Ep 171.5 (Extra). Set Free
Just a little sothing for the occasion. rry Christmas!
Ep 171.5 (Extra). Set Free
Elven lights decorated the night sky, illuminating the dark in a glow of green and white. Despite the pending darkness, the entire city of Rosaria seed awake in celebration.
But amidst the crowd of elves, a lone hermit would wear a sour expression as he briskly made his way towards the city’s outskirts.
Throughout his venture, he could see star-like decorations depicting the birth of their world.
Perforrs staged a lavish act of their blessed history. In celebration of their very star’s birthday, every adult held a gift in their hands for a child to receive – just like how the Twelve had gifted the entire world to its people.
But the elven hermit’s scowl would refuse to fade as he made his way through the busy streets, and eventually into the nearby woods.
Unlike the city’s bustling streets, the woods had neither lights nor music to celebrate the occasion. Rays of moonlight were the only lights it had to offer, a flowing stream the only music it had to play.
And eventually, the elf would venture through the woods to arrive at a lone chapel.
- ‘…’
The hermit wordlessly approached its gate, pushing the rusty door open with a soundless creak.
Beyond the rows of old, wooden chairs, an elven woman remained knelt on the floor. Their figure was bathed in moonlight, seeping through the chapel’s arched windows.
Her flowing silver hair seed unusually unkempt, falling to the chapel floor in a haphazard manner – but as if oblivious to the fact, her eyes remained firmly closed, uncaring for how she’d appear to an onlooker. She remained unmoving in place, her hands clasped together in solemn prayer.
Grimacing, the hermit would approach the woman, coming to a stop so distance behind her.
- ‘Letherien. The people are awaiting your arrival.’
“…”
Slowly, Letherien’s colorless eyes began to open.
A soft, shuddering sigh slipped through her lips.
“…I’m sorry. I’m late again, aren’t I.”
- ‘It’s quite alright. This is my yearly excuse to care after our people.’
“Is it? I’m glad.”
A thin smile curved the woman’s lips. After another long sigh, Letherien’s clasped hands unfolded to allow her back on her feet.
Still, her eyes remained fixed onto the gleaming moon beyond the chapel’s window, unwilling to turn to face the hermit that had co for her.
“It’s been so long…but it still pains to celebrate this day.”
- ‘And yet you continue to force yourself to. I can’t imagine what that’d be like.’
“Haha…I’m sure you understand, at least in part. You force yourself to co get every year.”
- ‘I’m quite certain it’s but a small trouble compared to yours.’
Letherien’s gaze fell to the dusty floors.
Surely, her troubles were hers alone. It was a burden she’d carry for the rest of eternity.
But as long as the hermit would remain at her side, she could bear the burden for however long she had to.
‘As long as you’re here…’
With that final thought, Letherien slowly turned around to see the empty chapel.
“…”
The elf’s dreary gaze glanced from one dusty corner to the next.
But no matter how hard she looked, she saw nothing but old, abandoned furniture.
She could no longer see the hermit that once was. Only his illusory voice echoed in her ears, reminding her that no one would co to share in her troubles anymore.
“…Where…”
A small tear rolled down her cheeks, dropping onto the grass beneath her feet.
Letherien grasped at her heart. Even though the actual aching had long stopped, her phantom pain refused to fade.
“…Where have you gone, Clyus?”
Eventually, the elf’s lost footsteps carried her outside the chapel.
She could create the tallest of towers, the grandest of palaces. If she so wished, she could rebuild the abandoned chapel into the star’s largest temple.
Hence, this abandoned chapel had always been special.
A small, unremarkable structure in the middle of nowhere, abandoned and left to rot. It was the only structure within the city of Rosaria that the creator had never touched, and the only structure that the hermit would ever call ho.
“Or so you’d say…if you were here.”
The sadness in her heart quickly reshaped to despair.
Then, to anger.
And finally, to relief.
With a crooked smile, the deity let out a soft laughter.
“You’re not here anymore, Clyus.”
A deep, crunching noise shook the earth. The ground beneath her lightly began to quake, the chapel’s windows webbed with sudden fractures.
“You never will be again, will you?”
With a thunderous noise, the chapel’s windows shattered apart in unison. tal branches sprouted forth from within and continued to grow, lifting the entire building into the air.
A towering iron beam soon showed itself, serving as the trunk of the artificial tree. As the mass of tal continued to grow, the chapel soon disappeared from sight, lifted much too high into the darkness of the night sky.
As her laughter died down, Letherien clasped her hands once more, whispering a silent prayer.
‘May you forever stay dead, Clyus.’
The tal tree behind her then began to emit a flaring orange glow. Its innards soon began to radiate an extre amount of heat, threatening to burst at any mont.
As its creator began to walk back to the city of her people, the giant tree burst in flas behind her.
The explosion did not go unheard, nor unseen: the entirety of Rosaria saw the burst of fire in the distance. Blinding sparks exploded outwards to decorate the night sky, carrying bits of the chapel’s incinerated bits.
In the distance, Letherien could hear a wave of heated shouts.
And soon, several smaller explosions followed, this ti from directly above the city.
Boom!
Fla-lit orbs soared into the air, exploding amongst each other to paint the sky in various lights. n and won alike rejoiced in the marvels of their fireworks, children screaming in delight and excitent of the unusual sight.
“Happy birthday, Nerion…”
Letherien cleared her throat several tis, trying to make her crooked smile fade.
But when her mirth refused to subside, she began snickering outright instead.
“Happy birthday indeed.”
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