Unmasking the Executor of the Order of Selene…

  Claire winced. It felt wrong to allow someone as pure as Iris to be so close to what she had become. And yet, despite this… she felt herself aching for Iris’ touch – gentle and certain, like sunlight through stained glass.

  If anything, she feared passing this blight onto an innocent soul. She had spent years pondering the possibility, scrutinising the slow, inevitable decay of her own flesh… the way it spread like ink bleeding into parchment. Prolonged exposure, even the briefest lapse, could be all it took.

  It was why she kept herself apart from others, isolating herself even among her fellow adventurers on the mainland, ensuring there was always distance, always an unspoken warning. Only Ascalon, her blessed claymore, she could trust to remain unfazed by her aspect.

  She was not well. She had never been.

  And yet, the Nameless Girl had changed everything. Claire had handled her with painstaking care, never allowing their flesh to meet without the safety of cloth, bandages, or something between them. It had to be done. It was the only way.

  But this? A luxury. An unnecessary risk for a moment’s comfort. And yet…

  “I am prepared and willing,” Iris said solemnly, her gaze unwavering through the narrow slits of Claire’s tarnished silver mask. “Do not worry for my sake.”

  “Iris…”

  “Do you remember what the Codex Rinnah says about the Ecclesiarch?”

  Claire hesitated, then exhaled shakily. “I do, Iris.”

  “Then recite the verse.”

  “May the Ecclesiarch be my reflection, like the moon upon still waters...” Claire whispered, her voice hoarse with longing, tears trailing silently down her hidden face. “When she strives to be good... may those in her care look upon her and see me.”

  “I am not afraid of anything,” Iris murmured. “And I care about you, Claire.”

  Claire shook her head, allowing herself the smallest of smiles. “As you wish, then. But remember – please, please be careful. For your own sake, of course."

  “Always.”

  With deliberate gentleness, Iris reached for the silver mask, lifting it free. The tarnished metal caught the candlelight before she set it aside. Just as carefully, she drew back the blood-stained shroud covering the rest of Claire’s visage, letting long strands of gold fall to her waist.

  Claire swallowed. “I hope I’m not scaring you, Iris. My face…”

  “Not at all.”

  “The Ecclesiarch is forbidden to lie, you know.”

  “I have not broken that rule. And I do not intend to.”

  “Thought I saw you wince.”

  Iris shook her head. Once, Claire had been beautiful – the most beautiful and fairest of all. Their peers had whispered of fate, divine ordination, and twin souls bound by duty and devotion. Paladin and Healer. Executor and Ecclesiarch. The two of them, golden-eyed champions of the Order of Selene, were entrusted with the shared Prophecy of preserving and expanding the Akashic Record – the sacred compendium of knowledge of all who had come before.

  It was to be a lifetime of service to Rinnah together. But then, everything changed.

  At first, the disease and its taint had been subtle, barely perceptible. But soon, it had carved its path in jagged ruin… leaving no part of Claire untouched. No Healer, no Paladin, not even Iris, could stop its march. Her days had become numbered, the remaining years of her life dwindling to something that could be counted on her fingers.

  And so, she left.

  Despite Iris’ pleas and promises that a cure would be found in time, Claire had turned her back on the Order of Selene and her Prophecy, leaving the Isle of Spirits. She had chosen to wield what time remained within her as a blade against the darkness consuming the mainland of Nisha, using her strength and newfound accursed fortitude to protect those in need.

  “Do you remember?” Iris murmured, her voice tinged with wistful sorrow. “The people of Light’s Hope showered rose petals in your wake when you left.”

  “That was the day I covered my face,” Claire answered, her voice laced with a quiet, aching nostalgia. Her gaze lingered on the tarnished silver on the coffee table, fingers twitching as if caught between reaching for it and letting it be. “They didn’t know what I was becoming.”

  Iris shook her head, her voice gentle but firm. “You judge them too harshly. They loved you, Claire. They still do.”

  “Do I?” Claire mused, her gaze drifting to the frost-laced window, as if searching for echoes of her journey in the distant horizon. “It’s been quite the lesson – wandering the land as a stranger, bereft of my nobility. We’ve been blind to the plight of others in need.”

  “You were not like this before you left,” Iris said, disappointment flickering in her eyes as she caught the brittle and frayed edge of her former Paladin’s words – so unlike the kind, eager soul she once knew. “I did warn you – the mainland is not the Isle of Spirits.”

  Claire nodded, exhaling softly. She could not deny it – her time on the mainland had worn her down. Left her sceptical about the nature of mortals and the omnipotence of holy Rinnah. That the road to hell was paved bloody with good intentions.

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  Even so, she fought on – clinging to the belief that somewhere, beneath all the senseless cruelty and bloodshed she had seen and stopped… there was goodness worth saving. And that faith in her fellow humans and elves, however fragile… was still worth keeping.

  “You were right,” Claire admitted, a trace of weariness in her voice. “But there are good people there too, who deserve better. If not us, then who will fight for them? Look at her, Iris!”

  Her gaze drifted towards the Nameless Girl, sleeping soundly beside them.

  The cultists of the Demon Cult never stood a chance. They had raved fanatically about their Lord’s return, of the end of all creation. But in the end… none of them would live to see the day of their dark rapture. With Ascalon and a strong sword arm, she had seen to that.

  “She’s one of many I’ve saved with these hands of mine,” Claire murmured, studying her palms. “For all I’ve done for them… that, I have no regrets.”

  “And who is she?” Iris asked curiously, her gaze lingering on the Nameless Girl as she slumbered. “Her soul feels blank – little more than an empty tome.”

  “Nobody. Not anymore, at least,” Claire answered, her voice cold as she nodded grimly. “If she had family, friends – anyone – they’re long gone now, sacrificed to the demons of Arcadia by those I put to the sword. I was too late for them.”

  Iris’s expression softened, her voice solemn. “But you were not too late for her. By your hand and your courage, she lives on.”

  “And your wisdom as well, Iris. But as you said… she’s an empty tome. And for her sake, I…”

  “If I am to do this, she shall be ours,” Iris interrupted, meeting Claire’s gaze with quiet resolve. “That honour belongs to us equally.”

  “You’d take her in?”

  “It was what you wanted to ask of me, was it not?”

  Claire exhaled sharply. “It was. But I wasn’t sure if it was my place to ask.”

  “And yet, here you are,” Iris remarked wryly. “And I shall. We shall. Do you accept my terms?”

  “I do,” Claire answered, a spark of warmth in her eyes as she smiled softly. “But my time is running out.”

  “Then let us make the most of what remains. Your half shall be to name her. And my half shall be to raise her as ours.”

  “Sounds good, Iris. As for her name…”

  Claire stood, stepping towards the window. Snow drifted lazily past the frost-stained glass, the courtyard below blanketed in ice and pale light. She watched it for a moment, lost in thought. Then, with quiet certainty, she turned back.

  “Her name shall be Anna,” she declared. “Rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it? As a child, before I joined the Order… I always wanted a little sister – someone to teach and braid hair with… someone to chase fireflies with after dusk.”

  Claire’s voice grew softer, laced with distant sorrow, her gaze settling on the sleeping girl. “Anna was meant to be her name. The sister I never had… the one who died with my mother before she could even take her first breath. So, I’ll give it to her, in memory of her.”

  “Then let it be known – Anna Silverlight, from this day forward,” Iris said, her voice warm with quiet affection as her gaze rested upon the sleeping girl. “May she be worthy of the noble name you have gifted her.”

  “She will be. You’ll raise her right. This, I know in my heart.”

  Iris nodded. “Yes. Consider it a promise from me to you.”

  “Knowing Anna’s in good hands… I’m relieved. I truly am. Thank you.”

  “And yet, with these hands of mine…” Iris murmured, her voice wavering. “I could not save you. Despite all my studies, despite all my knowledge… despite the Akashic Record…”

  “Iris…”

  Claire silently crossed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around Iris’ trembling frame. “You’ve done right by me, Iris. It’s all I ever asked for. I love you.”

  “Claire…”

  “There’s one more thing I’d like to do,” Claire added, her voice a hoarse whisper, like a breath stolen by memory. “If you’d allow it.”

  “Anything.”

  “I want to watch the sunrise with you, Iris. One last time,” Claire said softly. “I still have my old flute – a little battered, but it plays well enough! I’ll play our song… for old time’s sake.”

  Iris bit her lip, her entire body quivering. “…I would like that very much. But I… must gather my thoughts first. Go on ahead – I… shall join you soon.”

  “Promise me, Iris. Please.”

  “I will be with you shortly. This, I promise. This, I swear.”

  When the door shut behind her, Iris turned to the window. Her blood was boiling. Burning inside her, tearing at her insides like a beast unchained. With a cry of anguish, she drove her fist into the glass, fracturing it. Shards splintered, slicing deep into her skin.

  Blood dripped from her knuckles. She gazed at the crimson trails running down her wrist, breath shuddering. Then her legs gave out, and she collapsed to her knees, sobbing without restraint.

  “Mom…? Mom…”

  Iris turned. Anna stirred in her sleep, her small hand reaching for something – someone – her mind still lost in dreams she could not yet understand amid delirium. And yet, despite this...

  “Anna…”

  Tucking her in with her unbloodied hand, Iris let her fingers linger in her hair. Then, her gaze flicked to Ascalon, resting beside Claire’s empty chair.

  Silver like the moon, it would survive this long night alongside the one meant to wield it, in time. The blade was damaged, its edge chipped away by countless battles… but it could be repaired and forged anew.

  “Thank you for this blessing, Claire…” she whispered. “Thank you, truly.”

  For what once was… could once again be.

  Back in Anna’s room in the present…

  The light slowly fades from Elizabeth and Ascalon, leaving only the hush of a memory retreating into silence.

  I know what I saw – and so does Anna, her eyes wide with the weight of shared revelation.

  “I never got to see Second Mom and thank her for what she did for me…” Anna says softly, her head bowed. “Mom told me… she passed in the courtyard as the sun rose.”

  She meets my gaze, her expression wistful – a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips, though her eyes shimmer with unshed tears.

  “I’m grateful for everything she did, Arisa. She’s a Hero, just like you. Just like Mom. But I wonder… if she saw me now, would she be proud of me?”

  “Of course she would, silly…” I answer, my voice a soft mix of teasing warmth as my hand finds Anna’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’re a badass. Just like her.”

  “Arisa…”

  I pull her into a hug, wrapping my arms around her and holding her close. I feel her tears soaking into my nightgown, but I don’t mind. I’m just glad she’s here – and that I’m here for her. That’s all that matters.

  “There’s something else…” Anna murmurs, her voice far away. “I wonder about my past sometimes. The life I had before Second Mom found me… before waking up on the Isle of Spirits. I can’t remember any of it – no matter how hard I try.”

  “Do you want to?”

  “I don’t know. I’m happy with who I am now. I really am. But at the same time…”

  “You still wanna know… if only to put your mind at ease.”

  She nods. “If I could remember, I’d want to. Wouldn’t you?”

  “For me, it’s the opposite. I remember things that are no longer real – memories of a world that no longer exists,” I answer, a faint, rueful smile tugging at my lips. “And sometimes… remembering hurts.”

  Anna smiles, soft and understanding. “We’re opposites in a way, aren’t we? One searching for her past, the other burdened by hers. Two different sides of the same coin.”

  “But we still have each other,” I say, offering a small, hopeful smile. “That counts for something, yeah?”

  “It does, Arisa. Come here…”

  We hug again – holding on tightly like neither of us wants to let go. We sit down together on her bed, hand in hand.

  For the rest of this long night, we stay like that. Together. Healer and Paladin… like Lady Iris and Lady Claire before us.