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High in the Atlus Plateau for the first time, Millicent failed to adjust to such a golden world. Compared to the mundane hues of the south, the Atlus Plateau was like the golden paint that gods had spilled and thrown over the earth: the Erdtree that symbolized the Order, tree sentinels in golden armor, and even the rain dyed in golden. She had never imagined such a new world until she witnessed it herself.
The Order is elusive, and the world is its embodiment. In her hometown Caelid, rot had conquered the land, branding all living things: dogs sprouted tumors, crows grew huge, pale pests displayed ancient wisdom, and men suffered from incurable disease, delirious and painful. Millicent stroked the severed section of her right arm, where there was no pain anymore. Still, she remembered the sight of cutting her arm off to stay conscious: a part of her body ceased to belong to her, from which she experienced her first death; the blood that gushed out of the wound quickly cooled and turned into disgusting fluid. Only then did her sluggish body begin to feel pain.
Yet this inconsequential sentiment vanished after she saw the magnificent royal capital from afar. No one saw Leyndell without tears of joy because all their lives had been dedicated to this moment: the living were now in the limelight, while the dead had returned to the Erd. Millicent was not mute with shock. She had traveled all the way to the north, and the north gave her a kind of kinship that she had never felt before, a longing for home.
Before the sunset, she cautiously explored the brilliant golden plateau as she searched for a place to rest. As if called by a seductive voice, she avoided the central avenue of the capital and entered a chasm at the mountain, an unwise action. Yet, she believed unreasonably that there would be perfectly safe, parting the drooping green vines and entering its depths. At the end of the path, she took a deep breath and shuddered, unveiling the mystery of another world.
Time froze in front of the crumbling statue. Statues, same as portraits, were moments drawn from the vast time. The one before her was much more casual than majestic statues everywhere in the Lands Between. A young, one-armed woman shielding a younger boy. Not a smile or a scowl on their faces, only sadness, or nothing. It was already dilapidated due to its hidden environment, and she was not sure if the owner of this statue had chosen to hermit themselves into the mountain or had they been abandoned, just like her. Out of a shared feeling, she prayed silently, and it was then that she saw the sacramental buds surrounding them begin to emit ethereal, beautiful light. In the blurred, dim, lifeless world, in such kind of weird trance, Millicent saw the tear stains on the embracing demigods, perhaps it was the evening rain dripping down on their everlasting faces, otherwise how could a stone shed tears?
It was late when Millicent finally found a small room to put up for the night. It was a shack, much smaller than hers in Caelid, but the inside was well laid out. The house’s owner was here no longer, probably far away from home, or moved into the catacombs. Either way, Millicent placed her left hand on her chest, prayed for those she had never met, for they lived happily ever after, and thanked them for leaving such a legacy. Although there was a leak, fortunately, it was not the cold season. Millicent spread out her baggage, covering her body with clothing as a quilt and finding a clean place to lie down. She saw an emerged, transparent butterfly fly into her room and disappear suddenly. This was not a novelty; she had seen it often. Some say this kind of butterfly is ephemeral, demanding to know where it comes from, failing to fly to the distance, translating and fleeting, and turning into the light wind before it stays in one’s palm. Millicent did not try to catch it. A butterfly’s life is mere an instant to a human’s, but what about a human to a demigod in ancient legend? Humans complained that life lasted only a few decades, and would the butterfly lament that it could never know the world of tomorrow? So she blew softly, fly, fly away. She murmured and closed her eyes. Shortly afterward, she felt someone shaking her shoulder, calling to her.
“Time to get up.” A soft voice whispered in her ear, a light sense that did not belong to her, with the lingering warmth touching her heart, “My love…”
She did not know if it was calling her or not, and even for a moment, she forgot many things that rot had constantly consumed her flesh and memories, but this was different, like mixing all the colors on a canvas, she could not tell if it would turn into a colorful painting or chaos, or nothing, because everything here was false, blank, futile. Her exhaustion was not due to fighting but to the questioning of individual beings. Of the many children in the family, she was the only one to ask Gowry: why am I living in this world?
Gowry looked puzzled in the face of his young daughter’s doubt. He was hesitating whether he should prematurely introduce them to the mysterious and obscure Order by telling her about her mission that is hard for her to understand or whether he should cover up her strange life with a lie, which would, in turn, allow her to trust him better. However, the sage was not a good liar. He said that someday, you will be the most beautiful flower.
“The Erdtree does not blossom,” said Millicent. “The Erdtree bestows a soul on us, and when we die, we return to the tree. But rather than the Order being the source of life, I still believe that life comes from reproduction. Life is so short. People want to leave a mark, so they have offspring. I never knew if I had a father and mother. If I ever met them, I think the image of father must be like you, who gave me unconditional love. Yet I don’t understand why I was abandoned when I was born.”
“You are not abandoned, daughter. You’re awaiting the day to witness your destiny.”
“Destiny? To reunite with them? But it wasn’t a reunion or an apology that I was looking for. I just wondered why my mother never looked forward to my birth. Why else was she never in my life?” She longed for an answer.
Gowry picked young Millicent up and sat her down next to him. He loved to read to the children. Sometimes, he would talk about the Golden Order and the Erdtree at the center of the world; sometimes, the sorcery of Sellia; and sometimes, he mystically eulogized another order. He drew a sigil on the paper, a budding flower, and told her of the cycle of rebirth. In the cycle, one meets a fate that cannot be broken. You will fight, shout, cry, and after that, you will be reborn into a destiny you cannot resist.
The day Millicent started her journey, she had forgotten who Gowry was. She was always alone and revealed herself to no one. She had been solitary and silent for so long that there was no room in her heart for another. Before she left, she thanked the Tarnished, who had saved her life and encouraged her to keep going.
“Who are you?” asked Millicent. She could not move yet, and strength filled her empty, tired body like wine. She opened her eyes and saw first the dark shadow swaying in front of her, then the world being disintegrated and reconstructed, and by the time she got up, she was in a soft bed. She was astir, followed by the thought that such a cozy room must be expensive, and she had no rune… A scam. It must be a scam.
“A nobody.”
“This is not my room.” Millicent asked, “Where am I? Where am I going?”
The shadow was unreal. It was meant to be so. Its voice was muffled and hoarse, hard to make out, but its words reached her, “Come to me…”
The door was opened. Millicent stared in bewilderment at the people streaming in, carrying their trays in, without a word. She could not see the mirror clearly, nor could she watch her own face, with silence surrounding her. Then she saw them exit eerily, lengthening, fading, melting into the darkness. But she could no longer feel its presence when she tried to call out to the shadow again. A terrible fate led her through the door, through an empty corridor. She wondered where this was, perhaps Leyndell, the royal capital without the Erdtree, where Queen Marika lost her luster, the statue of the Elden Lord shattered into massive pieces, and the family portrait was torn up. For something compelled her, she walked forward in a daze. As she stopped at the end of the corridor, the noise came from within the house.
“Why am I the cursed one? Why was I born to be an unwanted child? Why did they bring me into the world if they disliked me, loathed me, despised me?”
“It’s not like that,” said another one. “Many others love you, and so does our mother. Rather than bringing a worthless girl into the world, I think they must have been harboring apologies for not being able to give you a healthy life. Our father told me once if only the Golden Order could bring you peace for a moment.”
“Liar. I don’t believe it.” She said, “At our birth, they put me in a golden cradle, crowned me with golden leaves, and then proclaimed my being an insult to the family as my skin rotted. Mother said I was the westering sun of the dynasty; Father said this was a fiery flame from the abyss that would devour the gold; champions said I was an outcast from the royal capital, and my hair looked like blood shed by warriors at twilight. No one loves me!”
“At least let me be the one, Malenia,” said the boy. “When you wake up, do you see the orange, red, and golden clouds? They seem like new fires, lighting torches that have gone cold from last night, bringing life back to the land, a refreshing and unquenchable splendor. Shall I praise that you are my morning sun?”
The conversation ended abruptly. There was no one behind the door when Millicent pushed her way in. Outside the window was a foggy dawn. So she opened it and, without hesitation, jumped up into the branch connecting the window and continued. Just as she climbed upwards, she saw the sun rising from the east. In Caelid, the sun was permanently replaced by the blood-red sky, while the misty, rainy Liurnia of the Lakes rarely had clear mornings. For an instant, she believed in some things too, that she could really be the morning sun illuminating the way and sheltering the new world. There were only sunny days, no scarlet sky, no cold, damp rain. The higher she climbed, the brighter the sun became, and at last, the world beneath her was drenched in golden, forcing her to close her eyes and bow her head before the great light source. Just then, she saw before her a vast blue sparkling in the sunlight. It was the ocean. At the end of the branches, she climbed into another window.
Millicent found she did not fit in with her sisters. They were willing to seek guidance from Gowry in the Golden Order or ancient incantations. However, Millicent was born with a taste for blades. One day, Gowry asked her if she was not interested in the Order, then what about sorcery? Not far from us is Sellia, where a mighty demigod began to come to the top. He came from afar, starting his second life here.
“Well, is he in seclusion, being a master in Sellia now?”
“It would be the other way around. Sellia instead became the beginning of his tragedy. However, sorcery is harmless, for it is the fruit of sorcerers studying the stars generation after generation. If you have an interest in it, I can write to them and have them accept you.” Gowry said graciously.
“What if I say I like swords?”
Gowry was astonished. Soon, he approved of her hobby. He was delighted that Millicent had found something she was indulged for and prized that she would make something of herself and become the most magnificent flower. Caelid was barren, and he seemed to yearn so much for a vibrant land, usually saying that they were green buds. Millicent asked if we could move to Limgrave but was refused. Of course, a few days later, Millicent received a gift from her foster father, Shamshir, a curved sword.
She was a good learner. She still had her right hand at that point. A year later, she was able to walk around Caelid without fear of crows chasing her. Now that she thought about this skill, it might also come from a memory ingrained in her soul. She went to a long corridor again and saw blurred figures flowing past her like running water, where she was merely an outsider, being invited to a fantastic time and space, witnessing the story as a ghost. She heard the knights downstairs cheering, bestowing glory upon the woman on the high platform, scattering laurel leaves into the air, and covering the way with ivy while she embraced her brother. Yet away from the cheering, the farther Millicent advanced, the wearier and worse she felt, she tottered as if passing through a swamp, where the Lake of Rot was eating up her flesh every moment, and the pests attacked her with their threads, strangling her throat, keeping her from calling help. I have to keep my wits about me, she said to herself, as in the church she saw a Tarnished from afar, who gave her a golden needle and told her to insert it into her heart. At that time, it occurred to her that it was the needle that had led her here, that had guided her to someone…
…To her end.
The day she lost her left leg, they prepared a wheelchair for her, announcing that she was going to spend the rest of her life in this tiny chair. It was nothing. You must think that a great number of people suffered severe illness due to poverty, and plenty of deformed infants were born to be sent to the underground. Countless people would be willing to give their entire lives up to exchange a day of yours; you know they were taught that “all roads lead to Leyndell” but dared not to imagine what Leyndell is. She knocked the chair down to the floor and shouted at them, cursing them, driving them out, saying that they hypocritical bastards all laughed at her for being the severed. When Millicent opened the door, she glanced at her and said nothing.
“Do you want to stand up again?”
“I do. I hate myself for being sick and weak. But they are not wrong somehow. My journey ended before it began. Why am I the one who suffers? Is this a trial by Rot or by the Golden Order? Or maybe it’s nothing but the sickness that is supposed to endure. Still, I keep questioning why the more I desire, the more fate chastises me. Dearest brother, I don’t want to be the one in the wheelchair. I want to fight for you.”
“I think I am coming to my answer, Malenia,” said the brother, “I have a tree in the snowfield of the north, which is adjacent to Castle Sol. In the morning, we are able to be the first to witness the sunlight in the Lands Between. After the consecration, my tree drew out green branches tinted with red and gold, outshining spring flowers and summer vegetation. Beneath the tree lies a city of mine, and I implore you to come with me.”
Malenia asked, “Can our newborn tree match the Erdtree that fell with stars thousands of years ago, that flourished and blessed the whole earth, and will there be a land for our tree to grow?”
“That’s true. But as you say, the Erdtree is a star shooting to land, while the Haligtree sprouts from the sea. One is a descent; the other is a growth. Thus, the Golden Order is merely a river from ancient times and is now drying up as if it had flowed into a desert, but not mine. From the watchtower of my sacred city, I can see the sea in the distance, so the Haligtree is an ocean that will never wither but embrace all rivers. It calls for waters from the rivers, rains from the tempests, and snow from the mountains, in the end, rivers can no longer match the ocean. My twin, I want you to bear witness as well. In Erdtree Sanctuary, Father stood by my side, but in my church, I wish it to be you.”
Malenia tried to bow and kiss him, but he said, Don’t lower your head. Please never do that for my sake.
“I always think I cannot love someone more than you.” Malenia told him, “I could not have adored you anymore if you’d been the only one in the world, as a sibling or a consort.”
“My beloved sister, you deserve a bright future,” said him, “You will stand up, you will fight, never experience defeat.”
Malenia was not yet cured. At midnight, she finally drifted off to sleep, and Millicent knew herself for the first time in the mirror: small odds on her face, as young as ever, and yet there was a slight difference. She gazed at herself in the mirror long, Who am I? It was difficult to know yourself, and so did Malenia, who was always confused: continual nightmares and whispers of rot misted reality from fantasy, distorted the face of the world, and clouded her real self. And identity was only a meaningless symbol.
In the swamp of Caelid, Millicent heard of the great Battle of Aeonia: this land was cursed by the Goddess of Rot. She had unleashed her evil power at war to draw with General Radahn. At that moment, the heavens and earth melted, ages changed, the Erdtree lost its glow, and Caelid became a bloody pool. All who witnessed the scarlet rot blooms that day were afflicted with rot diseases for the rest of their lives and failed to recover. Some of them cut off their necrotic limbs to survive, others lived in madness for scarlet nightmares, so Malenia always symbolized horror. Gowry rarely spoke of the war and even less of Malenia. When he did, it was always with a particular mania, that is her fate, and one day she’ll return to us. Before the inexplicable euphoria, Millicent felt lost—
—Why is he sure that this is her fate? One will follow the trace from birth and can’t fight it, so who laid down the rules? If we reach the end and realize that all the effort is worthless, should we struggle at first?
Gowry delighted in teaching his children. He taught them the virtues of beings and rarely interfered with their choices. Still, Millicent learned to judge his expectations by observing his reactions: he was pleased when her little sister grew a great interest in pest threads. Conversely, Gowry was somewhat disappointed when Millicent told him she felt bored about that. That night, she felt something was about to break out of her body like a seed germinating from its breeding ground. And it was a horrible sensation of being gnawed by pests, eaten by the butterfly, and dissolved by the lake. It was flowering. It was a curse from Malenia. Because of this, she avoided staying with others closely. She was accustomed to being alone, living alone, and going tramping on alone. Apart from Tarnished, who showed up mysteriously, she never had any other friends. After bidding adieu to her past, Millicent began her vagrant life.
No place in the Lands Between is more prosperous or beautiful than the Atlus Plateau. Here is the center of the world, and the Grand Lift of Dectus connects two worlds. Under the edge, waters and mist form Liurnia, and storms rest in the depths of Limgrave. Even though all these spectacles hold the wonders of ancient civilizations, no city can parallel Leyndell, the royal capital, which stretches across the most glorious histories. Yet Millicent did not think the Atlus Plateau was her destination when she first set foot on it. She rarely stayed somewhere long, for she aspired to a life uncertain as storms rather than a stagnant one, like two legendary rivers, the Siofra and the Ainsel, run through civilizations that flourished before the Erdtree without drying up. Rumor has it that these two rivers continue to flow today. So she did not cease: there was always a way to the future.
She looked into that mirror and gradually understood the answer to the mystery: what kind of relationship do I share with that person? Does she know me? Does she know that I have gone through much of her past? Does she want to see me? Will I survive her grave? But I have waited for someone, someone I had never met but loved sheerly. Just then, she walked through that mirror to the garden finally. In front of a gravestone, her dream came true. The young Empyrean was laying flowers for the dead—he placed unalloyed gold water lilies in front of the headstone and intoned a prayer that made even the ordinary flowers shimmer. It was here that his peaceful, divine, innocent voice gently beguiled a tender soul, the voice which was interwoven with the sound of the waves that broke mournfully on the impregnable ramparts. It was when she ultimately felt somewhat tangible: she was no longer a bystander but came into the tree. His murmurs purified a heart seeking rest and a life seeking solitude.
That brought her a feeling of being alive.
“Sister.” He said, “You are leaving Elphael next morning. I intended to come to your room a moment later. Do you have something to tell me in such a hurry?”
“I’m not leaving, my lord.” Millicent said, “The Shattering means nothing without you, and the future of the Haligtree lies nowhere else but here. I want no part of the war but to be your sword by your side! Something terrible will happen if I leave. I will not forgive myself certainly that way, and I would rather have the curse come upon me immediately.”
“I will enter the tree while you head for the battlefield. We need to part for some time until the world changes. It doesn’t mean I want to, but we have to. I believe that it will bring us a better future.”
“I don’t care.” She lost her cool, “I have reasons for staying in the Haligtree, by your side. Our tree is facing a disaster, and I am your protector. Now that we have known, things will be different.”
He ceased his prayer, “Who are you?”
“I…” she paused, “I’m your sister.”
“No, you are not,” said the Empyrean. “Traveler from afar, could you please tell me your name?”
Millicent was dumbfounded, her body was frozen, and her legs were heavy as if they were rooted in the ground. His pale golden eyes fixed on her face for he had insightfully seen through her real self, making her uneasy. She feared his overly intelligent, seductive soul: in the past, the present, and the future, he was a beacon in turbulence that waves could not shake.
“Millicent. My name is Millicent.”
“Welcome to my Haligtree, Millicent.” He smiled gently, “I have to apologize for being rude just now, or, maybe you have any connection to Malenia.”
“I know not. But what does it matter? My lord, I see, I see them all, for I come from your future. Malenia flowered in Caelid and vanished, nowhere to be found. I heard she returned to the Haligtree and never recovered, trapped in a long dream from which she never woke. And you, no one knows what happened to you, my lord. Some say you were kidnapped; some say you were slain in silence as the Black Knife Assassins killed Godwyn. The Haligtree is withering. I felt sorrowful, as if I, too, had once stabbed a blade into my heart and then plunged into emptiness and nothingness. Now I understand it all when we meet.”
“I’m sorry,” he handed her the winged helmet, “thank you for telling me all this, but as you said, this is what has happened, which means it is our destined future. I can’t respond to your expectations.”
“Is it merely a lie that you tell Malenia day and night to forestall rot, that stagnation leads to decay, that nothing is as it should be, that fate is a sword in the hand? You and Malenia came here to defy the Golden Order, to declare war on fate, and now you want to deny me.”
The Empyrean said, “Because I see a future beyond that. Until then, all are not endings. And if someone presumes to hurt me, to kill me, I must face that malice, not that I’m heroic, but I know that way I have to go through, even if thorns cover it that are going to pierce my eyes, cut my skin, and rob me of my youthful, abundant power, I will walk through it.”
“All will turn into weariness and misery if we wait that long,” said Millicent, “Someday, the Golden Order will be reborn, the Stars may replace the Erd, the ancient dragons will perish from the heavens, and the Haligtree will be silenced for all eternity. Are you not afraid that all your endeavors will be in vain?”
“I am. But I will go on. The freedom I gifted her and the sacrifice I will undergo are on this road. Amid countless futures, I see the final triumph of the Haligtree, and even if there is only one hope, I will have a try. It is still unknown who the winner will be. However, Malenia is destined to lose me, and me to leave her. We will both have to meet a death before we can experience rebirth and be reunited. It seems stubborn and stupid, dear Millicent, but the Haligtree has not fallen yet; we’re still where we are, just like you haven’t found the destination of your journey, which means the tremor of the resounding bronze has not yet wafted the grief and despair. The embers are still smoldering in the dust until they burn some time from now.”
“What if we failed?” Millicent asked.
“That also goes along with our resistance. The Shattering began with the death of Godwyn, and Queen Marika was imprisoned in her tree as a result of her resistance. To this day, I mourn Godwyn, my lord brother, not for his death, but for the fact that he perished in soul alone! Yet, on the day of his funeral, it occurred to me that the death of his soul was an escape. We are bound in a battle with no way out, to be a lord, to be a god, to rule and conquer, to sacrifice and destroy. Alas, Godwyn was away from it first. He was the first demigod to die, an outstanding monument on this barren land. If Malenia and I fail, we break the curse we were born with instead. Is that not a kind of immortality?”
She did not answer. More than fear of doomed failure, she had long had a strange desire—to live and to die. She was afraid and did not understand it.
“You shall not stop.” He said, “Everything here is nonexistent; it is the past, even as I am. What you have seen and heard is obliterated, and will I, at some point in the future, condemn my mission as fleeting as a torrent that falls from such heights and rushes swiftly down with nothing left in the rapids? Fate is sometimes not candid; you can see a way, but not the end. Well, Millicent, you know where to go.”
At the edge of the Lands Between, Malenia had not heard back from the person she had missed for a long time, and only a Haligtree knight dared to write to her. The rider who delivered the letter ran four horses to death and came with urgency. That man was dying when he arrived in the south. Malenia read the letter and quickly burned it.
“What is your next order, my lady?” Her knight asked her.
“We will take Caelid,” said Malenia. So Finlay passed on the order: we can only succeed.
Redmane Castle was not as easy to take as they think. Even though Malenia was one of the best militarists, fighting with her valiant Cleanrot Knights, Redmane Castle remained unbroken, the banners on its walls unbowed. When General Radahn raised his curved greatswords, the earth was shaken. The crumbling stones falling from the mountain were reorganized by his gravitational forces, crashing down, sparking wonders like shooting stars. Men are to falling stars as sands are to mountains, and the knights, awed by witnessing sorcery that mimicked the wonders of nature, were smashed to pieces by the descending swords and collapsing stars before they could once again devote themselves entirely to the war.
The battle of Aeonia lasted for a long, long time. Her armies were getting weaker and weaker after the long march, and the fallen knights could not stand up again before they could be treated, while the Redmane Knights were not as energetic as they were in the beginning. Even though General Radahn earned considerable renown as the mightiest demigod, his soldiers were jaded with war after the unsuccessful attack on Leyndell. By that time, they were already exhausted, emptied of life. The day before the final battle, she directed Finlay:
“I have made up my mind to curse myself.”
Finlay hesitated before nodding. She had other plans. At that moment, the knight replied, If this is your last order, we will never fail you.
The last battle broke. Radahn, with the title of Starscourge, pulled his greatswords out of the ground. Heaven instantly collapsed, sandstorms splashed as freak waves and gales blew like barley-grains, so the battlefield was blinded with the purple glow of gravitational projectiles, revealing an ominous color. The Cleanrot Knights stepped on the corpses of their companions and plunged off, thrusting their spears into his back, the ground shuddering under them.
In the end, only Malenia and Radahn were left. She prayed as she put on her war prosthesis: For the sake of Miquella, I must renounce, abandon, and destroy myself.
Such a desire was not as heavy as she might think.
When “Blade of Miquella” jumped on Radahn’s shoulder, she instead stabbed her blade into her heart. This was the end of the Shattering, a war which often suffered denounce as being inferior to the champions of the ancient times expanding their domain or the honorable sacrifices for spreading the faith during the establishment of the Order for the sake of their own greed. Since then, the swordswoman had borne the title of “Goddess of Rot,” becoming all decay and plague, while she herself was forgotten in the long ages.
When the Scarlet Blossom was flowered, no one denied that it was a miracle only performed at the coming of the new Order on the Lands Between. General Radahn had since perished, while Malenia lost her mind and never awoke. Millicent looked down and saw blood gushing from her very chest. She heard it last:
I would forsake all that my being and my soul. But Miquella, my dearest brother, I…
At that moment, Millicent witnessed her birth.
Her old ghost, hardly more substantial now than an evening shadow three-quarters effaced, was gathering around her. At an indeterminate distance, intermingled with strange apparitions, she seemed to see the airy forms of Malenia and Miquella, from which she ultimately entered her labyrinth.
Millicent was unfamiliar with Miquella, while Malenia was not the same. The Haligtree was always the home of serenity, a serenity that could pacify storms and yet seemed akin to them, pure and eternal. There was strength in her soul to sustain her in her own misfortunes, and she saw that in her struggles the certainty of triumph and overwhelming glory in her overwhelming woe instead of her days in the prayer room. The knights asked why she didn’t attend church, Lord Miquella was preaching in the prayer room. She wanted to leave as well as stay with him, but Miquella was always out of reach. Earlier, in the very front row, when the sound of her restless sighs mingled with his reverence, she would always want to flee.
Miquella found her when he returned, I was looking for you in the crowd this morning but you weren’t there. Why is that?
She was in agony as if entangled in the chain from the Great Will, uttering no sentimental words. For here was Miquella. Miquella said, Well, then. He clasped his hands tightly, bowed his head, rested his forehead against his hands, and then said, I pray for you today, too. I pray that you will no longer suffer the rot disease…
Her emotions, which had been vague for so long, now seized avidly upon this. Holding his hand suddenly she said, “No need to pray for me, lavish your sister an embrace. You’ll stand higher, but please don’t go far away. You’re so distant that I won’t be able to feel your soul.”
How dreadful. Miquella was at a loss for words. Quickly flinging himself on her, he held her in his arms and kissed her shivering rosy lips. His words struck her ears, “I’m sorry. Malenia, my twin, my love… I only wish I could love you more…”
His warm gaze and passionate words became her medicine. This sheer love presented her with never-ending hope, living in her mind and above her immortal soul. At the same time, misfortune opened her grave and placed an end soon to vanish in it.
Once again, Millicent felt a sense of unreality envelop her; loneliness surrounded her as she walked through a blank world. Was this her dream? This destiny drove her forward. Millicent stepped forward and saw the intricate roots appearing like a mirage before her. She took a deep breath and slowly said, “I know you have been watching me.”
The shadow showed up again. The fog converged at her feet, and she, fearless and dauntless, grasped the hands in the thick fog. What kind of hands they were, she could not tell, but she guessed that they belonged to an aged man with wrinkles as rough as an old tree. She finally grabbed the hands.
“I know it is you… Lord Miquella. I know that even if it wasn’t in the dream, you protected me on my journey, and I also know that you often calmed my frantic heart only because you heard my call. Even if I have never seen you before, I know… that I have loved you dearly since long ago.”
The shadow dissolved, revealing a broken figure. She felt sad and wanted to cry, to pour out the pain of the journey or the joy of the meeting. With the warmth from her fingertips and the image from her fragmented memories, the world swayed, shaking, and flipping, followed by a golden-haired boy. It was but her memory. Miquella was probably older than the old at sunset, more dying than the withered Haligtree. But she saw his usual peaceful, incorruptible smile.
“No need to call me a lord, Millicent.” His voice smoothed her, “You don’t have to call me like that.”
“What is the purpose of all that you have presented to me? To lead me to the Haligtree, somewhere to find you, or tell me about my destiny? I know now that perhaps my life is that of Lady Malenia. I will dedicate myself to returning her will, her soul, and then pray earnestly that she will be reunited with you.” So kind she was. Millicent finally could not hold back her tears as she finished all this. She subconsciously tried to wipe away her vulnerability, but Miquella allowed her to release her emotions.
Millicent whimpered, “Even so, my tears… are not for myself but for you, Lord Miquella. You used to shed tears for Malenia, who always hid her soft inner self to be invulnerable. If a part of her soul rests in me, then this time, please let me weep for you. Suffering has left so many scars on you while you bear it alone. Lord Miquella, for once or for all, please allow me to touch you.”
Miquella came closer to her. He was so remote. Millicent hugged him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She had no doubt that she could have penetrated the phantom if she had applied more force. Looking at Miquella up closely, she was brought back to the memory of the nameless statue at the depth of a cliff somewhere on the Atlus Plateau. She, in her dream, saw the rain melt the stone, splitting his young and perfect face, leaving incurable marks and nourishing the red leaves beneath them. Not far beyond the royal capital, the golden twins were forsaken and solidified into a deadly statue. Yet the one she embraced was the real, existent. He was right here. She must have held him like this so often before: his flowery scent, his tender breath in her ear, his lips sweeping across her cheek imperceptibly, him, always him. Her memories were so new, shimmering, blinding her with tears.
Fragile. Distant. Away from her.
“Thank you for coming to me, Millicent,” Miquella patted her back softly, “I think it must be that we share an unusual connection.”
“I… would not admit that I am Malenia herself. I have only had decades of life, which was only a moment of her living, but it was enough for me to be Millicent. I questioned where my life came from, and now I have the answer, yet I still feel that the part of myself should be filled instead of hers. I cannot meet your expectations.”
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t say you are Malenia herself,” said Miquella, “You are quite unlike her. You are modest, polite, and much too punctilious. If Malenia is somewhat like you, I am sure she would be a fine lady in Leyndell.”
Millicent answered, “I beg to differ. I’m not a lady. I’m sure of my skill with the sword. Perhaps I can lend you a hand and impress you in the battle!”
“Sorry for the joke,” Miquella replied, “You are blessed with a courageous, noble heart, which is invaluable. Even if you used to be part of her, now you are an independent warrior.”
She had no way of knowing whether she would still exist after meeting Malenia. If she was only a part of the demigod’s shattered soul, she was doomed to fill the emptiness of the goddess. But in all her travels, it occurred to her that she was not Malenia. She was merely Millicent, a woman reared in a barren, rotting land, raised in the house of a sage, and living out her life in poverty but freedom. Malenia never went through any of that. She was born on top of Leyndell, adored by the knights, and blessed by the Scion of Abundance. Surrounded by those who came to her as the tide and out as the wind and rain, she, a legendary conqueror from the North to the South, loved Miquella deeply, with his faith and the Haligtree, while Millicent was a nameless traveler from the South to the North. Malenia erected monuments to her victories wherever she fought; Millicent left stories of her adventures wherever she roamed.
He asked, “Have you ever thought about yourself? Since birth, missions have been carried out throughout your life. But haven’t you ever wondered why it wasn’t you who endows the value of destiny? Have you considered what you will do when arriving at the Haligtree? If you are willing to stay, the Haligtree is your new home.”
“If I did have a future,” said she, “would you be offended if I said that I might not stay at the Haligtree, that all I wanted was a horse, a sword, and to wander the land, or farther? Lord Miquella, I cannot… to be anyone’s blade, nor to stand in the light, only to silently watch over your brave new world. Will you let me go?”
Miquella did not surprise, just waiting for her to say it out, to see what she really wanted, as if he had seen through everything thus fate had instead turned into a crystal ball in his hand. He nodded, “If that is what you wish. She said the same thing when we were young, but I was so selfish that I longed for her to witness my new Order by my side. If you are determined, I will gift you everlasting freedom.”
“It is not selfishness,” Millicent said, “It is not your desires that shackle her future or shape her identity. Malenia announced that she is your blade not because you made her subordinate to you, but… I know she, too, wants to see the rising sun on the ocean. Your love, Lord Miquella, is the true cycle of rebirth. She forsook all her struggles and beings but never abandoned her brother. She is still waiting for you.”
Miquella did not speak; his figure swayed. He stood between calla lilies and daisies yet was imprisoned in a wilderness. Was he weeping? He was not. For an instant, Millicent saw the figure of senility flash by, a stooped aged man with hair that lost its luster and hung down, withered, being past all his youth and beauty, a dried-up fountain. Miquella had ceased to have tears or was reluctant to shed tears in his sister’s presence. She could not understand forever. He did not say where he was or what had befallen him. He faded away in memory, his calm eyes that fixed on the dust of the world were no longer there. Some placed him over the mourning bed and toiled the knell, some still craved for him, and others had sunk him into oblivion.
“Lord Miquella?”
“If you get to see her, tell her,” Miquella dispersed into the air, “that I never forgot my promise and that all her waiting was well worth it. I am exceedingly proud of all her sacrifices, perseverance, and honor…”
When she came back to her senses, the sunlight of the Haligtree was blocked out by dark clouds, a dark silence around her as dead air before a storm, with the disgusting odor remaining. When the sharp light once again pierced through the leaves and fell to the roots of the tree, Millicent was seized with horror, blood, blood everywhere, with no one left. The tree silently recorded all the history and then quietly watched her.
It was the history of the resistance and destruction. It was all over. She understood for the first time, in the fullness of her anguish, that sorrow was not a feeling that consumes itself easily. And the tragedy of the Haligtree, with its history of obsolescence, led her on and rekindled the fire of her life.
What could memory be, then, when it was fleeting and perished so quickly. Miquella was erased from his land, while Malenia was always forgetting. Even demigods whose lives could stand up to centuries existed no more than a few minutes before the Lands Between, which had formed since the world began, and a gust of wind could scatter them away like smoke. Before the body of the ancient dragon on the ramparts disintegrated into rubble, Leyndell at last fell to the time.
Decades later, the sun has dispelled the eternal night once more. The land has through everything, for all ways have an end: centuries ago, the Ancient Dragons could not conceive that the human armies would overcome the dread one as huge as a castle with their puny strength. More than one hundred years ago, the inhabitants of Leyndell did not foresee that the gold from the royal capital would be left in the dust. Before the Shattering, pilgrims of the Haligtree did not learn that the land of abundance could not escape the blight. Fate had always guided an age in the opposite direction, and now the time came between the gaps of desolation. Millicent woke up when it was fully light, the same kind of sunlight she had seen in her dreams, not much of a difference from what it was decades and centuries ago, warm as ever, radiant and inviolate, being the only light high in the sky.
She resolved to journey to the Haligtree. Maybe her life would end there, or she would slip through the skirts of Fate by a fluke. No one had the answers. The knights who defeated the dragons turned into believers of the ancient dragon cult, barbarians become the heirs to Leyndell, a part of what a demigoddess had abandoned still flowed in her blood, and she must return the lost things to the owner. She found a delicate water lily of unalloyed gold by her pillow, which, unlike the ones wilting in the corner, still held morning dew on its petals, or it perhaps was someone’s tear.
Now, she would continue her journey. On the Atlus Plateau, she again saw Tarnished on the spectral steed, galloping towards her, who might also be blessed and guided by grace. For the first time, she felt fate was so warm that she decided to set out, resolutely, repeating Malenia’s destiny.