The Defiant of Fate

Her eyes are the fire that scorches hope; the frost that shivers bravery and negates valor. In her fingertips lies the lament of the Gods, for Gods are nothing before her sovereignty. An entity far more superior than kings and queens, an otherworldly being who single-handedly shattered world after worlds, and devoured realms after realms.

She is the destruction. The redeemer of death. As stars collapse in her wake, truth becomes another fairytale—as if it was a dream.

She. . . is me

One night, a nightmare visited me in my sleep.

Dry leaves swirled violently in the air, and every building lay in ruins, torn apart by explosions. The screams of people echoed all around as they ran in panic, fear gripping their every step.

It all felt real—too real. As if I had seen this before. As if this had already happened.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember when.

But I knew it was nothing more than a mere nightmare. Nothing real.

"What's wrong?"

Snapping out of my thoughts, I swallowed the food I had been chewing for who knows how long and took a sip of the cold milk Quilya had prepared for me.

"Nothing," I answered.

I've been having the same nightmare for weeks now, but I only told her about it once. If I kept bringing it up, she might start thinking I was paranoid.

"You look like you just lost a cat, Riah. Maybe try fixing yourself up a little?"

First thing in the morning, and she's already on my case.

"What are you staring at?" she snapped, crossing her arms.

"Hey, woman, quit messing with me, or I swear I'll kick you." I narrowed my eyes at her. "You're not the princess here, okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Says the adopted one." Then, with a dramatic huff, she turned on her heel and walked away.

That's Quilya Neinfraud—my attendant. Or more accurately... my so called servant in this household.

We've been friends since I was five. Both orphans, once upon a time. But then this family took me in—and Quilya along with me. That's how she ended up as my attendant.

Not that she acts like one. If anything, she's even bossier than me.

I lost my parents when I was an infant. Fate dealt me an unkind hand, and I was unable to even catch a glimpse of their faces before being left alone.

And since no one knows about them, I have no idea who they were, what their names were, were they good people or bad people. And which one of them do I look like? With that said, I grew up in an orphanage. The same orphanage where I met Quilya five years later.

At the tender age of five, she experienced a tragedy that no child should ever have to endure. Fate can be unforgiving, and it was particularly so in her case. Her world was turned upside down when both of her parents were taken from her in a sudden and heart-wrenching way. The loss of her parents must have left a void in her life that could never be filled, and it undoubtedly had a profound impact on her. From that moment on, she had to learn to face the world that was confusing and frightening, all while trying to come to terms with the enormity of her loss.

But compared to me, she was rather fortunate to have seen them and grew up with them even for a short time before they died in a car accident. Or at least, that's what everything she told me.

I kinda envy her for that, but we became friends for the same reason. We both lost someone important. At first, I wondered if she has any relatives to take her in, but I guess there's none knowing that we both grew up on the same orphanage only to be adopted by the Riessevilles—the family that took us in. Life couldn't be crueller for her, but during our days in the orphanage, she was always happy. Like nothing ever happened.

But sometimes, I get the feeling that there's something she wants to tell me—but she just won't.

We're about the same age. According to her, her birthday is on October 23rd, just a few days from now. As for me, I have no idea when mine is. Nobody knows how or when I came into this world. But if the estimates are right, I should be turning nineteen this year, too.

"Hurry up and eat. We're going to Marreanne's place."

The moment I heard that name, my mood instantly lifted. "Marreanne?!"

"Yep. Unless you've suddenly gone deaf."

In an instant, I scarfed down the rest of my food, rushed upstairs, and grabbed a towel from my room. Without wasting another second, I sprinted to the bathroom, ready to soak in the bathtub—until I touched the water.

It was freezing.

I stared at the water for a long moment before cautiously dipping my fingers in again.

"Yeah... Nope. Not happening. I'll just wash my face instead."

—

When we arrived at the grand gates of the Riesseville mansion, we were greeted warmly by the couple themselves. They even opened the gates for us, despite having stationed guards for that very purpose.

Marreanne was their only daughter—the heiress of the Riesseville family. Her shoulder-length blonde hair complemented her monolid-shaped eyes, and her pale complexion made her striking blue eyes stand out even more.

"Hi, Quilya! Hi, Aeriah! Oh my god, you guys are so pretty!" Marreanne practically beamed as we stepped inside. "How have you been? Are you eating properly, Aeriah? And you, Miss Quilya—are you getting enough sleep?"

This girl never runs out of energy.

"I'm fine," Quilya answered, somewhat awkwardly, as if she wasn't sure how to respond. "How about you?"

"Things have been pretty uneventful here," Marreanne said. But then, her cheerful expression shifted. The air around us changed. The couple behind her grew serious, and even she seemed uncharacteristically solemn.

The sky darkened overhead. A strange tension settled in the atmosphere.

"And because things have been peaceful for too long…" Marreanne hesitated before finally looking at Quilya. "I believe now is the right time."

The right time?

What does she mean?

Quilya's gaze flickered between Marreanne and the couple, uncertainty clouding her expression. The two merely responded with a silent nod.

A distant rumble accompanied the darkening sky, while the wind grew sharper, colder—almost hostile.

"Are you sure it has to be now?" she asked, as if seeking confirmation.

No one answered.

Quilya and I exchanged confused looks, but something in her eyes told me she had at least some idea of what was happening.

Seriously, what is going on?

"Quilya, what are you guys talking about?" I whispered, but she ignored me. Instead, she took a deep breath, turned away, and murmured, "She sent us here to find you, and now she's calling us back."

Say what now?

"Who sent who to find who?" I asked, growing more confused. "And why are you guys acting so weird?"

Krein reached for something, then handed Marreanne a book, which she, in turn, passed to me.

"Remember this?" she asked. "The book you used to read all the time?"

I froze.

This is… The Rhapsody of Everspring.

A rush of nostalgia hit me as I flipped through the pages. "I thought I lost this. Where did you guys find it?" I had given up on ever seeing it again. Yet now, it was back in my hands—real and tangible.

"The same orphanage where we found you," Krein answered.

I paused at his words, my grip tightening around the book. Slowly, I closed it, grounding myself.

"Am I keeping this, or…?" I asked hesitantly, worried they might take it back. Losing it once was bad enough. I didn't want to lose it again.

Marreanne smiled. "It's yours, Aeriah. So, of course, you keep it."

Relief washed over me. "Really? Thank you!" I said, my voice bubbling with excitement.

Krein cleared his throat, his presence commanding. "Marreanne, remember why we're here."

His tone was cold, authoritative. Without another word, he turned and walked ahead, prompting us to follow. The sound of the heavy metal gate clanking shut behind us sent a chill down my spine.

"Right," Marreanne muttered before glancing at Quilya. "Quilya…"

"What?"

"Our time is almost up. We should go back."

Quilya sighed deeply—almost tiredly.

What the hell is going on? Why does she look so burdened? And go back? Go back where?

And what do they mean by time is almost up?

"Fine," Quilya finally said, turning toward me.

"Aeriah, do you remember that night when you said you saw something come out of that book?"

Her question caught me completely off guard. My brows furrowed in confusion. Why is she bringing that up now?

"Alright," she exhaled, as if coming to a decision.

"Let me tell you something. That book you're holding—it's a key. A key that opens a gateway to another realm."

My facial expression immediately turned from being confused to shocked, and more confused.

"Riah, do you still remember that night when something came out of that book?" Again, she asked.

"How did you know about that? I never told anyone—"

"Because I know. And I'm going to answer one of your questions. Tell me, do you still remember?"

"O-Of course, I do."

It happened one night at that orphanage, on a quiet spring evening.

Everyone was asleep—everyone except me. I couldn't seem to close my eyes, so I decided to step outside and amuse myself with nature.

Alone, I sat on a swing with a book resting on my lap. Not knowing what else to do, I tilted my head back, gazing up at the fireflies twinkling like tiny stars against the night sky. It was so peaceful, so silent, that the only sounds I could hear were the soft creaking of the swing's chains and the distant chirping of crickets.

The silvery moonlight poured down from the vast heavens, bathing the tranquil pond in an ethereal glow. It was breathtaking—like something straight out of a painting. A sight so mesmerizing that it made me wonder if I had somehow wandered into an artist's masterpiece. It was the perfect night to read.

Beside me stood two large trees, their dense foliage partially blocking my view of the sky. Just a few feet beyond them lay a small pond, its surface adorned with floating water lilies. Unbothered by my solitude, I began to hum softly, closing my eyes and allowing the gentle breeze to tousle my hair.

This place—this little haven—had been my companion through countless lonely days and nights. But that all changed the moment I opened the first chapter of the book in my hands.

As soon as my humming ceased, I felt it.

Something was coming.

Something enormous.

Something omnipotent.

A strange force pulled my gaze downward, drawing me toward the book as if compelling me to open it. Before I even realized what I was doing, I found myself staring at its cover, my fingers flipping it open as if moving on their own.

A presence was emerging, and it was nothing of this world.

Legends spoke of thirteen realm guardians—beings so powerful that their might could rival even that of the gods. They were entrusted with the protection of the land and its inhabitants, shielding millions from the dark realm's malevolent conquerors.

As a child, I might have found such tales fascinating, but I had never truly believed in them. Even now, I would have dismissed them as mere myths.

Yet here I was.

Because fate, it seems, has a childish tendency to meddle in people's lives.

Suddenly, the book began to glow, radiating a soft, serene light as it levitated before me. Its warmth was comforting, its beauty otherworldly, harmonizing perfectly with the tranquil atmosphere. I could hear the sound of pages turning—flipping as if possessed by a life of their own.

Then, the light took shape.

It was still indistinct, lacking any form or color beyond its golden glow, yet I knew—I felt—that something was materializing.

And then, a voice.

"At last, I've finally found you," a woman's voice murmured. "But perhaps it is not yet time to bring you back."

The unfamiliar voice sent a chill down my spine.

"Alice."

I blinked, momentarily stunned.

Had I misheard her?

"Pardon me, luminous lady," I said cautiously. "But I am not Alice. My name is Aeriah."

"You're not startled at all, Alice."

I frowned. Did she not hear me? I just told her I wasn't Alice.

"Most people your age would run in terror if they saw something like this happening before them. But you…" she trailed off, amusement lacing her voice. "I wouldn't call you young—at least, not spiritually. You may have lost your memories, but never your spirit."

She sounded pleased.

Who is she?

"I've seen stranger things in my dreams," I replied nonchalantly. "And you don't seem like a threat, so why should I be afraid? If anything, I'd just be laughed at for looking so pathetic."

"The children at the orphanage?" she guessed.

I nodded slightly in response.

"I'm surprised you know about them." My eyes narrowed as I studied the glowing figure before me. "What exactly are you? Are you human, like me?"

The golden light surrounding her flickered before it began to fade. Slowly, her form was revealed.

Standing before me was a majestic white horse, its long, flowing mane shimmering like silk under the moonlight. A crescent moon symbol was embedded on its forehead like a delicate tattoo. And atop its head, a single, spiraling horn gleamed in the dim glow.

I exhaled sharply.

"Well, it seems someone forgot to introduce herself properly," I remarked, tilting my head.

She let out a soft, melodic laugh. "You are quite the tricky one, aren't you? You speak with the confidence of an adult, yet you are still so young. Now I wonder… do you truly not know who you are?"

I fell silent, unable to form a response.

Realizing that I had nothing to say, she cleared her throat and continued.

"I am ■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■, a realm guardian—also known as the Beast of Singularity."

My mind latched onto the last part of her sentence. The Beast of Singularity.

Her name, however…

It was incomprehensible.

It wasn't as though I had misheard her—it was as if the very language used did not exist.

A realm guardian.

Why?

What favor did I owe for one of their kind to appear before me?

"You came out of this book," I murmured, gripping its cover. "A book that tells the tales of realm guardians—beings who protect worlds in peril. What purpose do you have, showing yourself to me?"

"I have only one task," she said, her voice gentle yet unwavering. "To bring you home when the time is right."

I stiffened.

Home?

She turned away, her form slowly fading back into the golden light.

"May our paths cross again, dear Alice."