of Aurellia were in sight—dark stone framed in crimson banners, flanked by soldiers in black coats and gilded pauldrons. The Marquise had sent an escort ahead to clear our path. A formality, perhaps. Or a gesture of respect. Either way, I appreciated it.
I reached out and placed a hand on Alana's shoulder. "We're here," I said softly.
She stirred. Eyes half-lidded. Then slowly widened as she blinked the haze away. "Already?"
I nodded. "Time moves faster when you're safe."
The carriage slowed. The wheels cracked against cobblestone and halted with a shudder.
The door opened. Cold air swept in. I jumped down.
And then—warmth.
Not from the wind. From the arms that wrapped around me.
"Welcome back!" Lina's voice cracked with tears.
I froze at first. Then I felt the heat of her face pressed into my dress. Her body trembled, sobs quiet but real. I placed my arms around her and held her gently, feeling her grief leak into my fabric like meltwater.
"I'm glad to be back," I whispered.
She didn't speak. Just nodded against me.
Behind me, Alana stepped out of the carriage. Her boots struck the stone with an uneven rhythm. One of the guards stepped forward.
"The Duke would like to see you both," he said. "Immediately."
I nodded. "Lead the way."
We passed through the familiar gates, flanked by rows of polished black stone. The fortress felt the same—fortified, cold, alive. Soldiers saluted as we passed. Some gave us second glances. I ignored them.
But I was relieved to be back.
The Duke's study reminded me of a mausoleum dressed in aristocracy. Heavy drapes blocked the sun. The scent of dried ink and old leather clung to every shelf. At the center sat the man himself—Duke Raphael Aurellia—clad in obsidian fabric laced with red and trimmed in gold. The white of his hair contrasted violently with his crimson eyes and pale complexion.
He did not speak. Not at first.
He simply looked at us—at me—with the unreadable focus of a man reading a battlefield.
Alana sat to my right. Her posture was stiff. Her hands folded tightly in her lap. The Duke broke the silence.
"Paladin Alana Sato," he said. "Report."
Alana straightened, voice brittle but composed. "We encountered the God of Chaos."
The words hovered in the air like frost.
"I need to return to the capital," she continued. "We must prepare the royal court for a hero summoning."
The Duke leaned forward slightly, his fingers steepled under his chin. "And why are there only two of you left?"
Alana hesitated. Her gaze drifted to me.
The Duke followed it. His red eyes narrowed.
He shifted his attention fully to me.
"Speak," he said.
I drew in a breath. Then let it out slowly. "We were overrun," I said. "Creatures summoned by the Dark God. I tried to protect the Duchess of Nazaad. I failed. He killed her."
"And then?"
"I was left for dead. Alone."
The Duke tilted his head, not blinking. "If you were left for dead, surrounded by demonic beasts… how are you alive?"
I met his gaze.
"I killed them all."
Silence.
Alana said nothing. She looked down.
The Duke's eyes lowered—toward my waist.
Dave's sword. Still strapped to me.
I unfastened the belt and let it drop to the floor. It struck the stone with a clean metallic thud.
"I was borrowing it," I said. "Until we got back."
Alana lifted her head. "It's true," she said. "After the encounter, it was Alliyana who brought me safely back to Orell."
The Duke didn't speak. He studied me. Then, his voice sharpened with interest.
"You must be curious. Why would my guards stop reporting your exits?"
Alana turned to him. "You ordered them to ignore her."
"I did," he said. "Out of curiosity."
He rose from his chair. Walked slowly to the bookshelf, then to a nearby cabinet. He pulled out a sealed scroll and let it unroll on the desk.
"Documents left behind in the prayer room. The previous high priest was tasked with confirming the death of a particular child."
He turned his gaze back to me.
"Alliyana Etheria. Daughter of Count Theodore Etheria. The chosen saintess. Or rather…" His lips curled faintly. "Former saintess."
Alana looked at me. Her eyes wide with understanding. I hadn't told her. She didn't know.
The Duke's eyes narrowed again.
"Then why do I sense no divinity from you?" he asked. "You are not corrupted. But you are not sanctified."
I said nothing.
He gestured to Alana. "You're dismissed."
She hesitated, glanced at me again—but left without protest.
When the door closed, the Duke stepped closer. His voice dropped low.
"I want to train you. Personally. You have potential. I will teach you how to kill demons properly."
I didn't blink.
"No."
The Duke stilled. I met his eyes.
"My goal isn't to kill demons."
He frowned. "Then what is it?"
I exhaled once, steady.
"I require the strength to kill a god."
He didn't respond. Not immediately. He understood.
The silence that followed felt like a shifting tide. A weight passed between us. A shift in the room's pressure—like the air knew the shape of what I had declared.