The fire in the hearth had long since burned down to embers, casting faint shadows on the walls. 

The night outside was cold, with only the occasional howl of the wind to break the silence. But inside, in the quiet, there was something more: a heaviness that hung in the air between two men.

Andhur, restless and with his ever-present curiosity, couldn't help but start the conversation. 

The cabin was still, save for his voice as it broke the silence.

 Andhur said, his voice light but tinged with an undertone of curiosity. 

"So, Kazaks went to Yzavynne, huh?"

He leaned against the table, his eyes glinting in the low light. 

"I wonder what that's about."

Qarek didn't look up. 

He sat at the table, staring at his hands, rough and calloused from years of fighting. 

His fingers tapped absently against the wood, the sound filling the otherwise quiet cabin. 

His mind was far away, lost in thoughts that weighed heavily on him.

Andhur, not receiving an immediate response, leaned forward, trying again. 

"I guess you're not in the mood to talk, huh?"

Qarek's voice was low, almost a murmur as he finally spoke. 

"I'm not. I need to get stronger. More stronger. So, please, Andhur, not tonight. I'm busy. Currently."

Andhur raised an eyebrow, a smirk pulling at his lips. 

He asked, teasing yet a bit concerned.

"Busy about what? Thinking?" 

Qarek's reply was simple, curt. 

"Yes. Thinking. I'm busy thinking."

Andhur sighed, accepting the answer without pushing further. 

He said, the words carrying the weight of someone who understood when not to ask too many questions.

"Alright then."

He moved to his bed, the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet loud in the stillness. 

The door to his room clicked shut softly, and he finally allowed himself to slump into the bed, the soft rustle of sheets signaling his retreat into solitude.

But for Qarek—

The silence only deepened the thoughts that had been clouding his mind.

Qarek sat still, but inside, everything felt like it was slowly unraveling. 

His hands, resting on the table, began to tremble as he let his mind wander to the weight he had been carrying alone for far too long. 

His gaze remained fixed on the dark window, but it wasn't the darkness of the night that consumed him—it was the shadows of his own thoughts.

He murmured to himself, barely audible, as if speaking to no one but the stillness of the room. 

"I train so that I won't be a burden to anyone. Especially... especially to captain." 

His voice cracked slightly as the words slipped out. 

He didn't want anyone to see the vulnerability in him, not after everything. 

Not after being called a warrior. 

Not after hearing those words of encouragement from Zach. 

Words that had made him feel like he could actually stand tall for once.

But now, that strength—those very words that had once filled him with a spark of hope—had become the weight of his own expectations. 

The idea that he could never falter, never show weakness, was suffocating.

His vision blurred, and for a moment, he felt dizzy, as if the world around him was spinning just a little too fast.

Qarek whispered to himself, his voice breaking. 

"I can't..." 

He was no longer sure what he was saying, his words slipping out with the same fluidity as his thoughts. 

"I can't afford to be weak. Not now. Not after everything we've been through."

He leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes, trying to steady himself. 

The room felt smaller now, as if the walls were closing in. 

His thoughts became louder, harder to ignore. 

He could feel his pulse quicken, the rush of blood making his head spin. 

Everything in his body was telling him to stop, to rest, but he couldn't. 

Not when there was still so much left to do.

He had been pushing himself beyond his limits. 

He knew it. 

But the tattoos, the marks on his skin, had been the only thing that gave him a sense of control. 

A sense of power when everything else felt so fragile.

He murmured to himself. 

"Guess... guess I've been using them too much."

The words sounded hollow, even to his own ears. 

He could feel the numbness in his body—the pins and needles of overuse, the warning signs that he had ignored for too long. 

He had ignored the trembling in his hands, the way his legs would give out from under him during practice, the way his mind would cloud over in the middle of a battle.

But now, with everything quiet around him, it was impossible to ignore the toll it had taken. 

His body felt like it was betraying him, slowly, insidiously.

"Captain's right," he whispered bitterly, his hands trembling. 

"These are the consequences of using the tattoos too much. Guess I'll stop using them... even during my practice now. I've been pushing myself far beyond my limits... and now, it's taking a toll on me. But I won't let them know about this."

Qarek stood up slowly, his legs unsteady beneath him. 

He moved towards the window, needing the cold night air to clear his thoughts. 

But as he reached for the window latch, something inside him cracked open. 

He wasn't just struggling physically—he was struggling with everything that had led him here. 

He wasn't just a warrior. 

He was a person. 

A person who had never allowed himself to feel the weight of his emotions, not fully. 

A person who had buried everything deep inside, pretending that strength meant never showing weakness.

His vision blurred again, and for the first time in a long while, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. 

He didn't wipe them away. 

He didn't even try. 

For once, he allowed himself to feel the full weight of what he had been carrying.

He whispered, his voice almost inaudible. 

"I'm scared..."

The words felt like they should have been louder, more powerful, but all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart. 

He was scared of failing. 

Scared of not being enough. 

Scared of becoming a burden.

He leaned against the window, his forehead pressed against the cold glass, and closed his eyes.

△▼△▼△▼△

The night air was cold, crisp, and thick with the scent of salt and earth. 

The gentle crashing of waves against the shore was the only sound breaking the silence that blanketed the world. 

The village was asleep, the warmth of its cabins hiding the turmoil beneath, but here, by the edge of the sea, stood a solitary figure. 

Her pale form was a ghost in the moonlight, her long hair drifting in the breeze, as she gazed out into the dark abyss of the ocean.

A woman stood still, her eyes lost in the undisturbed water. 

There was something haunting about the way she looked out at the sea, as if searching for something long gone.

"Peaceful," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible above the sound of the waves. 

"I wish I was still alive."

Her voice trembled as the words left her lips. 

It was the pain of a life that had ended too soon, of a woman whose existence was now reduced to a shadow of what it once was. 

She remembered her husband, and her daughter. 

It was supposed to be a joyous reunion, but for her , it felt like an impossible dream. 

She couldn't bear the thought of them seeing her this way—

This thing that was once a woman.

She took a slow, deep breath, and for a moment, she allowed herself to relive the memory. 

Her husband's laugh, his strong arms holding her close, her daughter's bright eyes full of life. 

It was all gone now. 

Gone with the life she had once known.

"They don't know," she muttered under her breath. 

"They don't know what I've become."

The wind carried her words away into the night, but the grief that clung to her was not so easily swept aside.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of something strange—a soft shifting, a deep rumbling that echoed from the ground beneath her feet. 

Before she could react, the earth itself seemed to open, and a figure emerged from the depths of the earth.

The air grew heavy with an ancient presence.

Evelori stood before Tina, the towering figure of an undead.

Her eyes glowed faintly, and her movements were slow.

She didn't flinch, didn't move. 

She had seen Evelori before, countless times, always in the shadows, always watching. 

It was hard to get used to the way Evelori spoke—her voice sounded like it belonged to another age, like it was from a world long lost.

"You," Evelori's voice slithered through the night, as cold and eerie as the grave. 

"Tina. Still out here. Still out here. Watching the ocean."

Tina didn't turn to face her, though she knew Evelori was there. 

She could feel the weight of the undead presence behind her.

Tina replied softly, her voice fragile but steady.

"I am."

Evelori stepped closer, her presence looming over Tina, as if casting a shadow over the very ocean. 

"Why is that? Is there something about watching something dull and uncreative? Why is that?"

Tina's lips trembled as she gathered the courage to speak, her words carrying a quiet bitterness. 

"Nature itself is peaceful to watch. But I guess you won't understand. You are not a human after all. And you didn't become a human."

Evelori seemed to consider her words, a soft hum of agreement vibrating through her chest. 

"I suppose that's logical and fair."

But then, there was a shift in the air, a quiet tension that made the night seem even darker. 

Evelori's voice, though cold, took on a deeper tone, more serious.

"Tina," she began, as if the words themselves had weight.

"Why don't you... why don't you go meet with them? Haerak and Aina?"

The question hung in the air like a mist, and for a long time, Tina didn't respond. 

She just stood there, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, eyes cast downward. 

The ocean before her, vast and empty, mirrored the emptiness she felt inside.

"I don't want to," Tina whispered, her voice thick with sorrow. 

"I don't want them to see me like this. Not in the state I'm in. It would hurt them. Hurt them more than I could even imagine. I don't want them to look at me and see this—this thing I've become. They wouldn't even recognize me. They wouldn't see me as the woman they once loved. They would only see... this." 

Her voice broke, and she swallowed hard, her chest tight with grief.

Evelori stood silent for a moment, her form unmoving, as if she was waiting for the weight of Tina's words to settle.

"Perhaps you want me to remodel your whole face and body a bit more realistically?" 

Evelori suggested, her tone almost mockingly casual. 

"I could replace all the skin, eyes, lips, nose, ears, etc., etc., in your face and body to make you appear more realistic-looking. But you are already realistic-looking. Just talking to those two warriors, they didn't even think that you are not a human. You even managed to convince them that you are human." 

Evelori tilted her head slightly, as if considering Tina's dilemma. 

"So why? Why not meet up with them?"

Tina's heart ached, a sharp, raw feeling that squeezed the air from her lungs. 

She was so tired—tired of pretending, tired of the mask she wore just to survive. 

She had convinced them, convinced everyone that she was still human, that she still mattered, that she could still be the woman she once was. 

But now, standing here before Evelori, the truth was undeniable. 

She was dead. 

She was nothing more than an echo of her former self.

"Because I can't," Tina replied, her voice shaking with the weight of her emotions. 

"I can't meet them like this because they would see the truth. And the truth would break them. The truth is that I'm not who I was. I can't ever be that person again. I'm not even alive anymore. I'm just... something that lingers." 

She closed her eyes, tears slipping from her lashes and falling to the ground. 

"I don't want to hurt them anymore. I don't want them to see how much I've changed. I don't want them to see me as... as this thing."

Evelori's gaze softened, her undead eyes fixed on Tina with an unreadable expression. She took a step back, her form fading into the shadows of the night, her voice echoing softly in the wind.

"Human...," she muttered, as if the word itself was foreign to her. 

"How strange, Tina. To have such a bond with something so fleeting. So fragile. You were alive once. And now you... you are not."

Tina wiped her eyes, but the tears wouldn't stop. 

"I was never supposed to be this," she whispered, her heart heavy with the weight of everything she had lost. 

"I just... I just wanted to be with them. To be the mother, the wife they once knew. But that's gone now."

Evelori didn't answer. 

The wind picked up, howling around them, but for a moment, the world felt still. 

Silent. 

As if holding its breath.

"Tina, you are my second creation, just before Selene," Evelori said, her tone dark and condescending. 

"You are blessed with such power that I've given you. But you... you are pathetic. Boring. Lifeless. Dull. I thought I would find it amusing to have you brought back to life. But you... aren't. You're nothing but an observer, standing by, watching the world pass by without lifting a finger. What is it that you hope to gain from this existence?"

Tina's breath caught in her throat, her hands trembling at her sides. 

"So... will you perhaps, kill me now?" she asked, her voice breaking with the question. 

"Now that you find me boring, will you kill me now? Now that I've served no purpose to you, will you kill me now?"

Evelori paused, the air thick with the silence of an impossible decision. 

Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of something strange passing across her ancient face.

"No," Evelori finally said, her voice low, deliberate. 

"I wouldn't. Destroying something that I've created... it doesn't fit on my moral."

Tina's eyes shot up, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. 

"Congratulations," she spat, her voice thick with disbelief. 

"An undead like you has a moral."

Evelori's lips twisted into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. 

She replied, her words cutting through the air like a dagger.

"Aren't you too?" 

Tina froze. 

The weight of the words settled in her chest, and for a moment, she couldn't breathe.

"But I wasn't always an undead," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. 

"I used to be human. I used to be a wife. A mother. A woman who had a life. Until I died. Until you brought me back." 

Her eyes welled with tears as the grief of her existence—the grief of losing everything—rushed back over her like a tide. 

"I just wanted to rest. I just wanted peace. But I can't even have that. You won't even let me go. You won't kill me. So I can finally rest in peace."

Evelori's expression shifted, her form shifting in the moonlight like a ghost. 

She gave a slow, deliberate nod, as if acknowledging Tina's pain.

"Then why lend them knowledge in the first place, if you want to rest in peace?" 

Evelori asked, her voice soft but sharp. 

"Why lend those two warriors the knowledge, the secret to where the models that Selene has planted all over the village? You helped. And that isn't considered resting. That isn't resting itself."

Tina's heart froze, her mind struggling to process the question. 

She had helped them, but why? 

Why had she done that when all she wanted was to let go, to finally find peace?

Tina's voice trembled. 

"I don't know," she admitted softly, her words heavy with confusion. 

"I don't know why I did it. I was only supposed to observe. I wasn't supposed to act. I was supposed to watch."

Evelori gave a single, knowing nod. 

"If you won't do anything," she said, her voice suddenly cold again.

"Then you'll see them die."

Tina's heart lurched. 

She asked, her voice tight with fear.

"Who?" 

Evelori's eyes glowed, and her lips curled into a cold smile. 

"Haerak. Aina. Your husband and daughter. And the village. And its people. The ones you care for."

Tina's breath hitched, her chest tightening with dread. 

"Huh?!"

Evelori's voice lowered to a chilling whisper. 

"You heard me once. Not twice. Not thrice. But I am telling you now. If you continue this, if you continue to be this observer you are now, then watch the ones you love... and loved... die right before your eyes."

Tina whispered, shaking her head, tears streaming down her face.

"No..." 

She reached out, but Evelori's form began to slip back into the earth.

"Evelori! Wait—!" 

Evelori's laugh echoed in the distance, fading into the night like a fading dream. 

"You have a choice, Tina. You always have a choice. Make it interesting with your choice."

But it was already too late.

Tina clenched her hands into fists, nails digging into her palms as she took a shaky breath. 

Her eyes were wild, searching the vast emptiness of the horizon, as if the answers were out there, somewhere beyond the dark, stormy ocean. 

But there was nothing.

What does she mean? 

What does she want from me?

Evelori's words felt like a chain around her neck, tightening with every passing second. It wasn't just a threat. 

No. It was a twisted game, a trap. 

And Tina wasn't sure if she was playing into it—or if she even had a choice at all.

Her breath was shallow now, quick and uneven, her heart pounding painfully against her chest. 

She stepped forward, her feet dragging in the sand as though the weight of her own thoughts was enough to keep her rooted to the spot. 

She felt like she couldn't move, couldn't think straight. 

Evelori's shadow loomed over her every thought, and no matter how much she tried to push it away, she couldn't escape it.

"Haerak... Aina..."

The names slipped out of her mouth like a prayer, a desperate whisper into the night. 

Her mind flashed back to them—Haerak, strong and steadfast, with his kind eyes and gentle smile. 

And Aina, her little girl, the light of her world. 

The thought of them—

Of their deaths—

Was enough to send a chill through her bones.

Tina whispered again, her voice trembling. 

"No."

She shook her head, as if denying the words could make them disappear. 

"No... they can't die. They can't..."

But even as she said it, a cold truth settled in her chest, and the pain twisted deeper.

What if Evelori is right? 

What if I don't do anything?

Her mind raced with the possibilities, each one more painful than the last. 

She thought of Haerak and Aina, the way Haerak would smile when he saw her, how his arms would wrap around her, warm and safe, as if nothing could ever hurt them. 

And Aina... her sweet Aina, laughing with such joy, running through the village with all the innocence in the world.

But what if she couldn't protect them?

What if Evelori was telling the truth—what if, in her silence, in her refusal to act, she would be the one to let them die?

The thought of it made Tina's stomach twist in knots, a heavy weight pressing on her chest as the tears threatened to spill. 

She could almost see it—Haerak, strong as he was, lying motionless on the ground, his warm eyes cold and still. 

Aina, her bright little girl, gone.

Her knees buckled under the pressure, and she collapsed onto the sand, her hands shaking violently as they pressed against the earth. 

The world seemed to close in around her, the darkness heavy and suffocating.

Why? 

Why did it have to be like this?

Tina pressed her face into her hands, her breath coming in quick, desperate sobs. 

The wind, cold and biting, whipped around her, but it did nothing to numb the pain inside her heart. 

She was caught between two realities—the woman she used to be, and the monster that Evelori had made her. She had been pulled from death, from the warmth of peace, to live this half-life, trapped between the living and the dead.

And now—

She couldn't even protect the ones she loved.

"Haerak... Aina..." She whispered their names again, this time with more anguish, as though calling them out into the void would bring them back to her. 

"What have I become? Why can't I save you?"

But the silence that answered her was deafening.

The sea stretched out before her, vast and endless, and Tina felt small—insignificant against the backdrop of the world. 

What am I even doing here? 

Watching? 

Observing? 

Her existence felt hollow, like a faded echo of something that had once mattered.

What was the point of being alive—no, not alive—undead—if I couldn't protect them?

The questions cut through her, deeper than any blade ever could. Every answer she found was just more questions.

What am I doing? she thought again, the realization crashing down like a thunderclap.

She had been avoiding the truth for so long. 

She had been hiding in the shadows of her own fears, watching, waiting, doing nothing. 

But she couldn't pretend anymore. 

She couldn't just watch Haerak and Aina suffer because she was too scared to act.

If I do nothing, they'll die. If I stay silent, they'll be gone.

A scream rose in her throat, raw and ragged, but it died before it could escape her lips. 

Tina bowed her head, choking on the realization. 

Her chest ached with the pressure of unshed tears. 

She couldn't breathe.

If I do nothing... The thought hung in the air like a death sentence.

Her hands clenched into fists again, and for a moment, she let the pain flood through her, the sorrow, the guilt. 

She let herself feel it all—the weight of the years of silence, of watching, of being nothing. 

And then, through the haze of her emotions, one thought pierced through like a lightning bolt:

I can't let them die. 

I won't.

It was as if a switch had been flipped inside her, a surge of determination igniting in her chest. She couldn't let them die. She couldn't let Haerak or Aina suffer because she had been too afraid to fight.

But as quickly as the resolve began to form, it faltered, just for a moment. A wave of doubt crashed over her again.

But I'm not enough...

The wind blew harder, whipping her hair around her face. She stood there for a moment longer, letting the words settle into her bones. 

I will protect them. 

I will save them.

She had made a decision. 

Even if it meant fighting against herself. 

Even if it meant breaking the chains Evelori had bound her with.

The night stretched on, but Tina knew now that she wouldn't stand by and watch the destruction unfold.

She couldn't.

She wouldn't.

And if she had to fight, then she would. 

"I will stop whatever it is," she muttered under her breath.

"I hope you're happy now, Evelori."

Because in this dark, endless night, the thought of losing Haerak and Aina was far worse than any fear she had ever known.

═════ ◆ TO BE CONTINUED ◆ ═════