Roseiral adjusted the strap of her satchel as she approached the familiar sight of the eel-fishing shop. The air here carried a salty tang, mixed with the earthy scent of damp wood, which seemed to calm her frayed nerves. After the chaos and uncertainty of recent days, she felt a surprising lightness in her chest.
She couldn't help but think of Liliac. He had gone out of his way to help her and, more importantly, to ensure the mother's well-being. The image of him sitting beside the frail woman, his expression calm yet resolute, lingered in her mind. Liliac's ability to shoulder others' pain—just as he had done for her so long ago—left her with a deep sense of gratitude. She knew she needed to find a way to thank him, something meaningful that would reflect her appreciation.
As Roseiral pushed open the heavy wooden door of the shop, the familiar creak announced her arrival. The interior was exactly as she remembered it: rows of barrels brimming with eels, nets hanging on the walls, and the faint glow of lanterns casting warm light across the space. The sounds of bustling activity echoed through the room as workers prepared the day's catch for market.
Standing near the counter, Ryker looked up from a ledger. His piercing eyes swept over her, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You look much better now," he said, setting the ledger down.
Roseiral hesitated, surprised by the unexpected warmth in his tone. "I feel better," she admitted, her voice steady. "Thank you."
Ryker nodded, crossing his arms. "I heard the news of Liliac helping ya out. I'm glad he was able to step in for you and the situation."
A flicker of gratitude crossed Roseiral's face. "He's incredible," she said softly. "He didn't just help me. He's taking care of the mother now, making sure she has everything she needs. It's... It's more than I could have hoped for."
Ryker leaned back against the counter, his expression thoughtful. "Liliac has his way of surprising people. Always has."
Roseiral smiled faintly. "He's done so much for me already. I feel like I owe him something—a gift, maybe—but I don't know what."
Ryker raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "A gift, huh? For Liliac?"
"Yes," Roseiral said, her voice firmer now. "Something that shows him how much I appreciate what he's done. Not just for me, but for others. He... he deserves that much."
Ryker studied her for a moment before nodding. "If anyone deserves it, it's him. But you better make it something meaningful. Liliac's not the type to care about fancy trinkets or empty gestures."
"I know," Roseiral said. Her mind raced as she considered what might be fitting.
"Well," Ryker added, "if you need any ideas, you know where to find me." With that, he returned his attention to the ledger, though the ghost of a smile lingered on his face.
Roseiral wandered deeper into the shop, her thoughts drifting as she passed rows of equipment and supplies. She noticed a small workbench near the back, where tools for repairing nets and other gear were neatly arranged. The sight sparked an idea, and she paused, considering the possibilities.
Later that evening, Roseiral sat in her quarters with a collection of materials spread out before her. A length of finely woven Tessere fabric, dyed in soft shades of blue and silver, lay at the center. She had spent the better part of the afternoon scouring the market for the perfect fabric—something practical yet beautiful, and durable enough to withstand the wear and tear of Liliac's travels.
She carefully began to stitch the fabric, her hands steady despite the lingering exhaustion. Each movement was deliberate, her focus unwavering. The process was oddly therapeutic, a welcome distraction from the uncertainties of the world around her.
As she worked, her mind wandered back to the first time she had met Liliac. She remembered the way he had looked at her—not with pity, but with understanding. He had seen her pain and offered her something she hadn't realized she needed: a chance to heal.
The gift would be simple, she decided. A scarf, woven with care and infused with meaning. She chose a pattern that reflected the waves of the Heart Kingdom's lakes, a symbol of resilience and continuity. It felt fitting—both for Liliac and for the bond they shared.
When Roseiral returned to the eel-fishing shop, the late afternoon light filtered through the wooden slats, casting long shadows over the barrels and nets. Ryker was leaning against the counter, a knife in hand as he cleaned the handle of an old fishing rod. He looked up at her, his sharp eyes catching her own before she even spoke.
"You're back. What is it this time?" he asked gruffly
"Do you know where Liliac would be normally?" Roseiral said. "He always comes to visit me at the most random times, but I don't know where to find him when I actually need to."
Ryker set the knife down and crossed his arms, studying her for a moment. "He'll most likely be at the Church of Cardiel," he said finally. "But don't just waltz in like you own the place. If you want to see him, you'll need to do the right signals."
"Signals?" Roseiral tilted her head, intrigued.
"Yeah," Ryker said with a smirk. "First, do a prayer like you always do. That'll keep you inconspicuous. At the end of it, bow ten times—exactly ten, no more, no less—and then put your hands together in front of you, but make it look like a negative sign."
"A negative sign?" she repeated, frowning as she mimicked the gesture.
Ryker nodded. "That'll let the Fragmenters at the church know you're not just some random worshipper. Even though you're not a Fragmented yet, everyone there probably already recognizes you after the whole incident with the child mutation."
Roseiral's face darkened at the memory of the chaos that had unfolded, but she quickly pushed it aside. "What happens after that?"
Ryker shrugged. "If they trust you, they'll lead you somewhere private. That's where you might find him—or at least get an update on where he's been."
"Alright," Roseiral said, determination glinting in her eyes.
"Be careful," Ryker added as she turned to leave. "That place is more than just a church. For Fragmenters, it's their capital city."
The Church of Cardiel stood at the heart of Centro del Cuore, its towering spires visible from nearly every corner of the city. Roseiral had visited it before, but it was related to the other world this time.
The church was shaped like a massive heart, its curved walls adorned with intricate carvings depicting veins and arteries as if to remind worshippers of the fragility of life. The centerpiece of the courtyard was a statue of a woman, her serene face tilted upward as she held a sculpted heart close to her chest. Her expression was one of profound sorrow and hope, a reminder of the duality of the Heart God the church worshipped.
Roseiral stopped to gaze at the statue, the name of the Heart God coming to her mind: Cuorina, the eternal guardian of love and sacrifice. It was said that Cuorina had bled herself dry to protect the kingdom in its infancy, her heart becoming the divine source of strength for her people. The church was her sanctuary, a place where both the devout and the desperate came to seek her blessings.
The air inside the church was cool and heavy with the scent of incense. Candles lined the walls, their flickering light casting shadows across the polished stone floor. Worshippers knelt in silent prayer, their heads bowed in reverence.
Roseiral made her way to an empty pew and knelt, her hands clasped together. She whispered a prayer to Cuorina.
"Cuorina, eternal guardian of love and sacrifice,
Let your boundless heart guide the lost and weary.
Sip the ten seas and part ways with the old constellations,
That we may leave their shadows behind.
Lift us from the fragments of despair,
And kindle in us the strength to endure.
With each beat of your sacred heart,
Teach us to fight with courage,
To forgive with grace,
And to rise anew.
As the rivers meet the ocean,
And the stars fade into dawn,
Let us become the heart of the new.
Unified. Unbroken. Eternal."
Pausing, Roseiral placed her right hand over her chest, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. She whispered the final line:
"Let my heart renew another grateful day."
At the end, she bowed ten times, her movements deliberate. Then, as instructed, she pressed her hands together in the shape of a negative sign.
Moments passed in silence, and then she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see a hooded figure gesturing for her to follow.
The figure led her through a side door and down a spiraling staircase. The air grew colder as they descended, the distant hum of voices growing louder. At the bottom, the corridor opened into a hidden chamber teeming with activity.
Roseiral's breath hitched as she took in the sight. Dozens of people moved through the space, their expressions ranging from grim determination to quiet resolve. Some wore the distinctive marks of the Fragmented—glowing veins, unnatural scars, or faintly shimmering auras. Others appeared ordinary, like her, though their presence here hinted at hidden depths.
Who are they all? she wondered. Fragmenters? Or just people like me, caught up in something we barely understand?
At the far end of the chamber was a curved desk carved from dark wood, its design reminiscent of a spinal column. Behind it sat a woman with sharp features and piercing green eyes, her hands moving deftly across a ledger.
Roseiral approached, her footsteps echoing against the stone floor. "Excuse me," she said, her voice steady. "I'm looking for Liliac. Is he here?"
The woman looked up, her gaze assessing Roseiral before softening. "Unfortunately, he's not," she said. "Liliac has been busy lately, taking on multiple missions. He's always on the move these days. But if I see him, I'll be sure to let him know you were looking for him."
Roseiral nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. "Thank you."
She turned to leave, her mind already racing with thoughts of what she'd do next.
As Roseiral climbed the staircase and stepped back into the main sanctuary, she couldn't shake the feeling that eyes were on her. The whispers started as she passed a group of worshippers near the entrance.
"Why is the Liliac—the Defender of the Heart—helping her so much?" one man muttered.
"What's so special about her?" a woman added, her tone sharp. "She doesn't even have Fragmented powers."
"She's just a sheep," another voice sneered. "Doesn't even know the half of what's going on in our world."
Roseiral froze for a moment, her chest tightening. The words echoed around her, sharp as knives.
But then, she straightened. Sheep? The insult was laughable, almost trivial, compared to the horrors she had endured. Whispers like these were nothing against the bullshit she had seen so far—the child mutation, the endless grief, and the fragile balance of survival in her village. These people, hidden in their sanctuary, likely had no idea what it felt like to face true chaos.
The corner of her mouth lifted in a faint, defiant smirk. They can gossip all they want. I have more important things to worry about.
Taking a deep breath, Roseiral let the whispers fade behind her as she pushed open the church doors. The cool evening air greeted her, washing away the stale tension of the chamber below. She stepped onto the stone steps, her gaze falling on the flickering street lanterns in the distance.
This isn't over, she thought, her resolve hardening. I'll figure out what I need to, with or without their approval.
As she reached the final step, a strange sensation prickled at the edge of her mind—like a soft knock against her thoughts. Then, a voice, calm and composed, echoed telepathically.
"Wait, Ms. Roseiral."
She froze mid-step, her eyes widening. The receptionist from the hidden chamber stood in the doorway of the church, her expression unreadable.
"How did you—" Roseiral started, but the woman interrupted with a small smile.
"Since you're here, could you deliver this to Sir Ryker?" she asked, holding out a sealed envelope. "It's a new mission regarding your village."