SOTBW - 216

Najane looked around at the pitch-black surroundings. She wondered if she had slept too long and woken up in the middle of the night, but even the ground beneath her hands was as dark as a black sea. Naturally, she realized this was a dream. She wasn’t surprised—lately, she’d been having dreams like this so often that they felt routine.

Curious if there was anything nearby, Najane waved her arms around, but nothing touched her hands. Feeling lost, she sighed deeply and stood up. Figuring she would eventually arrive somewhere if she just kept walking, she began to move through the impenetrable darkness.

After walking for some time, she spotted a glowing white boundary ahead. It shimmered like countless stars flowing along a river. Staring blankly at the only source of light in the darkness, Najane unconsciously moved closer to it.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her shoulder from behind with great force. Startled by the unexpected contact, Najane instinctively shook off the hand gripping her. A faintly glowing oil lamp creaked and swayed noisily.

The woman who had suddenly appeared gazed silently at Najane. Her soft brown hair and turquoise eyes were familiar. Najane remembered her.

“You shouldn’t keep wandering here, Emaydis.”

Without a word, the woman took Najane’s hand and led her across to the opposite side of the starry river. Najane glanced back at the shimmering flow. The gentle glow gradually receded, but the surrounding area was no longer as dark as before—thanks to the lamp the woman held.

Looking down at her hand clasped by the woman, Najane cautiously spoke.

“What was that shining river I saw earlier?”

“If you follow that river, you’ll reach the boundary of reincarnation. You’ll go there someday, but now isn’t the time.”

“And what about you?”

“What do you think I am?”

“Maybe… a guide?”

Najane’s answer made the woman smile.

“You’re half right. I was someone who lit the way so people wouldn’t get lost at night. When I wasn’t working, I gathered herbs to sell.”

“What should I call you?”

“I don’t know. Do we really need introductions? I hope this will be our last meeting.”

“Emaydis…”

At Najane’s murmur, the woman, who had been walking confidently through the darkness as if following a path, stopped in her tracks. Najane spoke with certainty.

“...You’re Emaydis too, aren’t you?”

“Why do you think that?”

“I just knew the moment I saw you. That you are me.”

Najane was certain. The instant she saw the woman, she felt an overwhelming sense of kinship, as though looking into a mirror. It was an instinctive realization that needed no explanation. Perhaps this space was special, allowing her to understand immediately.

Though Najane wanted to ask why the woman was in such a dark, distant place, she bit back the question. The woman smiled approvingly, lifting the corners of her mouth.

“That’s right. I am you. More precisely, I’m you from thousands of years ago. Do you know which Emaydis I am?”

Najane shook her head. The woman took her hand and resumed walking into the darkness.

“Lockhart.”

She gave her answer.

“I am Emaydis Lockhart. The wife of Sainth Anunt, who sealed a dragon that massacred innocents within her own body. The watcher of Marquis Hilberta Sylin, who committed too many sins. The first life of this soul. The original Emaydis. That’s me.”

Najane stared at the back of the woman walking ahead of her. Lost in reminiscence, the woman turned to look at Najane.

“Emaydis. We will continue to be here from now on. Whenever you fall into the abyss, we will guide you to the light. No matter what decision you make, we will respect your will. Even if you choose to give up everything, that too would be unavoidable. After all, you are the one living the life of ‘Emaydis’ now. You are the culmination of us all.”

At some point, Lockhart had stopped walking and taken a step back from Najane. She raised the oil lamp above her head.

For a brief moment, countless women appeared behind Lockhart before vanishing. Najane reflected on their fleeting forms, rippling like mirages, and naturally understood who they were amidst the truth and chaos of the abyss.

Lockhart had said “we.”

We…

Najane finally saw the thousands of women who filled the abyss. They were her past lives—other Emaydis, other versions of herself who had lived tragic existences.

Through countless repetitions of unimaginable suffering over millennia, their once-fragile souls had been forged into something as strong as steel. This was to ensure that even if Najane one day possessed the power to encompass the world, she would not break—to ensure she could safely conclude this story and create a new world.

Lockhart smiled brightly and waved at Najane.

“Farewell, Emaydis. If life becomes too heavy, remember us. Remember that we will always support and love you…”

Najane slowly opened her eyes at the cool touch stroking her forehead. Maximón gazed down at her with a gentle smile. Seeing his face, she gave a faint sigh of relief and closed her eyes again. She vaguely recalled an oil lamp swaying softly in the deep darkness. She was certain she had dreamed something, but the details eluded her.

As she tried to piece together her memories, Najane tightly grasped the cold hand caressing her cheek and offered a small smile.

“The field…?”

Her voice still carried traces of sleepiness. Maximón kissed her pale forehead and preemptively answered before she could finish her question.

“Last night was quiet as well.”

“That’s good…”

Relieved, Najane burrowed into Maximón’s arms like a child throwing a sleepy tantrum. Maximón gently combed through her long hair with his fingers and reclined slightly on the bed.

“Were you uncomfortable at all during the night?”

Instead of answering, Najane shook her head. Maximón swallowed a smile and absently played with her hair.

“I’d like to stay with you until sunset today, but I have joint training scheduled after lunch, so I need to leave early.”

The mention of joint training made Najane open her drowsy eyes.

“Joint training?”

“Yes. With the Colnux Knights.”

“Do knightly orders often hold joint training sessions?”

Not during the time Najane had served as a knight. Tilting her head curiously, she waited for an explanation, but Maximón leaned in for a kiss instead. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her about the fools from the Colnux Knights plotting to kill her and how he planned to punish them.

Maximón wanted Najane to remain at peace. He didn’t want her troubled by such nuisances. Sending them to hell was his responsibility; all Najane needed to do was spend a quiet, languid day in the residence.

He closed his eyes tightly, pressing several kisses to her pale forehead.

A distant memory suddenly surfaced. Maximón remembered holding Najane close under winter sunlight in a small but warm room, both of them dozing off lazily.

By now, he knew this wasn’t his memory. As he had once speculated, it might be from a past life—or perhaps a delusion born of a fractured mind.

Yet, the scenes in his mind were vivid and strikingly detailed for mere delusions. In that memory, he patted the sleeping Najane’s back and brushed his lips against her shimmering silver hair. Outside, his ever-present comrades noisily engaged in snowball fights, while from the opposite room came the sound of yet another failed experiment.

Despite the bustling noise around the house, Najane slept soundly, looking so adorable and lovable that he resolved to protect her daily life at any cost. Yes, at any cost—even if it meant losing himself.

“Don’t make Emaydis cry.”  

“My love...”

A shadow of irritation crossed Maximón’s face as fragments of voices echoed in his mind. Whose voice was that? It hovered just beyond reach, teasing him. Feeling disoriented, as though lost in thick fog, he pressed his throbbing forehead and quickly adjusted his expression when Najane stirred in her sleep.

Though he felt uneasy, as if he had forgotten something important, Najane nuzzled closer into his embrace with her cold nose, erasing all his worries. Instead of urging her to sleep more, Maximón gently patted her back. Watching her grow thinner with each passing day weighed heavily on his heart.

To him, Najane was the most precious thing in the world. Recalling Boris’s grim prognosis—that she likely had less than a month to live—Maximón suppressed his despair and held her tighter. He was prepared to pay any price to save her.

The shadow of Belshua moving like a massive lizard lingered in his thoughts. Belshua had never explicitly revealed what he truly was, but anyone who saw that shadow would understand. 

The last dragon sealed within a human body—Mahilen.

Maximón was ready to pay any price to save Najane.

---

Persio, the former vice-captain of the Colnux Knights, watched the vast training grounds with an anxious gaze.

The day after conspiring with his trusted comrades to assassinate Najane, Persio received an unexpected joint training proposal from the Romsoa Knights. The Colnux Knights had no right to refuse. With neither a captain nor a vice-captain leading them, and their ranks in disarray, how could they possibly reject such an offer?

But Persio was certain of one thing:  

Someone had leaked their plans.

The real purpose of this training was also painfully obvious. Maximón intended to punish the knights who had plotted to assassinate Najane—in his own way.

Persio still believed that Maximón had murdered Nathan, so he viewed everything as unjust and absurd. Anger boiled within him, but he forced himself to suppress it. After all, this was Maximón—Maximón Elgort. In his presence, no power or law held any sway.

Persio didn’t know how much Maximón knew, but regardless of what might happen today, he had no intention of abandoning the plan to kill Najane.

If only that woman hadn’t spoken out of turn, if only she had stayed silent, Maximón would have paid for murdering Nathan. When Persio heard the rumors about Najane being terminally ill, he couldn’t contain his joy. He saw it as divine retribution—a punishment from the gods for her sins.

The rumors only strengthened his resolve to carry out his revenge. To him, this was practically divinely sanctioned vengeance. Persio believed that if avenging Nathan required it, he could even abandon his wife and children waiting for him back home.

Under Jacob’s leadership, the knights began sparring among themselves. Meanwhile, Maximón called Persio aside. Steeling himself, Persio followed Maximón.

Maximón handed Persio a real sword—razor-sharp, its edge so fine that even the slightest graze would cut through skin. Maximón, however, held a dull practice sword. Clutching the sharp blade, Persio’s face twisted into a scowl.

Under the guise of training, Maximón was utterly disregarding Persio’s safety.

“Put down that toy and give me a real sword,” Persio growled, his dissatisfaction evident.

“You’ll die if I do,” Maximón sneered.

Persio’s expression hardened.