When Subaru and Elsa returned to the inn, they were immediately met at the entrance by Rem. Her blue eyes scanned over their disheveled appearances—both of them covered in dust, clothes wrinkled and torn in places, skin bearing light cuts and scrapes. A flicker of surprise crossed her face, quickly replaced by a furrowed brow and a trace of concern that bordered on suspicion.
"Welcome back, Subaru-kun... What exactly were you two doing with Elsa?" she asked, her voice tinged with hesitation, a soft yet unmistakable reproach.
Subaru let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and offered a weary but heartfelt smile. "Hal-san wanted to train us. He said we were too soft, and honestly, he wasn't wrong. So we agreed. We've been out training all day. It was brutal—but also kind of amazing. I feel like I leveled up. Anyway... could you gather everyone in one room? There's something important I need to say."
Rem took a slow breath and gave a slight nod. "Training, huh... That actually makes me feel a bit better. For a moment, I feared something else. You can head to your room—Hikari and Meili should already be there. I'll let Beatrice-sama know."
Without another word, Elsa started walking ahead, silent as ever. Subaru followed at a slower pace, his feet dragging slightly on the floor. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable—just full of exhaustion. The kind that seeps deep into your bones and clings to your thoughts.
The hallways were dim, lit by the faint glow of mana-infused lanterns. Shadows danced lazily along the wooden walls as they moved. Subaru could feel the weight of the day pressing down on him, not just physically, but mentally. The relentless drills, the blows he'd barely dodged, the pain of failure, and the thrill of progress—it all swirled inside his mind like a storm just beginning to settle.
When they finally entered the room, the sight that greeted them nearly made Subaru forget his fatigue. Hikari and Meili lay curled together on a single oversized pillow, arms wrapped around each other in childlike comfort. Their breaths rose and fell in perfect harmony, creating a rhythm so gentle that it seemed to calm the very air around them.
Subaru dropped to his knees beside them with care, his eyes glistening with warmth. His voice came out in a whisper, barely audible. "I could die happy now."
From the doorway, Elsa let out a small snort of laughter. "You're not dying anytime soon, idiot."
Moments later, the room was no longer quiet. Beatrice arrived, followed by Rem, and they were joined once more by Elsa and Subaru. The air held a gentle tension, the kind that signals something important is about to be said. Subaru cleared his throat and stood up straighter.
"I've made a decision," he said, voice steadier than he expected.
The room fell into a hush. All eyes turned to him, each gaze carrying a different kind of anticipation. Even Elsa shifted slightly, crossing her arms as she raised an eyebrow, giving him her full attention.
"Halibel-san has offered to continue training us—me and Elsa. It's a huge opportunity. One we can't afford to waste. We're strong, but not strong enough. Not yet. That's why... I want to stay in Kararagi a little longer. Maybe one or two more months. To really commit to this."
He paused, scanning their expressions. "Is anyone against it?"
Rem raised her hand just enough to be noticed. "Subaru-kun... I understand why you want this. And I trust your judgment. But... what about Roswaal-sama? What about Emilia-sama? What should we tell them when they ask where you are?"
Subaru drew in a long breath, his gaze dropping to the wooden floor. The question had been lurking at the back of his mind, and now it stood fully formed in the open. He saw Emilia's face in his mind's eye—her hopeful smile faltering into confusion, maybe even disappointment. His heart twisted.
But then, Flugel's mocking voice echoed in his thoughts: "Is she really worth all that trouble, that half-elf?"
Subaru clenched his fists at his sides. Then he looked up.
"If we come back stronger, it's not just for me. It's for all of us. For Emilia, for Roswaal, for this entire path we've been walking. Being apart isn't abandonment—it's a necessary step. I have to believe that."
Rem looked into his eyes for a long moment, searching for any hesitation. Then she gave a small nod. "I see. I hope you're right, Subaru-kun. And I hope she'll understand."
Beatrice, on the other hand, remained unmoved. Her expression unreadable, she neither voiced her agreement nor disapproval. She simply dipped her head ever so slightly, letting the silence speak for her.
As the others began to disperse—Rem heading to check on the girls, Elsa silently exiting the room—Subaru remained where he was. Then he turned to Beatrice.
"Beako... Can you stay a second?"
Beatrice froze in her tracks. Her shoulders tensed, a tremble running subtly through them. The room was quiet again, save for the soft breathing of Hikari still fast asleep nearby.
"What is it you want, I suppose?" she asked, her voice quieter, more withdrawn than usual.
Subaru stepped forward. There was no accusation in his voice—only concern. "You've been different lately. Since you left the Forbidden Library... something's changed. I feel it. And I know you feel it too. Please, Beako. Just talk to me."
"There's nothing wrong with Betty," she replied softly, but the tiny shake in her voice betrayed her. She turned her face away, unwilling to meet his gaze. Her small hands curled into fists at her sides as she took a few steps toward the door.
But Subaru reached out—his hand closing around her wrist, not to restrain, but to connect. The grip was gentle, but firm. Real.
The contact jolted something in Beatrice. She flinched—not out of pain or fear, but because she hadn't expected it. It was rare for someone to try and reach her like this, to push past her walls with such quiet resolve.
The room settled into stillness. No words passed between them for several seconds. Only Hikari's soft, even breaths reminded them they weren't alone.
And in that silence, something unspoken began to shift.
Subaru's eyes remained fixed on Beatrice's small frame, her back turned to him like a door slowly closing.
"Please, don't walk away! Just... listen to me! I'm not here to harm you. I never was. I'm here because I care, because I want to understand you. Whatever it is you're feeling, whatever pain you carry—share it with me. You don't have to hide anymore. You can tell me anything. You can ask me for anything. Please, Beako, just talk to me. Let me in."
Her shoulders tensed. The soft sound of her trembling breath reached him. Slowly, her hands, once clenched at her sides, began to shake. Beatrice's lips parted slightly as though she wanted to say something but couldn't find the strength. She inhaled deeply, only for the air to catch painfully in her throat. She didn't turn. Not at first. But just before taking another step away, she froze. A long silence followed. Then, with the weight of centuries in her motion, she turned to face him.
Her eyes shimmered with tears, her expression a fragile blend of a child's vulnerability and a woman's silent anguish. Her voice, barely above a whisper, slipped through her lips.
"Anything...?"
Subaru didn't move. He watched her with unwavering resolve. Her voice gained strength, a wavering current of disbelief and longing weaving through it.
"You mean I can say it all out loud? That I don't have to pretend anymore? I can speak of my fears, my pain, all the loneliness I've buried for so long... and you'll listen? Truly listen? You'll let me ask anything—without looking away?"
He fell to his knees, lowering himself to the cold floor as if grounding himself to reality. Reaching his arms out gently, he gazed directly into her eyes.
"Yes. Every emotion, every word—you can share all of it with me. You don't have to carry this alone anymore."
Her breath hitched as she slowly raised her hands. The air shimmered between her fingers as dense mana coalesced in her palms. The energy twisted and solidified into a blade—a slender dagger, nearly identical to the shattered Etherfang. Its glow was both beautiful and sorrowful. Tears ran freely down her cheeks, unchecked and unapologetic, as she extended the dagger toward him.
"Then... set Betty free. End this torment. Put an end to the years of waiting, the endless echoes of silence, the hollow nights. Every morning, I wake up from dreams that feel like cages. Every night, I fall into a silence so loud it drowns me. I've searched and searched—for meaning, for purpose, for anything to make this waiting bearable. But everything slipped away. My hands are empty. My heart is tired. If you really want to help me—if you truly see me—then this is the only way. This is the only path to freedom."
As Subaru stared at the dagger, a sharp pain, like a blade itself, pierced his chest.
His thoughts swirled in chaos. One voice rose above the rest, whispering through the fog of his mind: "Flugel… we made a terrible mistake." The memory of the guiding voice, once a constant companion in his most desperate moments, had now gone silent. No matter how far into his own soul he reached, there was nothing—just the heavy presence of solitude, coiling around him like smoke.
With delicate care, he took the dagger from her outstretched hands. The cold bite of the metal seeped into his skin, matching the tremor in his fingers. Slowly, he looked up and found her eyes again—eyes so full of pain that they hardly seemed to belong to someone so small.
"Beatrice… If I told you there was a way to take that loneliness away—if I promised to fill that void—would you still want to die?"
Her golden hair shimmered like starlight beneath the moonlight trickling through the window. Her voice, when it came, was soft, worn thin from years of silence.
"You're being unfair. How could you possibly think that just saying the right words, or holding my hand, could erase centuries of isolation? Do you believe four hundred years of emptiness can vanish because someone means well? Betty is tired, Subaru. So deeply tired. That's why she gave you the dagger. She wants the story to end. She doesn't want another chapter."
Subaru closed his eyes. He inhaled, long and slow, like a man trying to breathe life into a dying flame. His hope, flickering quietly in the dark, threatened to go out—but he refused to let it.
"You're right. I can't undo four hundred years in one night. I can't erase that pain with a single gesture or promise. But... what if I offered something else? A chance. A new beginning. A path forward—not alone, but together."
Beatrice's brows knit with confusion, and a spark of curiosity lit in her tired gaze.
"What kind of path?"
He stepped closer and extended his hand, his palm open to her, as though offering more than just skin and bone. His voice now rang with something rare—conviction born of sorrow, of hope, of love.
"Make a real contract with me, Beatrice. Not out of obligation. Not because of fate. But because you choose to. Just one year. For one year, be the most precious person in my world. Be my sweet Betty—the one I laugh with, cry with, live for. I'll stay by your side, every step of the way. I'll give you joy, give you meaning, and never let you be alone again. And if, when that year ends, you still wish to leave this world... then I'll do as you ask. I'll be the one to end it. That will be our pact. No lies. No regrets. Just truth... and time."
The dagger between them shimmered faintly, as if reflecting the fragile hope that had just begun to bloom again.
Beatrice's pupils widened, catching the faint glow of mana still lingering in the air. Her small frame trembled—not from fear, but from the flood of emotions threatening to burst from within. Her lips parted slightly, yet no words escaped for a long, stretched moment. Subaru's voice, so gentle and full of an aching warmth, had reached something buried deep inside her—a long-dormant ember that flickered with new life. For over four hundred years, she had waited, believing she was cursed to remain alone. Maybe this... this vow was the salvation she'd stopped believing would ever come.
Subaru stepped closer, only a breath away now. His gaze didn't waver. His voice came again, barely more than a whisper, yet stronger than any roar.
"Choose me, Beatrice."
The tiny spirit bit her lip, trembling. Her fingers, so often curled in frustration or defense, now reached toward him with hesitation and yearning. Tears began to form, glistening in the corners of her eyes like dew on petals just before dawn. Her voice was shaky, but clear enough to reach his heart:
"I-I am the great spirit Beatrice... And with this vow, I accept Subaru as my contract partner. From this moment on... he shall be the one to guide my fate. Even if... the end of that fate means ending me."
"No," Subaru interrupted, his voice suddenly firmer, filled with unwavering certainty. "I won't end you. Not now. Not ever. If this contract works the way I hope it does... you'll have a reason to keep living. And that reason will grow stronger, every day we face together."
Beatrice looked into his eyes, searching for a lie and finding none. Her chest rose and fell with a shaky breath. She gave a small, solemn nod. "Then... let the terms be spoken. Under this pact... Subaru must never allow Beatrice to fall into loneliness again."
Subaru met her gaze with equal sincerity. "And Beatrice must promise to speak her heart. When she's hurting... when she's afraid or sad... she has to say it. No more silence."
Beatrice pressed her palm to his. "Beatrice will lend her strength to Subaru in every battle, every step of the way. Even if the world turns against him... she will remain."
Subaru's smile was soft, but it reached his eyes. "And Subaru will read to Beatrice—every story he knows, and every new one they find together. He will make sure she feels cherished... not just as a spirit, but as someone loved."
At that moment, a shimmer began to glow around them. A delicate, spiraling ribbon of light emerged, curling through the air like a dancer. It circled the dagger they held between them, the object that bore the magical weight of their oath. The light wrapped around it, pulsed softly, and slowly faded. The space around them grew still, sacred.
"The contract... is sealed," Beatrice whispered, lowering her head.
Subaru's eyes filled with tears that finally spilled free. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if anchoring her to the present. His voice cracked with emotion:
"Thank you, Beatrice. Thank you for choosing me. For giving me a place beside you."
Beatrice shook slightly, her hands gripping his cloak as quiet sobs broke through her. These tears were not born from pain, but release. They carried centuries of stillness, forgotten longing, and unanswered questions. And then—
The light around them shattered into darkness.
The world itself seemed to dissolve. No walls, no floor, no sky. Just a yawning abyss that pulled them into weightlessness. Yet Subaru did not panic. He knew this sensation. It was as familiar as his own heartbeat.
Flugel... had awakened.
The air shifted. Shadows surged like waves across a black ocean. Their surroundings rippled with dense energy. Beatrice turned in place, eyes wide, her breath catching in her throat. Her voice trembled:
"W-Where... are we? This place... what is it?"
The space responded. Reality bent. Shapes emerged from nothingness. Subaru saw it then—the same otherworldly void where he had once unlocked the essence of his mana heart. A realm between sleep and waking, where truth bled into illusion.
"This is... the boundary," Subaru murmured. "A place that shouldn't exist. But it always does."
A figure stood ahead, his back facing them. Gray hair fell gently over his shoulders, unmoving despite the non-existent wind. The man stood still—no tension, no threat. Just calm presence. Slowly, he turned.
His eyes found Subaru's first, then Beatrice's. Time seemed to slow, suspended in the weight of that moment.
"You've come far," he said. His voice was as light as drifting mist, but each word pressed against their hearts. "Especially you... Betty."
Beatrice's breath caught in her throat. Subaru held her a little closer, sensing her reaction. But she took a step forward on her own.
"Master... I..."
Flugel stepped forward, silent until the space between them was small enough to bridge with a gesture. He reached out, one arm wrapping around her shoulder, and brought his forehead to rest gently against hers. His eyes closed, and he whispered:
"I'm sorry, Betty. I thought taking you from that library would bring you peace. I believed that even a cracked door to the outside world could let in light. But I was wrong. Her curse—her voice—it still clings to your spirit. She haunts your dreams. She infects your every quiet moment. I can see how thin you've become. How worn."
Beatrice lowered her gaze. Her voice, though quiet, rang with painful truth. "You're right. Every time I sleep... it's her voice. That cold, twisted laugh. That endless corridor of darkness. Her words dig into me... like barbs in my soul. But... Subaru reached out. And I held on. Because in that moment... I remembered that I want to live. I want something more than just surviving."
Her words fell into silence. Flugel looked at her with eyes full of sorrow and pride.
"Then maybe," he said, "it's finally time to let go of what was forced on you... and embrace what you chose."
And with that, the shadows around them began to recede—slowly, softly—as if giving way to the light born from their bond.
Flugel looked at Subaru, his gaze lingering just a moment longer than usual. There was a fragility in those words, but also a trace of something unspoken—a fragile hope that clung to the edges of vulnerability. In Flugel's eyes, alongside admiration, there shimmered a distant sorrow—as though some forgotten shadow from his past had stirred in response. He blinked slowly, then turned his attention back to Beatrice with a gentle smile.
"Then... a gift," he said softly, "from this old master to little Betty."
He stepped forward and raised his hand, reaching out to place his fingers gently upon Beatrice's forehead. A subtle glow bloomed at his fingertips, soft violet mana flickering like stardust caught in moonlight. It pulsed faintly with a soothing hum, echoing like the final note of a lullaby forgotten by time. The instant his hand made contact, the room shifted—not physically, but spiritually. A resonance filled the space, soft and melodic, like the sigh of a harp string, spreading through the air and washing over them with warmth and clarity. The atmosphere, once dense with tension, grew still, purified.
"She can no longer intrude upon your dreams," Flugel said, his voice low but resolute. "Her gaze cannot pierce through the boundaries of your soul. The chains that once bound you to her will no longer hold sway. This, you can believe."
Subaru stood frozen, observing the moment with wide, watchful eyes. There was awe in his expression—the awe of someone watching a miracle unfold—but just beneath it, a quiet tension churned. Something didn't sit right, though he couldn't name it. And then, the words slipped from his lips before he could stop them:
"I wonder... can she still see us? Right now?"
Flugel's head tilted slightly, as if listening to a whisper only he could hear. His gaze turned skyward, peering into the nothingness above, and when he spoke, his voice took on a distant, reverent tone:
"No. This place is... a pocket realm. A liminal space that exists outside of her influence. It was born from my own mana, and she cannot perceive what belongs to me. Everything here is untouchable to her. This moment, this place—it exists only for us."
Beatrice, silent until now, took a few hesitant steps backward. Her small hands clutched at the edges of her robe, fingers curling tightly into the fabric. There was a seriousness in her posture, in her voice, though she remained composed:
"Master... I'm grateful for what you've done. Truly. Dispelling her magic means more to me than I can say. But if you would allow me, there's one more thing I must ask."
Flugel turned his head slightly, one brow arching with curiosity. "Hmm?"
She inhaled deeply, as if trying to summon courage from the very air. Her eyes moved between Subaru and Flugel, pausing on each as if weighing the question against the silence.
"Why do you and Subaru look so alike?" she asked finally. "It's not just your builds, or your voices. Your faces... your expressions... there's something more. Even if your hair and eye colors differ, you're nearly identical in every other way. That can't be coincidence, can it?"
The question hung in the air, sharp and impossible to ignore. Subaru shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Flugel, whose expression had become unreadable. They locked eyes briefly, and something unspoken passed between them. The silence thickened, heavier now, as if acknowledging that the time for evasion had ended.
Flugel exhaled slowly. His shoulders drooped slightly, weighed down by something invisible. "Perhaps... it's time you knew a few things," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "Not everything. Not yet. But some truths can no longer remain hidden."
So he spoke.
He told her of a past long buried—of wounds that had never truly healed, of a war not against a single foe, but against time, memory, and the collapsing fabric of identity. He spoke of bonds shattered and oaths broken, of choices made beneath crimson moons and in the silence between dying stars. He did not utter names like Satella or delve fully into the abyss that had once consumed him, but he gave Beatrice what he believed she could bear. No more, no less.
Each word was a weight, each phrase a glimpse into a life lived through storms of pain. But his voice never wavered. It was calm. Honest. Heavy.
Tears welled in Beatrice's eyes, glistening at the edges before slipping silently down her cheeks. Her lips trembled, her voice barely above a whisper:
"You shouldn't have had to go through all that... all that suffering. So... it was her. Pandora. All of it... because of her. So much has happened, and you... you carried it alone."
Flugel gave a tired shrug. For a moment, his mask slipped, and the weariness etched into his features told stories that words never could. Then, just as quickly, the mask returned—a flicker of nonchalance veiling his expression.
"Meh. What's done is done," he muttered. "We're here now. That's what matters. Life doesn't stop just because it's unfair. It moves on, Betty."
Beatrice bowed her head, the gesture full of quiet respect and heartfelt sorrow. Her voice was soft, but resolute:
"Thank you, Master. For everything. For telling me."
Flugel looked at her for a long moment, then reached out and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
"You were always meant to know. Just... not all at once. But you're stronger than I thought. Maybe stronger than I ever was."
The three of them stood together in that strange, quiet realm—a world untouched by time, by fate, by eyes that watched from shadows. And for that brief instant, there was peace.
Flugel sighed, the breath escaping him slow and laden with a weight that only years of memory could press upon someone. He gave a subtle nod before turning toward Subaru. In his eyes, a flicker of recognition ignited—a spark from a time long past, a moment buried under layers of silence and time.
"So... you finally managed to claim my blade," he said, his voice both amused and nostalgic, like a teacher seeing a once-failed pupil return stronger.
Subaru understood instantly. Something about the tone, the look, the moment—it all clicked. He reached out with both hands, summoning Duskveil. The weapon responded to his call like an old friend. With a faint hum and a whisper of displaced air, the sleek, dark blade materialized, the black metal shimmering as though drinking in the room's dim light. He held it out to Flugel, reverently.
"You made this, didn't you?"
Flugel took the twin daggers with practiced ease, his hands wrapping around the hilts like they belonged there. He ran his fingers along their polished edges, tracing invisible seams and runes. His expression was complicated: a mixture of nostalgia, pride, and a tinge of irritation.
"Yes," he replied softly. "I did. But... oi! You haven't unlocked any of its abilities? Not even one? You're telling me you've been using it just for shapeshifting? Seriously? That's it?"
Subaru blinked, caught off guard. "Wait, what do you mean? It changes shape. That seemed pretty advanced to me."
Flugel scoffed, shaking his head with mock dismay. With a quick breath and a surge of mana, he raised the blades, and the transformation began. The twin daggers shimmered, shifted, and lengthened. In a breath, they became a katana, its curved blade gleaming with grace. Then they morphed again into a massive scythe that seemed to breathe menace. Next, the form of a sleek spear, precise and lethal, before finally solidifying into a majestic longsword that radiated a knight's honor and strength. With each transformation, the air around them seemed to change—the aura of the weapon adapting to the intent behind its form.
Subaru stood dumbfounded, his jaw slack. "So it really can change into anything? Based on what I need? That's... insane. Incredible!"
Flugel exhaled, but this time with a touch of satisfaction. He lowered the longsword and let it rest, balancing it effortlessly with one hand.
"Yes. Every cursed weapon has its own unique core ability," he began, his tone shifting into that of a mentor sharing knowledge few were meant to hear. "Duskveil's core trait is called 'Adapt.' It senses the fighting spirit and style of its wielder and morphs accordingly. But it's more than just a shape-shifter. It's alive in a way. It bonds with its wielder. Learns. Evolves. It's not just a tool—it's a partner in battle. And depending on the user's soul, different sub-abilities will emerge. What it becomes for you may not be what it becomes for another."
Beatrice, who had remained quiet, had now curled up on the floor, her arms wrapped around her knees. Her large eyes never left the weapon. Her breathing had slowed, focused entirely on the interaction between the two. There was reverence in her gaze, and more than a little curiosity.
Subaru turned Duskveil over in his hands once more, as though trying to sense the potential now whispering to him through the hilt. He turned to Flugel again, eyes alight with excitement.
"Adapt... that's way more complex than I thought," he said, awe in every syllable. "But it makes me wonder—how did you even create something like this? Cursed weapons this advanced... where does that kind of power come from?"
Flugel chuckled quietly, his expression tinged with memory. He stepped forward, gave the blade a smooth swing, and watched as it returned to its dagger form. The edge of the blade glinted, catching an eerie, otherworldly light that seemed to shimmer from within.
"I slew an ancient dragon," he said, his tone no longer light. It was grave, heavy. "Not just any dragon—this one was a chaos-bound, curse-infested beast whose existence itself warped the fabric of reality. Its name had long since been erased from history, because merely remembering it was said to invite disaster. It wasn't just powerful—it was an entity of despair."
He paused, as if reliving the battle in his mind.
"Its heart," he continued, "was saturated with darkness—not the kind born of malice, but something older. Something primal. I faced it not because I wanted power... but because someone had to. The world couldn't ignore it any longer. When it fell, its remains still pulsed with residual magic and hatred. From its heart, I forged five weapons. Each one bound by the death it caused. Each one cursed. Each one uniquely alive."
He looked Subaru dead in the eye.
"Duskveil is one of them. It is not just a blade. It is a memory. A piece of a nightmare trapped in steel. And because of that, it can only be wielded by very few. Those with the strength—or the burden—to command authority-level magic. You, me... and maybe one or two others in the world."
Subaru swallowed hard. For the first time since Duskveil had come into his hands, he felt the true weight of it. Not the physical weight, but the legacy, the danger, and the responsibility.
Behind them, Beatrice spoke softly.
"And the other four weapons?"
Flugel smiled faintly, a trace of amusement dancing at the corner of his lips. "That," he said, "is a story for another time."
And so the shadows of the past thickened, their shapes still undefined, but no longer hidden. Duskveil had revealed only a sliver of its truth—and the path ahead had never seemed more daunting or more clear.
Subaru's eyes flew open in surprise, his breath catching in his throat, while beside him, Beatrice's delicate features twisted into subtle alarm. Her fingers curled tighter around the hem of her robes, and a shiver danced across her spine—an involuntary reaction to something deeper than mere fear.
"Master... what about Volcanica?" she asked, her voice soft but edged with unease. It held a mix of caution, reverence, and an unspoken anxiety, like the name itself carried a weight that could awaken slumbering nightmares.
Flugel chuckled under his breath, a low, almost nostalgic sound, and gave a lazy shrug, the motion disturbingly casual given the gravity of the topic. "Ah, that lazy lizard is still perched on his throne, I imagine—dozing, grumbling, doing what he's always done best: absolutely nothing."
He paused for effect, his eyes drifting upward toward a sky that didn't exist, then slowly turned back to them. "But Betty, the world is far bigger than the sanctuaries and ruins we've carved our stories into. Far older, too. Volcanica isn't the only dragon that ever drew breath. There are legends—half-whispers—about others. Ancient wyrms buried beneath forgotten continents. Slumbering serpents wrapped in the roots of uncharted mountain ranges. Some say they lie dormant beneath the seas, wrapped in coils of time itself. Waiting. Watching. Listening for the tremble of destiny."
Beatrice's breath caught slightly, her eyes wide. Subaru, meanwhile, stepped forward slightly, his brows furrowed, skepticism battling concern.
"You know more than you're saying," he accused, tone laced with quiet suspicion. "Every time you start talking in riddles, it's because you're dancing around something. You're hiding something, aren't you? Throwing fog so we miss the fire."
Flugel didn't flinch. His expression remained perfectly neutral, lips curling ever so slightly into a mischievous grin. "Me? Hide something? Never."
Subaru's jaw tightened, and he clicked his tongue. "Tch. Damn trickster," he muttered under his breath, but the irritation couldn't hide the worry growing behind his eyes.
A long silence followed. Not empty, but full of unspoken thoughts—questions neither dared to voice aloud. Their eyes met and lingered, a conversation unfolding between them without words. Eventually, Flugel sighed and stepped forward, offering Duskveil back to Subaru with a grave expression.
"Our time is almost up. I've held this realm stable as long as I can. The seams are beginning to fray. I need to send you back before the boundaries collapse."
Subaru reached out and took the dagger with both hands. The moment his fingers closed around the hilt, something inside him seemed to settle—resolve flooding through his limbs, sharpening his focus.
"Then before we go, just tell me this," he said, voice firm. "Why didn't you say anything for two whole days? After the first contact, you just... disappeared. No warning. Nothing."
Flugel turned away, the weight of his age showing in the slowness of his movements. His voice, though quiet, was laced with an exhaustion Subaru hadn't noticed before.
"Possession—channeling myself through you—it's not as simple as speaking through a mirror. It takes an extraordinary amount of energy. Dropping my consciousness into yours was like forcing a river through a needle's eye. Time, mana, focus... I burned more than I had to give. Had I tried to push further without resting, it wouldn't have just hurt me—it could've torn you apart from the inside out."
Subaru's eyes widened, the implications hitting him like a brick. He nodded slowly, absorbing the weight of what Flugel had done—and the risk he'd taken.
Beatrice, who had remained quiet and seated, looked down at her hands folded in her lap. Then, slowly, a faint smile curved her lips—small, wistful, and entirely real. The wary reverence she once held for Flugel was melting, reshaping into something gentler. Respect still, but tinged now with empathy... and maybe even a hint of affection.
Flugel, back still turned, raised his right hand.
He snapped his fingers.
Reality shattered.
A pulse of wind slammed into them like a silent detonation. The ground beneath their feet fractured and dissolved. The air shimmered, twisted, and then simply ceased to exist. Lights blinked out, like stars snuffed from the sky, and shadows broke apart like brittle glass. All that remained was silence—and the fading echo of something ancient being sealed away once more.
Subaru and Beatrice returned to reality with an abruptness that felt like slipping through a dream—gentle, yet surreal. One moment they were in that mysterious, otherworldly space where truths had been shared and wounds had started to heal; the next, they were once again in the quiet bedroom, as if nothing had changed—yet everything had. The transition didn't jolt them, but it left a strange pressure in the air, as though the memory of where they had just been still clung to their skin. It was like waking from a dream that hadn't finished telling its story.
They found themselves at the edge of the bed. Soft blankets bunched around them, the familiar scent of wood and linen grounding them. Hikari lay beside them, still curled up in sleep, her delicate breaths rising and falling rhythmically. The moonlight streaming through the window bathed the room in silver, painting everything in shades of quiet tranquility. It was peaceful—but also a moment suspended in time.
Beatrice sat up slowly, her small hands pressing against the mattress as she steadied herself. There was something different in her posture now. The invisible weight that had dragged her shoulders down for years seemed to have finally loosened its grip. Her breaths were deeper, easier. For the first time in a long while, she didn't feel trapped by her own existence. She turned to Subaru, her voice a whisper carried on the still night air.
"What do we do now?" she asked, her tone soft but filled with honest uncertainty.
Subaru yawned, his arms stretching above his head as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. "Well... I've got training in the morning," he mumbled, smiling sleepily. "So... we should probably try to get some sleep."
Beatrice gave a small nod, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then she stood up, brushing down her robes and turning toward the door, clearly intending to return to her own room. Her steps were quiet, cautious, like someone afraid to disturb a fragile peace. But she only made it a few paces before Subaru's voice called out to her—gentle, but firm enough to stop her in her tracks.
"Beako. Stay here tonight. We're sleeping together. I told you I wouldn't leave you alone anymore, remember? That still stands. Come back."
Beatrice's breath caught in her throat. Her heart gave a small leap, and something warm spread through her chest—something so bright and sudden, it nearly overwhelmed her. It wasn't just joy. It was belonging. A feeling that for someone who had spent centuries waiting in a void of solitude, meant everything. Her steps turned back almost involuntarily. Like a child returning to the safety of her parent's arms, she crossed the short distance and climbed back onto the bed.
She lay down beside Subaru, who welcomed her presence with a sleepy smile and a subtle shift to make space. Hikari remained nestled on Subaru's right, blissfully unaware of the emotional tides that had just shifted. Beatrice took her place on his left, the side that until now had always been empty. But not anymore.
No words were spoken between them now. They didn't need to be. The silence that had once been filled with uncertainty was now something softer—an unspoken understanding, a thread of connection that tied them together more firmly than any promise. Beatrice let her eyes fall shut slowly, her mind finally beginning to quiet.
And that night, beneath the silver gaze of the moon, the three of them slept. Close together, hearts aligned by something deeper than fate. There were no more nightmares, no more distant dreams filled with shadows and regret. Just warmth, closeness, and peace. For the first time in a long time, sleep did not feel like an escape—it felt like home.