Episode Five (2026): The price of hope

So far, so good! It’s raining… muddy… ugh, I hate it—it reminds me of old nightmares… but whatever! The exam has gone well enough, though it’s been a bit too calm for my liking. Weird. Suspicious. But hey, I’m still annoyed about missing dinner.

And those strange dreams… they keep popping up… it feels like déjà vu. Like I’ve been here before, doing this before, thinking this before.

Anyway! Last step! My teacher always said that many young hunters fail here, but seriously, what are the odds? What I say to that is—when life doesn’t give you enough lemons… make orange juice! That’s how it works, right?

After this, I’ll be celebrating with Sinjin and Uncle John, perhaps a cup of Kuromamecha, or maybe something stronger, if they let me (they won’t). Oh! And that certification bonus! That sweet, hefty bonus… mine!

Today, I become the knight I always dreamed of being… right?

 Flashback-2017 (10 years old) Vionelle

Sploosh! Sploosh! Sploosh! The girl ran through the forest, her bloodied feet splashing against the muddy ground. Thorns clawed at her legs, tearing through skin as she pushed past the wild bushes. Hidden limestone shards bit at her soles, smooth yet cruel, their moonlit shimmer mocking her every step.

Thunder cracked overhead; a jagged strike that split the sky wide open. Lightning flashed, igniting the writhing shadows of trees and the chaos of leaves spiralling in the wind’s fury. Branches groaned under the storm’s breath, their skeletal forms bending into twisted arcs. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of rain and the roar of a storm that seemed alive.

Her silver hair whipped around her face in wild coils, caught in the wind’s relentless grip. Strands tangled like threads of silk, falling only to be torn away again. Sweat trickled down her dirt-streaked skin as her breath came in quick bursts, shallow and trembling. “No, no, no. This can’t be happening,” she thought, her legs shivering with every frantic step. “I promised… I promised I’d be their knight. I can’t stop now. Mummy, Daddy…” Her thoughts stumbled.

KABOOM! Thunder rolled like a beast unleashed, silencing even her mind. Her eyes widened as she scanned the darkness, searching for anything: a path, a sign, an escape. The skeletal trees loomed around her, their gnarled fingers reaching for her. Every shadow felt alive, every sound stretched the terror taut, but she didn’t stop.

The forest broke. Cobbled streets replaced the wet soil beneath her feet, their uneven stones slick with rain. The air shifted—quieter, colder, emptier. She stumbled forward into the ghostly silence of the Grand Duchy of Nymeria, where no soul stirred. Houses stood lifeless, their windows hollow eyes watching her every move.

Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter. Her bare feet echoed, filling the stillness. She paused, her hair clinging to her damp face, her breath uneven. The scent of rain lingered, but the air was heavier now, weighed down by something she didn’t understand.

From the shadows, a faint voice called out. “You’re late.”

She froze, the words slipping through her like cold steel.

“I told you there’d be no second chances, oh …. Vionelle of the clan of the Veilkin,” it murmured again, softer now, the darkness speaking in riddles. Her eyes darted ahead, searching for the source, for the person—or the thing—that awaited her. Rain spattered against the stones, whispering secrets she couldn’t decipher.

She took a step forward. The silence followed.

Bang! Bang! Gunfire shattered the silence of Hansbury Alley, three blocks away, each shot reverberating like the sound of splintering glass. Sweat beaded down my face as I ran, my breath shallow and panicked. The uneven pavement snagged my foot, and I fell hard, the sharp sting of concrete biting into my knees and elbows. Pain seared through me, and my trembling legs were barely able to lift me back up.

I staggered toward a shattered shopfront, its windows jagged like shards of broken promises. A red brick lay among the debris, its edges dusted with glinting glass. The flickering remnants of the demolished sign above spelt out V-E-L-L-V-E-T…VELVET. B-O-U-T-I-Q-U-E … BOUTIQUE “Velvet Boutique!” the letters faint against the dim light of the storm.

Inside, mannequins lay abandoned across the floor, their lifeless forms twisted into grotesque shapes. The air hung heavy, a choking mixture of ammonia, decay, and rust. My muscles stiffened, dragging me to the ground, where the worn carpet muffled the thud of my fall.

Time blurred. When I woke, my surroundings felt colder, quieter, the weight of the silence pressing like heavy fog. Tears spilt from my eyes, my sobs breaking the stillness. “I… I want Mummy… Mummy… Daddy!” The words burst out of me, raw and trembling.

“Quiet!” The rasping voice hissed from the shadows. My sobs stopped short as a figure emerged—a tall man with a noticeable limp, his broad shoulders hunched under the burden of pain. His bandaged arm bled through its haphazard dressing, a red streak that refused to be hidden.

“You want to get us killed?” His sharp tone cut through the frigid air, though his trembling hands betrayed the fear lurking beneath. He knelt beside me, his green eyes narrowing as he whispered, “Come here.” Urgency replaced his anger, and he pulled me behind the counter, his movements deliberate yet unsteady.

“Listen to me. No crying. No breathing loudly. You don’t move until I tell you to. Got it?” His voice softened, steadying me. “Be brave. You must be brave now.”

I nodded, my sobs fading as his hands steadied me. Warmth radiated from his grip, grounding me despite the chaos.

He sighed, his gaze flickering across the shop floor before settling back on me. “Where’s your family? Why are you alone?” His voice dipped with frustration, though its edge dulled quickly, softening into sympathy. “No one should leave a kid like you. You shouldn’t be here.”

KABOOM! Thunder roared, shaking the boutique. The crunch of boots on glass sent shivers down our spines. His grip on me tightened. “They’re coming. Stay still. Don’t move.”

“Click-clack.” The sound of rifles being choked echoed sharply, each metallic note heightening the tension.

“They’re extermination units,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and trembling. His hands clasped together in prayer, though his gaze remained fixed ahead. “Oh, merciful Lord,” he murmured, “keep us hidden. Just this once.”

The soldiers’ voices drifted through the room, their French tinged with impatience. “Il n’y a personne ici. Juste des mannequins,” one muttered. (There’s no one here. Just mannequins.)

“Speak English, Louis,” another snapped. “Nothing here, sir. Another dead end.”

Their boots moved closer, rifles glinting in the dim light, their movements slow and deliberate. His hand trembled against mine, the faint pressure of his grip the only anchor in the storm.

KABOOM! The thunder rolled again, followed by chaos erupting outside. A family sprinted past, their screams piercing the night, chased by soldiers on horseback. The abrupt commotion prompted a new set of orders. “Return to the capital! Kill any remaining civilians. The Duke of Nymeria and his family have been found. Their execution is set for three months.”

The man exhaled sharply, his green eyes darkening as the news sank in. “This war…” he murmured, his voice laced with quiet rage and grief. “This godforsaken war.”

I stirred in his arms, the warmth and firmness of his grip grounding me, yet tears streamed down my face. “No… Mama, Daddy… everyone,” I thought, the ache in my heart pulling me into silence.

The soldiers left. The boutique fell still, mannequins standing as eerie witnesses to our escape. Slowly, the man and I stood, legs stiff from hiding. His eyes lingered on the empty street ahead, reddened and glassy.

“No one left,” he muttered, his voice hollow as a tear slipped down his cheek. I burst into tears, my cries loud and unrestrained. His gaze softened, though he stayed silent.

Vionelle hated silence. And right now, it was everywhere.

The world had shattered colours bending, shadows twisting, reality slipping just beyond reach. Now, it was back. Stable. But wrong.

She was wrong.

She was too small—her body childlike, ten years old again, though she knew that couldn’t be true. The weight of eighteen years clung to the edges of her thoughts, pressing against the illusion, reminding her who she was. But the dream didn’t care. It held her here, locked in its version of reality.

Alexander sat hunched, blood seeping through his fingers as he clutched the deep gash across his chest. His breath was uneven, sharp.

She crossed her arms. Why was she here? Why was she this version of herself?

“You look awful.”

Alexander let out a slow, controlled breath. “And you look annoyed.”

She smirked, too practised in this exchange, too comfortable. “That’s your way of saying thank you, right?”

His reply was a wince as pain spiked through his ribs. Fragile. More than she expected.

“You should sit down.”

He gave her a dry look. “You are giving orders now?”

“I give better ones than you.”

Alexander sighed but lowered himself onto a step. Every movement dragged at his injury, hot, sharp pain curling through his ribs.

She watched, arms crossed. She shouldn’t care.

Alexander narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re different.”

Vionelle froze.

“What?”

“You were crying earlier. Loud. And now?” His gaze flickered toward hers. “Not a damn crack in the surface.”

She looked away. He noticed too much.

“I got over it,” she said flatly.

“Quick recovery.”

“You are also different from the past... father...,” she says, her dark crimson eyes staring without expression.

 “What?” Alexander responds, his brow furrowing as he reacts to the pain.

She shrugged, acting bored. “You’re bleeding all over the place, and you’re worried about my emotional development?”

Alexander scoffed, shaking his head. “I never said I was worried.”

“Good. Don’t be.”

She turned back toward him, fixing her posture, controlling the small tremor in her fingers. This wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.

Alexander studied her for a second too long. Something wasn’t right.

Then, ruffling her hair, he said, “Well, that’s probably because I come from beyond the Kintsugi Crest—specifically, Japan.”

Her eyes widened. “The Kintsugi Crest… Do you mean the Tenkaibane (天下いばね)?”

Alexander’s grin vanished.

“You know it?”

She swallowed. Of course, she knew it. The barrier between worlds—seen and unseen. The place no one comes back from.

“I’ve heard of it,” she muttered. “People don’t return.”

Alexander exhaled. “I did.”

Vionelle eyed him. “Are you sure you’re real?”

Alexander tapped his chest and winced. "I'm pretty damn sure, but where did I place my beautiful, beloved sword?"

She raised an eyebrow. “But you melted like cheap wax back there.”

“That was temporary!”

Vionelle rolled her eyes. “And incredibly pathetic.”

Alexander snorted, shaking his head.

“But how do you know my name anyway? I don’t remember telling you!”

“Well, I just know, Alexander Riki (力) Valentine!” she says, glancing across the desolate street.

He raises a brow, “Mysterious, don’t tell me you’re one of those witches who curse people bad luck. Where’s my bag of salt?”

Then, reality fractured.

A chilly wind slashed through the air, dragging shadows in its wake. The edges of everything flickered, warping, bending, bleeding into the void.

And then—the voice.

It did not belong. It was not flesh, nor thought, nor time.

"Wake! Awake! Ye blind, ye lost, bound in slumber, tempest tossed. Mockéd visions shape thy sight, Veiléd truths in hollow night."

The words sank into her bones, pressing down like chains, grinding like rusted metal, sealing her into the illusion. Trapped.

The dark voice twisted through the air, ringing in an unnatural rhythm. Wake up. Awaken, for you are lost. You are bound to a lie, wandering blind in a false world. It deceives you—it holds you, shaping your sight to fit its purpose.

Alexander staggered, his body flickering.

"What thou dream’st is rot and ruin, Falsehood wrapped in sweet undoing. Shatter glass and break the chain, rend the flesh, dissolve the vein!"

This world is ruined—its beauty a disguise for its decay. You must destroy it. Tear apart the illusion. Break what binds you. Wake up.

Vionelle turned. Alexander was distorting.

His hands blurred, edges fraying like torn fabric unravelling thread by thread. He inhaled sharply, staring at his fingers as they bled into nothingness, wisps of colour and shadow pulling him apart.

Blood is spilt, the skies do rend, Stars shall falter, night shall bend. We are twain, yet thou art one, bound by fire, undone begun.

What has been separated shall become one again. Your fate is tied together, unravelling, breaking, reforming. You must see beyond the dream.

Alexander staggered, his green eyes darkening as his body folded into the distortion.

"World hath slumbered far too long, Bound by whispers, weak with song. Tear the veil and quake the stone, Rise, forsaken, stand alone!"

The world sleeps, lulled into complacency, its people shackled by whispers and empty comforts. You must break free. You must stand alone. You must wake up.

Vionelle reached for him, but her fingers passed through empty air.

Alexander dissolved further, his features stretching like a reflection in rippling water, his form thinning into streaks of time and shadow. The colours devoured him, breaking him apart like paper burned to ash.

"Sight is given, light is torn, Ashen mouths in silence mourn. Darkness knows, yet thou dost sleep, Truth unseen in memories deep."

Vision has been granted, but still, you refuse to see. Light is ripped away, yet you do not search for it. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

A scream built in her throat—but no sound came.

Only silence—the kind that pressed into her chest, heavy and merciless.

"Hark! The air is rent with dying, Bells resound, and fools are crying. Leave thy shelter, cast it wide, Fear not abyss—step inside!"

The world is breaking, the warnings sound, yet all remain blind. Leave this illusion. Enter the unknown. Do not fear it—embrace it.

Her crimson eyes burned, glowing faintly.

"All that breathes shall break, shall sever. Flesh is weak, but thought is clever. Rise, awaken, tear apart, Dreams are lies—thy soul restart!"

All things must end. Flesh will fail, but the mind must endure. Awaken. Tear apart the dream. Begin anew.

And then—nothing.