Chapter 217 alt

Lyssandra's clone stood motionless on the dusty roadside leading to Agos. Her mind was still partially linked to her main body, savoring the success of the experiment and lingering euphoria from what she had done to Evelyn.

"Hey… are you okay?" Miriel's soft voice interrupted the stillness, filled with concern. "You've been standing there for like, half an hour…"

Snapping back to the present, Lyssandra quickly readjusted the black mask partially covering her face. "I'm fine," she reassured Miriel. "Just enjoying the outside view and gentle breeze. It's quite refreshing."

She looked at the worrying girl again, assessing her. "You've had enough rest? Or do you want to stay a little more?"

Miriel shook her head. "I'm good. We should go."

"Alright, let's go," Lyssandra agreed. They began walking again, side by side down the deserted dirt road, their boots kicking up small puffs of dust.

They walked in peaceful silence for a time, the only sounds were rustling leaves and the crunch of their footsteps.

Finally, Lyssandra broke the silence with a thoughtful question. "So… back in that ruin. When the fungus affected you and me," she added, recalling her own brief surge of murderous intent from her clone, "you were repeating something about not leaving you. And you seemed very scared. Did something happen to you in the past?"

She glanced sideways at Miriel. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

The Saintess paused mid-stride for the briefest second, then continued walking, her head bowed slightly. Tense silence followed Lyssandra's question, stretching for a few moments.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, almost fragile. "It… it's nothing," she murmured, gaze fixed on the dusty path ahead. "Just… something I remembered from the past."

She took a shaky breath, steeling herself. "But… I'll tell you about it. Since you saved my life… more than once." A small, self-deprecating smile touched her lips. "I owe you that much, at least."

Lyssandra walked in silence beside, waiting patiently, eyes on the horizon ahead.

Miriel's voice softened, tinged with nostalgia when she spoke. Her silver eyes grew distant, lost in memories. "There was a little girl… always with a bright smile on her face. She lived happily with her family in a small, peaceful village...."

-

-

-

-

Inside a cozy, sun-drenched cottage kitchen.

"Mother, look!" exclaimed a bright-eyed young girl with silvery hair, bursting through the back door. In her small, trembling hands, she held a blood-soaked creature. It was a rabbit, its fur matted with crimson, breathing shallowly. A cruel arrow was embedded in its side.

The girl's mother gasped, rushing over. "Oh, sweetheart! Quickly, bring it in here!" she urged, ushering her daughter towards the wooden table.

Carefully, the little girl laid the injured animal down on the smooth surface. Crimson immediately began to pool beneath it. The girl's small hands were immediately covered in red.

"Mother… will it be okay?" the girl asked, voice thick with concern, her big eyes welling with tears.

"Hush now, darling," her mother said gently, quickly assessing the injury. "It's not too bad. You did well getting it to me so quickly."

Her voice was calm and reassuring, a balm to the girl's worries. "Now, hold this cloth here firmly against the wound to stop the bleeding while I prepare."

The girl obeyed, pressing the clean rag against the damaged flesh, her little brow furrowed in concentration. She winced when the creature trembled beneath the touch.

Her mother moved efficiently, gathering clean water, bandages, and a jar of fragrant healing salve from nearby cabinet. Delicate, skilled fingers cleaned carefully around the arrowhead. The rabbit twitched, whimpering softly.