Chapter 51: A Sickness of Longing, No Cure in Sight

As night fell, the Stormport harbor lit up with tiny flickers of light, and the daytime hustle gradually faded into silence.

Around the Truth and Justice Church's residential district, a small group of seabirds appeared from nowhere and landed gently on the walls and rooftops. They huddled together in pairs, seemingly ready to sleep the night away.

The guards tried to chase them off a few times, but the birds returned almost immediately. After a few more attempts, the guards gave up, having seen no reason for alarm.

Among the birds, a single black crow stood out. It blended in with the others—its black feathers nearly indistinguishable from the darker ones around it. With one leg tucked beneath it and its eyes shut, it appeared to be resting peacefully.

But that crow was none other than Beatrice.

As the night deepened, Ian was in no rush; he waited in silence, observing.

The shops on the main street gradually closed, and the lights within the residential district dimmed. The once-bustling area now felt eerily quiet, and even the birds around him had finally fallen asleep.

Ian had already calculated the guards' shift change cycle. When the timing was right, Beatrice stretched her wings and glided effortlessly toward the inner district, landing soundlessly on a flower rack.

Patrols in this area were infrequent, and now that they were past the initial obstacles, success was nearly guaranteed. It wasn't exactly a high-security zone—though several extraordinary members of the church lived here, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Still, Beatrice kept her distance, avoiding unnecessary attention.

After a few short flights, Beatrice finally reached the eaves of the building they were targeting. Ian helped her suppress her spiritual presence and prepared to inspect the rooms through the windows.

He was lucky. The first room he checked revealed a small, frail figure soundly asleep.

In the dim moonlight, Rebecca lay motionless, her brow furrowed. Her once golden hair had faded to a near-dull yellow, and her skin was pale and sickly. Her face was worn with exhaustion and uncertainty, and dark circles under her eyes made her look as though she hadn't slept for weeks. At only twelve years old, she appeared utterly drained, as if life itself had been sucked from her.

Ian's heart tightened. He quickly withdrew from the sensory connection, fighting to keep his emotions in check.

It wasn't just a father or brother who would be enraged by such a sight; any person witnessing a once-vibrant girl reduced to this shadow of herself would feel a burning sense of injustice.

Taking a few deep breaths, Ian reentered the sensory connection.

Beatrice, still perched on the windowsill, nudged a small paper scroll out of her feathers. After a subtle surge of spiritual energy, the window slid open slightly, and the scroll floated gently down to rest beside Rebecca's face.

Rebecca stirred, suddenly waking with a start. Her wide eyes scanned the room in fear, trying to make sense of the darkness around her.

Beatrice quickly hid behind the eaves, remaining unseen. Ian had been cautious about startling Rebecca when they first met, and he was careful not to do so again.

Rebecca stared into the vast, suffocating blackness of the room for what seemed like an eternity before slowly regaining her senses. She curled up on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest, her head resting on her legs as she stared vacantly at the wall. Her hollow eyes seemed like two dark wells, devoid of any light.

And she fell asleep like that—eyes wide open, staring blankly at the wall.

Ian, still hidden behind Beatrice, stood motionless, listening to the fragile rhythm of her breath. Strangely, his emotions had calmed.

Time passed, and at some point, Rebecca stirred again. She reached for the scroll lying next to her and, with a moment's hesitation, stood up and lit the oil lamp beside her bed.

The markings on the scroll seemed like random scribbles, but they caused Rebecca's heart to skip a beat. She quickly unrolled the paper, revealing a small note, no bigger than the palm of her hand.

"Rebecca: It's me, your brother Ian. I'm not dead..."

Before she could read any further, tears welled up in her eyes, and she began to sob uncontrollably.

"I knew it... I knew it..." she whispered through her tears.

She choked back her sobs, afraid of disturbing anyone else in the room. Tenderly, she laid the paper out on the table as if it were a precious treasure, reading it slowly, savoring each word.

Rebecca read the letter again and again, holding the paper tightly in her hands, as if trying to confirm that this wasn't just a dream. Finally, with great reluctance, she held the paper over the oil lamp and watched it burn to ashes.

Only when Rebecca had settled back into bed did Ian finally breathe a sigh of relief. He had considered having Beatrice reveal herself, but he decided against it. He feared that Rebecca might be scared, and besides, it was only when she saw Ian himself that she would truly find peace.

Before dawn, Rebecca woke early, determined not to burden Aunt Anna with her appearance. But looking at herself in the mirror—her frail, worn reflection—she feared that she might scare Ian if he saw her like this.

After a moment's hesitation, she ran next door and woke Aunt Anna.

"Rebecca's different today," Aunt Anna thought to herself. Using her remaining hand—she had lost one arm during the war—she skillfully helped Rebecca get ready, styling her hair in the way Rebecca had once loved.

Aunt Anna, the head maid at Calvin's estate, looked much older than her thirty-five years. The war had taken a heavy toll on her, and if it weren't for Roland's financial help, she might not have survived at all.

Despite the changes in Aunt Anna, Ian had easily recognized her during his daylight recon.

"Are we finally going out for a walk today?" Aunt Anna asked gently.

Rebecca nodded and smiled at her reflection. "Aunt Anna, can we go to the docks later?"

Aunt Anna studied her for a moment, then gently touched her hair with a soft smile. "Of course we can."

Rebecca didn't say anything, but the spark of joy in her eyes said it all. Whatever it took to bring Rebecca happiness, Aunt Anna would do it.

"I'll go ask Uncle Luca and the others," Rebecca said, already heading out the door.

Aunt Anna followed behind her, watching as Rebecca called for the others. Apart from Aunt Anna, only Uncle Luca, Gaeldo, and Quincy remained in Calvin's estate.

The survivors from the war had gradually drifted away, but the remaining few stayed behind—some had nowhere else to go, others simply didn't trust leaving Rebecca alone.

Uncle Luca and the others were both surprised and pleased by Rebecca's change in demeanor but didn't pry.

"Make sure to bring only the essentials," Rebecca said, adjusting her little hat as she spoke softly to Aunt Anna and the others.

Aunt Anna exchanged a knowing look with the others and nodded. "Don't worry, we're all set."

As they reached the entrance of the district, they saw Roland, the knight, waiting for them. Clad in armor, sword on his back, with a stern but gentle face, Roland stood tall and unwavering.

As one of the few righteous knights of the Church of Truth and Justice, Roland's attention was always quick to notice when something was amiss. Lately, the surveillance around the area had not diminished, and he felt a responsibility to ensure Rebecca's safety.

His sharp eyes immediately noticed Rebecca's change. Without missing a beat, he smiled warmly, as always. "I've been waiting for you. I'll accompany you."

Every time Rebecca left the house, Roland was by her side, never leaving her alone. His duty to protect her came before anything else.

Rebecca hesitated for a moment before replying, "Alright..."