Severa ran to her mother and cradled her head in her hands. Her face was cold, her white dress stained red, and her bare arms and legs were covered with deep bite marks from the Silvaraptor.
Father knelt beside her, placed his hand on her mother's neck, and stayed silent. He gave Severa a brief look that felt like a dagger to her heart. With a deep sigh, he stood up and placed his hand on Severa's shoulder.

"There's nothing more we can do for her," he said softly.

His hand slipped from her shoulder, and he walked to the cart with the small forest dragon, dragging it further toward the smith. Severa remained behind, crying and trembling, resting her head on her mother. She didn't want to believe that her mother had been so cruelly taken from her life. She wanted to wake up and hear her parents return from the smith. But the cold rain and icy chill touching her skin proved this wasn't a dream.

Her tears merged with the rain, just as the rain mixed with her mother's blood.
The rain, which she had always loved, still fell the same way, but now it sounded different—cold and menacing.

When Father came out of the shop, the blacksmith was by his side. The blacksmith must have seen everything but did nothing. Father seemed unaffected by this, and Severa knew he hadn't expected anything else. He didn't believe in friendship, love, or heroism as mother did.
At the moment of her downfall, mother might have believed she could awaken the dragon's goodness by soothing it with calm words. She might have expected Ambrosius to sound the alarm and the whole of Sylvamarius would come to aid her. Her faith in goodness had sealed her fate. Neither Father nor Severa had been strong enough to protect her from it.

Father and the blacksmith dragged the dragon off the cart and took it to the workshop behind the forge. Then, Father returned alone, carrying a sack that he placed on the cart. He approached Severa carefully.

He slid his arms under her shoulders, trying to lift her up.

"Let me go! You have to help mama!" Severa sobbed, clinging to her mother with all her strength.

Father didn't say a word and pried her arms loose. He lifted her mother and laid her in the cart next to the sack, which must have been filled with valuables. Severa stayed kneeling in the red puddle on the square, crying.

Father pulled the cart toward her and extended his hand. "We'll get through this," he murmured softly.

Severa took his hand, and together they walked to the Pier of Death, next to the harbor. A pile of stones, each with a rope tied around it, was already waiting there. Severa's heart clenched with fear and sorrow.

Father picked up one of the stones from the pile. He didn't bother choosing the nicest one—such details didn't concern him. Severa knew it wouldn't matter to her mother anymore; she was gone.

Father tied a stone to her mother's leg and placed it in Severa's hands. Carefully, he slid his hands under her lifeless body and took her into his arms. Her arms hung loosely by her sides, blood still seeping from her wounds.

Severa swallowed her grief, and together with her father, she walked to the edge of the pier. She looked at him, and he nodded.

With pain in her heart, Severa threw the stone into the water, and her mother followed. Her hair floated in the pitch-black water, her face quickly swallowed by the darkness of the depths.

Falling raindrops blurred Severa's final glimpse of her mother. She was gone, forever. All that remained were ripples on the water and darkness—frightening darkness.

Father knelt beside the water, his eyes red, though Severa couldn't tell if it was from rain or tears.

She sat next to him, surprised when he put his arm around her. The steel armor pressed against her wasn't comfortable, but it offered more comfort than she ever expected from him.
Father sniffled and gazed into the distance, where the planets sank into the sea. "Shall I tell you a story? One your mother told me," he offered hesitantly, trying to hide the pain in his voice with a forced smile.

Severa nodded.

"It's a story from before the Fairytales, a Legend. Maybe that's why it's the only one of her stories I could listen to," he said, still staring at the horizon and taking a deep breath.

"Long ago, a king and a queen ruled over life itself. The king brought death, hatred, and misfortune. The queen brought life, love, and happiness. You might think the king was evil, but he simply fulfilled his role in life's circle, just as the queen did. The world's imperfections made it perfect. Love couldn't shine without hate. Happiness couldn't be valued without misfortune. Life had no space without death.

One day, however, the queen decided enough was enough. It was time for a fresh start. That day, she handed her task to her child and joined the life cycle she had created. She died as a goddess but was reborn as a human.

The child was indeed a fresh start—full of love and goodwill—but lacked understanding of the king's part in life. The child saw evil in him and believed the world would be better without him. Instead of working together, a battle between life and death, love and hate, happiness and misfortune erupted like never before.

The child was stronger, with a soul untainted by time, drawing strength from the queen's all-encompassing love. Thus began the age of harmony, or as the lorekeepers call it, the Time of the Fairytales. But the world was more unbalanced than ever, doomed from the start.
Years later, the king, tormented and seeing his beloved world overtaken, cunningly fought back against the child. Our world proves that the king won. Yet, the world they both loved was lost. Both had good intentions but lacked understanding and cooperation."

Father looked at Severa and sighed, smiling faintly. "You know I don't believe in kings and queens ruling over life. But this story—it reminds me of me and Amici. Maybe of you too," he added hesitantly. "I just want to protect."

Severa stared at him, confused; she could never turn against her father as the child had. She had always understood him, now more than ever. Her mother's death had proven her wrong.

Father pulled Severa closer. Though the steel armor separated them, she hoped to comfort him. "I know, Father," she whispered, stroking his armor.

They sat there a while in the rain by the water on the Pier of Death. She would never hear the rain the same way again. She could never believe in the goodness that had taken her mother's life.

If the Time of Fairytales ever existed, or even the time before, it no longer mattered. What was past was past, and she and her father would have to move on in the cruel world that was now their reality.