I slept deeply, wrapped in the warmth of the blankets and the distant murmur of the wind. But something pulled me from my dream. I opened my eyes and saw Reia sitting beside me, her white, luminous silhouette outlined against the darkness of the shelter. The moon, slipping through the crack in the window, seemed to rest only on her.

  —Come with me —she whispered, her voice so soft it felt like part of the wind—. I need you to come with me.

  Confused, I sat up. The cold mountain air filled my lungs as we stepped through the door. We walked in silence along the stone path until we reached an open clearing, where snow barely covered the rock and silver light washed over the ground like a shattered mirror. The wind blew low, like an ancient song only we could hear.

  Reia stopped in the center of the clearing. For a moment she said nothing, only lifted her gaze to the moon. Her profile looked carved from crystal, fragile and yet unbreakable.

  —There’s something in you —she finally said, still not looking at me—. Something that beats like two currents running against each other within the same river. It isn’t evil… but it is dangerous. I want to help you find the channel before it overflows.

  I rubbed my arms, with a shiver that didn’t come only from the cold.

  —I don’t understand… —I murmured.

  Then Reia turned to me, and her smile was as warm as it was disconcerting.

  —You’ll understand soon.

  eia closed her eyes and, with a slow movement—almost like a dance—let magic envelop her. It wasn’t a sudden burst but a gentle current that lit the snow with golden and white sparks. Her uniform dissolved into particles of light, and in its place appeared her magical attire: radiant fabric that seemed embroidered by the dawn. A short cape floated behind her like the wing of a comet, and the spear that materialized in her hands shone with the same brilliance as her smile.

  —“I love being a Magical Girl,”—she said, and for an instant the sweetness of her voice almost disarmed me—“Now I want to see the same in you. Show me, Lyss.”

  I swallowed hard and let my magic rise. There was no soft glow like hers, but a dark breath that condensed around my body. The black and crimson bodice formed with firm resolve, and the sheer layers of my outfit rippled like restless mist. The rifle appeared first in my hands, an automatic reflex, though my sword still slept within me.

  Reia’s eyes shone as she looked at me—without judgment, only with serene warmth.

  —“Beautiful,”—she whispered—“Even your rage longs to be seen.”

  I averted my gaze, a strange heat spreading across my cheeks. Before I could respond, Reia lifted her spear.

  —“Don’t hold back, Lyss,”—she said, her tone as firm as it was gentle—“I didn’t come to shield you tonight. I came to awaken something in you.”

  And then she struck.

  The spear cut the air with a whistle of light. The blow forced me to raise the rifle to block, and the impact resounded through my arms like thunder. I barely had time to breathe before another strike came, as elegant as it was lethal. Every movement of hers was like choreography: a blade that seemed to sing even as it threatened to cut me in two.

  —“Reia!”—I cried, gasping at the force of the clash.

  —“I’m not holding back,”—she replied, with a sweetness that clashed against the brutality of her weapon—“Because I need you not to, either.”

  Every strike from Reia was faster than the last. Her spear wasn’t just trying to hit me—it traced circles, feints, and arcs that closed in around me like a labyrinth of light. The air whistled with each cut, and my reflexes barely kept pace.

  The rifle vibrated in my hands as I deflected her blows, each impact rattling me down to the bone. The mountain’s cold mingled with the burning heat of my muscles as I retreated step by step. Reia advanced with the certainty of someone unafraid of breaking me—only of leaving me unchanged.

  —“Your defenses are solid…”—she said, spinning on one foot and bringing her weapon down in a sharp arc—“But your heart still hesitates.”

  The strike forced me to roll aside. The spear’s edge split a nearby rock, sending shards flying that grazed my cheek.

  —“Reia! You’re serious!”—I gasped, wiping the blood with the back of my hand.

  She smiled, almost radiant. —“Exactly. And I want you to be, too.”

  She lunged again. This time she held nothing back: the spear’s tip carved a wide arc, forcing me to block with both hands and all my weight. I felt the ground sink beneath my boots, the pressure coursing through me like a crushing wave.

  The impact tore a ragged cry from my throat. The rifle creaked in my grip, and for a moment I thought it would snap in two.

  —“It’s not enough!”—Reia exclaimed, shoving me backward with a strength that didn’t feel human—“I want to see what you’re hiding, Lyss!”

  A thrust aimed straight for my neck knocked the breath from me. At the last second, I managed to deflect it with the rifle’s stock, but the clash left my arms trembling, nearly numb.

  The echo of my breathing tangled with the frantic pounding in my temples. Rage burned in my chest, pressing outward like a volcano about to erupt.

  —“You can’t protect anyone if all you do is endure,”—Reia shouted, her sweetness breaking into urgency—“Show me your true strength!”

  Her spear came down once more, a streak of light aimed at my heart. And then, before I could think, I felt the dark pull in my core. The blood of my crown stirred, throbbing beneath my skin like a fire barely contained.

  A red spark escaped my hands—faint, but dangerous.

  The edge of the spear grazed my neck, and an instinct as dark as it was familiar tore through me. I felt the sharp, searing pain in my abdomen—a wound that never truly healed—forcing a gasp from my throat. My body arched involuntarily as the magic gathered at that scar, burning as though it wanted to split me open.

  With a strangled roar, the sword emerged. Blood Crown burst forth from my stomach in a crimson flare, as if tearing a piece of myself free to take shape. The agony made me stagger for an instant, but the moment my fingers closed around the hilt, the pain transformed into fury.

  The black-and-red blade sliced through the air, clashing against Reia’s spear in a crash that shattered the stillness of the night. The impact drove me back several steps, muscles straining, breath ragged.

  Instead of recoiling, Reia smiled.

  —That’s what I was waiting for —she murmured, eyes alight with fascination—. That strength that hurts… but also sustains you.

  I lunged forward, the weight of the sword pulling me like a torrent. Every strike against the spear was a collision of emotions: her hope against my rage. Sparks of golden light and crimson flares erupted with each impact, like opposing lightning bolts ripping through the night.

  But Reia did not falter. Her spear grew faster, sharper, each motion like a lightning flash that split the darkness. It wasn’t just defense: she was pushing me, forcing me to give more. The blade of her weapon grazed my shoulder, tearing a fragment of my uniform, and the sting only stoked my fury further.

  The burning in my abdomen never faded; each movement reignited it, reminding me how fragile my body was against the power I carried. I could feel my blood—my very blood—pounding with every pulse of the sword.

  —Don’t hold back, Lyss! —Reia cried as her spear descended with crushing force, forcing me to block—. Let it out… all of it!

  A roar ripped from my throat, and for a heartbeat, the world was drenched in red. The sword throbbed in my hands as if it wanted to spill over, and my strikes took on a feral rhythm, more savage than precise.

  Reia barely held the onslaught, and in her eyes there was no fear—only expectation.

  —Yes… —she whispered, driving her spear down against my blade with a crash that shook the dune—. The prelude.

  The edge of my sword clashed again and again against Reia’s spear. She advanced relentlessly, her face illuminated by the light of her own magic, while I retreated step by step, my muscles burning. Every thrust of hers was a hymn of hope turned into a threat, and every one of my defenses a reminder that I could not afford to yield.

  —Don’t hold back, Lyss —she repeated, her gentle voice clashing with the violence of her weapon.

  My body moved almost by instinct, the training with Irhena echoing in every block, in every turn. I managed to deflect her enough to carve out a breath of space—and then I counterattacked. My sword traced a crimson arc, forcing her to retreat with a flash of surprise in her eyes.

  A flicker of satisfaction bloomed in my chest. It wasn’t blind fury: it was control. And that certainty gave me the courage to close the distance.

  With a brief roar, I crashed into her, body against body, our weapons caught in a clash of strength. Reia held my gaze, and for an instant I saw in her blue eyes both pride and challenge.

  Then, with a sudden movement, I released the pressure of the blade and raised the hilt. The strike landed square on her nose with a dry crack, blood spilling at once.

  She staggered back, clutching her face. I stood there panting, heart racing, but there was no chaos in my mind. Not like before. The edge of my rage did not consume me: I was guiding it.

  Reia smiled, blood still staining her lips.

  —Yes… that’s it —she whispered with a fractured sweetness—. You didn’t hold back.

  But she didn’t give me time to lower my guard. In a blink, she raised her spear and the air froze. The snow hung suspended in the night, even my own movements slowed as if time itself had been caught.

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  I saw my sword descend in slow motion, brushing dangerously close to her neck. Reia, serene in the stillness, guided the blade away with an elegant gesture, diverting it with just the tip of her spear.

  The world snapped back into motion in a burst, and I gasped, my heart hammering in my throat. She, on the other hand, smiled calmly, as if she had danced inside a storm.

  —You’re strong, Lyss. Stronger than you realize —she said, still bleeding—. But even strength needs a rhythm… someone to accompany it, to contain it.

  The silence between us weighed like lead. I knew I hadn’t lost control. I knew it. But Reia’s gaze reminded me that this edge could turn against me at any moment.

  The clash still reverberated in my arms, and my breathing came in ragged gasps. In front of me, Reia stood tall, her lance still in hand, though a thin line of blood trailed from her nose.

  —That… —she whispered, incredulous, a smile caught between awe and confusion—. It can’t be. I’ve never seen anything like it. Your power… it’s as if you’re carrying two emotions at once.

  Her words struck me harder than any blow of her lance. Something broke inside me; I wasn’t ready to hear it, and I didn’t want to admit it.

  —What… do you mean? —I asked, my voice trembling, my chest burning.

  Reia lowered her lance slightly, her blue eyes fixed on me as if trying to read the impossible.

  —I'm not sure —she confessed, still surprised—. I only sensed it. Your aura isn’t like anything I’ve ever seen. It’s not just anger… there’s something else, intertwined, breathing with you. And that… that’s dangerous, Lyss. If you don’t control it, it could consume you.

  The weight of her words pressed down on me like a yoke. My anger and my rancor pulsed in my veins like untamed embers. I had revealed too much, let it all spill out. I lowered my sword, though my arms still trembled.

  —Did you… want to hurt me? —I asked, unable to hold back the doubt that clawed at me.

  —No —she said, lowering her lance as well. Her voice softened, but carried its firmness—. I only wanted to push you enough to show me what you were hiding. Sometimes the blows have to be hard to wake something inside you. Forgive me if I pushed too far.

  I tried to smile, though my breath came uneven.

  —It hurts… a little to breathe —I joked, my voice faint.

  Reia rolled her eyes, both amused and worried.

  —Don’t joke about that —she murmured—. Let me heal you, please.

  I shook my head slightly.

  —It was a joke. I’m fine. We can sleep now.

  The glow of her outfit faded slowly, and with it, the tension of the fight. She stepped closer, her lance dissolving like lightning fading into the night, and raised her hand to my face. Her fingers brushed my cheek with a warmth so tender that for an instant I forgot everything else.

  —Rest, Lyss —she said, her voice a refuge—. Tomorrow we’ll fight again. But for now… just rest.

  I nodded, though my body ached and my mind still burned with questions. Because while hope can be a blade… it can also be the only place to rest.

  The morning light filtered into the wooden bunker like a timid thread, catching the steam rising from the cups. Reia had prepared a simple but warm breakfast: soft bread, honey gleaming like amber, and bitter tea that cooled too quickly in the high altitude. The air smelled of home, and for a moment it felt as if the war were far away.

  Caelyn was curled up in a corner, her knees drawn in and her gray eyes lost in some invisible point, so calm she almost seemed asleep. Nysha clutched her cup with both hands, as if that fragile warmth were the only thing keeping her together. Reia smiled with that radiance that always made her seem more light than flesh, while I couldn’t shake the weight that hung between us—unseen but dense.

  —Did you sleep well? —Caelyn asked suddenly, her voice soft as a brush of water.

  —Yes… more or less —I answered, forcing a small smile. She nodded, as if that response were enough.

  Nysha watched me from behind her cup. Her wide eyes blinked, and then she murmured:

  —When you fight… what do you think about?

  Her tone wasn’t probing; it felt more like a confession disguised as a question.

  —About… —I took a deep breath, holding her gaze—. About what I would lose if I stopped.

  Nysha nodded slowly. Her lips trembled before she spoke again:

  —I think about what scares me the most. I let it in… until it becomes part of me.

  Caelyn sighed, a gray murmur.

  —Not all of us know what guides us. But when we find it… even sadness can become a weapon.

  The silence that followed was heavy and serene at once. The stove crackled in the corner, the tea steamed in our hands, and for a moment it felt like that warmth could hold us forever.

  Then, the world broke.

  A thunderous roar shook the mountain, a metallic growl that made the ground vibrate beneath our feet. Dust fell from the ceiling as if the sky itself were caving in. My cup slipped from my hands, spilling hot tea over the rug like a dark wound. Nysha froze, rigid, while Caelyn’s eyes widened in shock.

  —What was that? —I managed to say, my voice barely a thread.

  Reia was already standing. Her expression was still serene, but her eyes shone with something different: not tenderness, not calm, but a blade of steel.

  —That was… a cannon.

  The second shot struck closer, making the entire mountain tremble as if it were breathing in pain. There was no time for questions.

  —Prepare yourselves —Reia ordered, her voice firmer than I had ever heard it.

  With a snap of her fingers, magic burst from her body like a second heartbeat. White and golden light enveloped her in a blaze, and her spear appeared in her hands with the brilliance of a star refusing to die.

  —Follow me!

  The icy air struck me as soon as I let my own magic rise. The black and crimson bodice closed around me with a sigh of contained fire, the sheer layers fluttering like restless smoke. A pang burned in my abdomen, reminding me of Blood Crown, but there was no time to stop. I flew after Reia, alongside Caelyn and Nysha, cutting through the sky like lightning.

  The valley stretched beneath us. Enemy tanks already filled the broken streets, their cannons aimed at the houses and the people. The roar of their shots mingled with distant screams.

  This was no training.

  This was war.

  Reia descended like a thunderbolt, her spear cutting through the first line of tanks with such blinding light that, for an instant, the entire valley seemed illuminated. Metal split as if it were air, and the echo of the explosion was drowned beneath the clarity of her magic.

  Caelyn stretched out her hands, and the sky darkened at once. A heavy fog poured from her fingers, cold and damp, swallowing vehicles and soldiers alike. The sound of engines and shouts vanished beneath that veil, as if the whole world had been covered in a funereal silence. The men trapped within stumbled blindly, colliding into each other, until confusion forced them to their knees.

  Nysha descended trembling, her frail figure wrapped in a smoke denser than the fog. Her shadows spread like a bottomless pit, creeping across the ground until they opened black fissures in the earth. The soldiers of Eiswacht froze in place. Some fired into nothingness, others cowered like frightened animals, and several began to scream with broken voices, as though their worst demons had just stared them in the eyes. Fear—their fear—was her weapon… and it was everywhere.

  I landed awkwardly among a group of soldiers raising their rifles. Instinct guided me before thought: I lifted mine and pulled the trigger. Each shot was a heartbeat, each recoil a reminder that anger could be a shield as well. Yet, as the bullets cut through the air, I felt something was missing.

  Irhena’s words thundered in my mind: “Anger isn’t a wild beast… it’s fire. If you let it loose, it burns everything; if you contain it, it gives light.”

  I clenched my jaw. Drew in a breath. And I didn’t hold back.

  The sword, Blood Crown, emerged from my abdomen in a dark flash, the sharp pain reminding me that this power was never a gift freely given. Its black blade pulsed in my hand as if alive, and every movement felt like a contained roar.

  Enemy steel offered no resistance. I split a tank in half with a single slash, sparks flying like embers. I hurled myself at another vehicle, and one cut was enough to bring it down. Around me, soldiers staggered back with terror in their eyes: they didn’t see a girl or a soldier… they saw a goddess with the fire of wrath burning in her chest.

  Caelyn covered me when a shell whistled toward me: the fog condensed into a wall of liquid, and the impact vanished as though it had fallen into water. Nysha, her voice unsteady, forced back an entire squad when her shadows rose like black fingers to shield a group of children hiding inside a cabin.

  And Reia… Reia was the center of it all. Every spin of her spear deflected bullets, every strike destroyed a cannon, every word she shouted was a command wrapped in hope. Her light kept us together, even as chaos threatened to devour us.

  I didn’t unleash the unbridled fury that had once consumed me. This time, I held it inside, latent, like a blazing heart that I knew could set the world on fire… but for now, it burned only to sustain me.

  The battle lasted what felt like hours. Forty minutes of fire, steel, fear, and blood. At last, the valley fell silent. The tanks were smoking scrap, bodies were strewn across the wet earth, and the air smelled of gunpowder and ash.

  My breath came ragged, each inhale stabbing through my chest. It wasn’t like the last time, but it still reminded me that this blade within me could just as easily give me life as take it away.

  The valley had fallen silent. Only the metallic scent of blood, the smoke of burned-out tanks, and the occasional crackle of metal yielding to heat remained. I breathed heavily, my sword still in hand, its dark edge pulsing like a reminder that it wasn’t just a weapon… but a part of me.

  Reia descended beside me, her lance tilted toward the ground. She no longer looked like the radiant goddess who had struck like lightning, but like a young woman whose eyes carried a worry that hurt me more than the battle itself.

  —Are you alright? —she asked, her voice trembling slightly—. Do you feel anything… in your chest?

  I swallowed hard and forced a faint smile.

  —It hurts a little… but nothing like last time. I can handle it.

  Her eyes widened, alarm flashing across her face.

  —Last time? —she repeated—. What happened that other time, Lyss?

  I tightened my grip on the hilt, lowering my gaze. The blade pulsed faintly, as if it wanted to answer for me.

  —It’s better if you don’t know —I murmured, my voice barely audible.

  Reia stayed silent for a few seconds. Then she sighed, and her warm hand settled firmly on my arm, grounding me more than I expected.

  —Rest now —she said, with a tenderness that clashed against the ruin around us—. You’ve done more than enough today.

  I wanted to believe her. I wanted to think her words could erase the weight in my chest. But when I saw her look around, I understood something else troubled her.

  Her gaze swept across the ravaged valley: the houses still standing but damaged, the faces of people watching us with a mix of gratitude and fear, the remains of an army that should never have been there. Her lance lowered slowly, almost like a gesture of respect to the fallen.

  —How…? —she whispered, as if speaking only to herself—. How could they bring so much force across the border without anyone noticing?

  Silence was her only answer. Caelyn appeared behind us, the gray of her eyes clouded with fatigue, and Nysha stayed in her shadow, still trembling but standing. None of them had answers.

  Reia pressed her lips together and lifted her gaze to the mountains. Her light was still there, but it no longer shone purely as hope. It was more like a beacon burning against the shadow of a question we could not ignore.

  And I, with the sword still heavy in my hand, understood that the battle was over… but the war had only just begun.

  The valley still smoldered, tanks reduced to twisted scrap and the stench of gunpowder heavy in the air. We had barely caught our breath when Nysha collapsed to her knees in the blackened mud. Her shadow—moments ago an impenetrable wall of terror—now trembled like ash about to scatter.

  —Nysha… —I whispered, frozen.

  Her lips barely moved, as if she were fighting against an invisible weight.

  —Reia… —she murmured, voice breaking—. Don’t… don’t leave me… don’t go…

  Her fear wasn’t for the defeated soldiers or the silenced cannons. It was deeper, more terrible—a wound tearing her apart from within.

  Reia rushed to her, her lance already dissolving into light. She knelt before Nysha and cradled her face in both hands, firm yet tender.

  —I'm here, little one. I’m not going anywhere —she whispered, warmth defying the valley’s cold.

  Caelyn leaned in beside them, releasing her magic in a soft, misty veil. The moisture wrapped around Nysha like an unseen embrace. She sobbed once, then breathed… and breathed again, until her pupils—so black they seemed like abysses—slowly began to clear.

  —Are you with me? —Reia asked, her voice almost a plea.

  —Yes… —Nysha whispered, fragile but resolute—. Yes.

  That “yes” was more than an agreement to keep fighting. It was a pact to keep existing.

  The rest of the day we spent aiding the villagers, amidst the smoking remains of the battle. Reia guided them as though every word were a prayer. Caelyn healed and soothed, turning her sadness into balm. Nysha, still trembling, used her shadows to protect the children, coaxing shy smiles from their faces. I hauled stones, shored up walls, even showed a boy how to turn a barrel lid into a shield. Each grateful glance was a reminder that being seen was not always a danger.

  The sun sank low, painting the clouds crimson. Reia approached, dust-stained yet her eyes shone like a beacon.

  —Do you see this? —she said—. They won’t always thank us. They won’t always understand. But this… this is the hope we bring.

  —Hope…? —I murmured.

  Reia smiled, both sorrowful and radiant.

  —For me, Lyss… hope is you. Even if you don’t yet understand it.

  I wanted to reply, but there was no time.

  A sharp crack, metallic, tore through the air like a blade. The sound came from neither villagers nor our own weapons. Instinctively, I turned my head and caught a flash streaking through the sky toward us.

  —Lyss! —someone shouted.

  I didn’t have time to react. The impact hit me like liquid fire, ripping the air from my lungs. The ground gave way beneath my knees.

  I fell.

  The crimson sky was the last thing I saw before everything dissolved into heavy silence.