In the peaceful land of windmills, life moved slowly and quietly.

Mia spent her days working on the farm, tending to cows and chickens, while the wind gently turned the large wooden blades rising against the blue sky.

It was a simple life—almost monotonous—but after everything she had endured, that quiet routine had become her refuge.

That morning, as she carried a bucket of water toward the chicken coop, a horse suddenly appeared along the path.

The sound of galloping shattered the silence, kicking up a trail of dust.

Mia turned, startled, and watched a man dismount.

He wore the immaculate uniform of the Empire and carried the stern presence of someone accustomed to giving orders.

It was Commander Abram.

He was alone, without an escort.

And that alone was enough for her to understand this was no routine visit.

Mia stood still for a moment, then set the bucket down and approached him cautiously.

Abram acknowledged her with a brief nod, his face marked by exhaustion.

“Mia…” he said quietly. “It’s been a long time since we last saw each other.”

She invited him inside, wiping her hands on her apron.

Abram was not a man who traveled without purpose—and Mia knew that well.

Once they were seated at the worn wooden table, she couldn’t hold back any longer.

“What brings you here, Abram?” she asked, locking eyes with him.

“Do you have news about Sky?”

Her heart began to race. Every time she spoke his name, she feared the worst.

Abram took a deep breath, as if the words he was about to speak weighed like stones.

“It’s Sky I need to talk to you about. The boy escaped from the training camp. Captain Sharlok is searching for him. If we don’t find him… he’ll be declared a fugitive.”

For a moment, Mia thought she had misheard. Then, slowly, anger surged through her.

She sprang to her feet and slammed her hands on the table, sending a chair crashing backward.

“This is your fault!” she shouted, her voice breaking with fury.

“You tore him away from his life, locked him in that hellish place—and now you have the nerve to call him a criminal?! What kind of justice is that?!”

Abram remained silent, allowing her rage to pour out.

When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, but heavy with remorse.

“This isn’t what I wanted for him. My plan was for him to complete the training, then I would have requested a transfer to my division—here, in the land of windmills. He could have served the Empire in a quiet place, far from conflict.”

Mia shook her head bitterly.

“Sky was never meant for a quiet life. Ever since he was a child, he dreamed of traveling, of seeing the world… of building his own clan. And you really think he would have been safe under your command? How long do you think it would have taken before you were sent to some battlefield?”

Abram clenched his jaw.

“The central region is one of the safest in the Empire. Clans here lack the strength to rebel, and serious incidents are rare. Our power is firm. The people live under our protection, in peace and stability.”

Mia laughed—a hollow sound, fractured by pain.

“Protection? Where was that protection the night my family was slaughtered? Where was the Empire when they destroyed my life and killed everyone I loved?! And what did you do afterward, when those bastards vanished without a trace? Nothing, Abram. You did nothing. That night… the night of Squer Garden, you simply watched while my family died.”

The commander lowered his gaze. For a long moment, he said nothing as a suffocating silence filled the room.

“I’m sorry…” he murmured at last.

“What happened that night was an incident. A wound I still carry. But believe me, Mia—the Empire never stopped investigating. There are forces at work you can’t even imagine.”

Mia’s eyes shone with tears and fury.

“Don’t you dare call it an incident. That wasn’t a tragedy. It was a planned massacre. And it happened right under your nose.”

Abram stiffened, as if her words had pierced him.

“If we had intervened, there would have only been more victims,” he said quietly.

“You can’t understand what would have happened if the Empire had moved its forces that night.”

Mia shook her head. She didn’t want excuses. She didn’t want justifications.

“Either way… I don’t know where Sky is. And even if I did, I would never tell you.”

Abram rose slowly. He adjusted his uniform without looking at her, then headed for the door.

He didn’t try to persuade her.

He didn’t ask another question.

When the door closed behind him, the farm fell silent once more.

Mia remained still, tears streaming down her face as she clenched her apron with trembling hands.

In the distance, the wind made the mill blades creak.

In that sound, she sensed an ominous warning.

A storm was coming.

The sea was calm, flat as a mirror.

The small fishing boat rocked gently, carried by a lazy current.

Aboard it, Sky and Shark rowed in silence, their hands bound by heavy eolite shackles.

Each pull of the oars sent pain through their wrists, and the water striking the wood was the only sound breaking the monotony of those endless days.

“Shark…” Sky gasped, his face pale, lips cracked.

“I’m exhausted. I’m starving… and I’m dying of thirst.”

Shark didn’t even turn around. He kept rowing, teeth clenched.

“Stop whining and keep rowing. We’ll reach somewhere eventually. We should be grateful the sea’s stayed calm so far.”

Sky muttered something but didn’t reply.

They had lost all sense of time. Days—or weeks—might have passed since their escape. Hunger and thirst had reduced them to shadows of themselves, their movements slow, their minds clouded.

Despair took over.

Sky threw the oar into the boat and leaned toward the salty water.

“I can’t take it anymore… I’m drinking!”

Shark’s eyes widened.

“Idiot! It’s salt water—you’ll dehydrate even faster!”

But he was too late.

Sky plunged his hands into the sea, gulping the water down in desperate mouthfuls.

Moments later, nauseated and utterly drained, he collapsed onto his back, unable to move.

Shark sighed, gripping the oars once more.

“You’re dead weight. You know that?”

He kept rowing alone, pushing the boat forward meter by meter—until his strength finally gave out as well.

When the sun dipped below the horizon, he collapsed without warning.

The boat drifted on, at the mercy of the current.

—

Next Episode — Beyond the Shore