Peace

After the subjugation, the party wasted no time gathering the spoils of their hard-fought battle. Angus and Serina worked together to extract the massive Queen ant's core, a glowing, multifaceted crystal the size of a melon, while Kara meticulously collected shards of the Queen's reinforced armor. Dren moved quietly through the wreckage, slipping smaller, rare mana-infused shards into a pouch. Fiora carefully inspected the remains of the lesser ants, ensuring they hadn't missed anything valuable.

Raven, however, stood apart from the group, her katana sheathed and her expression distant. Her once-pristine outfit was now caked in black blood, the viscous liquid clinging stubbornly to her cloak and boots. She glanced down at her blade, a pang of regret flashing through her as she noticed the fine cracks running along its surface—a grim reminder of her failed strike against the Queen.

"Hey, Wraith, are you sure you don't want any of this stuff?" Serina called out, cradling a handful of shimmering shards. Her violet eyes sparkled with the excitement of their victory. "There's more than enough to go around, and this core alone could fetch a fortune!"

Raven shook her head, offering a small, weary smile. "I'm fine. Honestly, I just need enough to buy myself a new katana later. The rest is yours to split."

Angus, who was inspecting the massive core, looked up with a frown. "You sure about that, Wraith? You earned your share just as much as any of us—maybe more. That big guy would've squashed us flat without you holding it off."

"I appreciate it," Raven replied, her voice calm but resolute. "But I'm good. Right now, all I want is a hot bath and to clean this mess off me." She gestured to the streaks of dried black blood staining her clothing. "This stuff is worse than tar."

Kara adjusted her glasses, looking at Raven curiously. "Are you heading back to the Adventurer's Guild, then?"

"Yeah," Raven said with a nod. "I'll head back to my room, clean up, and figure out my next steps from there."

Fiora stepped forward, her golden bun slightly disheveled from the battle. "At least let us pool some funds for your katana. It's only fair."

Raven waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I'll manage. Besides, I've got some savings stashed away. You all keep what you've earned."

Serina placed her hands on her hips, her lips pursed in mock disapproval. "You're way too noble for your own good, you know that? Fine, but don't come crying to me when you need a hand."

Raven chuckled softly. "Noted."

With that, she turned toward the cavern's entrance, her liquid silver hair catching the faint glow of the Queen's core as she walked away. The faint scent of iron and decay lingered in the air, but Raven's thoughts were already elsewhere.

The journey back to the Adventurer's Guild was uneventful but felt longer than usual. Her body ached from the grueling battle, and the weight of her cracked katana on her hip was a constant reminder of the near-disaster they'd faced. She sighed, her mind flickering back to Celia's unexpected appearance.

As she reached the guild, the familiar hum of chatter greeted her. Adventurers filled the hall, sharing stories of their exploits over tankards of ale. Some glanced her way, their gazes lingering on her bloodstained clothes and mismatched eyes.

Ignoring the stares, Raven headed straight for her room. She closed the door behind her with a soft thud and leaned against it, letting out a long breath. The day's events replayed in her mind—the endless waves of ants, the towering Knight, and, most vividly, Celia's fiery arrival.

"Mavis," she said aloud, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes?" the dragon spirit replied, her tone gentle and melodic.

"She didn't recognize me," Raven murmured, her mismatched eyes fixed on her cracked blade.

"She wouldn't," Mavis said, echoing her earlier sentiment. "You started anew, Raven. To her, you are nothing more than a stranger."

Raven set the katana down on the small table by the bed, her fingers lingering on the hilt. "I know. It's just… seeing her alive, stronger than ever—it feels like I've been left behind."

Mavis was silent for a moment before replying, "Your path is different now. The past cannot be reclaimed, but the future is yours to shape. What you do with it is up to you."

Raven nodded silently, her words settling in her chest like a weight and a comfort all at once. She peeled off her soiled cloak and boots, setting them aside before heading to the basin to clean herself.

As the cool water washed away the black blood, Raven stared at her reflection in the small mirror above the basin. Her liquid silver hair and mismatched eyes were a stark contrast to the person she used to be.

"You're right," she said softly, as if to herself. "This is my life now. I'll figure it out."

As the black stains swirled down the drain, Raven's thoughts lingered on Celia. It had been three long years since she had last seen her sister. The girl who once radiated a playful energy was now a composed and commanding presence. Celia had matured—her once carefree demeanor now tempered with a seriousness that spoke of growth and responsibility.

Although Raven felt pride in her sister's transformation, a tinge of sadness welled up in her chest. She missed the playful banter, the warmth of their shared moments, and the innocence that seemed long gone. It stung deeply that she couldn't approach Celia and reveal herself. The distance, both physical and emotional, felt like an unbridgeable chasm. Still, Raven consoled herself with a quiet resolve: the time for truths and reunions would come when it was meant to.

As Raven wiped her face with a damp cloth, her mind heavy with memories, a subtle shift in the air pulled her from her reverie. A presence—familiar and soothing—manifested behind her. Before she could turn, slender arms wrapped gently around her bare waist, the contact startling and intimate.

"Eh?!" Raven shrieked, a rare flush of embarrassment coloring her pale cheeks. "What are you doing?!"

Mavis, in her human-like form, leaned against Raven, her silver hair cascading over Raven's shoulder. Her voice was soft, almost teasing. "Relax. You're getting a bit too sentimental for your own good." She let her fingers trail along Raven's cheek, her touch cool yet comforting.

Raven tensed, unsure how to respond, but Mavis continued, her voice low and melodic. "You've been alone for far too long. Unfamiliar feelings are clouding your thoughts, aren't they?"

Before Raven could protest, she felt the gentle press of Mavis's lips against the nape of her neck—a featherlight kiss that sent a shiver down her spine. "Your entire life," Mavis murmured, her tone laced with an otherworldly calm, "your past life—I know it all. A life drenched in blood, where there was no room for emotions, no space to confront your true self. It's all right now. Just relax, Raven. With me, you'll always be safe."

Raven's crimson eye began to glow faintly, its pulsating light reminiscent of a heartbeat. A strange warmth coursed through her as if Mavis's presence was seeping into her very being. Her vision blurred, the edges darkening like ink spreading through water. A heavy drowsiness wrapped around her like a blanket, pulling her deeper into its embrace.

"M-Mavis," Raven mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper as her knees began to buckle. Her body leaned back against the dragon spirit, who caught her effortlessly.

"Shh," Mavis soothed, her arms tightening around Raven in a protective hold. "Rest easy. You've carried too much for too long. Let yourself let go—just this once."

Raven's eyes fluttered shut, her body succumbing to the overwhelming sense of calm that Mavis radiated. The exhaustion she had ignored for days finally caught up with her, dragging her into the depths of sleep. Mavis held her close, her pink eyes glowing faintly in the dim light of the room.

As the first soft breaths of Raven's slumber filled the air, Mavis smiled gently. "Sleep well, my chosen one. When you wake, the weight of the past will feel just a little lighter." She carefully lifted Raven, laying her on the bed with a tenderness that belied her fearsome nature.

Standing over Raven's sleeping form, Mavis brushed a strand of silver hair from her face, her gaze unreadable. "You are stronger than you realize," she whispered. "But even the strongest need a moment of peace."

As Raven drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep, her breathing evened out, and the glow in her crimson and golden eyes dimmed entirely. Mavis's form, still perched by the bedside, began to shimmer like a mirage, her outline flickering as though she were a hologram struggling to maintain its coherence. Her silver hair rippled unnaturally, as if caught in an invisible breeze, and her pink eyes softened as they gazed at Raven's peaceful expression.

A gentle smile curved her lips, but it was tinged with something unspoken—an emotion that didn't quite reach her luminous eyes. There was a weight in her expression, a melancholy that seemed to pull at the corners of her mouth, making the smile feel incomplete.

She reached out, her ethereal fingers brushing Raven's hair away from her face with an almost maternal care. "You've fought so hard for so long," Mavis whispered, her voice soft and resonant, like a lullaby carried on the wind. "Rest now, my dear. Leave the burdens to me for a while."

Her form flickered again, this time more intensely, her body radiating a faint glow that painted the room in hues of silver and pink. A low hum filled the air, vibrating through the very essence of the room. Mavis straightened, her expression hardening slightly as determination replaced the fleeting sadness in her eyes.

"Let me take control for a bit," she murmured, more to herself than to Raven. Her voice carried a resolve that was both comforting and foreboding.

The room seemed to respond to her words, the shadows stretching and twisting as if drawn to her presence. Mavis leaned closer to Raven, placing a hand gently over her heart. A faint, shimmering light pulsed from the contact, resonating with an unseen rhythm.