Silva could run effortlessly now, fully healthy from the bruise, and better attached to this forest. She knew its entire layout, from descending hillocks, bushels of thickets, and small, sidewinding creeks that always led outside the forest. The pond's creek which traveled southward was what Silva took before, and she used it again.

Several moments after, Silva had entered the plains once again. While taking the southern hill up, she pondered what she would say to Mlad'at.

Would she praise the spirit again or take a more direct approach? Silva hoped to contain her anger against it, as she was the one who needed its guidance. If the tree had no interest in saving Markus, then there was little knowledge she could use to look for a cure. That was why Silva needed Mlad'at's help, as much as she despised thinking about it.

As she approached the Guardian Tree once more, Silva took a bow. Instead of a slight bow, Silva went down on one knee, lowering her head upon the mighty spirit.

"Mlad'at of many marvels," Silva proclaimed, her voice proud and clear. "I know this meeting was not expected, but I must ask for the Guardian Tree's advice on an important matter. Will you accept my request?"

There was silence.

Silva's brow shed a drop. She never assumed if the spirit was even possessing the apple tree any longer. It waited for hundreds of years, and now that it found the successor of Hnesveta, was it finally time for it to depart?

No, not now, Silva thought. You give me a curse and a sword I cannot control, and then you leave me? I offered my talents to you, and you give me nothing in return? Do you wish for Markus to suffer?

"Do you?"

Silva had not meant to say that aloud, but she was losing her patience. However, those two words caused the tree's branches to sway. An apple later fell from the branches and rolled to Silva's feet.

I accept, Mlad'at answered, its voice not as exuberant as Silva remembered. I was taking such a pleasant rest before you came along, so kindly make it quick so I can return to my slumber.

"I apologize for my bluntness," Silva quickly said. "I was just worried that you may have returned to The Furious One after you met with me."

Well, I was certainly contemplating it, Mlad'at responded. After all, my existence has no meaning now that the sword of the Huns left my bark. But I shall stay here for a while longer, as I have come to like this peaceful place.

Despite the cruelty of the tree, Silva recognized that Mlad'at was not always a hostile spirit. It sensed the beauty and serenity in this land, as did Silva. She loved nature as it was, a sanctuary of warmth and harmless to civilization. Perhaps that was another reason why Silva wished to protect it.

"And so do I," Silva said to the tree, acting upon her thoughts. "And so did Olaf and Matylda Siegfried, as well as their daughter Andreja. Even now, their son Markus still loves this land dearly, so much that he has returned to it despite the pain it brings him."

Rightfully so, Mlad'at replied, but what does this have to do with your request? Are your concerns headed elsewhere from your goal?

"I don't understand what you mean, O' Guardian Tree," Silva responded. "My request is but a simple question, one that concerns the fate of the Siegfrieds. If I may ask, will the curse of Olaf Siegfried be passed down onto each of his lineages? Is what you said before really the truth?"

There was silence for a bit, as overriding gusts of wind picked the leaves and apples off the ground. As they did, they carried the leaves and apples down the hill, rolling until they reached the ground. The leaves stayed as they were, but the apples splattered. Silva looked back up at the Guardian Tree, where its branches were whistling in the wind.

The fate of the Siegfrieds, Mlad'at repeated. Well, it should be obvious, as they are tied to the Huns. Thus, their fate is the same as the Huns, and will always be for every son and daughter born under that family name.

Although what the tree was saying made sense, Silva knew that something was off about it.

"That is what I have come to ask," Silva said. "What you gave Olaf was his earth magic, the source of his curse. Yet, that magic was only passed down onto Markus, and not his sister Andreja. Does that mean Markus will experience the same fate as his parents, and Andreja will not?"

Very perceptive, the Guardian Tree proclaimed. I knew that you had potential, Silva Dreida. However, your statement is partially correct. Andreja was given a different curse, one that she already experienced during her adulthood. Markus, well I suppose he will perish the same way as his parents did.

Silva noticed that the smashed apple was beginning to rot, all while she remembered the tree's words.

Then my concerns were true, she thought. Markus will die of the "stone sickness," and I don't know when that will happen. Does he know about this? And what kind of curse did Andreja suffer from?

Fear was creeping into Silva's mind, pressuring her ears to twitch and nails to scratch her leggings. She was sweating, imagining Markus on a bed, his face colored with a sickly-white taint. Then, his arms, legs, fingers, toes, and all other body parts would turn into frozen sculptures. Afterward, Silva would feel her body being cold, with no place to go.

She would be lost and helpless again.

You are frightened, Mlad'at said, as it noticed the state Silva was in. Why? Why should the death of Markus Siegfried concern you? He has already performed his duties by finding you, training you, and bringing you here so that you could become the savior of the Huns. He will die a proud death, as a warrior and a mentor. He will not be forgotten.

"You..." Silva began to say, her fear turning into anger. She decided that burning the tree wasn't such a bad idea.

"You are cruel," she stated. "None of us deserved this...stupidity...from your ancestors. And none of us will."

Silva took out Hnesveta, the sword gleaming brightly from the Sun above. As she did, she observed that the Guardian Tree's branches were shaking again. Perhaps Mlad'at was afraid of the sword it bore, and the amount of power that it possessed. Perhaps it was hoping so badly that someone would pull the sword off its trunk.

"I will use this sword for my intentions, not yours," Silva claimed. "I will not become your savior, nor will I be your slayer. All I will do is ignore you and the Huns. By doing so, your people will remain forgotten until the end of time."

As Silva said this, she could feel the winds picking up again. This time, they were more violent and full of despair. It was like the tree was panicking, knowing that Silva had meant what she said.

Ignore...us? Mlad'at repeated, his voice in disbelief. You read about our pain, our sorrow, and you will ignore us? There is immeasurable knowledge of us that you now possess, yet you will choose to keep it forgotten. Why?

"I'll tell you why," Silva retorted. "I don't care about your pain and suffering. All of it was a constant cycle of human nature, from the first ruler to the last. They all desired one thing, power, and look where it got them. That was the cause of their downfall."

I see now, the Guardian Tree explained. I see I have made a grave mistake. I entrusted an elf with the sword of the Huns.

Suddenly, the ground shook. Silva then noticed that the apple tree, which sat idly above the ground, had begun to change form. The apple tree, as if it had read Silva's thoughts, was withering right in front of her. Its branches decayed into moldy bark; its pinkish-white blossom leaves decomposed into an ugly, brown color. The apples it bore all fell to the ground, turning rotten as they did so. Most of all, the trunk of the tree weakened, as Silva could see stains of death on it now.

The Guardian Tree was dying, and Silva was witnessing it with her own eyes.

Moments later, the trunk gave in, and the tree came crashing down. In a desperate attempt to flee, Silva picked up her feet and ran, trying to circle to the back of the hill as fast as she could. She was struck in the face by several free-falling branches, receiving a cut above her left eye. Silva shielded her face thereafter. With a dozen more steps, she escaped harm's way.

But the wrath of Mlad'at had not ceased yet.

Out from the remnants of the apple tree's blossoms, there appeared two large ravens. Their bodies were surrounded with a dark-bluish aura, reaching from their claws to their beaks. They were not real ravens, but two spirits who took in the animal's shape and merged with it. The only difference was that these ravens were extremities, beings so terrifying that the skies turned grey, and all nature groveled under their presence.

With black, beady eyes, the ravens glared at Silva. She had nothing to say, as she was awestruck and full of fear at that moment. Still, Silva would not cower. Her sword remained in her hand, ready to strike against the hostile spirits.

We see and hear your fears, both the ravens hissed, their voices callous and bloodthirsty. We feast on your mind and your blood. We crave the carnage given to us. We are The Furious One. We are Myslienka and Pamat.

Silva could feel their bloodthirst, in their eyes and under the stems of their teeth. They were carnivores but also possessed intelligence as if they could envision the future that lay ahead. Hnesveta radiated inside her palms as if it were waiting to return to its master.

Silva held on to it tighter.

We know what is coming, the two continued. War is coming to this land, and you will feed us with the fallen.

"What?" Silva said. "If war is coming, then I will take up this sword to stop it. Only two men must die at my hand, and their deaths shall bring Czahunlia to peace."

You have already forgotten your curse, they proclaimed. Or, you have chosen to forget it. Do not think you can control fate. You know very well that your sword is for only one desire, and that is revenge.

"You are wrong!" Silva exclaimed.

But deep in her heart, she knew that they were right. Or was it that other self, inside of her, coercing Silva into madness? She could not comprehend what her true feelings were, and these spirits already knew that. They knew she was Fireborn, and so did Silva.

So, you choose to ignore us? The ravens repeated, the winds continuing to rise. Then so be it. The Furious One will not guide you, only watch you cling to your false goal, and watch as war tears this land apart.

And as you lose hope, the sword will eat you inside, and your wrath will kill many. And as we watch, once the war is finished, we will feast on the brave men and women who have fallen and send their souls to Valhalla. We, as Thought and Memory, will present them a grand feast in the great hall, and remember their life. But we will forget your life, as it will continue to remain in the land of ashes.

And there will be nothing after, lest the curse is lifted. Only then will you find peace, Silva Dreida.

Then they vanished.

Soon, the clouds parted from each other, and the skies became blue once again. The winds grew calmer, now adjusting to the flow of the plains. Silva stood alone, atop the hill, only seeing a dead apple tree on the mound. With sadness in her eyes, Silva walked up to the tree, placing both her hands on the rotten bark.

"Rest in peace, my dear friend," Silva said to the tree. "May nature take your roots and bring them to eternal paradise."

She lifted Hnesveta from the ground, picked her feet up, and slid down the hill. While she made her way back to the forest, Silva began to ponder what she would do next. Conversing with the raven spirits Myslienka and Pamat only confirmed her suspicions, and now Silva had to decide. Would she act now, leave the manor, and try to find a cure? Or would she tell Markus and Emilie, so they could all worry about it?

Silva didn't want to leave the Siegfrieds, but she also didn't want to tell them about Markus's curse. How would they all react, knowing that Markus was fated to die the same way as his parents? Guren, Abigail, and Judith did not even know about Markus's parents.

Should I tell them? Silva thought, entering the forest grounds, and climbing up the hillocks. But that would leave them so sad. No, the curse must be false.

Silva caught a strand of hair on a thicket patch, while she was questioning her thoughts. She grumbled, and with a single stroke of her sword, Silva sliced the thicket patch in half.

"Aargh!" Silva exclaimed, tousling her hair back into its natural form.

Anger seethed in her veins, but it didn't take long for Silva to calm down. She understood that Hnesveta conveyed her negative emotions, most importantly her feelings of anger. Even for a moment, Silva's personality would become violent. Her nature became much like the other self, sitting still inside her.

I am my own Nemesis, Silva realized.

She waived the remains of the thicket patch off her clothes and hair, taking the creek back to the pond. Silva remembered the commemoration she gave the apple tree, and her anger relinquished from her thoughts. Silva took a kneel, folding her hands in prayer for the thicket patch she just killed.

"I am deeply sorry," Silva said to the forest. "Please forgive me for my ignorance. May God forgive me for my ignorance."

She reached the creek's end, where the pond lay under the tall treetops. To Silva's surprise, there was a lone figure relaxing in the pond. It was Guren, and his eyes were already met with Silva's. He waved his hand at her and rumpled his crimson-red hair.

"Who were you saying sorry to?" Guren asked. Silva's cheeks grew red, as he had heard her voice from afar.

"Uh...the thickets," Silva responded, her ears twitching from the embarrassment. "I accidentally cut one down."

"I see," he said, chuckling at what she said. "Well, I hope your god forgives you for such a sinful act."

Silva kicked her feet at the water, splashing a wave on Guren's face. "Not funny," she mumbled. "I have a lot on my mind, you know."

Guren spat out water from his mouth while rubbing it off his eyes. As he did so, he noticed the sword dangling from Silva's left hand. Silva moved it behind her back, forgetting that Guren had never seen her with her own sword.

"A sword?" Guren asked. "Was that what you cut the thickets with? Where'd you get something like that?"

"Markus gave it to me...as a gift," Silva lied, knowing that the true story would make no sense to Guren. Then again, what she was going to tell him sounded absurd too.

"Lucky you," Guren acclaimed, and he was continuing to gaze at her sword. "Look at how golden its hilt is! And the blade resembles such a bright steel! How did Markus come upon a sword like that?"

Silva held up Hnesveta, recognizing its beauty once again. However, she knew what lay inside it was an ugly and violent display of red.

"Well, it came from Markus, but Markus got it from someone else," she continued. "It was just sitting in the basement for so long. When Markus found it, he decided that it was a good fit for me."

Guren had his arms folded, with a slight frown on his face. "I ain't jealous one bit," he claimed, scratching his scaly back and pointy ears. "I'm sure that sword's rusty old self won't deal a scratch on anything."

Silva chuckled too. "Well, it did cut thickets," she retorted. "So, it's useful for something, at least."

Guren laughed with her. He then dipped his head slightly in the water, angling his body to a near-straight state. He was doing a backstroke, circling his arms back and forth and extending his legs to kick more water. Silva could observe the weblike features on Guren's feet, as well as a small, greenish-blue tailfin exerted from his waist. He really did look like a fish-man every time Silva saw him in the water.

He's growing more and more like one every day, Silva thought. If I recall, Guren's nineteenth birthday was in January, and it's been almost half a year since then. With every month he's changed more like merfolk, which will probably end when he fully becomes an adult. That's not much time left.

Of course, Silva was worried about what life would be like for Guren moving forward. He was a hybrid, and according to the history books, he wasn't destined to live long. Silva didn't dare to say this to him, though. She needed someone strong and trustworthy if she were to go on a journey. That was her final decision.

So, it was even more important that Guren knew about his father and grandparents, and their tragic fates.

"Guren," Silva started, her voice choking up from the anxiety. "I have something to tell you."

Guren stopped his backstroke, with a look of concern. "What is it?" he answered. "What's wrong?"

Silva's ear twitched again; her face scrunched up from the pressure. Now was finally the time, but she was having trouble getting the words to come out. She looked down at the ground, not wanting to see Guren's face. Silva took a deep breath, fidgeted her fingers, and closed her eyes.

"Markus...is going to die," she said.

Silence spread. Only ripples of water traveled in her ears, where the rest of the forest lay quiet. A cheerful encounter had soon turned into a shocking discovery, and Silva still heard nothing from Guren. Nothing but clicking ripples of water, climbing closer to her ears.

Silva opened her eyes. Guren was by the edge of the pond, but his face hadn't changed. Only ripples of water came crashing down on his face, but they were from Silva.

"I see," he uttered, still seeming to be in disbelief. "Huh, that was unexpected. Very unexpected. My dad's...gonna die?"

Silva's tears continued to fall, as she couldn't contain her sadness anymore. She imagined multiple times in her head, relaying this to Guren, Emilie, Abigail, Judith, or even Markus himself. What would their reactions be? Silva didn't want to envision it.

"Markus has...a curse," Silva stated, the tears causing her words to choke up. "And so...did his...parents. They died...from earth magic...called the stone sickness. Markus will die...the same way."

"Stone sickness?" Guren repeated. He sounded calmer like he had grasped what Silva was saying somehow. "Is that really what granddad and nanna died from?"

"Yes," Silva answered. "I read it in your grandfather's diary, one that he had concealed in the basement stairway. Olaf was his name, and he overused the earth magic given to him. He passed it on to his wife, Matylda, and his son, Markus. When Olaf and Matylda got older and weaker, they died from a paralysis disease. Olaf called it the stone sickness in his diary."

I can't tell him about Mlad'at, or the Huns, or anything else I've learned about Olaf right now, Silva thought. Markus needs to tell that story himself, not me. It's...too much.

Guren crossed his arms, staring at the sky like he was trying to understand what Silva had said. Minutes later, he grabbed a white washrag, covering his body with it as he emerged from the pond. He leaned against an oak tree, using part of the washrag to dry his face and hair. After Guren was done, he looked at Silva again, with remnants of his merfolk-like features slowly disappearing.

"That must be why the old man never said a word about them," he finally stated. "He hid it from us because it was painful to talk about. Still, it was like they were forgotten in our house, as there were no stories or pictures of them for me, Abigail, an' Judith."

Then, Guren wiped away tears of his own. "Why were we not allowed to grieve with him?" he asked Silva, his eyes searching for an answer.

"I can't say..." was Silva's only response.

Silva felt awful now, almost like she had told Guren the truth, but not the full truth. Here he stood, finally able to mourn the deaths of his grandparents, but Silva's words felt vague. There were still many questions he probably had, and Silva wasn't sure that she could answer them.

"But...I will find a cure," she declared, and Guren's face lit up. "I won't let Markus die from the sickness. There has to be a cure."

"A cure? How will you find it?" Guren asked.

Soon, he had picked up his clothes from the ground and made his way behind the tree. The washrag flew away from his grasp, floating until it landed by the pond. Guren then turned to face Silva again, with a plain white button-up and brown, tarnished trousers.

"I don't know yet," Silva replied, and it was the truth. "I have a clue, but I am unsure whether to follow it or not. There may be a long, perilous journey that leads to it, and I feel frightened, with fear and excitement."

Silva's feet trembled, but now her tears had stopped their downpour. She was anxious about what was to happen, but also hopeful that she would find a way. After all, she had gotten stronger, feeling much more confident of what she could do. Silva had Hnesveta, something that understood her hatred and her fear.

With Hnesveta, Silva felt strong.

"Before I depart," she told Guren, "I have to ask you this. Will you come with me on my journey?"

Guren sighed as if he knew she would make this decision. "If it comes to saving my father, I will," he said. "If he really will die of this...stone sickness, then I will help you find a cure. I just can't seem to fathom how this all makes any sense!"

Guren clutched his ears, realizing they weren't pointed any longer. With a deep breath, he began to walk away from the pond, heading towards the manor.

"We can't let mum and dad know about this, right?" Guren proclaimed through the forest. "Pack up your things, we leave the house tomorrow morning. Don't worry, Silva, I'll find an excuse."

With that, he was gone.

A while passed, and Silva stared at the foamy, white bubbles that neared the edge of the pond. The sun shined upon them, mirroring a reflection of Silva underneath her gaze. Silva grabbed Hnesveta, swishing the bubbles around until they vaporized into the air. As the bubbles neared her reflection's face, Silva noticed they had vaporized almost immediately.

I am my own Nemesis.

Silva pondered these words more, thinking back on the raven spirits and their forewarnings. They cursed her, saying she would walk around the land of ashes, as souls departed for the afterlife in her name. War was coming, and Silva would be there, along with her enemies.

More and more bubbles came, repeating an endless cycle of ripples until the wind calmed down. Now it seemed like the ones passing through had avoided Silva's reflection, knowing their fate if they came close to it.

But you'll die soon anyway, Silva thought. Only it won't be by my hand. Why are you so afraid of me?

Silva got up from her position, bored from playing with the pond's bubbles. She waltzed near the edge of it, trying not to fall in as well as her sword.

I need to get going, as it's evening already, she thought while staring at the setting sun.

As Silva approached the manor's garden, she noticed that someone was walking up the hill towards the front entrance. Her curiosity peeked, and Silva placed Hnesveta underneath a bush. She rushed to the manor's left side, hiding herself from plain sight.

She got a closer look at the man, perceiving that he was a courier. He looked rather feeble, his leather cap and clothes sagging from their original state. His face seemed tired, with a few dark inlets under his eyes. He reached into his satchel, taking out a white envelope while using his other hand to knock on the door.

Before he did, Silva carelessly strode towards the front door, facing the courier. He was shocked once he saw her ears, realizing that he was looking at an elf.

"I didn't mean to frighten you," Silva said to him with a curtsy. "I am the Siegfried's maid, just finished with garden work. Do not worry, I will give the letter to them right away."

The courier felt relieved, handing the envelope to Silva. "Well, you sure did give me a scare," he stated, and Silva noticed the wrinkles on his forehead. "Never have I seen an elf in these parts; never would've guessed she was the Siegfried's maid! What a strange family, they are."

He greeted Silva farewell, descending the gravel walkway and the hill. She was satisfied that the courier had not been too surprised by her appearance. There were many other humans in Czésta beforehand that were different, which Silva knew all too well. Regardless, she let it go and read the contents of the envelope.

The Siegfried Family, 16 June 1038

From your dear sister, aunty, and sister-in-law Andreja

Silva was tempted to read the letter, as it was from Andreja, and she was curious to know what it entailed. She hesitated, wondering if it was right to intrude, as the letter was written for Markus and Emilie. However, she couldn't seem to wait, having a feeling that the letter was an indication of her future. So, Silva made sure that the envelope was neatly opened and took out a piece of tan-tinted paper.

Dear Missus Emilie,

Greetings to you and your family! I am writing this letter to sincerely apologize for not being able to attend Silva's birthday, as my duties as an herbalist have been needed much more these past few months. Mara has been stricken by a fatal disease, and many of our townsfolk have suffered greatly from it. Thus, I have been awfully busy with patients and have had little time for festivities!

Again, I am sorry that our family was unable to attend, but I hope Silva obtained her present well! We are all overjoyed that you decided to stay at my parents' manor since June, even though it may take some while until this letter is sent! After all this mess clears up, we should visit sometime! Best wishes and good health to the family and yourself!

Love,

Andreja

Silva closed the letter, putting it back into the envelope and sealing it so that it looked like it had never been opened. She was sweating, not because of her anxiety, but because she found an objective. Andreja was the perfect person to talk to about Markus's curse, and she was an herbalist at that. Perhaps she knew of the stone sickness and could help guide Silva in the right direction.

I will head to Mara, Silva thought, turning her way back to the garden. She had to prepare for tomorrow.

***

The next day arrived, and it was a beautiful morning with a clear, bright sky in sight. Silva got up from her bed, pacing around her room. She made sure to grab everything she needed, placing four pairs of clothes inside a leather rucksack, one that she used on her journeys beforehand. Silva also snatched her purple headscarf from the desk, stuffing it inside the rest of her clothes. Nevertheless, she felt accustomed to not wearing it now, only bringing it out of habit.

Silva waltzed to her closet, the door creaking out, showing a patch of darkness. It was disheveled and dusty, which was because Andreja was untidy with her belongings. The room used to belong to Andreja and hadn't been used until Silva arrived.

Reaching her arms towards the closet shelf, Silva grabbed a silver-stranded headband. Attached to the circular, fiber strand were marigold flowers, whose golden-yellow shimmer was lovelier than any jewel. Silva positioned the headband on her head, making sure it was comfortable with her hair. It was a present from Andreja, and Silva treasured it, as it reminded her of her mother and Mary.

It was as if they were right beside her.

Lastly, Silva took Hnesveta, which was hidden on the top shelf, stuffing it in the bag. She then pressed through the piles of things on the floor, finding a leather belt, a pair of pink knitted gloves, a linen facecloth, and a yellow scarf. These were mostly Andreja's things before she left for Mara, and Silva was surprised that most of them fit her.

She put these all in her bag, as well as a leather baldrick, several books from the basement, and her art supplies. They consisted of her paintbrushes, palette, oil paint jars, an ink and quill, and a pile of white paper Silva borrowed from Olaf's study. The easel and whiteboard were too big to fit in her bag, so she decided to leave them in the room.

I'll come back to you two, Silva told them.

The baldrick was a gift from Markus. He explained that it was a sword holder, supposed to be worn over the shoulder and attached to a belt at the waist. The books and the art supplies were in case Silva became bored during her travels, or if she needed to calm herself from future troubles.

With that, Silva was fully packed, and she rushed downstairs to find Guren.

He was already at the door, with a huge bag over his shoulder and Guard equipment in his hands. Abigail and Judith were by his legs, pleading him not to leave the manor. Emilie and Markus were by the living room hallway, holding each other closely.

"Well, I'm off to Eddington," Guren exclaimed. "Sorry Abby and Judy, I've been assigned to the guard there. I won't be there too long, I promise."

Markus noticed Silva first, who was near the front steps, as well as the bag she was carrying.

"And where are you off to?" he asked.

"Please, can I go with him?" Silva asked, and she was looking at Emilie as well. "I've longed to visit Edelbanks for some new clothes and a change of scenery. I'll promise to be careful."

Markus sighed, his eyes showing concern, almost like he realized Silva was lying. He seemed not to though, rubbing the back of his neck and relaxing a little. Emilie's frowning face indicated that she was against it.

"Oh, why not, Em," Markus said, rubbing her shoulder. "The girl has finished her training already. She'll be fine as long as she brings her headscarf."

"I'm still worried about her," Emilie responded. "She was safe and sound in this house, and no trouble has occurred while we've been here. I can't help but worry about what's out there."

Silva was about to say something, but Markus put a hand up, ushering her to close her lips. With a smile, he knew that Silva wasn't the same person she was before.

"Silva's gotten stronger now," he stated. "There's still many dangers out there, but I'm confident that she'll come back. If she doesn't, well, I'll just have to find her again."

Without hesitation, Silva dashed to their side, hugging both Emily and Markus. She could hold back her tears this time but had to leave soon, or else they'd come.

Of course, she was afraid of many things. How long would this journey be? Where would Silva have to go? Who would she have to fight? Would she find the cure for Markus's curse and reach the molten falls?

Would she see the Siegfrieds again?

"I will come back," Silva told them, her arms still clutching onto Markus and Emily's backs. "Thank you for everything you've done for me."

Emilie was holding back tears as well as Markus. "Make sure you do, dear," Emilie replied softly. "This family isn't the same without you."

"What she said, pipsqueak," Markus added.

Silva nodded, letting them both go from the hug and rushing over to hug Abigail and Judith. They, of course, couldn't stop from crying. Abigail ruffled with Silva's hair, much like she did when they first met. Judith kissed Silva on the cheek.

"Bye-bye, Silva," Judith said. "Say bye too, Abby."

"Bye-bye," Abigail said, although it came sweetly and gently, almost like a whisper.

She peered her eyes at Silva, letting go of her hair, and waving her hand goodbye. She couldn't say anymore, taking the steps upstairs and wiping away the tears. Judith followed, trying to console Abigail from her abrupt sadness.

Guren, who was still by the door, made sure to hug his mother and father as well. He stared at Silva, hoping that what they were doing was for a good reason. Then, he took one more glance at the manor and opened the door to the bright sun beyond.

"Ready?" he asked Silva.

Silva nodded. "Ready," she answered him, eyes full of fortitude and singularity.

"Then we're off," Guren stated, raising his hand to usher Silva out the door first.

And so, Silva stepped on the carpet, taking another look at Markus and Emily. Their faces were all she needed to pursue forward, even if they were oblivious to what Silva had discovered. Yet, they looked proud of her, and that was what she wanted out of a mother and father. Silva looked at the sky, realizing how fortunate she was.

Stepping onto the grass, Silva turned to Guren, and then to the trail they would follow in the distance. She was anew; her journey, her purpose, her will, and her mind, everything was new to her.

This is so...exciting, Silva heard Nemesis say.