Chapter 82 The Remaining Voice on Heart
It had been a long time since Rinoa felt the call of magic from Fitran. Since the last time she touched the cracks of the world, where the Void and Aether collided, doubt had enveloped her heart, casting a shadowy fog within her soul. She found herself questioning the very existence of Fitran—was it still a shimmering presence in the world, or had it faded into mere myth, lost in the crevices of history and the unrelenting flow of time?
But that night—in a nameless garden, shrouded among the remnants of a kingdom that echoed only through the whispers of wind sifting through debris—she heard footsteps. Those footsteps awakened long-buried memories, guiding her toward the shadows of her past.
Softly resonating, a voice filled with mystery floated through the air, like a haunting melody suspended between the tangible world and the ethereal realm of illusion.
"Do you still love him?"
The voice belonged to Juliet, a figure seemingly woven from the shadows of memory, as if the night breeze had breathed life into a long-forgotten tale. Or perhaps she was the final echo of a soul ensnared in the curse of eternal love, trembling on the precipice of existence.
Rinoa turned, and before her stood Juliet, framed by the haunting shadows of roses that had never bloomed. Around them, the withered flowers seemed suspended in time, their lifeless forms a stark contrast to the vibrancy they once possessed. Juliet's hair shimmered with a damp sheen, as though she had just emerged from a torrential downpour, despite the night sky hanging dry and still above. Her eyes glowed an eerie red, not from the stain of blood, but from tears that flowed through generations, bearing the weight of forgotten tales, as though history itself was cradled within her grasp.
"You... should be ill, sensei,"
"My Dear Romeo takes away my pain," Juliet replied softly, her voice quivering like a gentle whisper borne on the wind, "It's not merely an illness, but a deep curse. And he—Fitran—is trying to end it."
Rinoa fell silent, her heart resonating with those words, as if rekindling the pulse of life that never truly fades.
"What do you mean?"
Juliet stepped softly, each movement caressing the earth, as if she sought to erase the traces of the wilted flowers that lay there with pride, no longer glowing with the beauty that once captivated all who glanced upon them.