Ding. Dong. Ding. Dong.

Intermittently, repetitively, without stopping once, without even heeding the screeches of pain from the arms of those pushed to ring it, without even caring about the ear-grating pain that many would feel from hearing such loud sounds reverberate through their skulls.

For perhaps, just as the bell did not slow down its movement, did not diminish its sounds and did not feel the need to halt its advances for those around it, the people around it similarly did not stop.

Even in the veil of night, with only streaks of moonlight and starlight banishing the dark that humanity feared. Even in the soundless tapestry of an isolated area which only the bell itself could pierce through. Even when footless on the gravel-littered soil, the sharp edges poking into their scarred skin.

None of the people walking halted their advances, their steps simply continuing. Children clung onto adults, not even capable of seeing legs. Adults clung onto each other, not even capable of seeing faces. All forward.

For they believed in the stars’ guidance. In the benevolent light that lasted even through the premature death of the land.

Indeed, for many, this light was the only thing they could believe in now. For even the sun’s might was no match for the clouds of dust that obscured the light, for the rulers could not protect those beneath them, for the walls that were painstakingly built with ingenuity and determination were crushed underneath a steel heel, for the homes that promised shelter was reduced to worse than ash, for the knowledge that they coveted was ruined, discarded and forcibly changed.

For even after everything, every tragedy, every catastrophe, what remained was the light that shone above the clouds in the night.

“Our ceremony will start soon.”

And for that, these people gathered here, in a dilapidated building today. The interior had nothing but some chairs saved for the elderly, while the exterior only showed signs of a place once great reduced to ruins. The floor was littered with cracked bricks and soot, while the ceiling was barely covered, allowing the fabled light from above to shine down,

Alas, that light was finally allowed to rest, for a torch was lit up, illuminating the face of a lone man standing on an abandoned pedestal. His clothes were a jumbled mess of rags and barely functional fabric, all covered in soot. His legs were shaking, mere moments from crumbling down like the crust of a particularly fresh loaf of bread. His eyes were almost moistened from tears. His hands were clasped together, accentuating the almost maddened mumbles expelled from his lungs.

To many, this would be a madman, a man driven to abject insanity by the death that plagued the land, a human ruined by his own world, now serving as a cautionary tale to those around him.

However, he was a visionary, a leader, a pathfinder, and the ones watching him with unblinking eyes are devotees, subordinates, even considering themselves to be underneath him.

“Now…we wish upon the stars.”

As his words dissipated into the air, he turned his head upwards, closing his eyes as if they were too sullied by the world’s darkness to gaze upon the unending allure above. As he did so, the entire crowd followed his movements.

First, a few adults diligently watching every budge of his muscle.

Then, those following closely behind them, mimicking their actions.

Then, children and those lagging behind, confusedly continuing the pattern.

Finally, all clasped their hands, and all began wishing.

Of course, those who took part in this ceremony all knew: To utter one’s wishes out loud in front of magnanimous beings was an act of disrespect, to make one's presence known in front of beings so great was to understate their own divine being.

So, all prayed in silence. All wished in silence. All gazed in silence. Even those who shed tears did so in silence.

For people to regain their lost light and life. For families to regain their lost bonds and blood. For nations to regain their lost glory and people. For the world to regain its lost glory and beauty. For life itself to regain its allure. Its meaning.

“I wish…”

And thus all finished their prayers, all in tranquil.

All…except for one.

“...for humanity to one day soar above the dark clouds…”

Gentle as a wind but sharp as a blade, a young child’s voice cut through the silent crowd. Soon all eyes opened and gazed at the child.

“...for us to stand among the great ones above…”

Without even looking at the stars, the child kept praying. Without even taking notice of the eyes surrounding her form, without even paying attention to the scorn slowly building up in the air, without even giving any thought to the possible mumbles and whispers, the child kept praying, even sitting in the open for all to see.

“...for the world to be reunited, no matter the time, place nor thought.”

And yet, it was not from stupidity and a lack of knowledge, a desire to go against conventional wisdom, nor a simple need for validation. Every word was selected carefully, every sound was created to have people hear despite differences in language, every thought was meant to synchronise with a greater whole.

“After all…we are all better than this.”

Ending her prayer with a resounding clap, the girl bowed, allowing her forehead to touch the hard, dirty ground.

A hush fell over the gathered crowd, thicker and heavier than the dust that hung in the air. The man on the pedestal, his eyes still squeezed shut in supposed devotion, faltered for a moment.

A murmur began to rise, like the distant rumble of an approaching storm. Confusion turned to anger, whispers growing into shouts of disapproval. "Blasphemy!" "Ignorance!" "How dare she disrespect the stars!" accusations flew.

But the girl remained unfazed. She stood tall, chin held high, her eyes meeting those of the crowd with a quiet defiance. There was no fear in her gaze, only a deep well of conviction. Her raven hair, dirty and unkempt, flowed with serenity, and her eyes, purple and with a depth unimaginable, gazed forward.

They held compassion. They held power. They held a will. One that could reshape the world.

They held…stars - a thought that the man cut off immediately for the blasphemous implications. Yet, he could not help but gaze down at her, feeling the positions switched.

“Child…” He spoke, his gentleness silencing the ever-present vitriol and wishing to reach her heart. “...what is your name?”

The girl took a deep breath. Even after walking so long, even after bumping painfully into other people and the ground, even as the gravel scratched her delicate form, even after her speech, even after the words of contempt, she stood proud.

For she was alive in this world. Simple as that.

And there was no glory greater.

“My name is...”

Lou Fontaine. Indeed, that was her name.

She had always been taught that Lou was a short form of names like Louise, meaning ‘famous warrior’, whereas Fontaine meant ‘fountain’ or ‘spring’. Combining the two, perhaps she would be considered a famed warrior of a fountain - a rather silly idea. Silly to give such meanings to a few words, and silly for her to follow them without resistance. But she could understand such things.

After all, ever since one's birth, we are pure, undiluted, untouched by external forces of names, titles or labels, so we would accept those given to us without question…especially in a world like this where lives were given no meaning.

She was the same. Lou Fontaine was her name, the name she was blessed with ever since her birth, ever since she was found in a simple basket, and she felt honoured to be given a name with its necessary components: a surname and a first name.

But then, she simply mulled over with just her own thoughts as companions…to see that she could decide the meaning of her life herself. Fontaine needed not be ‘fountain’, but simply the purity that would stem from such calm waters. Lou needed not be ‘warrior’, but simply the will that defined their spirits. And thus, she moved forward, wishing for purity with her will.

Nevertheless, perhaps, because she had abandoned the preset meaning of the name that was so beautifully bestowed upon her, because she had decided to defy the connotations of fate and predestined actions, she had always been…flexible.

She's a hero, she's a visionary, she's a talented mage, she's a leader, she's an idealist, she is a truth-seeker, she’s a great chef, she’s a fine teacher, she’s a hope bringer, she's warm and gentle, she’s surprisingly forceful and energetic, she’s calm and contemplative, she’s impulsive and naive.

And when she saw all of those parts of her existing in harmony with each other, never allowing any side to supersede another, she thought…

“Lady Chrysanthemum Allouise…we must be there quickly.”

…she thought she could put on a mask, another set of ideals, personalities, thoughts, hopes, questions, answers, fabricated to cater to a specific set of individuals.

…she never thought…

“...My Lady?”

…this would become who she would be seen as.

“I am here. Was simply deep in thought.”

The dawn was breaking, casting a pale, almost ethereal light through the remnants of the grand windows of the once opulent mansion now serving as her temporary abode. The silence of the early morning was broken only by the rustle of fabric as her attendants moved about, preparing for the day ahead.

She stood by the window, gazing out at the bustling city below, a city that had once been a battlefield of ruins and despair.

“Thank you,.” she said softly. Her voice, though gentle, carried a weight of authority and compassion. “We shall leave shortly. Again, I am just deep in thought.”

She twirled her hair, the silky smooth strands brushing against her tough skin. In the past, she would often do this just to calm down, but now, such routine actions only served to unnerve her.

“Have my chi…other Chrysanthemums written to me?” Her voice tried lowering in pitch, but found that doing so was impossible. Alas, all she could do was stare blankly ahead, her purple eyes pooling a vortex of inexplicable darkness.

“N-no, Chrysanthemum.” Her attendant, unsure which side of her to cater to, simply stood in place, stammering as he took out an ornate notebook. “It seems that they are all unavailable. Chrysanthemum Marjolein is intending to visit the autonomous city of Bastion personally alongside Chrysanthemum Symphony, Chrysanthemum Regal is still enforcing order in certain rebellious regions, Chrysanthemum Daybreak is conducting investigations on many influential figures that took certain stances after the Morrian Blessing, and Chrysanthemum Kiku is-”

“I understand.” With a sigh, the ravenette cut through the man’s words, just before she commanded him with a single flick of her wrist. “Dismissed.”

Then, turning to the window again, she sighed, a bit more prolonged this time. It had been a few days since she was capable of setting foot in her own home, travelling around the land to quell the unrest and chaos spurred on by the rowdy atmosphere of early summer.

Whereas other families would be running around in grassy fields, strolling across decorated streets, nagging each other to try certain fragrant treats displayed on alluring wooden stands, or simply stay inside the comfort of their homes as their shared love stood proud as a shield against the darkness of the world…she was still…here. Still being…this.

Chrysanthemum Allouise. The Pathfinder of the Stars. The Gardener. The Restorer of the Lands. But she had not been capable of being JUST Lou in these past few days, almost stretching onto a week. This was the final day of her duties, but time could not have gone more agonisingly slow.

My name is Lou Fontaine.
I see…

Since when?

“I hope you are well, Lady Chrysanthemum. The council of Elderwold are waiting.”
“Thank you for your concern.”

Since when did she look back at the child, running around barefoot munching on the tiniest scraps of cheese she could find, with envy?

Since when did she look back at the memories of mere years ago, when she was still spoon-feeding her annoyed children gruel, as if they were scenes from a fairy tale?

Since when did one of her most triumphant moments turn into a haunting reminder of what she had failed to create?

"Lady Chrysanthemum, they await your presence in the grand hall," an attendant interrupted her thoughts, his tone respectful but firm.

"Very well," she replied, her voice steady. She moved through the corridors, her mind drifting back to the simplicity of her childhood beliefs, contrasting starkly with the complex realities she now faced.

As she entered the grand hall, filled with the murmurs of dignitaries and advisors, she couldn't help but feel a disconnect. These were the people she had sworn to lead and protect, yet the layers of protocol and formality created a barrier she longed to break through.

…

Lou…do you not believe in the stars?
No! Of course not! The stars are beautiful! But…we are too! Perhaps the stars gaze down at us…because they admire us too! Our body. Our heart…and our unity too.

Since when? Since when did she doubt her own claims?

“We need to allocate more resources to the eastern villages,” one council member argued. “Their infrastructure is in ruins, and the people are suffering.”

“But we can’t neglect the western towns either,” another countered. “They’ve been loyal and supportive as the backbone of this province’s economy; they deserve our attention too.”

Allouise tapped her finger on the table, silencing the room. “We will find a way to support both regions,” she declared, her tone leaving no room for dissent. “The people’s needs come first, regardless of their location. The Guild acts in humanity’s interests, as always.”

Her words were met with nods of agreement, but Lou knew that beneath their compliance lay a myriad of hidden agendas and unspoken resentments. One of the most prestigious meetings in a country and yet there is not a single unified thought.

…

Lou, so you desire peace?
Yes…peace that lasts forever.

Since when? Since when did she realise that would never come to pass? That peace is a fragile juggling act, with only a gust of wind needed to tumble years of work?

“Lately, some of the old guards of this country almost committed attacks on the border of this land, claiming to be espousing the ideals of the knights of old.” One council member argued again. “We believe that the true mastermind has yet to be apprehended.”

Turning to Allouise, another continued his point. “Indeed, Lady Chrysanthemum. We shall conduct our own investigations into our main divisions…but perhaps for these traitors…some discipline is needed?”

Allouise’s eyes twitched behind her avian mask, but her voice remained composed. “Of course. Our Lathyrus members will deal with extracting information…and if all else fails I will personally take part in the process.” She looked around the room as she spoke, subtly asserting her dominance over the council members if they dare to stand against her.

Such a steely resolve. This was how she remained a tight grip on the world for so long…and yet.

“We shall entrust you with it…of course, what happens to the traitors afterwards is entirely in your hands.”

“...Understood.”

Even she felt a tinge of shock at the sheer callousness in play, even decades after humanity’s dark age.

…

World peace…a wonderful wish. I know the stars shall be proud. But, Lou…I fear that…
Fear? Why? Don’t people want peace?

Since when?

“Sir! A few protestors are outside once more!”

Since when did she feel disgust at the extreme naivete of the child in her mind? At the sheer ignorance displayed in such innocent words?

“What is the matter?” Another council member spoke again, their faces and voices all blurring into homogeneity in Allouise’s mind. “Let the guards deal with them! The meeting cannot be stopped now!”

“B-but, sir…” The soldier continued, his face starting to drip with sweat. Throughout his career being a bodyguard, he had already known what he must do. However, this time, the words were stuck in his throat. “They are demanding to see…Lady Chrysanthemum Allouise. ”

The man bowed, not wanting to insult the woman that this council so painstakingly invited, but just one look even at her motionless frame showed that his action did not once diminish the impact of his words.

“What were they saying?” Allouise continued, readjusting her mask without a single word. After all, it was not that she came unprepared, and it was not that she had never experienced such a scene. Still, perhaps holding out hope, she continued with her inquiry, rattling the man’s composure even more.

“My Lady…I am sorry to inform you but they are wishing for you to be brought to justice…”
“I see. Let me deal with them.”

Silent, emotionless. Even many other council members, ruthless and perhaps even callous, could only blink as the ravenette uttered her words. ‘So this is how she managed to maintain her grip’ they all thought, innocently oblivious to the emotions boiling underneath.

“I apologise for this…you do not have to…” A council member spoke again, this time her voice not even reaching Allouise’s ears. In an instant, the woman, their honoured guest, had already surrounded herself with a flock of birds, and though her eyes could not be seen underneath her mask…the oppressive atmosphere was unmistakably born from her.

“This is my concern.”

…

…Lou…are you scared…of fighting?
…Hmmm…fighting? Well…to me, fighting is…

“Filthy Gallatinian! Do not bring your ideals to our lands!”
“We never allowed you people from the Guild to be here! These lands are sacred and for us alone!”
"Gallatinian scum, take your corruption and go back where you came from!"
"Intruders! You have no place among our people or in our traditions!"
“We fought against Provenance! We are not scared of cutting off your filthy hands that taint our soil!”

…something that I’m scared of.

The path to the main gates was lined with guards, their faces stern and unyielding. The protestors' shouts grew louder as she approached, a cacophony of rage and frustration. The guards parted for her, forming a protective barrier that she knew could only do so much to quell the seething mass beyond.

As she stepped into the open, the full scale of the protest hit her. Hundreds of faces, contorted with anger and hatred, stared back at her. Banners and signs waved in the air, their messages of vitriol clear and unambiguous. The people were a diverse mix—young and old, men and women, each driven by a fervour that seemed almost religious in its intensity.

"Intruder!" a voice shouted from the front, a man whose face was twisted with fury. "You have no place here!"

"Leave our lands!" a woman cried out, her voice breaking with the strain of her anger.

Allouise raised a hand, a signal for silence that was ignored. The crowd's roar only intensified, their collective anger a living, breathing beast. She stood still, her mask hiding her expression but not the resolve in her eyes. Slowly, she scanned the crowd, meeting their gazes, one by one.

In the midst of the chaos, a stone flew through the air, missing her by inches. It was a signal, a spark that ignited the tinderbox of tension. More projectiles followed—stones, rotten fruit, and other debris—all hurled with deadly intent.

The guards moved to form a tighter ring around her, their shields raised to deflect the onslaught. But Lou raised her hand once more, this time with more authority. "Stand down," she commanded, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade, yet shaking at the final word. "I will speak to them."

Reluctantly, the guards obeyed, their protective stance loosening just enough to give her space. Lou stepped forward, her hands raised in a gesture of peace. The crowd's aggression did not abate, but there was a momentary lull as they watched her, waiting to see what she would do.

"People of Albion," she began, her voice strong and clear despite the tumult. "I am Chrysanthemum Allouise of the Guild. I come here not as an enemy, but as a fellow human, seeking the same peace and prosperity you desire."

"Lies!" someone shouted from the crowd. "You bring nothing but destruction!"

She continued, undeterred. "I understand your anger. Your suffering is real, and your pain is justified. But attacking each other will not heal our wounds. We must find a way to move forward together."

Her words seemed to have little effect. The anger in the crowd was too deep, too ingrained. A young man, his face streaked with dirt and tears, stepped forward, his eyes blazing with hatred. "You talk of peace, but your hands are stained with the blood of our people!"

"Yeah! Go back to Gallatine!" another voice echoed.

Lou took a deep breath, her eyes scanning the crowd once more. Seeing that her mouth was shut, another man threw another stone with a scream…hitting her square in the face and drawing the tiniest bit of blood.

She could have dodged, even blocked the attack with magic, but she appealed to the child underneath her veneer of coldness, the one who would have gladly allowed herself to be hurt for others, who would have taken the same hit, tumbled down the same way, for the tiniest amount of hope. Hope that they would stop.

…and nothing changed.

Just like in history, when scholars were viciously beaten just for defying against faith.

Just like in history, when those with an innocent view of demon magic were dragged out of their homes and burned.

Just like in history, when idealistic reformers were met with scorn and contemptuous words, ultimately being deemed traitors and mutilated.

Just like before, mere days ago, mere weeks ago.

“GET OUT OF HERE!”
“WE HAVE OUR KNIGHTS!”

Since when? Since when was this not new for her? Since when did she feel used to this? To the sensation of anger piercing every fibre of her being…to the sensation of her own attacks piercing the heart of that pacifist deep within?

Without once saying a word, Allouise stood up again, this time not once allowing any single item thrown at her to even scratch her. As she did, multiple ravens, misshapen and permanently etched with wrath, sprouted from her arms, her hands, her palms…enough that soon, they dwarfed the size of the crowd itself.

Her hands were shaking - she was glad.

Until the end, a part of that child still remained.

That child must be ashamed.

“Leave. This is my last suggestion.”

…

That’s good…fighting is bad. You don’t want to see others hurt, right?
Yeah…yeah! Being hurt hurts! So we should just talk, right?

“Chrysanthemum Allouise! What happened?” Her attendant ran at her, as he saw her form once more, now with an injury on the forehead. His arms, shaking, almost looked like they were mere seconds away from tearing away his own uniform in shame.

That same sentiment was shared by the council, who stood up, some with their mouths agape.

“Lady Chrysanthemum…you are hurt, how could this be?”
“This wound falls on us…allow us to take care of the ones responsible.”
“Yes, please let us take care of you too, the House of Wintermere has many who could apply some makeup.”

Unity. Compassion. Love. Perhaps for pragmatism, but still, a great change from before. Counts, council members, nobles, even soldiers, rushing at her with worry at seeing the wound on her face…it was something she wished to see. Such a shame…

“No need.”

Since when did she become numb to these bright spots in the canvas of darkness? Since when did the compassion heaped on her become as numbed as the injuries inflicted?

“I am not our chief concern.” Allouise simply sat down, her sheer indifference silencing any warmth that could have been given to her. Now, she was the callous and ruthless one…to herself.

“Let us continue the meeting.”

…

You seem very enthusiastic, Lou. I’m glad…maybe you can reach your goals, then.
Of course, sir! And I won’t stop!

The moon hung high, casting a silver glow over the desolate landscape as Lou finally returned home, her week-long tortuous journey finally coming to a close. The path leading to her abode was quiet, the air thick with the scent of dew-kissed earth. Her steps were heavy, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, replaying the day's events in a loop that offered no solace.

Now, she stood before her home, if one could even call it that - a tower that stretched upwards into the air. It was one of humanity’s finest creations, it was the Guild’s finest base of operations. It was her relic of past glories, now bearing the scars of past battles, both physically and metaphorically.

"Welcome home, Lady Chrysanthemum," a lone attendant greeted her, his voice soft and respectful. He took her cloak, his eyes flickering with concern as he noticed the wound on her forehead.

"Thank you," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I will retire for the night. There is much to think about. And…about the other Chrysanthemums…”

Her thought hesitated.

“...nevermind. You can now rest too.”

The attendant bowed and stepped back, allowing her to move through the familiar halls. Each step felt like a journey through time, memories of her childhood mingling with the harsh realities of her present. Lou's fingers brushed against the cold stone walls, seeking comfort in their solidity.

Finally, she reached her private quarters high up in the tower. The room was modest, a stark contrast to the grandeur of the mansion. A simple bed, a wooden desk cluttered with papers, and a single window overlooking the moonlit garden were all that adorned the space. She sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes drawn to the window.

Outside, the garden was a tangle of overgrown plants and wilting flowers, a mirror to the chaos she felt within. The stars above twinkled with a distant, indifferent light, their beauty a stark contrast to the turmoil of her world.

She rose from the bed and moved to the window, pushing it open to let in the cool night air. The garden's fragrance filled the room, a reminder of the world beyond her walls. She leaned against the sill, her eyes fixed on the stars.

Since when? Since when did her eyes twitch incessantly, incapable of reflecting the lights above? Since when was her mouth unable to move to praise the beauty of this world?

“I wish…for humanity…to one day…soar…” Lou, using her final embers of strength, recited her wish from all those years. “...above…” Only for even that to be too hard for her. Was it exhaustion? Or…something else? She could not bear to find the answer herself.

The night was deep, the shadows long and unyielding as Lou settled into her bed. Her body ached from the day's ordeals, but it was the exhaustion of her mind and spirit that weighed heaviest. She lay still, staring at the ceiling, the dim light from the stars barely piercing the darkness of her room.

Gradually, her eyes grew heavy, and the boundary between wakefulness and sleep blurred. She wished for a brief respite, for she knew the next day would be the same…

…it seemed she was still naive. To the inner machinations of her own prison. Her mind.

…

The landscape was a bleak, endless plain, shrouded in a dense fog that obscured all but the nearest objects. Lou found herself standing alone, the cold, damp air chilling her to the bone. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the distant echoes of voices she could not place.

She walked forward, her footsteps muffled by the thick mist. Shapes began to emerge from the fog—ghostly figures of people she once knew, their faces twisted with anger and sorrow. They reached out to her, their eyes pleading, but no words escaped their lips.

Until…

"Lou…" a voice called out, faint and distant. She turned, but there was no one there. "Lou, why did you abandon us?"

"I didn't," she replied, her voice echoing in the emptiness. "I tried to save you all."

The fog thickened, and the ground beneath her feet became unstable. She stumbled, struggling to keep her balance. The voices grew louder, more insistent, a cacophony of accusations and cries for help…until they all fused into a singular voice taking a singular form.

“Lou…is this what you want?” First, it was the same man on the pedestal, his hands still clasped and his eyes still filled with love…only now also etched with pity.

“It is not what I want…but it’s what humanity needs.”

After years, she still could not say her line without her mask convincingly.

What a shame.

“Lou…why not come talk to me, like old times?” Second, it was Éliane, visibly backing away from the ravenette even with her invitation hanging in the air.

“I don’t want to make my enemies find you.”

After years, she still could not say the truth, say just how much she wished that the talk could happen without any of her issues getting in the way.

What a mess.

“Lou…you have been thinking too much about work lately.” Third, it was Anton. Funny, she used to say the same words to him too.

“You know I have to do this, Anton.”

After years, she still could not ask for help, even when she has had to clean her own tears before.

What a coward.

“Lou…I’m sorry.” Then, it was Elphaba, her onyx eyes still staring ahead with equal parts regret and pity.

“El…Elphaba…It is fine.”

After years, she still could not hide the emotions within her despite her words. The sadness, the anger…even resentment.

What a loser.

“Mother! Please take a rest!”
“Tsugami is right…Mother, allow me to take care of things. You trained me for this, no?”

Then, it was her children. Such compassionate eyes, such warmth in their touches, truly she raised them well. If only she did not put them in uniforms and send them to fight for her sake, knowing the dangers of the world.

“Mother! Listen to us!”
“Look at me, please.”

After years, she could still not look them in the face as they brought this up, even pushing them to the side as she retreated.

What a failure.

“Lady Lou! I have completed every mission you sent me on. Surely I am closer to being a human?...Why are you looking at me like that?”

Regal.

“What do I have to do as a Chrysanthemum? Do I have to hurt things?

Anna.

“...did you take me in out of pity?”

…Symphony, as she wished to be called.

What a disappointment. Everything, everything. A disappointment.

Shameful, discarded, pathetic, useless, cowardly, murderer, traitor, cursed, discarded, loser, failure, pointless, selfish, failure, loser, chosen one, useless, discarded, pathetic, cowardly, selfish, cursed, murderer, traitor, loser, pathetic, useless, cowardly, discarded, failure, pointless, shameful, discarded, failure, failure, failure, failure, failure, failure, failure, failure, failure, failure, failure failure failure failure failure failure failure failure.

“I…”

The accusations echoed endlessly, cycling through her mind like a never-ending nightmare. "Failure... coward... murderer... traitor..."

And yet, her disposition was maintained. Perhaps it was due to her fatigue or numbness, or perhaps she had developed tolerance for these words over the years, she had become accustomed to them. Aside from the slip-ups whenever haunting faces flashed in her mind, Lou tried to remain calm.

It was not an option to falter, for she had belief in her own world, her own companions, who would never harm her.

But, she underestimated her own mind, her own weaknesses. Because if anyone knew what could harm her the most, it would be herself.

She was her own greatest failure.

“Lady! Don’t you believe in the stars?”

Lou’s eyes snapped open, gazing at the child now standing in front of her, wearing clothes that could be compared to rags…and sharing her purple eyes.

“We all believe in the stars, even me…so why do you look so sad? Don’t you believe in them?” The child was innocent, dangerously so. “That lady is good, no? She talks about the stars a lot!”

Lou followed the child's gaze, her eyes widening as she saw another figure in the distance. A woman stood silently, looking at a mound of bodies—a chilling scene that triggered a surge of anger and despair within Lou.

The child's innocent words collided with the stark reality before her, shattering the fragile peace Lou had managed to maintain. In an instant, the dream and reality merged into one as Lou's resolve snapped.

“YOU!”

Wearing her form. Wearing the clothes that she was once proud to have. Using the sword that she was once proud to wield. Wearing the mask that she was once proud to earn. Using the strength that she once vowed to use only for good. Espousing the ideals that once did not paint rivers crimson.

She. She was the issue. Everything was her fault!

“You BASTARD! WORTHLESS!”

She ran. She ran as if she had never run before. All of the skill that she painstakingly etched onto her very being. All of the footwork that she gained from sword fighting. All of the time where her running techniques were adjusted for her benefit.

It was insignificant. Her entire legs were. Even without them.

“I HATE YOU!”

She would have reached the woman in seconds.

“SALE PETIT MERDEUX!”

Allouise stood frozen as Lou bore down on her, her eyes unreadable behind the filthy mask. The air crackled with tension, suffused with the intensity of Lou's pent-up emotions finally unleashed. In that moment, time seemed to stretch and warp, allowing Lou's relentless assault to play out in agonizing detail.

“WHERE’S THE TOMORROW YOU PROMISED THEM!? YOU BITCH! YOU FAILURE! ESPÈCE DE SALE RATÉ!”

Lou's fists hammered down on Allouise, blow after blow fueled by years of suppressed anguish and disappointment.

Her training, her compassion, her calmness, her desire to save…all washed away by the primal emotions in her throat.

“YOU CAN HAVE THE WORLD IF YOU WANT. STAY AWAY FROM MINE! GET YOUR DIRTY HANDS OFF MY KIDS!”

Lou's fists continued to rain down on Allouise, each strike resonating with the fury of a lifetime's worth of frustration and despair. Her blows were relentless, her strength fueled by the raw, unchecked rage that had been festering within her. Allouise made no move to defend herself, her body absorbing the punishment with a resigned, almost passive acceptance.

“HOW MANY FATHERS!? SONS!? MOTHERS, DAUGHTERS, SIBLINGS!? HOW MANY!?” Her voice cracked, she did not care. Her knuckles cracked, she did not care. “HOW MANY HAVE YOU CUT, STRUCK DOWN, BUTCHERED, BURNED IN A FIRE!? INNOCENT AND GUILTY, SENT THEM TO THEIR DEATHS! SENT THEM TO FUCKING HELL! DO YOU INTEND TO DO THAT TO MY CHILDREN TOO!?”

Again. Again. Again. Again.

Each strike was not a calculated punch to disarm and discombobulate, like Lou had been taught by Anton. Each strike was not a closer step to mercy, like Lou had been taught by Elphaba. Each strike was not a final resort, motivated only by a well-intentioned need, like Lou had been taught by herself.

Each strike was simply raw, unfiltered brutality, aimed at the only person she felt deserving of it.

Her fists collided with Allouise's face, the mask cracking under the relentless barrage. Blood smeared across Lou's knuckles, but she didn't stop. The pain in her hands was a distant echo, drowned out by the agony in her heart. The screams in her throat were distant echoes, drowned out by the deafening silence of her fractured mind.

"YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!" she continued, her words punctuated by the sickening thud of her blows. "MY CHILDHOOD, MY INNOCENCE, MY HOPE! I WANTED TO…I WANTED TO BE THERE FOR THEM!”

Again. Again. Again.

Thud. Crack. Crack.

Were the cracks the sounds of Allouise’s mask cracking? The sounds of the haunting crunches of Allouise’s bones? Or were they from Lou’s own exertion, the destruction of her own body with each punch?

Lou did not know. Lou did not care. Even if she hurt herself, that would have been fine.

The sounds simply reverberated in the air, every time growing louder.

"HUMANITY…!" Lou roared, her eyes blazing with a mixture of hatred and sorrow. "FOR HUMANITY?! THEN WHY IS EVERYTHING STILL UTTER SHIT!?"

Allouise's mask was smashed under the assault, pieces of it falling away to reveal a face that was hauntingly familiar yet deeply altered by the passage of time. Her eyes, once filled with determination and resolve, now simply stared ahead, akin to a corpse. Or perhaps she was already a corpse…Lou did not care.

The fog around them seemed to thicken, the ghostly figures of the past drawing closer, their silent accusations growing louder. Lou's vision blurred, her mind a whirlwind of memories and regrets. She saw the faces of those she had lost, those she had failed to protect, and the child she once was—innocent and full of hope.

Then, her world had shrunk to the point where only her rage existed, a blinding, all-consuming force. She grabbed Allouise by the collar, lifting her off the ground with a strength born of desperation.

"YOU'RE THE REASON!" Lou screamed, shaking Allouise violently. "YOU'RE THE REASON FOR EVERYTHING! The world…THE WORLD IS BETTER OFF WITHOUT YOU!”

With a final, guttural cry, Lou hurled Allouise to the ground. She stood over her, chest heaving, her entire body trembling with the effort of containing the storm within her. Allouise lay motionless, not even breathing, her once-strong form now a broken shadow of its former self. Of Lou’s former self.

The child with the purple eyes watched from a distance, her innocent gaze filled with confusion and fear. "Lady... why are you hurting her?" she asked softly, her voice trembling. "She's... she's trying to help..."

Lou's head snapped up, her eyes locking onto the child's. For a moment, she saw herself reflected in those eyes—her younger self, full of dreams and ideals. The sight pierced through her rage, cutting straight to her heart.

"I... I..." Lou stammered, the fury draining from her as quickly as it had come. “She…she…she deserved…it?”

Perhaps she was serious, perhaps she was not. Nonetheless, seeing that childish form in her periphery, Lou could not help but feel oppressed.

Breathe in. It hurt. Breathe out. It did not help.

Her rage slowly ebbed, replaced by a chilling numbness. She looked down at her bloodied hands, the crimson liquid dripping from her knuckles. The sight was both surreal and horrifying. Her gaze shifted to Allouise's broken body lying on the ground, lifeless and unmoving.

"Lady... why are you hurting her?" The child's voice echoed again, but now it seemed distant, like a whisper carried by the wind. Lou's vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes. The reality of what she had done began to sink in, crushing her under its weight.

"For…humanity…" Lou whispered, her voice barely audible. She tried to take a step back, but her legs gave out, and she collapsed to her knees. The cold, damp ground seemed to swallow her, pulling her into its depths.

Darkness encroached at the edges of her vision, a welcome relief from the torment of her own mind. She wanted to escape, to disappear into the void where the pain couldn't reach her. But even as the darkness beckoned, the faces of those she had lost, those she had failed, haunted her.

The child with the purple eyes approached cautiously, her small hands reaching out to touch Lou's shoulder. "It's okay, lady," she said softly, her voice filled with a gentle compassion that seemed to pierce through the haze of despair. "You are kind, right? I can see it in you. You’re a nice person.”

Lou's heart clenched at the child's words, a painful reminder of the hope she once had. But as she looked at her own bloodied hands and glanced to see the  motionless form of Allouise, the weight of her actions felt insurmountable.

“Nice?” Lou spoke vacantly, covering her purple eyes with her arm. “What else do I have left to prove that?”

The child knelt beside her, her eyes filled with an unearthly wisdom. They held compassion. They held power. They held a will. One that could reshape the world.

They held…stars.

“You still have this, no?” The child held Lou’s arm up, physically and metaphorically lifting a giant weight off her body. “You still have this, your hand.”

It was horrifying. It was disgusting, stained with blood and gore. It was wrinkled, stained with the darkness of the world. It was tired, stained with the weight of the world. It was like a miniature version of the world itself, stained with the tragedies of the world. She held the world in her hand, and understood how it felt to be the birth of all tragedies.

But was it all?

“Lady…your hand is kind…you must have taken care of many, right?” The child's grip on her worn-out hand tightened, grounding her in the present moment. “Maybe you don’t feel so…and I can’t understand you…but surely things are not that bad?”

Not that bad…perhaps so…

These hands birthed tragedies, but what else did it birth? Lou closed her eyes once more, finally taking control of her dream.

Lou's mind began to clear, the swirling darkness parting to reveal a gentle light. Her memories began to shift, from the pain and regret to moments of warmth and love. She remembered the times when her hands had brought comfort, when her touch had healed rather than harmed. The meals she made, the loaves of bread she birthed, and the smiles she maintained.

Could this erase all of the darkness that she unleashed upon the world? Maybe not. But it showed her that she was better than this. That she could be better than this…that people knew she was better than this, the same way she too thought of them.

"Lou," the familiar voice of Éliane broke through the silence, filled with tenderness. "Look at the children. Aren’t they happy now?”

Éliane took Lou's hand in hers, squeezing it gently.

"Lou, thank you." Anton's voice added, strong and reassuring. He stood beside Éliane, his presence a comforting anchor. "You should rest."

More voices joined in, each one a testament to Lou's impact. Her children, Tsugami and the others, gathered around her, their faces filled with pride and love. They spoke of the lessons she had taught them, the courage she had instilled in their hearts. She could still not believe it, but their words brought her more comfort than no other.

"Mother, you have always been our guiding star," Tsugami said, his voice steady and full of respect. "You are my real mother."

Regal, Anna, and Symphony also stepped forward, their expressions filled with admiration. "Lady Lou, you've shown me what it means to be human," Regal said, her voice full of conviction. "Maybe, one day, I can make you think of me as a..." Her voice trailed off, returning to silence, but the warmth remained.

Lou felt warmth spreading through her, a stark contrast to the cold despair that had gripped her moments before. Her hands, once symbols of her perceived failures, now felt warm and alive, held by those who loved and believed in her.

"Lady," the child's voice echoed again, now mingled with the voices of her loved ones. "What do you wish for?"

The meadow seemed to glow with a radiant light, the love and gratitude of her friends and family enveloping her like a comforting embrace. Lou felt her heart begin to heal, the weight of her burdens lifting as she allowed their words to wash over her.

As the dream continued, Lou's hands felt warmer and warmer, as if someone was holding them in real life. The warmth spread through her entire being, filling her with a renewed sense of purpose and hope. The sensations felt different in each hand, yet undeniably pushing her forward.

"Lou," a final voice whispered, gentle and reassuring, yet steeled with resolve. Lou gazed to the eerie distance, where darkness still clouded, only to see a mask cracking to reveal a pair of eyes.

Her own.

And slowly, stepping out, it revealed her own form, clad in a white suit, holding a sword and with a bird perched on her shoulder.

"What do you wish for?" Allouise asked, her voice merging with that of the child Lou once was, innocent and full of dreams.

"I wish..." Lou began, her voice steady and clear. "I wish for humanity to one day soar above the dark clouds...for us to stand among the great ones above...for the world to be reunited, no matter the time, place, nor thought.”

As she spoke, the darkness around them began to recede, replaced by a brilliant light that illuminated the entire landscape. The fog lifted, revealing a beautiful, vibrant world filled with life and hope. The ghostly figures of the past faded away, replaced by the smiling faces of those she had loved and protected.

“After all…we are better than this.”

Perhaps it would have been easier to end it here. After all, what bloomed into this nigh-unreachable dream in the sky had always been a much simpler desire for smiles. Smiles of those around her, that made days worth living.

And perhaps one day, she would return to this place, have the same conversation, shed the same tears, and scream the same words, for the world is simply that cruel. For she is simply that afraid of the future she once rushed at.

“Child…” Lou smiled, crouching down for the embers of innocence in her mind. “What do YOU wish for?”

The child looked around, confused that the conversation led to this. But, seeing the focused, almost determined expression of the woman wishing to extract a confession from her, she obliged.

“Maybe…one day I would like to be a teacher…

…Maybe learn how to cook…

…Well, as long as people around me are happy! When the world is fixed, surely they’ll be happy, yes?”

Lou’s eyes sparkled. Maybe with regret. Maybe with happiness. Perhaps she should have held this simpler, even cuter wish close to her heart, before sealing it off to the outside world, instead of obscuring it in shame.

Perhaps…

“That's a good wish. But remember, you are not alone.”

She should have told herself this over and over again instead of simply pushing herself forward without asking others for help.

And now it was too late, wasn't it? She had started this quest, and started devoted herself to it to the point where sometimes, like now, she would have wait and see for herself how she could have turned out.

But no matter. She could still fight this alone.

After all, she still had people waiting in the real world, people that could help her hold off her own darkness.

People who are her guiding light.

…

Lou's eyes fluttered open, the remnants of the dream still clinging to her consciousness. The dim light of early morning filtered through her window, casting a soft glow across her room. For a moment, she lay still, allowing the warmth of the dream's resolution to wash over her. The vivid images of the dream, the voices of her loved ones, and the final wish. They all lingered, pushing her forward.

She sat up slowly, her body still aching from the previous day's ordeals. The physical pain seemed insignificant compared to the emotional weight that had been lifted. Lou glanced at her hands, half-expecting to see the blood and grime from her dream, but they were clean. The sight brought a small, relieved smile to her lips.

"For humanity," she whispered to herself, the words feeling like a mantra, a promise to herself and to humanity.

Lou swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, feeling a strange mixture of exhaustion and energy. She moved to the window and pushed it open, breathing in the crisp morning air. The world outside seemed brighter, more vibrant, as if reflecting the change within her.

She dressed quickly, donning her uniform with a newfound sense of purpose. As she prepared for the day ahead, she couldn't help but think of the people she had seen in her dream and the voices that they shared.

Was she too energetic? Perhaps. Perhaps she needed a longer break…but she was confident she could continue to fight. Fight against this world, for she was born with no other choice.

However…

“Oh right…”

She glanced at the clock on the wall and her eyes widened in surprise. It was already late in the morning—far later than she usually allowed herself to sleep.

"TEN GODDAMN A M ???," she muttered, rushing to tie her boots and straighten her uniform. "Mon dieu, I'm so behind."

Her heart raced as she imagined the pile of unfinished work waiting for her on her desk. But as she turned to the desk in her room, the anxiety began to ebb, replaced by a strange sense of calm.

Seeing the desk, she stopped short. It was neat and orderly, with stacks of completed papers neatly arranged. Lou blinked in surprise, her mind struggling to process what she was seeing. She walked over and picked up a stack of papers, flipping through them. Every report was meticulously filled out, every document signed and filed.

"This can't be..." Lou murmured, setting the papers down. She looked around the room, trying to piece together what had happened.

With a final glance at her reflection in the mirror, Lou left her room and walked through the quiet hallways of the base. The early morning light cast long shadows, but they no longer felt oppressive. Still, she needed to understand what had happened. Who helped her? Who did this? Maybe some of her attendants, realising that she was tired? This could not be, she needed to fi-

CLANG.

“What the fffff-daaam-heck was that, bro?”

Oh. She could hear that voice very well. Suddenly, the finished work made more sense… Lou leaned closer to the door of the kitchen, her curiosity piqued by the sudden noise.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Tsugami. However, remember to not say anything CLOSE TO A SWEAR!”

“Wow! Family fight. Family fight!”

The clattering and muffled voices grew louder as she approached, a mixture of laughter and frustration echoing through the door. Immediately, Lou could identify the voices - Tsugami, Lucian and Anna. It seemed her children were trying something…regardless of their cooking skills.

Pots and pans clanged as they were jostled about, and despite having been tutored by her specifically, it seemed none of them could deal with each others’ differing styles.

“That bread looks like shiii-something not good, bro! What is mother going to think!?” Ah, Tsugami, it seemed she was trying her hardest not to swear. How respectable.

“Hey, I followed the original recipe VERY well! If you did it, you might have destroyed the table as you beat up the dough!” Ah, Lucian, trying to act as if he was the calm one even when the heat of the kitchen also got to his head. How admirable.

“If nobody likes it, I’ll eat ittttttt.” Ah, Anna, making strange sounds as they probably tried to reach their brother’s hands. How cute.

It was a chaotic yet endearing set of sounds, and Lou couldn't help but smile at their earnest efforts. Perhaps she could return to her room and wait for them to finish…or perhaps even stay here forever, simply listening to their sounds.

“Also what are we making?” Anna said, now running around the room with their slippers. “I see a lot of cheese, is this what people call apizzz? Pizz…a?”

“Well, it’s supposed to be fondue, but it seems that the recipe in the book is rather…generic.” Lucian replied, tapping his gloved hand on the thick book he had. “We already have Gruyère, so we need another cheese, I don’t want to just follow the recipe and use Emmental.”

Oh. Oh no. Fondue is one of the Principality’s finest showcases of culinary talent, and the fact that it was ‘generic’ was its main selling point!

And what was wrong with just Gruyère and Emmental? Imagine gathering around a bubbling pot of fondue, the rich aroma wafting through the air, drawing you closer. The golden concoction before you is a luxurious blend of Gruyère and Emmental cheeses, each bringing its unique character to the mix.

As you dip a piece of crusty baguette into the silky, molten cheese, the Gruyère’s nutty and slightly salty profile immediately envelops your taste buds, its creaminess offering a warm, comforting embrace. The Emmental follows with its mild, slightly tangy flavor, adding a delightful depth and complexity to each bite.

The cheese stretches and clings to your bread, promising a perfect, gooey mouthful every time. Each bite is a harmonious symphony of flavors and textures, with the smooth, velvety cheese contrasting beautifully with the crisp, rustic bread.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH THAT? BUT, alright, perhaps these youths have acquired a different way to enjoy the classic dish…Lou herself had not stepped foot into a traditional Principality restaurant for many years, times could have changed.

“I see…so that is why you bought a lot of cheese here?” Tsugami inquired, perhaps realising that the lack of time necessitated a more serious attitude. “Looks like it’s from a few different countries.”

“Yes.” Lucian replied, grunting as he picked Anna up to share the view. “I told the Daffodils that I was going to Bastion with Symphony, but really I took my time the past few days to travel to my home country for cheese. Here we have Agrocella, Alpkäse Stier, Stier Rotkäppchen…”

“That’s a lot…you’re lucky mother’s blood is a quarter cheese.”

How rude. It ought to be at least half cheese, but in respect of the great choices her protégé had made, Lou decided to not barge into the room.

Yet.

“You sure did your research…” Tsugami spoke with genuine respect, perhaps seeing her brother’s sheer dedication to this dish destroyed any will to snark from her. “This is…Bleu de Aigle….Bären Hobelkäse…Vacherin Fribourgeois.”

That’s it. That was a good pick! Lou leaned closer into the door, careful not to make any creaks. Hopefully, they pick this. While experimenting is good, Lucian would definitely understand how great the traditional mix was, correct?

“Hmmm…wait, no, mother is Gallatinian, so why not add in a Gallatinian cheese?”

What.

“Like, you know, Roquefort!”

WHAT?

SLAM.

Lou couldn't hold back any longer. She pushed open the door with a decisive slam, startling her children, who were in the middle of their culinary chaos. The kitchen was a chaotic blend of activity, with pots and pans scattered across the counters and a variety of cheeses placed haphazardly on a central table.

Lucian nearly dropped the hefty block of cheese he was holding, Tsugami paused mid-stir with a wooden spoon in her hand, and Anna, who was reaching for more cheese, froze in place. They all turned to face their mother, eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and guilt.

"You are NOT going to ruin a traditional dish by adding in that THING!" Lou exclaimed, her voice filled with passion. “I can accept you eating fondue in summer, but don’t put in Roquefort! Tu déconnes!?”

Tsugami, ever the quick thinker, tried to explain. "Mother, we were just experimenting with different cheeses—"

"NON!" Lou interrupted, her voice firm but not unkind. She stepped further into the kitchen, surveying the array of cheeses with a critical eye. "SHHHHHHHHHH-Stop talking, please. You rarely eat fondue in the first place and now you are trying to experiment with it!? Nail the tradition first before you break it, mon dieu! We are making fondue moitié-moitié, which means HALF Gruyère and HALF Vacherin Fribourgeois, OKAY!?”

Lou's sudden entrance and passionate outburst left her children momentarily stunned. They exchanged glances, unsure whether to feel reprimanded or amused by their mother's intense love for food..

Lucian was the first to recover, carefully placing the cheese block back on the counter. "Okay, Mother, we'll do it your way," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of respect and a hint of relief. "Moitié-moitié, half-half.”

Tsugami nodded in agreement, putting down the wooden spoon and stepping back to let her mother take charge. "AHEM! I’ll just…move over here…”

Anna, still clutching their slippers, looked up at Lou with wide, innocent eyes. "Cheese………”

Lou's stern expression softened as she looked at her youngest child. “Yes, cheese.”

She rolled up her sleeves and quickly took command of the kitchen. "Alright, first, we need to prepare the garlic. Tsugami, rub the inside of the fondue pot with a clove of garlic. Chop chop!"

Tsugami moved quickly to obey, her previous frustration melting away as she focused on the task at hand. Meanwhile, Lou turned to Lucian. "Start grating the Gruyère and Vacherin Fribourgeois. We need about 800 grams of each."

Lucian nodded, grabbing the cheese grater and setting to work. His movements were swift and efficient, a testament to the meticulousness he had inherited from his mother.

"Anna, can you help me measure the wine?" Lou asked, her tone gentle and encouraging. “This is the only way I’d allow you to touch wine in this age, so I hope you can take part.”

Anna's face lit up with a smile as they eagerly took on the task, even saluting. "Yessir!"

Lou guided Anna to measure out 600 millilitres of dry white wine. As they worked, the kitchen began to fill with the comforting, rich aroma of cheese and garlic. The air felt warmer, more inviting, as if the essence of their shared history was infusing every corner of the room.

Lou smiled…she sure missed this.

With the pot prepared and the cheese grated, Lou took a deep breath and began the crucial step of melting the cheese. She poured the wine into the pot, setting it over a low flame. "Now, we slowly add cornstarch and the cheese, stirring constantly. Oh, after you watch, cut that bread you made into cubes, Lucian. Tsugami, you get me some cold cuts and whatever ." she instructed.

Lucian and Tsugami watched closely, knowing that if they did not learn how to make this dish this time, Lou would most likely ‘reward’ them with another scolding.

As Lou stirred the cheese, it gradually melted into a smooth, velvety mixture. The Gruyère's nutty aroma mingled with the more robust scent of the Vacherin Fribourgeois, creating a perfect harmony. As the aroma filled the air, Lou's heart swelled with pride and love for her children. Despite their occasional missteps, they had a deep respect for food and a willingness to learn.

Once the fondue reached the desired consistency, Lou added a splash of Kirsch, a traditional cherry brandy, and a pinch of pepper for extra flavour. She stirred a few more times before declaring, "It's ready."

She looked at her children, their faces expectant and filled with anticipation. "Let's eat. Where are the others?

Lucian, finally snapping out of his attentive stance, replied. “We invited Lady Regal and Mr. Anton, but they declined with work reasons. As for Symphony, she’s practising her swordsmanship in the garden.”

“They will not refuse. Tell them that I’m INVITING them to a meal. Now.”

As the warm aroma of the fondue filled the kitchen, Lou's children rushed to carry out her command. Lucian and Tsugami exchanged quick glances before bolting towards the door, with Anna trailing closely behind.

"Tell Regal and Anton it's non-negotiable," Lou called after them, her voice tinged with amusement. "And Tsugami, remind Symphony to sheath her sword before coming in."

The children nodded, their faces lighting up with excitement at the prospect of gathering everyone together. Just as they reached the door, Lou grabbed Lucian’s and Tsugami's hands, pulling them back for a moment.

"Wait," she said softly, her voice a mix of firmness and affection. She looked into their eyes, her grip on their hands tightening slightly. And yet, as the wait went on, she did not say anything, simply using her purple eyes to stare intensely at her children’s rough yet gentle hands.

Then, she squeezed them tightly, fully enveloping their palms in hers, still without saying a word. However, her focused and warm expression conveyed a thousand words.

‘I knew it.’

Her children’s eyes widened in surprise, their expressions softening. “Is there something wrong?”

“No…”

It could have only been them.

“I am here. Was simply deep in thought. Now, go.”

As they raced out of the kitchen, Lou watched them with a mixture of pride and tenderness. She turned back to the bubbling pot of fondue, giving it a final stir as she prepared the table.

At times, she looked at her hands, sighing that the sight in the dream was simply a dream. At times, she looked around the kitchen, realising that everything stayed intact, not in rubble, like before. At times, she looked at her own reflection in the clean window, exhaling in relief as it was still her.

In the end, she was still Lou Fontaine. Still Lou Fontaine, in this star-gazed land.

“Hmmm…the weather…”

It was summer, so she did not accept anything better than what she was given, but the sight and sounds of blowing winds still rattled her soul. She blinked, wishing that as she did so, the howling gusts would be replaced by calm breezes, sparing the people below a day of poor weather.

But sadly, the winds kept howling, perhaps even growing stronger by the minute, simply bringing harm to those undeserving of it.

Just like in Gallatine, where people fought to elevate a culture just to appease their greed and pride.

Just like in Albion, where the battle of old versus new simply destroyed everything in between - those that the country needed to protect.

Just like in Zapolyarny, where the land of ice gave nothing, but simply took from the unfortunate people.

Just like in the Principality, where decades of mistreatment and distrust had formed a nigh-indestructible barrier.

Just like in Orion, where the search for intelligence and scholarly values had diminished what was important: earthly wisdom.

Just like in the remnants of Provenance, the Demon Country ruled by a different set of morality, or the isolated lands of Kyosoji, where help could never reach.

Perhaps fighting was futile in the first place. Perhaps her dream would never come true. Perhaps the stars are unreachable…but perhaps that was fine.

Because she would fight, for since birth she was given no other option.

No, for she was alive in this world. Simple as that.

For as much as this world hurt her, her friends, her children, everyone. For as much as this world gave birth to unimaginable tragedies. For as much as much as this world was the product of human lust, greed, wrath, pride, sloth, envy, gluttony, and despair. For as much as this world would continue to face resistance and destruction from those blessed with life on it.

It was still worth fighting for.

Because the world can be beautiful.

Because, at least, now.

“Hey! Keep up the pace! I have no idea what fondue is but any food is better when hot!”

“Shhhhh- Tsugami. Too loud!”

Her world is.