The Comfort and The Contrary

Sena's flowing sobs echoed softly in the still night as Idris held her close and tightly. He allowed her the comfort and understanding she so desperately needed.

 

Behind the front door, Kishi's fist hardened into a tight knot, his knuckles white. He bit the side of his lip, jaw clenched, as he stared straight into Kanon's swelling eyes. 

 

Kanon, in turn, covered her mouth with both hands, stifling a cry, her gaze fixed on the floor, determined not to interrupt Sena's hard-won moment of solace.

 

Kishi gently tugged his sister, leading her back towards her room before either of them could make a sound that might intrude on Sena and Idris's intimate moment. 

 

Just before Kishi fully closed his own door, he glanced once more towards the direction of the front door, a profound resolve etched on his face.

 

"Tomorrow… I hope she'll allow me too," he uttered under his breath, his voice barely a whisper, as he silently closed the door of his room behind him.

 

 — — — 

 

As usual, Kanan rose earlier than most, embracing the crisp, mellow dawn. He drew in the cold air, filling his lungs before heading towards the highest ridge. 

 

This was his third day at Aurea Reach, not much had changed the devastated land despite their efforts to mitigate the risks by clearing debris and securing unstable areas.

 

He trudged forth, pushing through the dense mountainside, following the upward trail. 

 

Once the sun had just peeked over the horizon, painting the sky in soft, melancholic hues of grey and faint rose, he reached the peak. From there, he scanned the landscape. 

 

The black trek the maledict had left lined the forest like a cartographer's ink drawing a stark, unyielding line across a map's surface. Following the faint path the hemogoblin had left with his eyes, he saw it had vanished into a far reach, disappearing beyond a distant, jagged mountainous region, swallowed by the horizon.

 

The chorus of birds at dawn felt weaker and melancholic, their usual symphony muted to a hesitant, sorrowful whisper. The chattering animals were nowhere to be seen, their absence a chilling silence. 

 

The stench of decay clung thick and thin, wafting here and there like an unseen, pervasive reminder that this land was a crucible where devastation gave birth to death and rot.

 

He went back down, beginning his grim morning routine: catering to the surviving valley folk. 

Some had already surrendered to the unbearable grief, silently accepting the loss of their loved ones. Others choked back pleading screams, their raw agony a palpable weight in the chilled air. 

 

The children, orphaned in an instant, tried their best to cling together, younglings and teens forming small, wary groups. Some still retreated into themselves, but the others urged them not to stray alone.

 

"We can't risk having a maledict manifest from their festering grief," Kanan advised, stirring a large pot of vegetable stew, its meager aroma a stark contrast to the omnipresent stench of decay. 

 

"The living can and will do more harm than the deceased, since their emotional spirals are just as potent as those whose final breaths were taken."

 

"I'll make sure to think of some activities that might uplift their spirit," one of the surviving nurses replied, her voice soft but resolute, as she left with a basket of bread to serve the survivors their early morning rations.

 

Kanan took a quick glimpse at the other townsfolk he was assisting in the makeshift kitchen, a frustrated click escaping his tongue. 

 

"Tsk! We won't have enough to last two days to feed everyone. Is this all we have left from the devastated fields?" he inquired, brushing some strands of hair from his eyes, his gaze sweeping over the meager provisions.

 

The old woman looked up at him, dread plain in her weary eyes. "That's what we have, sonny. The other crops have already spoiled and rotted," she advised sadly. "Let's prioritize the children tomorrow; we old-timers have lived long enough." She managed a faint, warm smile, a fragile beacon in the surrounding despair.

 

Kanan leaned closer, holding the old lady's shoulder with both hands. "Don't you worry, Gram, you'll live far longer than this," he said, beaming at her with his widest smile, dimples showing, teeth shining, as if willing hope into existence amidst the dreadful ambiance.

 

For fucks sake! Where are those reinforcements?! His thoughts were a stark, furious contrast to his endearing, hopeful face. 

 

I thought Azarette was far better than the scablands of Enmaat, but I fucking take that back. 

 

There might not be any corruption here. They might present themselves as holy and divine across the six nations, but they sure as hell are working so backwards beyond time, they forgot this part of their holy fucking land. 

 

He gritted his teeth, his inner fury gnawing at him as he prepared bowls of soup to be delivered to the children.

 

— — — 

 

That very same morning, Kishi, Kanon, and Sena woke up one after the other and headed straight to the dining area.

 

Their eyes were all plump, puffy, red, and swollen from crying through the night. 

 

Sena couldn't help but stare at the siblings, who were doing their best to not meet her gaze, their heavy dark circles stark beneath their eyes.

 

"A—Are you guys… alright?" she stuttered, tilting her head slightly to get a better look at the two across from her at the dining table.

 

Kanon's small shoulders began to tremble as her head slowly slumped down, her gaze fixed on her lap. She sniffled, pressing her hands together, trying to hold back the fresh swell of tears that glistened in her eyes.

 

Sena felt a prickling panic as Kanon let out a choked sob, her composure crumbling all at once.

 

"W–what happened, Kanon, are you okay?" she blurted, rising from her chair and stepping closer, her hands hovering uncertainly. She meant to embrace her, but Kanon was faster, launching herself forward and wrapping her arms tight around Sena's waist.

 

"Waahhhh!!! Ms. Yukari!" she wailed and bawled, no longer holding back her tears or her voice, wiping some of her snot and tears on Sena's evening chemise. 

 

"I'm so sorry… Wahhh!!!" she cried, her words hiccuping between gasps, like a small child. "We didn't mean to eavesdrop on you and Mr. Noorgareth last night, hic!"

 

Sena's arms folded gently around her in return, her hand resting on the back of Kanon's head, patting it with a slow, comforting rhythm. She felt Kanon's smaller frame shaking against her, and a small, wistful smile tugged at her lips. 

 

She chuckled softly, feeling the warmth they shared in that morning embrace. 

 

This is what it must feel like to have a younger sister, she thought to herself.

 

Kishi stood up abruptly and walked towards Sena as well. 

 

He kept his gaze fixed on the floor, both his fists clenched. "Ms. Yukari," he began, trying not to stutter, "I—If you'll have me as well, I would like to… I would like to stand with you and protect you too!" 

 

He bit the side of his lip, holding back any simmering embarrassment from what felt very much like a confession tumbling from his mouth.

 

Sena's face softened into an almost elderly sister's expression. With a tenderness that came so naturally it surprised her, she reached out with her right hand, wrapping around Kishi's neck and pulling him gently closer. 

 

She slowly patted both Kishi and Kanon's heads, a comforting presence. Then, she slowly whispered, "Thank you for welcoming me so warmly."

 

Kishi's shoulders quivered. 

 

For an instant, he nearly folded into her embrace too, but he swallowed hard and forced himself to step back, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. He turned his head, embarrassed to find Mr. Noorgareth leaning silently by the archway to the kitchen, smiling at them with a quiet, solemn look.

 

"Good morning," Idris said gently, his voice carrying a warmth that softened the atmosphere. He stepped forward, balancing two large trays in his hands. 

 

Sena looked up and smiled softly toward him, a smile that felt like it reached all the way to her tired heart. Kanon, cheeks still damp, finally pulled away, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. 

 

They all settled back into their chairs as Idris set down four plates, each piled high with thick sourdough sandwiches stuffed with leftover steak, caramelized onions, buttered mushrooms, and runny fried eggs that glistened in the morning light.

 

The morning air in the dining room, Sena noticed, felt more welcoming, more accepting than ever before. Being surrounded by people who were once nothing but strangers now felt undeniably like family. 

 

She felt something she hadn't in years: a sense of home

 

She drew in a long, steady breath and let it out, the ache in her chest loosening. The deep, gnawing yearning that had haunted her since she'd first woken up in this world finally seemed to recede, softening into something distant and harmless.

 

As she lifted the sandwich to her mouth and bit into the savory richness of steak and egg, she closed her eyes, savoring not just the taste but the moment itself. 

 

Every swallow felt like more than simple nourishment. It felt like dissolving a little more of the fear of being shunned, like washing away the last shadows of rejection she'd carried alone for so long.

 

I'm no longer alone, she thought, and for the first time, the words felt real.

 

After their hearty breakfast, the four of them settled in for a spot of tea. The rich aroma of spiced leaves mingled with the lingering warmth of the morning meal, weaving into the faint, pleasant scent of old wood that lingered in every corner of the room.

 

They conversed and shared in gentle voices, talking amongst each other, getting to know little by little each and every small detail.

 

Kanon cradled her cup with both hands, her cheeks faintly pink as she gazed into the steam rising in delicate tendrils.

 

"I've always loved the cookies one of the bakers in our town makes," she said dreamily while nibbling a fresh cookie Idris had prepared. "Our mother and I would always walk there every once in a while to relax."

 

Kishi smirked as he lifted his cup to his lips, the rim brushing a smile he tried to suppress. "No wonder you're so fat," he teased, a laugh breaking free.

 

Kanon's eyes went wide, her face warming a deeper shade of red as she set her cup down with a little clatter. "I'm not fat!" she huffed, though her lips twitched as if she couldn't quite hold back a smile.

 

"You used to be," Kishi insisted, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh and a slight snicker, as if burdened by the memory.

 

Sena chuckled behind her hand, feeling a quiet, entranced peace stealing into her chest. It wasn't just the gentle heat of the mug or the sweetness of the cookies melting on her tongue.

 

It was the imagined murmur of good company come to life around her, the soft, genuine laughter rippling through the living room, and the bright morning light that made everything feel momentarily perfect.

 

Idris shook his head, a low, amused laugh rumbling from his chest. He reached for the teapot and refilled Kanon's cup with a steady hand, as if to silently reassure her.

 

"Oh, shut up, you big jerk," Kanon muttered, rolling her eyes away from her brother's face but unable to hide her smile. She lifted her refilled cup, curling her fingers around it with a reluctant little smile. 

 

The quiet clink of porcelain and the warm hush of voices settled over them, a tranquil symphony Sena wished she could hold onto forever.

 

When the tea was finished and the last crumbs were brushed from the table, they all rose together, stretching their arms and rolling their shoulders in preparation for the day ahead.

 

All four of them prepared for yet another rigorous day of duel and discipline.

 

But this time around, Sena would be included as a new trainee, her heart steady with determination and the comforting weight of belonging.