Ryu Akakage

I was hunched over a dusty tome in my room at the inn, poring over every word in search of information about Evane, the top-ranking swordswoman we had encountered earlier. 

Her curious gaze and the way she seemed to assess Yvette left me with an uneasy feeling I couldn't shake. 

The fire in the corner crackled softly, but the chill of the room lingered, matching the tension knotting in my stomach as I flipped through pages filled with stories of the other top ranking members in the huntsman syndicate.

Just as I stumbled upon a passage that mentioned her past assignments, a sharp knock on the door jolted me from my concentration. 

Setting the book down, I got up and opened the door, expecting perhaps an innkeeper checking on me.

Instead, I was met with Yvette, snow covering her from head to toe. 

My breath caught in my throat as I noticed her hands, small and almost purple from frostbite, trembling slightly.

She wore a blank look on her face, one that sent a jolt of fear through me. 

“Yvette…” 

I said, instinctively stepping back, a sense of dread unfurling in my chest.

“Yvette…” 

I repeated.

“What happened?”

For a moment, she didn’t respond, her gaze drifting to the floor as if searching for answers in the wooden planks. 

I could see the chill around her, a stark contrast to the warmth of the room, and it made my insides twist. 

“You need to warm up.” 

I urged, motioning for her to come inside.

She shuffled in, and as I closed the door behind her. 

“Yvette…” 

I tried again, softer this time, desperate to pull her from whatever abyss she had fallen into. 

The silence that enveloped us felt suffocating.

With a heavy sigh, I gave up on forcing her to speak. Instead, I moved instinctively, my hands finding the edges of her damp cloak. 

As I peeled it away, I could see the snow melting on the floor.

I carefully slid her rifle off her shoulder, feeling its weight shift between us as I placed it gently to the side.

“I’ll get a shower ready for you,” I said, trying to break through the fog of silence that surrounded her. “You need to warm up.”

I turned away, moving to the small bathroom in the room. 

I could feel her gaze on my back, heavy and searching, but I didn’t dare look back. 

Instead, I focused on turning the water on, letting the steam fill the small space.

“What the hell happened…to her.”

The question burned through my mind as I worked. 

Had something attacked her? 

Was it some kind of hunting accident gone horribly wrong? 

Minutes passed again, the sound of rushing water becoming a soft hum in the background. 

I walked back out into the room, my breath steady but tight, and sat beside her, close enough to feel the cold radiating off her. 

Her hands had turned a shade darker, the frostbite more visible under the dim light. 

“If you want…” 

I began slowly, trying to pull her back to the present.

“you can tell me tomorrow. There’s no rush. You don’t have to say anything tonight.” 

I glanced over at her again, but nothing. Her eyes stared ahead, past me, through me. 

“I’ve got a commission coming up. Something simple. You can come with me, clear your head. Maybe…” 

I trailed off, unsure if my words were even reaching her. 

“…maybe it’ll help take your mind off whatever happened.”

But she didn’t respond. Her chest barely moved with each breath.

I leaned back, pressing a hand to my forehead, as if that would steady the storm brewing in my mind. 

Whatever she had gone through wasn’t normal.

 It wasn’t just another hunting accident gone wrong or a tough fight. 

This was something else. 

Something much worse. 

A part of me didn’t want to know. 

But I needed to know what it was.

Yvette Auclair

The water hit me like a thousand knives, piercing through my skin, but I didn’t care. 

I couldn’t care. 

I stood there, my hands pressed against the cold tiles, shaking. My hair, wet and tangled, clung to my face, hiding me from myself. 

But I could still see them—still hear them.

[Sissy, come play with me, please!]

It was so loud in my head, so real. 

Like she was right there, tugging at my sleeve with those little hands, smiling up at me with that toothy grin.

 I wanted to scream. 

To tell her to stop. 

She wasn’t there. 

She was gone. 

Gone because I wasn’t there when she needed me.

My breath hitched, the weight of it crushing my chest, making it hard to stand.

 I slumped against the wall, the water pouring over me, but all I could feel was the cold. 

Cold like her body. Cold like the air that surrounded her, frozen in place forever. 

I could still feel her in my arms, still remember how I shook her, hoping, praying for just a little warmth.

 But there was none. Nothing. 

Just a shell.

A choked sob escaped my throat, but it wasn’t enough. 

I wanted to tear at my skin, to pull at my hair, to do something—anything—to make it stop. But I was trapped. 

Trapped in my own mind, and their voices were louder now.

Father…

[You’re just like your mother, Yvette…]

His voice was soft, teasing, like it always had been. 

The way he’d laugh when I got mad, the way he’d push me just enough to keep me going. 

But that was gone now. He was gone, just like Aime. 

And it was all my fault.

[Yvette focus…]

Ives… 

And then her voice again, quieter this time.

[Sissy…]

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block it out, but it wouldn’t go away.

 It never would.

And it was my fault.

“If I hadn’t… if I hadn’t taken so long…”

The words slipped out before I could stop them, trembling with guilt. 

My breath hitched as the weight of my failure settled over me like a shroud.

“If I hadn’t wasted time… they’d still be alive.”

Aime.

 Ives. 

Father.

 They’d still be here. 

They’d still be breathing, laughing, talking to me, living. But I had taken too long. 

I had wandered off, distracted by theKaldrith, distracted by anything but them. 

I thought I had time.

But I didn’t. I never did.

A sob tore through me, and I slammed my fist into the wall, the sharp sting barely registering through the storm raging in my chest.

“I should’ve been there…”

 I whispered, the words choking in my throat. 

“I should’ve—”

Another blow to the wall, harder this time. 

The tiles cracked beneath my knuckles, but I couldn’t stop.

 I didn’t want to stop.

 I needed the pain. I deserved it.

“I could’ve saved them.”

My hand hit the wall again, blood smeared across the white tiles, a sharp pain shooting through my arm.

“They’re dead because of me!”

The sound of flesh hitting stone echoed through the small space, over and over again, my fist now raw and bleeding, but I kept going.

“I killed them!”

Each word came with a strike, harder than the last.

 My hand screamed in agony, but it didn’t matter. 

Nothing mattered. 

Not anymore.

I slammed my fist into the wall again, my voice breaking into a sob.

“I killed them… because I wasn’t fast enough… because I wasn’t good enough.”

"I killed them!"

 I screamed, slamming my fist into the wall one more time.

The sound reverberated off the tiles, the sharp crack of bone meeting stone drowned by the roar of water, now biting and cold as it turned to shards. 

My knuckles split open, blood mixing with the icy spray, running down in rivulets, swirling with the water pooling at my feet.