Soon the disk fell, as the firelight danced across their faces, flickering orange and gold against the cool blues of the night.
Insects sang from the woods, and the occasional distant cry of a night beast echoed through the Mistwood, but within the clearing, the air was warm and calm.
Azhriel leaned forward slightly, tossing another branch into the fire, the embers leaping as they caught flame.
"Well," he said, his tone casual, yet his eyes held a glint of curiosity, "I'm curious—what's the daughter of the Great Duke doing in a dangerous place like this?"
Arianne gave a small chuckle, her voice light and tinged with amusement.
"Oh? So you already figured out I'm a noble?" she asked, raising a brow in mock surprise.
Azhriel gave a faint smile, leaning back slightly as he poked at the fire with a stick.
"Well, everything about you kind of screamed it," he said plainly. "The way you carry yourself, your clothes, your speech... and let's not forget the ever-watchful personal guard trailing behind you."
He glanced toward Serica for a moment, who remained still as ever, before returning his gaze to Arianne. "It wasn't too hard to piece things together."
"So," Azhriel asked again, his tone calm, "care to tell what you're doing here?"
Arianne didn't reply right away. She looked down for a moment, as if weighing her thoughts. Then, after a short pause, she raised her head and met his gaze.
"I'm searching for something," she said simply.
Azhriel raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "Something even the Duke's reach can't get? And you had to come all the way here for it?"
"Yes," she said, her voice quiet but certain. "It's something so rare that even after mobilizing all the resources in the capital, even my father couldn't find it within the limited time."
She looked into the fire, the orange glow dancing in her crimson eyes, casting soft shadows over her face.
"That's why I had to come here myself." She said.
"Hmm, I don't mean to be rude or anything," Azhriel said, his tone calm and polite, "but would you mind telling me what it is? I mean, it's only natural to be a little curious. And who knows, maybe I could help—I've been living in this forest for a while now."
Arianne looked at him, her expression thoughtful for a moment. The firelight flickered across her features, highlighting the faint crease between her brows as she seemed to weigh his words.
Then, with a quiet sigh, she spoke.
"It's called the Lunar Bloom," she said softly. "A flower that only grows once every few decades...from absorbing the pure moonlight. It's said that it had the ability to heal any kind of injuries and composition."
Azhriel's eyes narrowed slightly. That flower name—he remembered it from the game. A rare magical flower, said to hold incredible healing properties and the ability to enhance mana flow in the body. A sacred herb often tied to some ancient rituals.
Azhriel's gaze drifted into the flickering flames, the orange light reflecting in his calm yet distant eyes.
'Right… it was around this time in the game,' he thought, watching the fire crackle and spit embers into the air. 'When her mother… died.'
It had been the silent spark that began everything. The first domino that started to fall—slowly at first, then all at once.
Arianne's descent into the role of the Villainess didn't begin with rage or ambition. It began with grief. With the loss of the one person who loved her the most.
'Mother, huh...'
Azhriel's brows furrowed ever so slightly, and the melancholy on his face deepened. The fire's warmth suddenly felt cold against the memory that crept into his heart.
He remembered someone too.
A figure with golden hair, a voice so soft that it was almost unheard, yet one that echoed in his chest like a fading song. Her smile, her touch, the warmth that once made the world feel safe—all now just ghosts hidden in his memory.
For a moment, both of them sat there in silence. Two strangers with wounds neither could see, sharing the same flame under a sky filled with stars.
"Huu. I see," Azhriel said, controlling his emotion, his voice was calm as he nodded slowly. "And if I had to guess… it's for someone important. Someone suffering from an illness—one that's nearly impossible to cure, isn't it?"
Arianne's expression shifted subtly. Her brows drew together, eyes narrowing just a little as she replied, "I don't know if I like how sharp you are. Why do you think of illness and not an injury?"
There was no irritation in her tone, just a quiet wariness, as though she was trying to understand how much he truly saw.
Azhriel let out a short breath, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I could be wrong," he said, tilting his head slightly, "but if it were just an injury, even a severe one, the Duke's estate would have enough potions, healers or even the Archpriest to take care of it."
He looked at the fire, the flickering glow reflecting in his azure eyes. "But an illness… it something that takes over slowly, and is beyond the reach of ordinary magic sometimes— so that's different."
Arianne blinked once, the furrow between her brows relaxing ever so slightly. She stared at him for a moment longer, lips pressed into a thin line.
"…You're not wrong," she said quietly. "But it still doesn't mean I like how easily you guessed it." Her voice was softer now, less guarded.
"Have you seen it before?" he asked. "Or was it your first time even hearing about the herb?"
Arianne looked at him, the light casting soft shadows on her face. She shook her head slightly.
"I've never seen it with my own eyes," she admitted. "Only read about it once, in an old journal left by a healer in the Duke's archives. But I've heard the rumours of it appearing in the forest.
Even then, it wasn't much—just a rough description and the location hint pointing to this forest."
Azhriel nodded slowly, resting his arms on his knees. "So you're chasing some random information that might not even be real."
"Yes," Arianne replied without hesitation. "Because if there's even the smallest chance it exists, I have to try."
There was a quiet determination in her voice, and for a moment, Azhriel saw not the future Villainess of the story—but just a daughter, trying to save her mother.
The One Thing In Which He Failed.
"I will help you."