Part 1
The sky was still covered by heavy clouds, but the storm that once roared with fury seemed to have calmed. The rain now whispered softly, falling in fine, persistent drops. The first lights of dawn were still far off, and the world remained wrapped in the damp, tranquil darkness of early morning.
Inside a room, a grim silence reigned. Ed stood beside the bed, his tired and shadowed eyes focused on the figure resting beneath the sheets. Helena lay there, her pale skin contrasting with the black strands of her hair spread across the pillow. Her breathing was extremely light, almost imperceptible, but steady. Ed knew she wouldn't wake up anytime soon.
With slow, careful movements, Ed pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. He held it for a moment, hesitating, his fingers feeling the roughness of the paper. The words he had written there still echoed in his mind. He placed the folded paper on the bedside table, next to an unlit candle. The sound of the paper touching the wood seemed far too loud in the silence.
He looked at Helena once more. Her chest rose and fell so faintly, each breath a reminder of her fragility in that moment. Ed ran a hand through his hair, looking away, as if trying to push the scene out of his memory. He knew he couldn't stay any longer.
"I'm sorry this happened…" he murmured softly, his voice rough and weary. He knew she couldn't hear him, but the words needed to be said.
"I'll see you around."
Part 2
Ed left the room, adjusting his gear and checking one of his scimitars strapped to his waist. The cold of the early morning made the metal freeze under his fingers, but he ignored the sensation, focusing on the task at hand. Every detail of his gear was checked with precision, like second nature. As he walked through the damp corridor, his thoughts wandered.
"Where's Pallas, huh?" he wondered, frowning. It had been a long time since he last saw him. There was a mission, and they were supposed to wait for Pallas, but he was taking too long. Something wasn't right.
Before he could dwell on his thoughts, the sound of footsteps behind him caught his attention. Ed turned and saw William, his father, walking toward him. He was also gearing up, adjusting his semi-armor and holding a short sword in his good hand. William's other arm was bandaged, still recovering from the recent battle that had cost him the limb. Ed frowned, his concern evident.
"Dad… you shouldn't go…" Ed said, his voice low but firm. He looked directly at William's right arm, where now only a bandaged stump remained.
"You're still recovering, and it hasn't been that long since you lost your arm."
William paused for a moment, his eyes meeting Ed's. He let out a sigh, but his expression showed no hesitation.
"I'm good enough." William said with a resolute look.
"You think I'm some amateur, Eddy? I've survived worse and got back in the fight." He gave a crooked smile, the kind he always used to mask the pain.
"I may not have the full arm, but I'm still faster than most people with two."
Ed shook his head, not fully convinced. "It's not just that, Dad. Losing an arm changes everything. Your balance… your strength."
William narrowed his eyes, and his voice hardened slightly. "You think I don't know that? I've spent my life fighting, Eddy. I'm used to adapting. This isn't going to stop me. And you know as well as I do that we need every sword available to kill that thing."
Ed hesitated. He knew his father was stubborn, a warrior who never backed down, even when common sense said he should. But the thought of William fighting with only one arm left him uneasy.
"If things go wrong…" Ed began, but William cut him off.
"If things go wrong, we'll deal with it. But standing around here won't help anyone." William looked directly into Ed's eyes, his expression firm but with a hint of affection.
"You made the right choice last time. Now, it's my turn to decide. I'm fine, Eddy. And I'm not staying behind."
Ed sighed, knowing there was no convincing his father. The determination in William's eyes was something he recognized all too well. It was the same fire he saw reflected in himself.
"Alright." Ed finally conceded, adjusting his gear one last time.
"But if you find you can't keep going…"
William let out a short, bitter laugh. "When that happens, the beast will already be torn to pieces."
Ed gave one last look at William's wounded arm, feeling a weight in his chest, but chose not to push the matter further. He knew the decision had already been made.
William paused for a moment, as if something had crossed his mind. He let out a small sigh, and without a word, reached into his cloak with his good hand. His fingers searched for something for a moment before pulling out a small object wrapped in an old cloth. He looked at it with a mixture of nostalgia and seriousness.
Ed watched, curious, as William extended the bundle to him. "Here. I want you to have this."
Ed took the bundle carefully, slowly unwrapping the cloth. Inside was a dagger, small but clearly forged with precision. The blade was a dark steel, almost black, with detailed engravings on the hilt. It was an old piece, but still sharp and lethal.
"This dagger…" Ed began, recognizing the weapon.
"It was Grandpa's."
William nodded, his eyes shadowed for a brief moment. "Yes. He gave it to me before… well, before everything happened. Now, I'm passing it on to you. I want you to take good care of it."
Ed held the dagger with reverence, the emotional weight of the weapon in his hands. The memory of his grandfather, though vague, seemed closer now. He looked at William, trying to understand the reason for the gift.
"Why now?" Ed asked, not wanting to show his surprise.
"Why give this to me now?"
William gave a tired, melancholic half-smile. "Because I know you're ready. And because… you never know when you'll need something that can save your life. This dagger saved me once, and maybe it'll do the same for you."
Ed remained silent for a moment, absorbing the gesture. He knew how much that dagger meant to his father and what it represented for their family. It was a symbol of protection, of legacy.
"I… I'll take care of it." Ed said, his voice serious.
"I promise."
William gave Ed a light pat on the shoulder, a quick gesture but filled with meaning. "I know you will, Eddy."
Before Ed could respond to the touch on his shoulder, Wilde's figure appeared from the dark corridor of the dormitory. His face was tense, marked by exhaustion, but his steps were light and sure, as always.
"The bodies have been stored." Wilde said, his voice hoarse, as if he had spent hours in silence until that moment.
"Everything's ready. We're just waiting for Pallas to show up so we can decide what to do."
Ed and William exchanged a brief glance, and Ed shook his head slightly. "He's taking too long." Ed commented, adjusting the newly received dagger on his belt.
At that moment, the heavy steps of Pallas and Don echoed down the corridor. Pallas, with his ever-calm and watchful demeanor, looked around before stopping in front of the three, his eyebrows arching slightly. "Bodies?" he asked directly, his deep voice filling the silent space. The tone, though firm, carried genuine curiosity.
Don, always observant, stood just behind, crossing his arms as he waited for the answer.
Ed cleared his throat, trying to organize his thoughts. "The monster… it attacked me. We had to fight it." He paused, the words flowing, but when he began to mention Helena's name, he hesitated, his eyes shifting away.
"We… we had to fight it, and…" He tried to continue, but the words stuck in his throat.
Pallas tilted his head, his eyes fixed on Ed. There was something in his gaze, a mixture of concern and anticipation. "Helena?" he said, his tone calm but heavy with meaning.
"What happened to her?"
The question hung in the air, dense and full of weight. Ed opened his mouth to respond, but froze, his chest tightening as if the air had been trapped. The image of Helena lying on the ground in a pool of blood, fragile, came to mind, and he couldn't force the words out.
Wilde glanced at Ed from the side, noticing his growing discomfort, but remained silent, while William's face tightened, knowing his son needed to find his voice.
Pallas took a step forward, the concern now more evident on his face. "Ed?" He called out softly, but with a tone of urgency.
Pallas frowned, seeing Ed's block, and acted quickly. "Don, go fetch more guards. Now." His voice carried an undeniable firmness. Don nodded and left without a word, his hurried footsteps echoing down the corridor as he disappeared from sight.
Pallas then turned to William and Ed. "You two, get ready." His gaze shifted directly to Wilde, as if he already knew who to turn to for quick and clear answers.
"Wilde, explain the situation in more detail."
Wilde, maintaining an expression of exhaustion mixed with calm, nodded in agreement. "Understood." Without question, he began walking alongside Pallas, ready to describe the events, as the two disappeared toward the exit, discussing the next steps.
William stayed behind, looking at Ed with a mix of concern and seriousness. "Do you remember our conversation?"
Ed nodded slowly, feeling the weight of that question, as if it meant much more than a simple reminder. "I do, yes."
William nodded in approval, as if silently confirming something within himself. His eyes shifted to the blade he had given Ed, still firmly held in his hands. "Take good care of that." His tone was soft, but heavy with meaning, as if the mere possession of that weapon carried more responsibilities than Ed had initially realized.
Without another word, William turned and began to walk away.