Deborah's POV
In the dense fog, it felt as if I had once again drifted into an endless dream.
Although Matthew and I had previously experienced Conscientia's judgment together, this mist felt denser and more elusive, almost lulling me into a hazy sleep.
Yet, I was certain there would be no judgment this time.
One undergoes Conscientia's judgment only once in a lifetime.
When I awoke, Matthew seemed to have just emerged from the fog's grip as well.
Looking around, many others still lay on the ground, apparently trapped within Conscientia's judgment.
Matthew and I exchanged a glance, quickly averting our eyes, and without a word, we began moving through space, treading lightly as we woke those still caught in their dreams.
A wave of relief washed over me as I realized that those of us who had previously faced the judgment seemed to have gained some immunity, sparing us from the illusions once more.
For me, the previous judgment had been fulfilling, granting a vision I had longed for, even though it could never become reality.
My gaze fell on Cora.
She lay quietly on the ground, dried tear tracks on her face marking her inner struggle and pain. But her expression radiated a quiet sense of relief.
Leaning down, I gently brushed a dry leaf from her hair, my fingers grazing her cold cheek.
Cora's eyelids fluttered, as if struggling to return from her dream.
When her eyes opened slowly, there was a touch of confusion, then a wave of gentle release softened her gaze.
Seeing me, she smiled faintly, fresh tears pooling in her eyes as she whispered, her voice choked, "Deborah, was that Conscientia's judgment? I… I'm truly grateful. In the visions, I saw Father and Mark… they guided me, showed me how to let go of the past."
Her tears flowed freely, a serene release, as she held me, sobbing and murmuring, "I even saw my beautiful future in Tirfothuinn."
I held her close, feeling her shoulders shake, tears bringing her a sense of peace.
I could sense the pressure and sadness melting away, and it seemed she had finally found her inner calm, an escape from her grief.
She had long needed to let go, and this judgment had become her salvation.
Cora dried her tears and stood, and we decided to split up to awaken the others.
At that moment, Matthew had already managed to rouse David, and the four of us moved in different directions, helping those who were still under the fog's influence.
Suddenly, a piercing scream broke the silence.
It was Cora's voice, filled with unrestrained fear.
My heart clenched, and I began to run toward her.
But before I could go far, Matthew appeared beside me, swiftly covering my eyes with one hand, while his other rested gently on my shoulder.
Though he blocked my view, I glimpsed a pool of blood on the ground before he turned me away.
His voice was low and steady, but with a distant edge, "Don't look back. Go wake the children of Tirnanog."
He was protecting me, shielding me from whatever horror lay behind.
I sensed David hurrying to Cora, speaking softly, calming her.
Then David called Matthew over to help.
Matthew gave me a gentle nudge in the direction of the children, his tone warm yet firm, as if determined to shield both Cora and me from the scene.
So, we turned to wake the children of Tirnanog, still peacefully asleep.
Those small forms lay curled up, as though the mist had drawn them into their own internal struggles.
Cora wiped the last of her tears, crouching down with a smile as she gently shook Sol's shoulder, her voice soft as she called him awake.
***
Matthew and David completed the headcount; Conscientia's judgment had claimed 373 lives, leaving 9,271 survivors.
As I looked at our dwindling numbers, a sense of unease crept over me.
I had thought Conscientia's judgment was only a test of inner strength, but its cost had been staggering.
I recalled Matthew mentioning Mrs Barrett, the mistress of Tirfothuinn, who had said that to enter Tirfothuinn, one must first pass a judgment.
I finally understood. Her words had meant that many would never reach the land of hope.
We performed the familiar ritual of cremating the dead, honoring them with a moment of silence.
Though some harbored resentment toward those who had not passed the judgment—perhaps for selfishness, malice, or causing harm to their companions—we honored them with silence, showing the final respect of humanity.
After the silence, the group resumed its march toward the beach.
Walking in the line, each person seemed to carry a newfound sense of purpose and peace.
They knew they were among those Tirfothuinn had "chosen."
In quiet prayers, I hoped that everyone remaining would reach Tirfothuinn, that none would be barred from bearing the "Demon" label.
At last, we arrived at the beach.
The vast ocean stretched out before us, the sky reaching wide, with Tirfothuinn just barely visible in the morning light.
For the adults, the beach brought both comfort and awe, as if even ending here would bring them peace.
The children, on the other hand, were thrilled, having never seen such an open world; their innocent eyes shone with wonder.
Confronted by the sight, they eagerly began envisioning their lives in Tirfothuinn.
But for the adults, the emotions were more complicated.
After all the dangers we had faced, they couldn't help but wonder if the tranquil sea concealed hidden threats and whether they could safely reach the shore beyond.
The children cheered in innocent excitement, while the adults held their worries within.
While we lingered on the shore, the werewolves had already begun their quiet preparations.
They swiftly cut branches, gathering dry wood to build rafts.
Practical as always, they worked without words, setting an example for the others, who soon joined in.
Spare clothing was torn into strips to bind the raft structures, everyone working together with a shared determination.
After hours of diligent effort, the first raft finally took shape.
Matthew led the first group of ten across the water toward Tirfothuinn.
Crossing the sea required immense courage; for many, it was their first sight of the ocean.
Even those born on the surface have never ventured beyond their birthplace due to the harsh conditions.
Soon, the second, third, and fourth rafts were completed.
With astonishing efficiency, the werewolves constructed over two hundred rafts, and after two days of back-and-forth trips, everyone was finally ferried safely to Tirfothuinn.
I chose to cross with Cora and the last group of children.
The children continued to play along the shore, their laughter bright in a way they had rarely known. The beach was like a paradise to them.
Matthew remained outside the wall of vines, overseeing the final crossings.
When Cora and I boarded with the last of the children, he stayed behind, watching to ensure everyone arrived safely.
When the final group entered Tirfothuinn, a surge of relief filled me—no one had been barred by the "Demon" label; everyone was accepted.
Everyone else had entered Tirfothuinn, leaving only Matthew and me on the beach.
I looked at him, words caught in my throat, unsure how to say goodbye.
As he began to disappear behind the wall of vines, a sharp pain seized my heart.
In a final burst of emotion, I whispered, "Chrono Halt!"
Time froze.
With a murmur of "Ventus Swift," I found myself at his side, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath, steady and calm, unaware of the weight I carried in my heart.
Each heartbeat pounded in my chest, marking the seconds I had left before I had to let him go.
Silently, I reached into my pocket, my fingers brushing over the small, folded note I had written for him, a farewell he would never hear from my lips.
I slipped it, along with the wolf's tooth necklace, into his pocket, a piece of me to stay with him after I was gone.
A pang of sorrow twisted through me, a hollow ache growing with each heartbeat.
I stood on tiptoe, my hand trembling as I reached up, my lips just grazing his. In that single, fleeting kiss, I poured out every emotion I had hidden—every whisper of love, every trace of regret, and every silent promise that would remain unfulfilled.
The warmth between us was brief, but at that moment, it felt eternal, like a part of me would always linger beside him.
My chest tightened as I forced myself to step back, imprinting every detail into memory—the curve of his face, the quiet peace that softened his expression.
I knew this was goodbye, the final act of courage and sacrifice.
With a quiet exhale, I cast "Ventus Swift" once more, feeling the familiar surge of energy as the wind wrapped around me, lifting me gently from the ground.
I took one last look at him, standing there with an expression that was a mixture of confusion and something deeper, something unspoken.
Tirfothuinn's shores stretched out behind him, serene yet tinged with the sorrow of parting.
As the spell took hold, I felt myself dissolve into the wind, leaving him, this place, and a piece of my heart behind, knowing that this departure would linger with me always.