The air in the war room was thick with tension as Leona and Alaric stood facing each other. The soft glow of the lanterns illuminated their expressions—hers, a mix of disbelief and anger; his, an inscrutable mask hiding years of pain.
"Alaric," Leona began, her voice trembling slightly, "you need to tell me the truth. All of it."
A whole minute passed, and then he said nothing. Out in the hallway, where the footsteps and muffled conversations were a distant murmur, it was a room of silence. Alaric's eyes strayed to the dancing flame in the lantern close by him.
He spoke finally, his voice resigned. "I suppose it was only a matter of time. But are you certain you want to hear it? The truth has a way of breaking things, sometimes beyond repair."
"I don't care," Leona said firmly. "If we're going to save this world, I need to understand what's driving you. No more half-truths, Alaric. Who are you, really?"
He looked at her then, and for the first time, she saw the raw emotion in his eyes, a mixture of sorrow, bitterness, and something else she could not quite place.
"I wasn't always a rogue," he began. "I was supposed to be the hero of this world. The original draft of the story-'Destined Hearts'-as it has become-known long after I had ever born into it, actually spoke about me. I was its first male lead-the destined, hand-chosen to save its heroine's kingdom and love in."
"It was a great tale," Alaric said in a low voice. "Of prophecy, intrigue, and the forbidden love of a knight of humble origins, who fought between his call to duty and his heart. The heroine… everything was concentrated in her for me. We were fated to stand together against darkness, defy the odds, and fashion a world in which love and hope could live and thrive."
He paused, fists clenching.
"But then the draft was abandoned. The author decided it wasn't good enough. My story—our story—was cast aside, deemed unworthy. And when the new story was written, I was erased. The characters I loved, the world I fought for, all of it was rewritten into something else. Something that didn't include me."
A pang of guilt tugged at Leona's gut. She had overseen many ideas cast aside, fragments of stories left to dwindle into nothing. Yet, she had never stopped to consider what it must have felt like for the characters in those fragments.
"I tried to accept it," Alaric said, his voice tightening. "I told myself it wasn't my fault, that I was just a casualty of the creative process. But the resentment festered. I couldn't let go of the life I was supposed to have. And then, when the rifts began to form, I saw my chance. I stepped through the cracks and into this world, determined to take back what was stolen from me."
Leona's eyes locked onto his, her mind working overtime. "So all you have done-all the warnings, the alliances, the battles-it's all because you want to reclaim your role as the hero?"
Alaric met her gaze, his face hardening. "You say that as if it were selfish. Do tell, Leona, how would you feel if your existence was deemed meaningless? If the life you fought for was erased with a few strokes of a pen?"
She had no answer for that.
"You've seen the shadow's influence," he said, his voice low and unyielding. "You know how perilous it is. My actions are inspired by spite, but they are likewise inspired by necessity. And if we don't do something to stop the shadow, it'll engulf not only this world but every jettisoned story. Every shard of creativity. I won't watch my world die a second time."
Leona closed her eyes, breathing deep. She wanted to believe him-to hold him as a shield of shared purpose against the darkness, but his pain and hurt made him unstable and likely to shatter all so easily, as were their fragile balances.
Later that night, Leona found herself wandering the castle gardens, unable to shake the weight of Alaric's revelation. The moon cast a silvery glow over the flowers, their soft scent mingling with the cool night air.
She replayed his words in her mind, trying to make sense of her feelings. Part of her had understood his anger-she had felt her own feeling of loss and helplessness when she became the overseer, detached from a world that was once her world. Still, his bitterness was an infectious, dangerous thing, almost sure to spiral into destruction if left untended.
As she reached the edge of the garden, she found Cedric waiting for her. He stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
"You've been avoiding me," he said quietly.
"I've been busy," she replied, her voice softer than she intended.
"Busy dealing with Alaric?"
Leona froze, her gaze snapping to his. "How do you—"
"I overheard your conversation," Cedric said. "I didn't mean to, but… I had to know what was going on."
She leaned back against the trunk of a tree and sighed. "It's complicated, Cedric. Alaric's past—it changes everything."
He stepped closer, his expression softening. "Maybe. But it doesn't change who you are, Leona. You're the one holding this world together, even when it's falling apart."
She looked at him, her heart aching with unspoken words. "I'm not sure I can do this. Alaric's pain runs so deep, and the shadow's influence is growing stronger. I feel like I'm losing control."
Cedric placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch grounding her. "You're not alone in this. Whatever happens, I'll be by your side. And so will Vivienne, Magnus, and everyone else who believes in you."
Leona forced a small smile, her determination hardened. "Thank you, Cedric. I needed to hear that."
The next morning, Alaric joined the others in the war room, his demeanor cold but composed. Vivienne and Magnus watched him warily, still uncertain about his intentions.
"We need to focus on the shadow's next move," Vivienne said, breaking the silence. "The rifts are becoming more frequent, and the fragments are growing more aggressive. If we don't act soon, the kingdom won't survive another attack."
Alaric nodded. "The shadow feeds on instability. The more chaos it creates, the stronger it becomes. Our best chance is to seal the rifts and cut off its power source."
"And how do we do that?" Magnus asked, his voice skeptical.
Alaric hesitated, looking sideways at Leona. "We'll need to confront the shadow directly. To do that, we would have to venture into the heart of the rift, the place where the boundaries between stories are weakest."
The room fell silent as the weight of his words sank in.
"It's a dangerous plan," Vivienne said, her brow furrowing. "But it might be our only option."
Leona nodded, her determination growing. "Then we'll do it. But we'll do it together."