Chapter Text
~*~
“Do you play?”
The poet looked up. He met the scholar’s eyes, twinkling by the light of the campfire, and followed her gaze to the flute hanging from his tunic belt, beside a sheathed dagger carved from a dragon’s fang. He felt the keen pinprick of memory- in his head, and in his heart. He sighed.
“I used to,” he shrugged. “Not anymore. Maybe I will again, once my task is done.”
“Perhaps a story, then?” The scholar offered. She pulled an almost comically large tome from her pack, almost as broad as her own shoulders. “Perhaps a tale we might add to the Wicked Book?”
The poet blinked. “...What’s… so wicked about it…?”
“Personal jest,” the scholar’s partner chimed in, returning with an armful of firewood. He took a seat beside her, affectionately bumping an elbow against hers.
“It’s no jest,” she protested, her face utterly serious. “It’s a perfectly apt name.”
“There was a time,” her partner continued, “when I faced a choice between a life of piety and joining her on her quest to chronicle the whole of the world’s knowledge in a single tome. Hence, the ‘Wicked’ Book.”
“You chose your heathen path,” the scholar said, deadpan.
“I chose you ,” he corrected.
“A chronicle of the world’s knowledge?” The poet asked. “I would be honored to contribute.”
“A tale, then?” The cleric asked, adjusting the seafoam cloak pinned around his shoulders. “The Fall of the Black Fang, perhaps? The Tragedy of Lehran?”
The poet shook his head. “Have you ever heard the tale of the Rose Crusade?”
The scholars shook their heads and leaned forward, intrigued. The poet took a log and set it on the fire, sending a flurry of embers dancing in the air.
“It began, like so many things begin, with an act of love,” the poet began. “In a world without gods, one woman performed a miracle …”
~*~
She thought she’d be ready.
She clutches the scroll of parchment to her chest, its luminescent sigils emanating warmth and light in this cold, shadowed place.
How long had it taken her to reach this moment? Writing the spell took the best part of the year, even with Mae, Boey and the Novis Archives on her side… another few weeks to Zofia Castle, two weeks on horseback to the base of the mountain…
She’d had a year to prepare.
She wasn’t ready to see her like this.
“Little one… you’ve come a long way...”
She grits her teeth, her trepidation suddenly subsumed by righteous anger. How dare she? How dare that imposter, that daemon, wear her face, speak in her voice…?!
“Get out,” Genny seethes. “Get out, get out, get out, get out …!”
The frantic mantra rings through the vaulted ceiling of the manse on the mountain, echoed by the fluttering of leathery wings and the metal scraping of rusty scythes. Gargoyles materialize out of the night and descend upon her, laughing like jackals, their blades clanging against Genny’s staff and the Dracoshield shimmering on her left arm. Beneath their gleeful howls and the shriek of metal against metal, Genny hears the rumbling of revenants clawing their way out of the earth.
Genny grits her teeth, righteous anger building in her core. She isn’t here for these lesser terrors- she has a greater task to accomplish. The fire in her veins surges through her fingers and manifests atop her staff, blazing like a torch. Genny cries out and plunges her staff into the ground. Golden light explodes around her, obliterating the mob of gibbering maws and clawing hands, reducing them all to ash and dust-
-save for the woman that appears behind her in a coil of smoke and shadow, laying her hands on her shoulders in a twisted mockery of affection.
“ Death ,” the daemon speaks, through her mother’s mouth.
For a moment, just a moment, she feels the withering decay seep in through her skin-
-and then her partner slams into the sorceress and sends them both skittering across the tiled floor. The sorceress hisses in indignation, gathers a foul violet light in her hands, and unleashes the toxic beam upon him. The beam crashes against the flat of his sword, squealing like wet glass. Saber grimaces beneath the weight of the blow, the cascading wave of dark magic deflecting across his blade and the protective wards of his armor. He cringes as a crack appears in his sword, growing into a spiderweb of fracturing metal.
Saber grunts and cries out.
“Do it, kid!”
And just as the sorceress turns towards her, she throws her arm to the side, unveiling the spell it took her a year to perfect- the spell she’d prepared for just this moment.
There is a look of something in the sorceress’ eyes, the slightest glint of recognition. Then the daemon seizes her limbs and throws her arms forward, firing another beam of that unholy violet light.
Golden sigils lift off the parchment scroll and orbit around her, forming concentric rings of raw mana shimmering in the air. Power thrums around her, rumbling beneath her feet, in her fingers, soaring through her veins.
Dark magic cascades past her, slipping past her radiant aura like oil and water. Genny stands, unbowed, before the flood of darkness, her staff in one hand, the other raised in benediction. The power gathered in her body culminates in a single word, a commandment that soars across the mountain like a thunderclap:
“ Release! ”
~*~
Genny shook herself out of the memory. She blinked and ran her fingers through her rosy hair, drowsiness and fatigue clinging to her like fog. It took her a moment to remember where she was- on horseback, the Dracoshield safe in her saddlebags, her staff laid across the saddle, and the imposing silhouette of Zofia Castle rising in the distance.
Genny’s chin drooped forward, and she yawned. She was exhausted down to her bones, and beset by the sort of morbid daydreaming that one got up to when they’ve gone too long without enough sleep. Except this wasn’t just sleeplessness at work- this was a deeper fatigue, a soul fatigue, the one that came from putting her heart into a spell.
What was it that Mae always said? Casting takes life to pull off right?
What happens when you put too much of your life into a spell? There’s a certain poetry in that, Genny thought, one life for another. A certain… equilibrium…
Genny snapped awake with a gasp. She’d dozed off for a split second, and she’d already forgotten what she was thinking about. Something morbid and self-deprecating, probably.
Genny’s steed snuffled beneath her, and she sighed, wearily patting her flank.
“Yeah, me too…” Genny murmured.
An exhausted cleric, on an equally exhausted mare, trudging their way up the road to Zofia Castle… hardly the sort of thing the bards would sing about. If it were up to her, she’d write it a bit differently- a hero on a white stallion, returning in triumph from a quest thought doomed to failure. That’s what Saber would have looked like, when she’d insisted on sending him ahead- the grizzled swordfighter on his noble steed bursting onto the castle grounds, a comely maiden in his arms-
Genny stopped, and made a face. This fantasy of hers was suddenly a lot less ‘heroic’ and more ‘how your parents fell in love’. Not that they knew each other like that, or that either of them were her ‘parents’, per se, but…
A cry from the lookout tower shook Genny from her daydreaming.
“Halt! Who goes there!”
Genny swallowed hard. “...Sister Genny, of Novis Priory…”
“Open the gate! You open this gate right now , mister!”
Genny smiled through her exhaustion, and dismounted. A bout of lightheadedness struck her as soon as her boots hit the ground. She swayed, dizzy, steadying herself against her saddle-
-only for a pink comet to burst out of the castle gates and all but throw her off her feet.
“ Genny! ” Mae shrieked, pulling the younger girl into a backbreaking hug.
Genny sighed- or rather, got all the air squeezed out of her lungs- and lay her chin on Mae’s shoulder. She was like a ragdoll in Mae’s arms, she was so tired, but Mae seemed more than content to hold them both up.
“You- you idiot! ” Mae sniffled. “We were worried about you! Boey and I would have dropped everything to come with you, you know that!”
“I do,” Genny smiled in apology. “But this was something I had to do myself.”
“Oh, sure, you want to be a hero when it’s me and Boey volunteering, but as soon as Celica assigns you a bodyguard…”
Mae huffed in faux-indignation, taking Genny’s shoulders.
“...Saber got here a week ago. He said you sent him ahead, that he worked his butt off to get here as fast as he did. Celica wrote me when you first set out, and I got here as soon as I could...” Mae met her eyes, hushed with awe. “Genny… the spell. Your spell. You did it.”
There was something about the look in Mae’s eyes that made Genny feel lightheaded. She looked away.
“I… I don’t know what I did.”
“You’re here,” Mae said, squeezing Genny’s shoulders. “You’re safe, and so is she. It’s… it’s a miracle, Genny. Mila provides.”
“Mila provides,” Genny echoed, and nodded. “Can I see her?”
Mae ushered her in through the gates. Genny gave her mare to a stable hand, but not before retrieving the Dracoshield from her saddle bags. (“Where did you get that?” Mae asked, in wonder. “I borrowed it,” Genny replied, and giggled. “I imagine the King wants it back.”)
Mae led Genny upstairs, past the thronging crowd of nobles and petitioners filling the audience hall. Celica caught Genny’s eyes through the crowd, and fought her hardest not to do as Mae did, and throw aside decorum to leap into Genny’s arms. Genny smiled and gave Celica a sheepish wave, before Mae swept her off her feet and up the steps.
They found Silque in a corridor upstairs, carrying tea on a silver tray. She gasped at the sight of them, looking around frantically for a safe place to set down her tray, before rushing forward and drawing Genny into her second backbreaking hug of the day.
“Oh, Genny…” Silque cooed, trailing a hand through Genny’s fluffy, rosy hair. She pressed a kiss to Genny’s forehead. “Bless you on your safe return. Mila provides.”
“Mila provides,” Genny murmured, giggling. It felt nice, being doted on.
“Come in, come in…” Silque said, scooping up her tea tray and easing open the door.
Genny stepped inside in a hushed, reverent quiet. The room that greeted her gave her pause- simple, spare, illuminated by the wan morning light. It was like someone had cut out her old room at the priory and stuck it in the middle of Zofia Castle. It was like being back on Novis again- like coming home.
Genny froze in the doorway, meeting the eyes of the woman in white convalescing in bed. She squeaked, her heart caught in her throat.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Sonya teased. “I know white isn’t my color.”
Genny felt her eyes prickle with tears. “Mother…!” she gasped.
Sonya fondly rolled her eyes. “I’m not that old…”
Genny took a few tentative steps, before the dam burst and she fell to her knees at Sonya’s bedside, groping blindly at her sheets.
“Mother… Mother…!” Genny wailed. Sonya pulled her close and shushed her, resting a hand in her hair.
“Oh, little one…” Sonya cooed, blinking away proud tears. “You’ve come a long way.”
Sonya held her as Genny wept and hiccuped into her chest, crying like a child. Silque set her tray of tea on the nightstand before joining Mae at the door. They exchanged proud glances.
Celica appeared, and stopped short, her heart full to bursting at the sight before her. She turned and gave Silque a respectful nod, surreptitiously twining her fingers with Mae’s.
“Mother Mila,” Celica breathed, in awe. “She did it.”
“Yeah…” Mae murmured, laying her head against Celica’s shoulder. “So… you are gonna throw her a banquet or something, right? She deserves it.”
“She deserves more than anything I can give,” Celica said softly. “She… she saved a mind from darkness. No one’s ever done that before. It’s… it’s a miracle.”
Mae nodded. “It will change Valentia.”
“No,” Silque whispered, reverent. “It will change the world.”
~*~
“The Queen did throw her a banquet, of course,” the poet said. He laid another log on the fire, framing his dark eyes with glittering embers. “Royal couriers sent letters out to friends old and new, inviting them to a ceremony honoring Sister Genny and what the people were beginning to call ‘the Miracle on the Mountain’...”
~*~
My dearest Mae,
How can I begin to put into words how I felt when I received your last letter? ‘Overjoyed’ seems like so lacking a term. What you describe… it is nothing less than a miracle. And though we had a hand in its creation, it was Genny’s hands that performed it. This will do more than change the Faith- it will change the world.
That is why it pains me to say that I will be unable to attend the ceremony. Since Father Nomah’s passing, the priory is in our hands. We cannot both of us go abroad and leave the monastery unattended. While I will certainly keep the Faith in your stead, I cannot but yearn for your company. So many of us have gone- Celica, Genny, Silque. Nomah, too, now. And it’s far, far too quiet without you around.
Do give my regards to Celica and Silque, and, as always, look after Genny. Even on this most auspicious of days, she will ever be our little sister.
I await the day our little circle of Faithful can be reunited. But until that day, I await your return.
With love, and light,
- Sage Boey, Novis Monastery
~*~
Boey,
Why do you always have to write so funny?
It has been a long time since we’ve all been together, which is why you’re not gonna sit this out. Get Junior Lucien or somebody to watch the priory for awhile, get your butt on a ship, and get over here.
I’ll see you at Zofia Castle in a week. You’re not missing Genny’s big day.
Oh, and Celica and I miss you. Obviously.
Love,
- You Know Who I Am
~*~
Genny clutched her staff with both hands, but no matter how tightly she held it, the flutter in her fingers just wouldn’t go away. She stood, her head bowed in what she hoped passed for reverence, uncomfortably aware of just how many people were in this ballroom, and how many eyes were boring into her back.
Then Alm stood, and struck the sheathed blade of the Royal Sword against the floor, and Genny breathed a sigh of relief, all those eyes now on him.
“People of Valentia,” Alm said, in a voice that had been trained to carry. “We gather here today to honor a hero of the nation.”
A royal aide stepped forward, bearing a velvet-lined box.
“Sister Genny of Novis,” Alm intoned, “for your outstanding service against the monsters that yet plague our nation, I present to you the highest honor the Valentian military can award- the Valentian Order of the Rose.”
Genny bowed her head. Alm reverently placed a silver ribbon around her neck- and a gleaming metal rose against her breast.
“No one’s deserved this more,” Alm whispered into her ear.
“Thank you, your majesty,” Genny said, her cheeks turning as pink as her hair.
Cheers erupted through the room. Alm stepped back, and Celica rose to her feet. The sheathed blade of Beloved Zofia struck the floor like a gavel, calling for quiet.
“As Queen of Valentia,” Celica intoned, “and High Priestess of Mila, I call upon the Mother to bless this day, and to bless the name of her servant before us. Mila provides.”
“Mila provides,” the crowd echoed.
“Sister Genny,” Celica said, her voice wavering. “...my Sister…”
Celica swallowed hard. She laid Beloved Zofia across her arm and drew the blade.
“Sister Genny, you have done what we all thought was impossible. You have saved the soul of a witch, brought a mind out of darkness and into the light… your hands have wrought a miracle, and we honor that today.”
Genny knelt, blinking back tears, as Celica lay Beloved Zofia across her shoulders in turn.
“I dub thee Saint Genny, Exalted, Beloved of the Mother,” Celica intoned. “May the world never forget your name.”
Another wave of applause. Another choking back of tears. Genny drew her sleeve across her face, and rose to her feet.
Genny swallowed hard, a king and queen before her and a kingdom behind. She turned, cringing inwardly at the size of the crowd and the expectant hush that fell over the room. Today wasn’t like anything she’d ever done before. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Her nerves were on fire-
Mae caught her eyes from the front row, beside a beaming Silque and a Boey who was already driven to tears.
Breathe , Mae mouthed.
Genny took a deep breath.
“People of Valentia,” she began, her voice growing stronger as she spoke. “Six years ago, I joined my friend Celica- your Queen Anthiese- on a journey that would unite two warring kingdoms. That war is over, but we still do not have peace. Monsters still roam our lands, led by minds twisted and claimed by darkness- arcanists, cantors… witches. Through Mila’s blessing, I have reclaimed the mind of someone thought lost- someone whom I hold quite dear…”
Genny exhaled. No turning back now.
“...but I cannot stop there,” Genny said. “After this banquet, I shall embark on a pilgrimage- a mission to cleanse this land of terrors, and to reclaim every soul that has ever been lost to Duma’s madness. This do I swear… in Mila’s name…!”
Genny raised her staff in two hands, and struck it against the floor, ringing like a bell through the audience hall.
“Mila provides!” Genny declared.
“Mila provides,” the crowd echoed, before bursting into rapturous applause. Genny descended the dais, clutching her staff in her hands, the air ringing with the weight of her words. She gently pushed her way through the crowd and retreated to an anteroom, where she finally took a moment to breathe.
Someone clapped behind her, and Genny whirled around, her nerves fraying- only to smile and sigh when she saw who it was.
“What did you do ?” Sonya asked, grinning.
Genny giggled, bashful.
“I, um… I think I just started a war.”
~*~
The banquet was a night of singular magnificence. Despite the feasting, and the dancing, Genny couldn’t help but wish she was curled up somewhere with a good book, away from all the noise and the crowds. Still, she picked her way through the revelers, weathering the attention from friends old and new.
“Good on you, girl!” Valbar said, clapping a hand into her back so forcefully she thought she would fall over. “Couldn’t have happened to a sweeter soul!”
“I always knew you had it in you,” Leon smiled, flipping his hair.
“You’re gonna roam the land fighting terrors, huh?” Kamui asked. “...I wonder how much money’s in that…”
“It’s a holy mission, Kamui,” Leon chided. “She’s hardly out here to turn a profit .”
“What, she gets declared a Saint and suddenly she doesn’t need to eat?” Kamui wondered. Valbar just gave a hearty laugh, threw an arm over his and Leon’s shoulders and ushered them away to join the feast.
“Genny!”
Genny perked up, only to see Est jumping and waving above the crowd. She broke into a smile, and Est broke into a run , bowling over the other guests in her haste to wrap Genny in a hug. Est took Genny’s hands and bounced, rocking on her heels and grinning like a madwoman.
“Est,” Genny smiled, overwhelmed by her welcome. “You made it.”
“Of course I did,” Est beamed. “We all did!”
“Even across the ocean, news travels fast,” Catria said, offering Genny a measured smile and a respectful nod. Genny nodded in turn.
“Congratulations, Genny,” Palla said, emerging at Catria’s heels with a prim smile. “Or should I say ‘Lady Exalt’?”
“S-Stop…” Genny murmured, embarrassed. “I’m just… me.”
“Would that we all could be just like you,” Catria said proudly.
“Celica- I mean- Queen Anthiese invited us,” Est said. “We weren’t gonna miss your big day!”
“Unfortunately, our Commander expects us to return to our duties,” Palla lamented. “However, if you ever find yourself in Archanea, know that the Whitewings would be honored to fly at your side.”
Genny smiled, and bowed her head. “Thank you. All of you. Please, enjoy the party…”
Genny skirted the edges of the crowd, socially exhausted, but still managing to muster polite smiles for everyone who waved or looked her way. In her book- if she ever got around to writing it, that is- she’d be sure not to include this part. Every reunion would be joyous. The heroine would never be too tired to see a friendly face.
“Genny!” someone squealed.
Genny had a split second to prepare herself before Mae had an arm around her neck and a fist digging into her scalp.
“Oh, Mila, just look at you…!” Mae beamed.
Boey emerged from the crowd, wiping his eyes. “Oh, Genny, we’re so proud of you.”
Genny’s eyes lit up. “Boey!”
“Yes, it’s me,” Boey said, drawing Genny into his arms. “When I heard about the ceremony, I dropped everything to come- I would never miss your special day.”
Mae balked. “Why are you lying? Why are you lying?! ”
“Alright, well, I admit, I initially had some concerns about the priory being without both its masters-” Boey sputtered as Mae drew him into an impromptu slappy fight. “Mae. Mae! Mae, this is not dignified, we are in the presence of a Saint!”
Genny laughed, a hand over her mouth. “...I missed you,” she murmured.
“It’s only been two months since you were on Novis, studying the cure,” Mae said.
“And I missed you every day,” Genny said softly.
Mae let out an anguished squeal and pulled Genny into her arms, while Boey smiled, fondly laying a hand in her hair.
“You are Exalted, now,” Boey said reverently. “An exemplar of the faith. But wherever your mission leads… no matter where you are, Saint or not… you will always be a sister. Our sister.”
“I love you,” Genny murmured, her voice wavering. “And thank you. I never could have done this without you…”
“The honor is ours,” Boey said gently. “To think, little Sister Genny, performing a miracle…”
“And we helped her do it!” Mae said proudly. “You and me, Boey! Well, mostly me.”
They laughed together, like they were kids again- until Genny exhaled, a shadow flickering across her eyes. She pulled away, feeling that flutter of nerves in her fingers again.
“You okay?” Mae asked.
“Yeah, yeah…” Genny murmured, offering her a smile. “I think I just need some air.”
~*~
The manse atop Fear Mountain blazes like a lighthouse for one, dreadful, agonizing moment- before the light fades, the voices fade, and all that is left is stillness and silence.
A runic circle lies scorched into the stonework of the floor. The sorceress kneels within it, clutching her stomach, coughing and retching black smoke. The unearthly gray tinge to her skin drips like tar from her fingers. Wearily, she lifts her eyes, blinking in the fading light.
“Genny?” Sonya wonders.
She falls, and Saber is there to catch her, pulling off his cape and wrapping it around her shoulders. Genny just stands, clutching her staff in both hands, frozen in place with wonder and fear.
“...Mother Mila…” Genny breathes, stunned.
Saber cradles Sonya’s unconscious form. He meets Genny’s eyes, and shakes his head.
“...No, kid,” he says. “That was all you.”
~*~
Every introvert has their sanctuary. Genny found hers on a balcony overlooking the castle grounds, granting her a reprieve from the noise and the constant attention. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, feeling the wind rustle her fluffy, rosy hair. She reached up and touched the shining metal rose hanging around her neck. She sighed.
“What are you hiding out here for?”
Genny looked up, and smiled, as Sonya joined her at the balcony rail.
“It’s been an exciting day,” Genny admitted. “Maybe a little too exciting.”
Sonya smiled and laid a hand in Genny’s hair.
“...You know…” Sonya exhaled. “I think a lot of girls out there are afraid of becoming their mothers. But, flipping it around… I don’t think I’d mind turning into you. I mean, look at you. Hero of the hour.”
“I didn’t do it for the fame,” Genny protested. “I did it for you.”
“I know,” Sonya said. “And even if I live to be a hundred years old… I don’t know if I’ll be able to thank you enough.”
A tender moment passed between them, standing at the rail, gazing out across the fireflies in the courtyard below.
“We are both, in our way, little sisters,” Sonya said softly. “You’re a lucky girl, having people to dote on you. People who care about you. I hope… I hope your siblings turn out better than mine.”
“...I’m sorry,” Genny murmured. Sonya took her shoulder and squeezed.
“Don’t. You’ve already done more than I can ask of you. It’s in the past- and we have to attend to the present. This party, for example.”
“And how are you enjoying the party, Mother?”
“I’m not that-” Sonya sighed. “...I’ll have you know, I’m actually having a ball. There’s this one woman in particular who I’ve spent an absolutely charming evening with.”
Sonya caught someone’s gaze in the courtyard below, and gave a coquettish wave. Genny blinked, peeking over the balcony rail.
“Oh! That’s Knight-Commander Mathilda,” Genny said. “Celica told me all about her. Have you met her husband?”
Sonya made a face. “Her what now?”
“Her husband, Clive? He’s the blonde one, down there.”
“Ugh!” Sonya threw her hands up, mortified. “Flirting with a married woman while her husband’s not ten feet away?! ...Gods, I have become my mother!”
Sonya closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She glanced up at Genny.
“...Alright, let’s not make this about me. This is your night, Genny. You should enjoy it while you can. You have work to do.”
Now it was Genny’s turn to groan and cradle her head in her arms.
“Don’t remind me…” Genny muttered. “What was I thinking?! Declaring a crusade across Valentia, to purge the world of terrors? Don’t get me wrong- I’ve fought my fair share of monsters. But how could I possibly do this alone?”
“You won’t.”
Genny snapped up straight and whirled around, bowing her head in deference.
“Celica! I-I mean, your majesty-”
“Don’t you start,” Celica said, tipping Genny’s chin up out of her bow. “I’ll always be Celica to you. And, Beloved of Mila or not, you’ll always be our little Genny.”
Genny preened, her heart aching with affection. “Oh, Celica…”
“I came to congratulate you,” Celica said gently, her serene smile turning playful, “and to ask you if you wanted help on your newest adventure.”
“Oh, Celica, you know me…” Genny laughed. “I would follow you anywhere. But sometimes, I wish I was back at my room in Novis, writing that story I told you about. You remember, the one about the red-headed heroine who set out to save the world…?”
“You’re writing that story right now, aren’t you?” Celica winked. “You have a mission now, one worthy of the greatest tales. I’ve come to you, now, to pledge my sword to your cause. And I didn’t come alone.”
Genny’s eyes grew wide, watching as a crowd began to form on her little secluded balcony- gasping when Celica fell to one knee, bowing her head against the hilt of Beloved Zofia, braced against the ground.
“You- You can’t!” Genny squeaked. “Don’t you have… you know… queen things to do…?”
“That’s why she keeps me around,” Alm said, smiling. “Your mission is a worthy goal, Saint Genny- a lot worthier than mere paperwork. I am honored to have Queen Anthiese join you as a representative of our kingdom- and I’m sure she’s honored to join you as a friend.”
Genny worked her jaw, speechless. Another sword planted itself in the ground beside Beloved Zofia, and another volunteer fell to one knee.
“Y-You too…?” Genny wondered.
Saber gave her a languid smile. “I’m the Queensguard, kiddo. Wherever she goes, I follow. So it looks like you’re gonna be stuck with me awhile longer.”
With a bright keening, the Ladyblade stuck fast in the ground beside Beloved Zofia, joined a moment later by a lacquered wooden staff.
“I hope you didn’t think you’d be going without us this time,” Mae grinned.
Genny stammered. “But… but the priory-”
“-will be safe in our absence,” Boey chimed in. “I thought-”
Boey grunted as Mae’s elbow jabbed into his gut.
“ We thought Junior Lucien could handle things without us,” Boey finished, flashing Mae a look.
Genny sniffled, wiping her eyes. “...I don’t… I don’t know what to say…”
“My Lady Exalt!”
Genny blinked, and looked up. A girl pushed her way through the crowd, her hair done up in paired braids. Genny didn’t recognize her, but she was garbed as a Priestess of Mila and wore plenty of pink, so Genny already liked her.
“My Lady Exalt,” the girl said, breathless, falling to her knees before her, “please, allow me to join you in your holy mission…”
A hand rested on her shoulder and she jumped, before seeing who it was.
“Get up,” Celica said warmly, nodding to the girl. She looked up at Genny. “Genny, this is Faye, from Ram Village. She’s an old friend.”
Mae blinked. “... Is she now…?” she muttered. Boey dug an elbow into her ribs.
“Thank you, Celica,” Faye murmured, lifting her head and meeting Genny’s eyes. “...There is another reason I wish to join you. You say your mission is to save the witches, yes? There have been rumors of… something, haunting the woods surrounding the castle. If it is a witch… and if it is who I think it is... well, I would be honored to help you in your search… if… if you would have me.”
“Of- Of course!” Genny said. She ushered the girl to her feet and clasped her hand.
“Seems like you’ve put together quite the merry band,” Sonya murmured behind her.
“Yeah…” Genny turned, meeting her eyes. “...Mother… would you…?”
Sonya shook her head sadly. “No, little one. At least, not yet- not until Sister Silque here says I’m back to one hundred percent.”
“My heart is with you, Sister,” Silque said, dipping her head. “But you have your mission, and I have mine. Miss Sonya will be safe in my care.”
Silque met Faye’s eyes for just a moment, before taking Genny’s hand in hers.
“Mila provides, Sister,” Silque said.
“Mila provides,” Genny said, wiping away tears.
“Well, look at us!” Saber grinned, getting to his feet and crossing his arms. “The old crew, back at it again!”
“Just like old times,” Celica agreed. She met Genny’s eyes. “Now all we need is a name.”
Genny took a deep breath, and took in the team gathered before her. Her friends. Family, if she was being honest. Pledging their swords to her cause, here when she needed them most… it almost felt… like…
Providence.
Genny traced the gleaming rose around her neck, letting out a sigh.
“The age of dragons is over,” Genny intoned, haloed in the light of the setting sun- crimson, pink, and gold. “The Faithful hold that Mila will provide. Duma will protect. But their time has ended. We must do what they cannot. We must be our own deliverance.”
Genny struck her staff against the ground, ringing like the priory bell across the castle grounds.
“The age of dragons is over, but we fly in their wake,” Genny said. “We shall be The Dragonflight.”
~*~